~LAFF-CUE-ARCHIVE: sf-trip-5.Z
~Subject: Alex and Laylah's trip to SF - part 5 (March 14)

    General disclaimer: there may be a largish amount of material
not directly related to a.s.b, and what IS so related may be not to
your taste, as we do a large range of play, from the sweetest D/S
and spanking to cuts, burns, &tc - and I'm just describing what
actually happened.  Flames welcome, but I may well flame you
back...:-)

   I tried to remember to get permission from everybody we met to
mention them on a.s.b ... but forgot in a few cases... and didn't
keep written notes, so if you find yourself unexpectedly
unmentioned here, I apologize, but it must be one of the cases
about which I was uncertain - sorry!  Incidentally, if anybody
wonders whether it's all right to mention me and/or Laylah in posts
here, go ahead - blanket permission granted.

   These posts will be cut up at some compromise between reasonable
length and chronological boundaries.  As there's so much to relate,
I have not been editing as carefully as usual, so I apologize for
any errors!

    Sun, Mar 14

    I slide right from a sleeping dream into a waking one, as I
realize that it's indeed Onyx's hair that I'm caressing, for real,
just as I was in my latest dream.  I lie there for an instant, just
drinking in the wonder of it all, and Onyx speaks up - "Aha, you're
awake now, I can tell the difference!".  Just _how_, I couldn't
fathom, but anyway.  Gus is also awake, on the other side of Onyx,
and we all good-morning each other.

   "Were you all right tonight?", Onyx asks me - "you did seem to
be fast asleep, but did you have nightmares?  At one point you were
whimpering and pleading...".  "Oh that's all right", I explain, "I
had a night full of dreams of you, all the fantasies that I hadn't
let myself have until now, and, hrmph, you know I'm a switch - that
must have been a heavy scene with you on top...".

   I can't see if she blushes (she claims she never does, but I've
seen her do so...), for the room is just about in the dark, the
only light being that which filters from the imperfect shield of
the tent over the windows (traditional Mediterranean window design,
with two kinds of wooden shutters PLUS tents, is far better at
keeping unwanted light out, by the way).  And my darkness vision is
just about a total loss (no matter how many carrots I eat). [Well
she _shouldn't_ be blushing anyway - she does accept she's a switch
herself, although she says something about "percentage of
toppishness" somewhere around 10% and 20%, no more - I wonder how
one goes about measuring such things:-)].

   I am about to get up and flood the room with light, when
something stops me: not only am I in a rather excited state myself
(well, it figures, after such a night of dreams), but I can smell
a hint of female excitement in the air as well, and in Onyx's
voice.  Let's not break the mood too soon, say I to myself.  [Now
why ample lighting should be mood-breaking, ah, that one beats me,
but I know it's so for many people - probably the same kind who
want almost darkness for maximum enjoyment of a gourmet meal... I
guess that, for some, maximum visual sensory input somehow
interferes with tactile/olfactory/gustative ones, rather than
reinforcing them, as it is with me].

   Indeed.  Onyx turns to Gus and asks him, "Do you think Alex
would mind if we made love?".  Gus catches the ambiguity in the
question and points it out - "Well, I guess it depends in part on
what exactly is meant by WE...", in a smiling voice.  Heh heh.  I
know she means herself and Gus, of course, but I reinforce - "Oh,
no: no problem whatsoever, for ANY combination of ``we''...", I
also smile. Again I don't know which blushes, if any, I've gotten
out of that, although I have my ideas about it of course.

   Switching to a less joking mood, I ask if they'd rather have me
out of the room, or at least out of the bed - oh no, not at all -
swell!  Onyx dashes to get a condom (I'll never understand how she
can fish it out so fast from their crowded bags in the dark), then,
while Gus is putting it on, he instructs her to lie on her right
side, her face towards me.  She does, her incredibly sweet eyes so
shining with happiness that I can see them even in the gloom...

   I guess they've chosen this position expressly to avoid me
feeling "cut off" in any way [although it's a worthwhile one in se,
and the one Ovid recommends in "Ars Amandi" as the single best
one].  And indeed I feel very much of a participant as I caress and
kiss Onyx's front while Gus is entering her.  The focus of my
attention is all on Onyx, but I can't fail to admire Gus's sheer
sexual power as I perceive it indirectly through her - he fucks
somewhat like he whips, hard and to the point, and in both cases,
I'd say, with strong and rapid effect.

   It's not a long session, I'd guess twenty minutes or so - but,
given the intensity level throughout, that's not surprising.  And
I can feel the great pleasure that Onyx is experiencing, although
she does not come (unless she has orgasms more subdued than any
woman I've known, but I don't think so).

   It's so sweet of them to have shared this experience with me; I
am grateful for that.  But it is not all.  After a short period of
silence, again Onyx turns to Gus and speaks - "It feels so, you
know, _strange_ - to have slept between two men, and to make love
with only one of them... you think we could remedy that?".  Oh my
Onyx, so incredibly sweet - this must be the clumsiest and most
endearing invitation I have ever received in my whole life!
Including on both accounts the fact of speaking with Gus, as if too
shy to speak with me directly.  Actually I've noticed, on this
occasion and others, that what she _really_ loves is to be ordered
to do what she really wants to but is hesitant about...

   Gus has absolutely no objection, and more efficient and direct
negotiation immediately follows.  I go to the bathroom, where I
have my condoms, put one on, rush back to the big bed, where the
woman I love so much is eagerly waiting for me, mount her, and...

   ...and shame a hundred generation of ancestors, who have gone to
quite some trouble to market the "Latin Lover" brand.  Yes, folks,
the dreaded "I love her SO much" effect CAN strike the most
experienced man as well as the rawest lovestruck teenboy... well,
it can damn well strike *me*, at any rate.  Sigh.

   Poor Onyx is confused and worried - has she done something
wrong? What's happening?  This had never happened to her - I'm only
her fourth man, after all.  Well it's happened to *me* before,
though fortunately not often, and to Gus apparently, as he tries to
explain to her - "It's a guy thing...".  I remove and discard the
condom, and I try my best to explain it's all my fault, and to make
up for it as well as I can - not by words - I know she still wants
to feel my body on hers, and I do what I can with my mouth and
hands to try to give her pleasure.  She does seem to appreciate my
efforts, although they're not enough to bring her to climax - she
does that herself eventually (ah, I had guessed right - she ISN'T
that quiet when she _does_ come!).

   They're both so sweet and understanding afterwards.  "I'm sorry
I wasn't much as a lover...", I apologize, and she answers "Oh shut
up Alex - you may have not been a great _fucker_ this once, but
you've been all I could dream of as a _lover_!".

   It isn't that late yet - apparently we had all awakened at the
break of dawn or thereabouts - but it is time to start thinking
about getting out.  It's a wonderful sunny day, and we plan to
spend it at Golden Gate's Park, which Onyx loves so much.  So, time
to get showers and... wait a sec - the hotel shower is not large
enough for three people, but comfortable for two; I propose we take
advantage of this in some way.  

   Onyx appears surprised - shower together?  Don't I know the
drought is officially over?  Well, it's not exactly water
conservation which I have in mind... with the help of a timely
order from Gus (see above), I soon find myself sharing with her the
simple, homely charms of showering.  Nothing _erotic_, either, mind
you - we're both rather beat up on that score by now anyway; but,
like good food or a comfortable bed, there are lots of _sensual_
pleasures in life which are not erotic, and still well worth
enjoying in their own terms, for their own sake - and PARTICULARLY
worth sharing with someone you love.  A hot shower definitely ranks
high on that scale... not as some sort of foreplay, but truely and
simply as a perfectly good and wonderful hot shower, with the added
bonus of being soaped and washed by the hands of one you love, and
of feeling under your own hands the soapy skin of said one, instead
of your own.

   Apparently I can demonstrate that, in practice, as Onyx's
comment afterwards is that it was wonderful, one of the most
_intimate_ experiences she ever had - I think I knows what she
means: most bodily intimacy we experience with another is either so
closely connected to sex in some way, or so de-personalized (e.g.,
a doctor's visit, or a haircut at a barber's shop), that the worth
of the intimacy PER SE is never fully appreciated.  Glad to have
provided her with a counterexample!

   And so finally we dress up and get out of the hotel.  It's a
longish drive to where we'll have breakfast, so I grab a coffee to
go on the way to their car, and sip it, slowly, during the drive. 
We get to the "Owl and Monkey", the coffee shop Onyx loves best
back from her days in SF, and at last I get to taste their espresso
(indeed probably the best I've had in SF) and their raspberry rings
(ditto).  Then a whole long day strolling through the Park, and
later Ocean Beach and the Cliff House, a wonderful long day
drenched in sun and wind and the sight of Onyx and the sound of her
voice... inebriating.

   Gus is _very_ patient and tolerating as I and Onyx talk of
everything under the sun (in both senses:-), exchanging almost as
many bits as we usually do by e-mail - with the added advantage
that I can, time and again, interrupt with some remark on the
splendours of her long raven-black hair, of her pale silky-soft
skin, most of all of her infinitely deep, glittering eyes...  sigh,
in a way; what was that again about a chance that my crush on her
would fade as we met in person?  Hah.

   The sequoias in the park are wonderful, as are all the flowers
exploding all around us (it may not be officially spring yet, but
Nature doesn't seem to know!), the cloud forest, the Ocean itself,
that beach, the seals' rocks (minus any seals) - the Chinese food
we get at some point to tide us over till dinnertime is fine - and
so on, but in my mind they all fade a bit by now, and of that
splendid day, only *she* - her sight, her voice, her occasional
touch - is etched in it forever.

   The long day fades surprisingly fast, and it's time for us to
meet Laylah at Cassandra's house, which is fortunately quite near
here.  I'm glad we'll soon be with Laylah again, and Cassandra, and
Josh - but these moments with Onyx are so perfect and precious,
that for a very short instant I let myself be touched with sadness
at their going... silly, of course: they'll live forever in my
heart; every single moment is *forever* - if you but live it fully. 
Onwards, you fool!

   As soon as I see Laylah, the light of happiness in her eyes
inflames all of my love and desire for her - as soon as we're
indoors, I grab her hair and slap her face strong enough to throw
her to the ground...  Oops.  Tactical mistake.  Neither Cassandra
nor Onyx is, apparently, aware that between me and Laylah there is
no specific need for negotiation each and every time, nor any
particular "wall" between being, and not being, in scene; so, while
Laylah kneels at my feet, her cheek red and smarting and her eyes
adoring and brimming with happiness and love, I see Cassandra a bit
worried and Onyx rather more deeply upset.  I thought that much was
understood from copious past correspondence (well, I think that
even any regular reader of my and Laylah's post would know that
much of us); but, since it seems I was wrong, I apologize and
explain.

   This is enough to satisfy Cassandra, but Onyx's upset seems to
have deeper roots, and not to go away that easily.  We have had
misunderstandings and disagreements before, both in person today
and by mail in the past, but this one's a toughie.  Summing up her
position as best I can - she thinks that anytime I do something
that person X witnesses, I am potentially guilty of
non-consensually "forcing" X to so witness, unless I explicitly
negotiate about that, and particularly for "not socially approved"
acts.  My own position is about as distant from hers as can be,
stemming instead from the total, absolute primacy that, in my
opinion, freedom of expression holds.

   So we talk, and talk, and talk, spanning a huge variety of
subjects, from Oliviero Toscani's deliberately shocking (and
wonderfully artistic) photographs that Benetton has strewn over
huge billboards as ads for their nice woolwear, to how morally
acceptable or not it is to wear in public a collar, handcuffs, a
piercing, and other kinds of clothing, accessories, hairdos and
make-ups, to the way in which mutual protection against
non-consensual violence is the foundation of all society, to the
whole area of "private vices, public virtues", to the
"fighting-words" doctrine, to...

   It's not much use.  Oh, we concede lots of specific points to
each other, and it WOULD be a wonderful exciting discussion or
flamewar, on the net or in any group of friends (and we two are
generating so huge a volume of words at each other that we surely
count as a "group", and a rather hefty one at that:-) - but I sense
that each of us is remaining deeply, viscerally grasping to the
original positions, not really budging an inch.  

   I sense that she simply IS that way, perceiving wrongness in any
public display of, really, anything _significant_ - and that she's
still hurt that I AM this way - but this IS the way I am - and,
moreover, the way I WANT to be! - no matter how much I may be
bending over backwards (and I _am_!) to find specific mistakes to
apologize for, such as not asking our host's permission before
acting in "a non-socially approved way" in her home.  [ Heck, I'm
even guilty of offering a non totally sincere apology, as deep down
I'm *not* convinced I was all that wrong - "social approval" is a
matter of specific groups of people, and from the groups I know
Cassandra belongs to, any "disapproval" for my actions was rather
unlikely (and was NOT, in point of fact, present).  Am I capable of
insincerity, then?  Apparently I am, to try to soothe my beloved -
although, for all the good it's doing, apparently I might as well
be telling her to go fly a kite. ]  All of this saddens me deeply,
particularly as the conclusion of such a wonderful day.

   Gus, while we're driving from Cassandra's house to Josh's, is
clearly perceiving my unhappiness, and he's right, although he's
only very partially right in attributing it to some sense of guilt
inside me.  Still, when he proposes, "I think you need some
correction, yes?", I agree - I like the way he tops me, and it will
at least distract me.  When we get down from the car, he asks me to
remove my glasses, and then he slaps me on the face, twice, hard
(although not as hard as Laylah normally does).  Ah, great! For me,
that is.  Onyx had apparently not perceived that we were concisely
negotiating a scene, and gets further upset by that...

   Oh well.  We ARE at Josh's now, and, there he is - with his
balding top, his long horsetail behind, his uncountable earrings,
his nostril piercing, his black leather jacket with red leather
whip coiled at shoulder and jingling rainbow-coloured metal rings
and big pink "SLUT!" button... his normal everyday attire, in other
words, the same he wears at work or at a BDSM party, just like this
well-tailored suit and silk tie are for me, no matter what anybody
may think of it!  We melt into each other's arms, in a long, hard,
wordless hug - he empties me of words, in the same way that other
people I love fill me with them even more than usual... - and our
mouths, verbally useless as long as our minds remain thus blessedly
empty, find other uses on each other.

   He is with N. (nach! another case in which I forget whether I've
asked for permission to mention on the net...), a woman I don't
know, but apparently a jolly type... Laylah makes conversation,
complimenting her on her leather attire (though it isn't as
colourful and striking as Josh's), and asking whether she's also
into BDSM, and as an answer gets a straight-faced "Naah, I'm just
a poser, can't you tell?" - poor Laylah gets rather perplexed by
THAT!  (You really think Josh would hang around with posers, oh my
wonderfully sweet and naive darling?-).

   We drive to a Mexican restaurant which I'm told is _real_, but,
alas, my soul isn't in it, for all that we've reached some level of
"cease fire" with Onyx during the drive here.  I accept everybody's
assurances that the paella is really superb, but I just swiggle
down orange juice.  No, love doesn't normally lower my appetite
(I'd hardly have a diet problem if that were the case!-), but
"chagrin d'amour" does (so maybe my problem is that I get too
little of _that_?-).  After dinner, we're courteously driven back
to our hotel again, and retire early - tomorrow I'm starting to
work, and I want to give maximum performance.  Thanks to Laylah's
perfect-as- usual sweetness, I have little problem getting all of
my serenity back, diagnosing my previous problems as due to some
degree of attachment (so what else is new?), and drifting off to an
early, happily serene and very restful sleep.

    Alex --   Alex Martelli - Bologna, Italia - also
alex@am.sublink.org (less reliable)

   One thought fills immensity.