We gather, this wayward tribe, all with the same goal. Symbiotic, the relationships are, each taking and giving something, one to another, each receiving something necessary in return. We have our own reasons to be here, to seek out others with the same necessary needs to be fulfilled. Knowing this, we open up, revealing ourselves, our truths, our needs, our desires and our foibles in ways we cannot always understand. And with each connection, with each touch, with each moment we share we bring longing to a completion, a need to a conclusion, a desire fulfilled, a cathartic kiss delivered.
* * *
* * *
Generally speaking, I don’t work very hard to get high falootin’ but I’ve been feeling a bit heady today, flying home from the FMS Tropical Beach Party in Saint Pete’s Beach, Florida. Flying always makes me maudlin to begin with. Don’t know why, exactly. Perhaps it’s the melancholy that comes from knowing the friends I only see a few times each year are gone again until September, our relationships to be maintained online. Those friends become better friends with each play session, each reconnection. Then there are the new friends, wonderful people met at the party with new connections and encounters, our experiences so brief a departure means not being able to finish what was started until next time, whenever and ifever that might happen.
But that’s not why you’re here. You’re here for my coverage of events from my perspective. So that’s exactly what you’ll get.
FMS Beach Party Day 1: Thursday June 3
After getting up early, my switch wife, Gia Belle, and I left Los Angeles for Tampa. On our layover in Dallas we were surprised to run into friends from the dungeon we frequent in L.A. also on their way to the FMS Beach Party. We were on the same flights. Brad from Baltimore met us at the airport and we all drove in his rented Prius to St. Petersburg beach and our home away from home for the next four nights. We immediately met my dear friend Lizzie and her roommates at the hotel, quickly dropped off our bags and famished, hiked through the hot, humid air to a neighboring hotel's sports bar.
Jada, another one of my bestest and dearest friends, arrived late, texting me all the way from the airport as we finished dinner. We got to the hotel about the same time she did. I’d promised her a quick session upon arrival.
The FMS suite opened up as it got later in the night and we were surprised to discover that there were many of us kinksters already in town. The fun began, the suite filled up and the snacks and beverages were out. The unofficial start of the party had begun!
I got my first play session of the party in with Lizzie, a rather quick but also intense scene. We’d both had so much pent-up energy ready for the party we were like two wound toys, ready to spring. What a great introduction to the weekend!
At one point, Alona was playing next to me on the bed in the suite as I was topping another. There was a cluster of implements on the bed. As I wrapped up our brief session, Alona brattily tossed one of the implements onto the floor. Ever the gentleman, as my lovely play partner and I got up to leave the room and join the others in the suite, I picked up the implement and put it back on the bed. “Oh look!” Alona exclaimed. “I got Craig to do my bidding!” or something along those lines. “I’m just picking this up after you so rudely tossed it on the dirty carpet,” I retorted. She got on about how I was subbing to her or some such nonsense, so with a quick nod of permission from the gentleman who was above her, I laid into her something fierce for a brief flurry until she apologized. Probably the quickest “scene” I had in Florida, but fun, sassy and satisfying nonetheless.
I’d promised Jada I’d get her over my knee as soon as she arrived, and quickly she was across my lap in the jeans she had been traveling in. I gave her hell for making me spank her with her jeans on, of course I never asked her to take them off. I didn’t want to put her on the spot if she wasn’t up for that yet. She’d worked all day, flew in the evening, drove to the hotel and it was late. I didn’t want to start her party off on the wrong foot if she wasn’t ready to peel off that “bullet-proof vest” for her behind. (An hour or so later I found her on the bed with the jeans at her ankles and I gave her hell for it, but she appropriately pointed out to me, “You never asked me to take them off!” Lesson 1: Never assume anything. Always ask.)
Michael and Kate arrived and soon Gia was OTK with Michael and Kate was across my lap, both Michael and I doing what we do best. Kate had had enough and wasn’t afraid to say so. (One of the things I dislike about suite party play is my near-utter lack of being able to “read” my bottom’s vocal communication—things I always read when in private play like breathing, simple sounds. In this case, Kate was speaking, but with ambient noise and likely my overzealousness to “get this party started,” Kate repeated herself three times in rapid succession. With that, Michael raised his head and in his intimidating growl said, “Craig! She’s finished.” Yikes. Did I feel like a heel. All I can say is, Kate, I shouldn’t have been so eager. You were very kind to let me off the hook.
The night running rapidly into early morning, Gia and I headed off to bed, completely exhausted. Of course, we weren’t too exhausted to get our own lovely, wonderful OTK scene humming in the privacy of our hotel suite. A great start to a phenomenal weekend! My head touched the pillow at 5:30 am and I was completely out.
(Day 2 Report will be coming a lot quicker than my reports from SSNY Atlantic City Boardwalk Badness Weekend did.)