Well never let be said I have all my shit together because back in January I decided to do a second edition of kink week. After all why not how bad could it be I’d have the better part of 5 months to put it together. Plenty f time to write and come up with some new kinky ideas and stories. In the mean time I began my “Exercising My Demons” podcast on a whim and figured audio could be a huge part of the event. Adding in the wild idea to have people beyond me and the Chesty Blonde in on the fun and it would be great.
A few months later someone points out that it’s memorial day weekend. Ok I traditionally spend three days over that holiday in Indiana visiting my sister and her family doing the little kid birthday thing. No big deal I planned on being done well ahead of time. A little while after the Blonde pointed out that we had commitments that would keep us home this year…even better I could focus on kink week with out Internet access anxiety.
Well those things that kept me home would mean I’d also have a stream of house guests spending the night from the Tuesday before kink week until Memorial day. Now It’s one thing to put away the ropes, play clothes and sex toys. We don’t have any specialty furniture other than a massive four post bed (yeah that’s a big fucking shock isn’t it). So no need to hide a Saint John’s cross, hooks in the ceiling, or metal rings in the basement walls, and candles are very instyle decorations so nothing odd there. It is something that everybody goes through now and again…house guests with different values than your own but then add in that two of my additional stunt voices would be in town to join us for the festivities. It had the potential to be the wildest of weekends and a complete disaster in the same breath.
So there we are my house a revolving door of day guests and house guests. Parents, grand parents, friends, family and an assortment of other carbon based life forms and a smattering of kinky or kink aware friends coming and going. I’m sneaking off to edit audio like a desperate smoker just trying to get a few puffs in be fore the nuns raid the boys restroom in an act of righteous vengeance. People are also sneaking away from the parties and making their way down to visit me and dying to know what I’m listening to nothing important I reassure them, just a little audio, what ever excuse I could come up with for my isolation and constant disappearances. The down side of that is they thought that I was writing and recording music again which prompted other time consuming questions.
Oh sure then after playing Taxi (airport runs, carting the kids around and buying groceries) , tour guide (we live in St. Louis so the arch is a must see for all first timers to our place), sommelier (a Saturday afternoon wine country tour in a 15 person van with me as th designated driver, and yes believe it or not Missouri has some pretty good wines, it is one of the few things in the region I truly love), chef (and not just a guy standing at a BBQ real cooking thank you very much), host and party guest of my own accord at other functions. There were moments when like a man keeping and assortment of lovers I’d sneak off with one of the ladies, down an unlit stairwell, closing the door behind us fire up the PC, sound board and mics and record them reading my dirty little tales.
The high light of which was Victoria and I marking up our scripts while sitting in a grocery store parking lot and then rushed home and were standing in the studio role playing her calling out “BASTARD” a bit to enthusiastically as she glared at me and me calling her a slut repeatedly in a not so nice tone of voice while a house full of people above us were drinking potent knock you on your ass Margaritas. “I think we can take this so much further, it could be much more intense” Apparently my little scene was not nearly cruel enough to meet her needs.
At 5:00 am on morning I’m sitting at the kitchen table posting a when kink goes wrong. Sipping a vat of strong black coffee, thinking about the potential of blowing off my morning run and clogging my own arteries with a pound of bacon and a nice order of Eggs Benedict and fried potatoes ( a nice Polish boy like me has to have to have his potatoes) When my mother who was in town visiting walks in still in her night shirt, pours a massive cup of coffee as well and sits down across from me. Looking over if she asks “are you still writing that pornography?”
I laugh and tell her I’m working on smut at that very moment but would be done shortly. She has now idea what I write and equates it to dime store romances of her own youth, then again maybe she does in my younger years she’d show up unannounced to see my band play and it was often fairly obvious with the bull whips, girl in a cage and hand cuffs what were singing about even if you couldn’t understand the words.
Some where along the way my pc decides it time to take a dirt nap, but it doesn’t fade in a blaze of glory and go out in flames instead it starts to take an hour to do something tha should take three minutes so the original version of this post talking about the coordination issues rather than the aftermath my surface later once I get my geek hat back on and the urge to stop calling it a useless fucking whore subsides.
Have no fear the rest of kink week will go on as planned with the only change being that I’ll be doing tonight’s reading of the “Devil makes three later that evening” instead of Victoria.
This post comes to you courtesy of my new laptop and th epoor bastards who had to work at Best Buy yesterday.