The romantic pornographer
We walked through the isles of the grocery store, taking turns pushing the cart. We picked out all the ingredients needed to make the things that’s we’d discussed before leaving the house, checking things off of our list as me made our way through the store.
“How are you doing” I asked Mina and she knew without needing any reminder what I was asking about.
“It took a little getting used to, because it’s been so long since I’ve worn it”, she answered as a faint flush of color rose to her cheeks.
As a connoisseur of kinky things I’m always interested when I receive emails from Stockroom.com about something they have developed, but as I consider myself a more advanced BDSM practitioner I typically think of the KinkLab line as being more “beginner” than my experience level. When I got the email about the ElectroErotic Neon Wand™ it piqued my curiosity because it seemed a little more ambitious than the KinkLab that I was familiar with. I put one on order and was impressed from the moment that I opened the box.
Immediately the Neon Wand felt like an approachable device; well packaged and less like power tools than other models that I’ve owned in the past have. It comes with instructions as well, which I imagine will be reassuring for the curious but less experienced users who have always wanted to try electricity play but didn’t know where to begin. The handset is comfortable to handle and the cord is a decent length (I’ve suffered a short cord on a fuck machine once so this is not to be under appreciated). The four included attachments were easy enough to remove from their dedicated places in the box and slipped into and out of the handset with relative ease.
When I turned it on it made a delicious noise; one that you become familiar with in electricity play and that I’d wondered if a simpler model would give off. Mina held out her arm and we put it through its paces. I found that at its highest it provided a decent discharge which was more intense than I expected from it, but certainly not as strong as other wands that I’ve played with.
Starri Knight and I have a long history, but differences in geography have meant that we haven’t worked together quite as frequently the last couple of years. We are changing that though, starting with today with this set of her in bondage. There is a lot more to come, including appearances on the tickling, femdom and fetish sites she appeared on before and new material for a project in development! Needless to say; I am happy to have Starri back!
Bondage man she called me as she attempted to wiggle her way free of her restraints. Her cadence and thick Scottish accent have a melodic quality to them that makes me nearly miss what she’s saying because of the effect that it has on whatever part of my brain that is that has decided that she speaks in music. I like to listen to her speak and I’m often too quiet during conversation because I don’t want the sound of my voice to interrupt it.
“Do you feel like a bad bondage man…” she asked me, because she was wiggling free. I smiled from behind her while unbuckling the straps and I told her that it didn’t.
“I’m sure you could have kept me if you wanted”, she said, or something to that accord.; I was inside of my head as I unbuckled the straps enough that she was able to work herself free and I might not have heard her correctly.
There is a lightheartedness to Heidi that I appreciate. She possesses an awareness of herself that leads me to believe that she knows that people find her attractive but in the moments that she is shining the brightest, that isn’t the most significant thing about her. Her warmth leaves the most lasting impression on me, which is impressive in the fact that it does compete with her exceptional beauty. When we finished shooting and she said goodbye, I hoped that I would see her again.
When we came to Amsterdam, we gave ourselves three months to make it all work. Visas, jobs, a long term place to stay. We allowed for the possibility of a fourth month if things look promising enough. I thought about this as I studied the contrast of black tiles on the wall to the white porcelain tub. My hair (which has gotten long again) is cold against my skin so I slip all the way under the hot water. My face brakes the surface and I lay still, thinking about what I need to do.
My chest rises toward the surface with each deep breath; my body sinks again when I exhale. The room is cold enough that you can see steam rolling off of the water, and you can see something like it just outside of the window. I sip occasionally from the cup of tea that I’d placed on the ledge behind me. Music played from the next room and I considered carefully all the things that we need to do in order to make Amsterdam work.
