Okay. So I Was Wrong.

Almost forgot to mention.

I got tied up on Monday. And expertly so. In several different positions.

It felt really good. And by my reckoning, it was perhaps the the seventh time in the past decade. (Keckler had the honor twice now.) That's not entirely the fault of the Universe or whatever. There's nothing not to like about good rope bondage as far as I'm concerned, although I can't say it's something I go out looking for. But rarely do I get any propositions along those lines. (Except from Keckler. Twice.)

So. Where did I have to go for this event? Up to NYC? Down to DC? Out to LA/SF/Palm Springs? A quick flight on USA3000 to Fort Leatherdale?

Nope! I had to get in my car and drive 20 minutes south down Aquetong Road.

Truth!

Now, if you had asked me on Sunday, "Say... What are the chances that you'd find an expert bondage Top living in Solebury?", I would have replied without hesitation, "I reckon about the same as Faithful Companion offering his opinion on his kibble in flawless French." (Although if Faithful Companion used the subjunctive and erred, I probably wouldn't have been able to spot it at this point.) (Although, the subjunctive is usually only used in written, rather than spoken French.)

But there he was, inviting me to come over. And when I got there, he had the St. Andrew's Cross (nicer than mine) and the fuck bench all ready.

Alas, he's deeply partnered, and no telling when our next date might go down as he was only available Monday because he had the day off work.

But even so. In the 3.5 years I've lived here, that's a definite first.