Oh Sandieeee! Sandy Eggooooo!!

Greetings from Sunny Sandy Eggo! Having a blast here with my buddy Alpha.

Got in at 10:30 pm or so on Friday night to Ontario, CA, rented a car (a not too bad dark gray Grand Am,or as I prefer to call it, the Grande Dame), and headed down I-15 bound for San Diego. Made it to Alpha's flawlessly done home of modest scale in the Mission Hills neighborhood with only one incidence of police intervention. (I was concerned about exiting and was going 30 mph on the freeway, something they frown on here.)

Slept in some on Saturday morning, and then headed to Bread and Cie (that's a frawnch abbreviation for 'companie,' and should not be pronouned like 'sea' under any circumstances) for brawnch. Surveying the woofy men of Hillcrest, it dawned on me why, in part, I've always been lukewarm towards Sandy Eggo: y'see, I always strike out here. On my three trips, I've never gotten a taste of any local bootie. Even though Wolf's in Sandy Eggo is a leatherbar I like a lot, I just don't seem to be selling what the locals are buying.

After brawnch at Bread and Cie, we headed to Black's Beach, Sandy Eggo's premiere clothing optional sun-and-sand venue. Getting to the beach requires a descent of steep sandstone cliffs, which was no party at all with a busted ankle. But, Alpha took it slow and kept an eye on me, so I made it to the bottom without much trouble. Alpha kinda scared me outta the water by telling me about stingrays, which lurk on the surface of the shallows, ready to attack the unwary bather who happens to tread on them. Their stinger, located at the base of their tails, delivers a good dose of venom. The Pacific is pretty chilly anyway (Big says, "It's to look at, not to soil"), and that ol' busted ankle and I, so Alpha and I just soaked up the rays and enjoyed one another's company. And took in the toothsome specatacle of a group of homo surfer boys who were on the next blanket over.

As the marine layer was closing in on us, we made the ascent of the cliffs (quite the strenuous climb), and headed for home. Y'see, we had a dungeon party to attend that night.

Airport Security totally searched my bag! Is that really necessary where checked baggage is concerned? I mean, I wouldn't have minded so much if they had done it in front of me, but it's weird finding that they've rifled through My Things in my absence. But, they deemed to permit me to continue to possess my bullwhip, flogger, wrist restraints, and SAP gloves, as well as my other BDSM accessories I brought along. So I wasn't showing up empty handed.

The dungeon party, called SuperPigs, takes place at the home of Alpha's ex, Roadkill, that Roadkill shares with his slave, pluG. Once a month, out come the slings and crosses, sheets of black plastic are hung over the walls, and the place is transformed. Roadkill told me that the big reason he decided to embark on SuperPigs was that he wanted Community, not just once a year at Inferno, but right there at home in Sandy Eggo.

I was feeling way Toppy as we headed out, and even more so upon seeing the shaved pated, mustached man sitting across the table from me filling out the release forms. But it didn't end up that way. Biker Guy was there.

I met Biker Guy a couple of years ago at MAL. I had caught sight of him in the lobby of the hotel, and decided then and there that he was way too hot to every have much to do with the likes of li'l ol' me. Built, hairy, bearded... Biker Guy is just amazing. But later in the weekend, I retreated to the cigar tent to try out my newly purchased 10' bullwhip. It was pretty vacant, so I gave it a few throws. Oh man. What a beauty. What a prize. It threw beautifully, and the crack was like a rifle shot. After I decided that there was magic in this braided roo hide, and was rolling up the whip, who should approach but Biker Guy, to complement me on my form and accuracy.

And so, it seems, we were both pretty taken with each other.

Alas, Biker Guy was booked that weekend with back-to-back play dates. So we couldn't make anything happen then. But I knew he was a Sandy Eggo native (lives out in the dessert where he rides his motorcycle), and I knew he knew Roadkill and Alpha, so the chances were not bad that he'd be at SuperPigs. And there he was.

Along with a raft of other great men.

We sat eating ribs and chicken and all the trimmings, smoking pipes and cigars on the deck, and from time to time heading to one of the playrooms to make the magic happen.

The conversation was wonderful. I really loved these men. I still hadn't given up hopes of having a go at shaved pated mustached man, so I did my best to seduce him with my mind and repartee. (Worked. He moved his chair to inches away from me.) But, well, there was Biker Guy grinning and growling in my direction. Our time had come.

Biker Guy mentioned the post-PunchPig pic of me with the black eye on my WorldLeathermen profile page. I explained, and mentioned the SAP gloves with which I gifted PunchPig that day. Biker Guy asked if I happened to have thos e SAP gloves with me. And yeah, I did. We left the porch. I pulled them out of my toybag, and Biker Guy tried them on.

They fit.

Upstairs we went, finding an empty room. Biker Guy started in on me. My delts, my back, some on my chin, but saving most of his energies for my chest. Blow after blow rained down on me. Biker Guy was great. Intense, intimate, brutal. Beautiful.

I had some of my bottom angst, the fear that I would disappoint the Top, that I'd be a wuss, but it didn't get in the way. I just surrendered. Gave it up. When Biker Guy decided he'd had enough, he held me, we held each other, I felt his dense fur against my cheek and my now verrrry tender chest, I cried some.

I told Biker Guy what I always tell my bottoms during punching scenes. I touched his right pectoral muscle. "In Chinese medicine, this is where your Pride is, here. When you work this pec, the boy is never going to tell you he's had enough. His pride won't let him." Then I touched his left pectoral, just over his heart. "And this is where your Grief is. Working this pec will put the boy in touch with all of that grief. It's a very powerful place."

Upstairs, there was Alpha and the gang to meet us.

"Whachyoo been up to?" asked Alpha with a playful jab to my right pec. The playful jab indicated that Alpha knew exactly what I had been up to, and had witnessed some of it.

Well that sure hurt. Yowza!

I had a beer, more time talking with the men on the deck, and then it was time to call it a night.

This morning, I awoke at 10:53 am Pacific Time. I couldn't believe I had stayed in bed so long! Lazy bones, lazy bones! Alpha pointed out that since I had gotten beat up last night, I might want to go easy on myself about enjoying an extra hour or so of shut eye.

On today's agenda, the Endless Round of Glittering Holiday Galas. Well, two parties actually. After loading up on bread at Bread and Cie, we headed to La Jolla, where friends of Alpha's who have a place overlooking the sparkling Pacific were having a holiday get together. It was an older crowd, as it's rare to find men in their thirties who can get a house overlooking the glittering Pacific, but friendly folks. Alpha and I slipped into some of the courtesy swimsuits provided and hopped in the pool.

Thus were we oggled. I surmised that we were at the party as eye-candy, not really expected to take part in conversation or anything, just to loll around in the pool and look fetching. And that sure worked for me! I like being a trohy guest at a holiday party at a house overlooking the glittering Pacific! I ate that up with a spoon.

Speaking of eating, they put out quite a spread, and Alpha and I availed ourselves thereof. Hamburgers were being grilled, and I noticed that the cater water was pretty easy on the eyes. And I noticed cater waiter looking with sort of stunned disbelief at my tattoo... the new one, of the chains. As I approached the grill where he was flipping burgers, I saw why: he had a chain tattoo winding up from his wrist.

Oh. My. God.

This means I'll have to hunt him down and kill him. Sorry about that cater waiter. That idea happens to be mine, even if it seems that you thought of it first. I hope life has been good to you, but you've flipped your final burgers. Hasta la vista, Bay-beee.

After eating, we had the second party of the day to attend, the Albatross Avenue Block Party. Alpha was hot to attend as he is leading a drive to get the City of Sandy Eggo to make Albatross Ave a one-way street and wanted to gather petition signatures from his neighbors.

So Civic Minded is our Alpha!

And that's where Alpha is now, off signature gathering. I, on the other hand, opted to spend some time posting, keeping all of you up to date on my doings.

And now, I think I'll wander into Hillcrest and see if I can't find a Starbucks that's open.

Time for a latte and a cigar.

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