Recording Memories

Looking outside at the lovely snow while I sit on my sofa and suffer from a rather nasty cold gives me time to reflect on the weekend just past. This one is not required to be a three part tale, though a lot of things happened.

Heathrow picked me up on Friday night exactly on time. We drove through London heading west and south to get to his flat. He put some laundry in and we both took advantage of the bathroom and then we headed back down to the van for the night. We'd picked up a bottle of sparkling wine and just hung out while drinking the bottle. I know I got tipsy. I remember laughing and cuddling. I remember stripping down to panties (for some reason, I really don't prefer to sleep completely naked and at the very least want panties as a covering- I don't know why, I just know it's more comfortable for me this way), and then trying to slip past him in the van to get to the back bed and he stopped me and asked me where I was going. I remember feeling that tingling arousal of feeling shy and embarrassed suddenly as he grabbed me and kissed me and stroked me before letting me past.

I'm sure we fooled around and had sex before going to sleep, but nothing sticks out in my mind as noteworthy other than it was lovely and nice and wonderful of course. Then we went to sleep, so there's not too much to say about that.

In the morning we messed around some more. I recall one thing standing out specifically in that we were worked up to that point where we were about to have sex and I was drifting somewhere in my thoughts and sensations as he got a condom and then I know I was looking away or not paying full attention when all of the sudden he penetrated me completely and I remember how it took my breath away and created this intense mental focus of what was happening. It's funny sometimes, the things that stick out in your head. But it was a thrilling and intense experience. Not something that could be recreated- my attention had truly drifted for a moment only to be slammed back into the present in such a delightful way.

I remember him telling me to make myself come while he fucked me. Always a winner as far as I'm concerned. I mean, it's nice when someone else can do it, but I understand the difficulty of multi tasking under such circumstances. Plus, I'm pretty much guaranteed to do it exactly right, whereas someone else is going to have a slightly harder time of it. Don't get me wrong, I do like when someone else does it, but I appreciate someone who also isn't so insecure as to dislike the idea of their partner getting themselves off simultaneously. I've met such people. Seems like a waste.

Eventually we decided to disengage and drag ourselves up and out of bed and popped up to the flat to change the laundry and shower. The last time I saw him, we bathed/showered together. This is truly one of my longer standing erotic intrigues- bathing together. The act of washing someone. I find it deeply stimulating and intimate. I like that the intent is to touch someone absolutely everywhere. I like the cleanliness that comes with it, the rushing of the water- all of which lends itself to comfort of kissing and licking and biting someone all over. This instance was no exception and I enjoyed it very much. At one point Heathrow asked me if I'd peed yet that morning, which I hadn't and he insisted I do so in front of him in the shower. Usually I'm not at all pee shy- I mean, it's not really my kink in that, people peeing doesn't do anything for me, but I'm also not usually embarassed by it. It's sort of a non-entity for me. Yet for some reason, I suddenly found myself slightly pee shy and struggling with the request. Of course the benefits of relationships with dominant/submissive overtones is that the desire to do it for him outweighed my thought process and eventually I was able to, albeit while looking away. And with all the running water he missed it actually which I thought was hilarious.

We decided to head into Uxbridge for the day which was just a bus ride away and ate at a pleasant Italian restaurant there after walking around for a bit. At this point I noticed that my nose had not only become half blocked, but was dripping unceremoniously and continuously. This annoyed me but I resolved to ignore it as best I could. Still, it's frustrating for me as I'm so self conscious usually, I don't need things to happen which draw (negative) attention to myself. So that was annoying. After lunch we explored Uxbridge some more and went to a few different shops.

Getting back to the flat and the van we were hanging out on what was the middle bed- usually the dining area, Heathrow had switched it to its 'bed' configuration earlier in the week, although definitely not a double, what is nice is that unlike the other two beds, there is significantly more headroom. I had brought my leather cuffs with me this trip (I brought a bag of random toys, as nothing had been requested), and Heathrow had me put them on. Then he had me lay down on the bed and using rope got the cuffs tied together and then anchored to the wall, then this came under the platform and he tied up my feet and attached them to the opposite end of the bed which made me into a sort of column. I cold wriggle and twist, but couldn't really pull my arms down or legs up.

And so we played around. What was amusing was that I started off here fully clothed. So for a while he just tormented me and tickled me and cuddled me. Then going to get more rope and obviously slightly displeased with my degree of mobility he switched up the cuff connection so that my arms were spread to opposite corners (cleverly doing so before unattaching the first rope and then pulling the other's taught so that I had no chance to resist. Then, freeing the tension on my legs, took that rope and pulled it back up to above where my hands were tied which basically doubled me over, with my ass exposed. Now, hindsight is always amusing and Heathrow came to realize it would have been easier to undo my jeans and pull them down prior to pulling my legs up, but he managed and then there I was with my ass truly exposed, but the rest of me clothed and bound. He then draped me with a sheet which did multiple things. I'm sure from his side, there was the objectification element of just having this exposed bit of body detached from anything else. For me, the drape provided some degree of privacy in that I always find exposure embarrassing, so I appreciate being covered in a sense. And of course the drape also meant that whatever he was up to or preparing, I couldn't see.

I could hear him moving about and he certainly took advantage of my position to pry and pull and peek at what was on display, which even with my draped cover made me giggle and squirm and clench with embarrassment. Then next thing I knew there were insistent lubed fingers prodding and poking everywhere (yes, I mean everywhere). That was pretty hot and intense and still embarrassing as he would touch me and comment on how he could feel my muscles clenching in response. And then he was fucking me in this position and it was seriously intense. I really couldn't move much and the angle, with the fact that my legs were tied together made it all the more sensational.

After some time enjoying that position, he untied my legs and had me squirm out of my jeans. He then went for an asymmetrical tie and pulled one of my legs back up over my head while tying down the other straight. Pulling out my vibrator from the toy bag he proceeded to have fun making me squirm and wiggle around as best I could under the circumstances.

Tiring of that game after a while, he untied my legs, got rid of the panties, and then retied them separately from the thigh just above the knee and pulled that back to the corresponding corners which of course exposed me more readily. With effort I could sort of pull my knees together but it took effort and was not sustainable, so my legs would fall apart to my embarrassment and I would struggle to pull them back together again. Looking around with a devious glint in his eye, sort of like, "What else can I do to her in this position...?" he spotted the leftover bottle from the night before, threw a condom on it and then started to fuck me with that. Which was fun and different and hot, or rather, cold, because the bottle was really cold! And it obviously turned him on too because after a bit he replaced the bottle. And after a while in that position, he undid my legs while still inside of me so I could be slightly more active.

Although then he started a very evil (yet fun) game of making me say something rather dirty (which I think I shall not repeat even here) or he would tickle me mercilessly while all the while still going at it. I of course found this deliciously fun. I will always try to play games like that to the best of my ability. I don't like giving in just to give in, I really like to be pushed to that edge where I have to give in because I can't take any more. So this kept repeating and repeating and I was deliriously off in my own little world of sex and submission and sensation.

Eventually he untied me from the bed and snapped a padlock onto my cuffs behind my back. Grabbing those and my hair, he guided me to sitting on him on the edge of the bed and used his small flogger to modulate my rhythm. Actually, I'm not sure where that fit in to the story above, because at some point he was using his flogger on me. But it must have been early because I think I had reasonable mobility at the time and could roll back and forth. Anyway, this wasn't so hard, it was just fun. There was also some oral sex at various points throughout all of this. Something I am starting to feel better about, though I can't do anything about my gag reflex. Heathrow is always very verbally appreciative of my efforts though which does give me more confidence in this area. So that's good and fun.

Then I was put bending over the bed face down and he tied my bound arms up behind me to the cabinet so I was rather stuck, and he took me that way.

It was all just deliciously hot and fun and enjoyable and fun.

So after all that sex we worked up a small appetite, though in fairness our lunch had been massive, so still not starving. We managed to get some clothes on and drove to a chippie and split some chips for dinner with soda. And it tasted fantastic. Just hit the spot.

We drove back to the flat and Heathrow suggested some time for some proper ropework- meaning not for the sake of adding to ones sex life, but to work on the rope stuff, in particular for him. But it's good for me because I do love the sensation of being tied. In that setting, it's like a meditative relaxation to just give in to the binding and let yourself be completely encompassed by it and drift away with no other responsibility then to let yourself be tied.

So removing my shirt and bra, he went about testing out a tie that he's been working on from a book. It's a rope artist I've seen in video before- Japanese, but I don't remember his name. The book is in Japanese and has some fairly complex ties. It also leaves quite a bit out, so while there are instructional photos, you would really need to know what you're doing to even begin to attempt it. Luckily Heathrow does, so he went about trying to replicate a particular chest harness from the book. This required some doing and undoing at points while he worked through it. It didn't start off overly tight and at one point Heathrow commented that maybe he should have done it tighter, but as it got to the last bindings, it cinched in all of the connection points and the whole thing went very tight restrictive in a lovely sort of way. And when he was satisfied with it, he untied me slowly and with intention, holding me and touching me throughout which is part of what I like about tying with Heathrow- the intimacy that he creates with it. Lovely.

And then we went to bed. And I did not sleep well because my cold was now developing more and more to the point where I couldn't really breathe out of my nose. I think I woke myself up a few times with really bad snoring noises, and my throat started to hurt from so much mouth breathing. No fun. So we were slow to get up. Not because I wasn't awake- because I was, but because I was worried that my restless and loud sleeping had possibly kept Heathrow up and I didn't want to wake him up if he was still sleeping.

But eventually we woke up. Messed around all the more, I mean, of course we did. Why on earth wouldn't we? And then we really got up with the intention of making a Sunday roast in the van. I had brought some of my organic veggies and had picked up some stuffing mix and he had pork chops in a honey mustard sauce and so we got washing and chopping and seasoning and chilled out and cuddled while everything was cooking. We had to go up to the flat to do the pork and he did an impromptu tie on me up there where he has a frame so I was standing but connected to the frame and he would come either cuddle me or tickle me and I kept hopping and jumping and spinning and that was fun until the pork was done. Then we came back to the van, he converted the bed back to the table and chairs and we had a lovely roast meal.

And then it was time to get moving, we cleaned up and I packed my stuff up, then we drove to his friend T's place and socialized there for a bit, and then he drove me home. And just as we were getting home the snow was starting. I got in and had a quick bite and then immediately found my Nyquil and went to bed I think by 8:30. I've woken up still pretty ill (and have switched to Dayquil) so I'm eating kiwis and drinking lots of tea and trying to will myself well (which never really works) while I digest my weekend.

I'm sure I have more to say about the meaning of things and the relationship of me to Heathrow as people- but I do like to get down the details before I completely forget them. Next time maybe. Now, to go drink more tea.