First Saturday In July

Some men love their country, some men love their dog, some men love their guns, some men love their trucks, some men love their jobs. I love, or have loved, all of those things. But right now, what I really Really REALLY love is my KitchenAide Stand Mixer. I call him Big Guy, and he has changed my life. Ain't NOBODY got cake batter lighter and fluffier than me. And ask me about my home made butter!

Bright and early Saturday morning, I gave Big Guy a work out. The planned dessert this year was a ricotta cheese cake with graham cracker crust topped with fresh strawberries. And oh man, I am so saving that recipe. Nothing could be easier. You mix up cream cheese, ricotta, lemon juice and lemon zest, and some sugar, put it into your cheese cake tin (or tins, in my case), and bake it for eighteen minutes at 425° and there you go. As my sister used to say, "Boom. Done."

And I kept the cheesecakes in the tins to make them easier to transport.

Driving out to DogTopper and JPZapper's farmhouse in Pottsgrove I had the iPod set to my Orange Mix (upbeat songs in a major key). There was rain at times, but just enough to wet the grass and spot my windshield and have me close the moonroof, only to open it again in a minute or two when it stopped. In no time at all, I was climbing up the driveway, spitting stones behind me.

Very cool.

First task at hand was to plate my dessert, and luckily there were some guys hanging out in the dining room who could offer appreciative oooohs and ahhhhs. Then, I put my cheesecake tins back in my jeep and joined the party.

The crowd changes yearly, always a mix of guys I know and guys I don't. Very quickly, I was in the swing of things, eating chicken and hotdogs and chatting and chatting up. With the guys I know, it was the first time I had seen them since my father died, so there were expressions of condolences and inquiries about how I'm doing.

And how am I doing?

Okay. I'm doing okay. Working a lot at Ho(t)me(n) Depot, getting the house ready to go on the market.

And oh yeah, I'm moving to Palm Springs.

Having to say that over and over and over again had the effect of making it really sink in.

I'm moving to Palm Springs.

As in, I'm leaving the East Coast and moving 2,600 miles away to Palm Springs, California. DogTopper and JPZapper's farm will no longer be an hour and fifteen minutes away. It will require travel by plane and such. It'll be a Whole Deal.

Well, gosh.

And another realization was that if it's my intention to be settled when I start school in September, and if it's now July, then that means I'll be leaving Next Month.

Omigosh.

Holy Cow.

These realizations more or less went down as background. Being surrounded by hot mostly shirtless men ensured that I wouldn't be distracted by heavy rumination. And besides, there was the hot tub. I spent, as per usual, a lot of time in the hot tub, talking with DogTopper about all those contemporary art museums that seem to be cropping up in the Midwest. DogTopper has recently visited Milwaukee's (which he liked a lot), and Denver's, done by Daniel Liebeskind, which he liked not so much. I mentioned the Dia as pretty much my ideal: an old space repurposed, and a Nineteenth Century industrial space (schwing!) at that.

After the hot tub, we all got busy in the dungeon and various outbuildings.

This year, there was not so much BDSM going on. A Master and slave couple did some great shibari that was fun to watch, and DogTopper did this amazing scene with a very hot man that had this beautiful, slow-motion underwater quality to it.

Last year, I noticed that it all seemed to be about PBJs, as in Power Blow Jobs, where there's much choking and gagging and even vomit involved. This year, not so much. This year, it was all about Ass Sex. Lots and lots of Ass Sex. Ass Sex as though it had just been invented that night. Ass Sex everywhere. Driven, hard-thrusting Ass Sex. Aw FugYEAH Daddy Ass Sex. There was even Hand Shake Ass Sex, like when you stick it up his hole and ride a little bit by way of introducing yourself. No matter where you looked, there was Ass Sex.

Now, how much fun was that?

Lots.

Or more appropriately, Loads.

Has there already been a porn movie titled "Loads Of Fun?" Has that been taken? Probably so, right? No matter, JPZapper and DogTopper's party was definitely Loads Of Fun.

Now, if'n you go to JPZapper and DogTopper's First Saturday In July party sometime, stay over night. There's this great breakfast thing that happens. Bring a tent to pitch on the lawn or sack out on one of the mattresses up in the attic. Tragically, as I had to be at work at Ho(t)me(n) Depot at noon the next day, there would be no such breakfast pleasures for me.

But just when I was thinking that I had shot my wad, both literally and figuratively, and was pretty much done for the night, along comes Datt, of Datt and Male fame, getting all cuddly and puppy-ish.

Perfect.

We kind of snuggled for a bit, and then I said, "I would really enjoy a backrub right now."

And Datt responded, "I would really enjoy giving a backrub right now."

And we moved over to the wrestling mat and Datt got to work on me.

Okay. I've got some Huge News that will no doubt rock the leather community internationally: Datt, famed as an exquisitely submissive man, has lurking somewhere deep within him an Evil Vicious Top just waiting to be released to wreck havoc on an unsuspecting world.

It's true!

I saw it! I was there! I was the unsuspecting world in microcosm!

Oh MAN did he put me through my paces! At one point, he managed to dig his fingers under my shoulderblade and flip it up like opening the lid of a music box. Or at least, that's what it felt like. Although the music coming out of me wasn't a tinkly rendition of Edelweis, it was me going, "Ooh! Aah! Eee! Yah! Ngah! Uhh!"

Omigod! Here I am at the mercy of an Evil Vicious Top, and I don't have a safeword! All I could offer was, "Umm, I don't thing that actually comes off," referring to my ribcage or something. But Datt was unrelenting (Duh! Like an Evil Vicious Top would relent?).

And there was enough gentle caresses to lull me now and again into a sense of security before it was All About Agony again.

In short, Datt gives a great backrub.

I'm still totally, totally relaxed, as relaxed as I've ever been, relaxed in every fiber of my being, and I expect I'll remain relaxed until about 2012.

Afterwards, when I revealed to Datt that he was pretty... uh... rough with his backrub, he responded simply by letting me know that "Male is a lot more brutal."

And Male confirmed this.

But it was time for me to head for home.

Okay okay okay. One more dip in the hot tub, and then I'd head for home. (Yeah. You know me. Bait the trap with a hot tub and I'll walk right in every time.)

After soaking for about an hour, I put my clothes back on and went to bid goodnight to my hosts. After doing so, I briefly chatted with this awfully handsome man I hadn't seen through much of the night's festivities (that would be Ass Sex), but of whom I had gotten quite an eyeful during dinner. I haven't seen him at one of these here First Saturday In July parties before, but he sure was a welcome addition. Apparently, he's a contractor who has done some work for JPZapper and DogTopper. How enticing is that? When I sent along a thank-you email, I asked DogTopper to inquire of Contractor Guy if he wanted to meet up sometime.

*sigh*

Sometime before I move to Palm Springs that is.

So we'll see.