I sounded so much more confident than I felt, almost Ricky Spanish-esque. The thing about it, though, was I semi-already knew that she was going say yes. and that's not the megalomaniac in me speaking (although, egotistical me is flexing her bro-ceps hard as fuck right now).
Several months prior, last August to be more exact, I had foolishly told M0co that I was attracted to PJ, a girl from the Philly scene who had befriended-slash-become-frighteningly-similar-in-physical-appearance-and-tastes-to IrisEnchanted, the Lairling Queen herself. I say foolishly because M0co has no filter and no real concern about my embarrassment. We were doing a Photo shoot with SiRoberto (this one, actually), and in true M0co fashion, he spilled my precious beans all over the place. Needless to say, I spent the rest of that afternoon being awkward and quiet, both happy and angry that M0co snitched on me.
Two weeks ago, PJ had sent me a text a week prior to Rope Mecca. It was fairly generic, saying she was happy to see me at x event, and that should was happy to hear that I was attending y function (random: the nerd in me got a lot of enjoyment writing y-function for whatever reason). Somewhere, peppered in the pleasantries, was a quick one-liner:
Wait, What? Did I just read that correctly?
After reading and re-reading, and re-reading a third time, I was fairly convinced I had somehow gotten the wrong message (texts are like that sometimes) or maybe 'make-out' had somehow changed meaning within the last...oh, 4 minutes prior to the text. So I did what any smart robot would do when a beautiful person sends you a hot text.
I sent a goddamn smiley face back, but didn't reference anything about making-out. Nor did I bring it up ever in the history of evers in future texts with her. Now would be a good time to queue up Arrested Development:
Ricky Spanish would have been so ashamed by my lack of ovarian fortitude.
So luckily for me PJ wasn't as afraid as I was and mentioned AGAIN (!) in person (!!) that she wanted to make out. What did I do? I HUGGED HER. I FUCKING HUGGED HER. and didn't comment. If I was a sauce, my flavor would definitely have been 'weak'.
There was no mistaking it now. She was down. I was down. Now to make it happen. I did what any other smart, kinkster would do-mention it the context of doing rope bondage.
It ended up being a really fun time- light-hearted with a lot of laughter, which was nice after over-analyzing one text message for a week. I sloppily tied her on the couch by a dance pole- she had a stretchy skater style dress on, covered with Cheshire Cats. We kissed, we bit each other playfully (a game in which I like to call 'Wolf Pack'), which quickly devolved in licking each other (a game in which PJ likes to call 'Snaaaaaaail traaaaaaaail!')
and before I realized it, we were just two happy people, cuddling on a couch, laughing and just...enjoying being around one another.
Several months prior, last August to be more exact, I had foolishly told M0co that I was attracted to PJ, a girl from the Philly scene who had befriended-slash-become-frighteningly-similar-in-physical-appearance-and-tastes-to IrisEnchanted, the Lairling Queen herself. I say foolishly because M0co has no filter and no real concern about my embarrassment. We were doing a Photo shoot with SiRoberto (this one, actually), and in true M0co fashion, he spilled my precious beans all over the place. Needless to say, I spent the rest of that afternoon being awkward and quiet, both happy and angry that M0co snitched on me.
Two weeks ago, PJ had sent me a text a week prior to Rope Mecca. It was fairly generic, saying she was happy to see me at x event, and that should was happy to hear that I was attending y function (random: the nerd in me got a lot of enjoyment writing y-function for whatever reason). Somewhere, peppered in the pleasantries, was a quick one-liner:
and I totally want to make out with you, if you're down
Wait, What? Did I just read that correctly?
After reading and re-reading, and re-reading a third time, I was fairly convinced I had somehow gotten the wrong message (texts are like that sometimes) or maybe 'make-out' had somehow changed meaning within the last...oh, 4 minutes prior to the text. So I did what any smart robot would do when a beautiful person sends you a hot text.
I sent a goddamn smiley face back, but didn't reference anything about making-out. Nor did I bring it up ever in the history of evers in future texts with her. Now would be a good time to queue up Arrested Development:
Ricky Spanish would have been so ashamed by my lack of ovarian fortitude.
So luckily for me PJ wasn't as afraid as I was and mentioned AGAIN (!) in person (!!) that she wanted to make out. What did I do? I HUGGED HER. I FUCKING HUGGED HER. and didn't comment. If I was a sauce, my flavor would definitely have been 'weak'.
There was no mistaking it now. She was down. I was down. Now to make it happen. I did what any other smart, kinkster would do-mention it the context of doing rope bondage.
It ended up being a really fun time- light-hearted with a lot of laughter, which was nice after over-analyzing one text message for a week. I sloppily tied her on the couch by a dance pole- she had a stretchy skater style dress on, covered with Cheshire Cats. We kissed, we bit each other playfully (a game in which I like to call 'Wolf Pack'), which quickly devolved in licking each other (a game in which PJ likes to call 'Snaaaaaaail traaaaaaaail!')
and before I realized it, we were just two happy people, cuddling on a couch, laughing and just...enjoying being around one another.
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