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2007 June 15th Friday 01:55PDT
the unheard sound of falling over the edge
On Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday the 10th, 11th, and 12th of June, i was sleeping quite a few extra hours. I actually spent more time in bed than awake. By Tuesday night i felt kind of like my 'batteries were recharged' and i was in the mood to get some good exercise with my favorite dildo, Bam (#4 & #4). [Go ahead, you know you want him!] So on the morning of Wednesday June 13th i set a new personal record: over the course of eight or nine hours i fucked myself vigorously with Bam until he made me orgasm a total of five times.
The first time he made me cum, i was groaning quietly and felt like laughing. I had him fully embedded up my ass as i stood over the corner of the counter next to the bathroom sink, thus forcing him to stay firmly stuck inside me as i leaned forward and masturbated. By stretching up and down on my tip-toes while i braced one hand against the wall for balance, i was able to fuck my happy butthole wonderfully and the dildo's suction-cup kept him affixed to his spot on the vanity. My jizz spurted all over the hair on my lower legs and across the floor in front of me. I was delighted, and giggled a bit at this fun activity.
A little while later when i was riding Bam atop my bed, i was slightly dizzy (the poppers probably contributed to that feeling) and i knelt in a position with the huge rubber dong wedged behind me between my ankles. As i humped up and down a full nine or ten inches, nearly pulling all the way up but not quite off him entirely, then slamming all the way back downward so he was totally filling me right to his 'scrotum' base, i felt ecstatic. An old session by MixMaster Morris was playing on the stereo ("Dangerous Drums Berlin") and during an especially delicious moment i found myself ejaculating joyfully for the second time while i heaved myself vertically along the length of my wondrous toy-friend Bam. This made me grunt and groan as i swooned in merriment.
During the hour before sunrise while a faint pale light was beginning to tinge the undersides of the clouds across the overcast sky, i listened to another such recording, Naxos Siesta. I wedged a smooth wooden plank between the bed and the wall, and stuck Bam to this board with his suction-cup about ten or twelve inches above the surface of the bed so he hung forward and drooped downward due to his great weight. Then on my hands and knees i backed up against him and pushed him into my ass until i engulfed his entire length. I pushed some old pillows between my legs and under my stomach as i leaned forward with my face down toward the sheets, and they gave me very comfortable support in this position as i yanked my body back and forth to fuck myself merrily with the great dildo. Despite having cum twice already, i was pleasantly surprised to find that i could have yet another fabulous orgasm, the third of the morning. I was so dizzy i almost thought i would faint as i kept pushing firmly backwards on my mighty rubber friend, with my face pressed against the bed and my semen dropping all over the pillows and my knees. After the spasmodic waves of pleasure subsided i was so exhausted, i continued to rest in that position, keeping the whole dildo stuck inside myself for quite a few minutes as i caught my breath and just relaxed to the sounds of chilled downtempo music which sparkled and thumped around the room.
Ordinarily i wouldn't have the strength and stamina to continue with such raucous physical exertion. Now that i'm almost thirty-seven years old and i've had HIV for nearly half my life, i find i am usually quite tired, and i'm easily tuckered out after just a bit of action. But Wednesday morning was rather exceptional, and i was so horny i just kept on throwing myself into revelry with my most magnificent rubber dong which fits inside me just perfectly. Some old mix tapes given to me years ago by my friend Shawn McFetridge played on the stereo surround system. The pair of Cerwin-Vega Special Edition speakers were in front of me in the forward corners of the room, the pair of KLH speakers were behind me in the rear corners, and the Advent speaker (also a gift from Shawn during the 1990s) was at the front center position. Lovely melodies from such artists as the Future Sound Of London, Eat Static, and various other talented performers whose names i don't know emanated from the stereo and filled the room with a magical ambience. And i was riding Bam yet again.
I pulled the long wooden plank out from between the bed and wall, and laid it across the bed at an angle. As i straddled the board on my knees i put a small pillow behind me at the back end of the plank and large pillows in front of me at the other end. Then i used Bam's suction-cup to stick him near the center of the board. As i knelt and used the pillows for leverage and balance while leaning forward or backwards, i pushed my asshole downward and completely engulfed all of the dildo again. Using the muscles of my legs until they were extremely tired, i lifted my butt up and down so as to thrust all of Bam in and out of myself. Sometimes on these sorts of occasions i find my mental state becomes rather blurred and somewhat detached, and i lose track of almost everything. I drift away from my usual self-conscious frame of mind and seem to wander off into a rather unthinking blissful state. I don't know how long i floated in that dreamy luxurious headspace, it could have been an hour, more or less. I was vaguely aware of the muscles in my legs, ankles, back and arms becoming so tired i was starting to notice a mild soreness. But still i lifted my body up and down, mindlessly addicted to the intense satisfaction as my mind was blank but for the pure lust for my friend Bam. Shifting back and forth between positions squatting then kneeling, leaning one way and another, i had an excellent workout with the world's most fabulous rubber exercise equipment.
Eventually it seemed that i might lose my mind completely. With genuine surprise i found myself having a fourth orgasm as i flung my weight up and down, slamming, cramming, Bamming my asshole totally while i squeezed my cock and balls. Perhaps i didn't have very much semen left, only a few small blobs landed on the pillows in front of me and dribbled down my scrotum and over my fingers. I guess i was sort of disconnected from my own brain in some strange way, i felt a combination of detachment, absurdity, amusement, relief, and utter exhaustion. When i finally pulled myself completely off the monstrous dildo i collapsed sideways across the bed and lied there panting, stunned and spent. Several songs played and fifteen or twenty minutes passed until i found the strength to get up again.
I wiped up and went to the kitchen to make a nice hot cup of tea. I added lots of honey to my mug of Ruby Mist Tisane from Stash teas of Seattle, and sat calmly by the northwest windows sipping this beverage as i watched the morning grow lighter. A couple tugboats and barges passed to and fro on Bellingham Bay, and some went into the shipping channel of the Whatcom Waterway near the international pier where the huge cargo ship Horizon Fairbanks had departed last weekend. Occasionally i could hear a train or some cars passing along near Boulevard, but our neighborhood was very peaceful as usual. There were a couple of harbor seals sitting on the logs of the breakwater, but they soon departed; they don't seem to hang around in broad daylight, i think they prefer to stay out of sight in the daytime.
At this point i could easily have taken a nap, i'm sure my body was a bit beyond its ordinary limits of exertion. Eighteen years of AIDS-related complications have resulted in a myriad of health issues and i find i am usually fatigued even on the days when i don't get much exercise. But on this particular Wednesday morning i was filled with a remarkable lust. Sometimes i just love my dildo Bam so much, i want to worship him non-stop, literally throwing myself into celebratory appreciation for the beautiful way he makes me feel. I am a crazy fucker, and i am nuts about my dildos.
I was really too tired to do any more humping and heaving, but i desperately needed to shove more Bam into my rectum. So i decided i would also combine the ass-play with another sexy activity, utilizing one of my finest and most diabolical devices, my intense padded locking leather sensory-deprivation hood. I knew the combination of stimulations would be a thrill. I pushed the pillows up against the wall and sat on the bed with my back against these, making myself very comfortable. Reaching between my legs i forced Bam through my anus once again, pushing him in deeply and sliding him all the way up until his entire shaft was inside me. His base was pushed firmly against the bed below my scrotum, and by squeezing him between my outstretched legs i was able to ensure that he did not move while i sat there.
There are plastic dental guards which are sold in sporting-goods stores to ensure that one's teeth are kept safe during athletic activities. A few days earlier i had taken two of these and carefully followed their instructions for shaping them perfectly to my teeth along both my upper and lower jaws. By submerging them in very hot water their plastic becomes soft enough to allow them to be shaped exactly against one's teeth; then they are cooled and they become hardened to retain their precise form. When both of them were in place in my mouth they made tiny squeaking noises as they rubbed against each other. Because of the way they fit tightly along my gums i found that it was not easy to draw breath around them between my lips. I took an old rag, a black paisley handkerchief which i'd previously cut to about two-thirds of its original size, and i folded it over and over until it was a small square lump which i could just barely fit into my mouth behind the two dental guards. It was encrusted with countless layers of semen and drool from all the previous times i'd played with it this year. I knew that this gag could theoretically be a life-threatening choking hazard when used inside the locking hood, and that thrilled me on some level. When all three of these items (upper guard, lower guard, gag) were in place, i couldn't move my tongue very far because my mouth was so full.
Still happily squeezing my rectal muscles on my magical impaler Bam, i sat and looked around the room which was now fully illuminated by the morning daylight. I took a pair of soft foam earplugs and squeezed each of them between my fingers, rolling and twisting them until they were compressed enough to fit inside each of my ears. They made a very faint hissing kind of noise as they re-expanded and blocked out almost all sound. Then i could only hear my own breathing and my pulse which seemed sort of loud inside my head. I had a roll of extra-wide (three-inch) ducttape which i left sitting beside me on the edge of the bed. I had four tiny padlocks with matching identical keys; i placed the locks and keys on the shelf next to the bed where i could barely reach them with my outstretched arm. I made careful mental notes of all item's positions, as i would have to find everything blindly after donning the hood. This thrills me in some way.
I pulled the laces on the back of the hood so they were loose enough to allow it to be opened widely in order to be able to pull it over my head. It's quite heavy and really far more thick and padded than any other leather hood or gear which i've ever used in all my years of playing with bondage equipment. Using the D-rings on the collar as positional guides, i centered the hood over my forehead and pulled it backwards and downwards so it covered my face and slid down the back of my skull. I was glad that my hair was shaven so short. This hood always makes my head extremely sweaty. I love that.
I saw a brief glimpse of light through the grommet opening at the mouth, but as soon as it was correctly positioned it was too far down below my lip to let me see anything further. Carefully and deliberately, loving every sensation, i adjusted the leather flap in the back so it was tight behind my head and i smoothed out any wrinkles beneath the laces. The device felt heavy and the sound of my own breathing was loud in my mind as my sense of vision was removed. It's true: as some perceptions are blocked, others seem to become more sensitive. I could now see nothing whatsoever, i could only hear inside my own nostrils, i could taste nothing but the gag pressing my tongue down behind the plastic oral guards, and i could smell nothing but the leather which held a faint odor of my own perspiration. But tactility was intensified, and every touch of the material against my skin sort of tingled with excitement; every motion i made with my tired arms felt so good despite the fatigue in all my muscles. Bam filled my bottom with the deepest satisfaction. My penis was halfway hard again, and i felt a tiny drip of fluids from its tip as it touched my left thigh. You know you're doing everything correctly when that's happening, yes?
Now i very deliberately worked my way down the lacings from the top of my head all the way to the collar behind my neck, my fingers moving with practised care. I am so familiar with this hood, i can close my eyes and imagine every sensation clearly. As i tightened the laces across each pair of eyelets the hood continued to press more and more tightly against my skin. When i came to the end of the eyelets and the hood was snug around my throat, it now forced almost all of my breath to pass through the grommet opening in front of my lips. The hole was big enough to let a person breathe freely, but there's something scary and claustrophobic about that feeling of having the entire world and the entire sense of life and safety reduced to a single circle one centimeter in diameter. It's a weird constriction which made my boner grow harder.
When the laces were as tight as possible i tied them off in a bow; this always leaves a couple dozen inches of extra cordage dangling behind my shoulders, so i coiled them up and pushed the entire bunched mass up under the inside of the back of the hood. Then i sat and tried to breathe calmly as the excitement was building with each step further into encasement. The leather strap which runs through the D-rings around the collar slipped through the buckle, and then i pulled it until it was quite tight. It was just barely loose enough to avoid pressing against my throat too much for safety, because i didn't want to risk any pressure on my windpipe or against the circulation to my head; but it was too tight to fit a finger underneath between the leather and my skin. When it was buckled it covered the bottom of the back of the hood where the lacing had been tucked away, so there was now no way to untie anything without unfastening the buckle first. I slipped the end of the strap through the metal of the buckle, then through the little leather holder which slides along the other end of the strap, then folded it back under itself so it was wedged into the holder and could not slip or slide so much as a millimeter.
I could hear nothing but my own breathing and pulse; every breath went in and out from my nostrils through that little grommet, and i felt sort of calmed by the rhythm, although i could tell my pulse was going a bit rapidly because of the sexual excitement. The second strap was held by riveted fasteners which go directly over the padding in front of my eyes. As i pulled the strap tightly i ran the end behind my head through its buckle and this pulled firmly against the padding which went over my ears. The padding would have been sufficient on its own to dampen most noise, but when combined with the foam earplugs inside, it was completely effective at eliminating all hearing except for the sounds inside my own skull. I tugged at the strap through the buckle, pulling harder and harder until it was all the way up to the very last notch on the thick leather. This caused it to pull the hood so tightly against my eyes and over the bridge of my nose, i worried a tiny bit that it might leave a bruise in the center of my face between my eyebrows. But from previous experiences i had learned that it never left more than a very faint mark, and did no permanent damage. So when i had yanked it all the way into that tightest notch i slid the end of the strap through the buckle, then through the holder along the other end of the strap, curled it under itself and back into the holder, and felt it carefully with my fingers as it was now totally stuck in place. As i touched the straps lightly and felt around the hood with my fingertips as it was so extremely firmly pressed against my skin around my forehead and behind my skull, it seemed as though my heart was fluttering with excitement. I could feel my penis bobbing as more appreciative drips stuck to my thighs. I didn't even have the headgear all done up yet, but i felt as though i could cum at any moment if i were to stroke my dick at all.
Calmly, Kevin, calmly... take it easy... relax... enjoy... prolong.... I forced myself not to rush, i wanted the happiness to last forever.
I could feel a tiny bit of perspiration running down my back between my shoulders and alongside my ribs as i put a lot of effort into the use of my arms and hands; the muscles of my upper arms and shoulders were becoming very exhausted as i spent so much time working with them upheld around my head. The third and final strap is always the most difficult, and the one which causes the greatest sensation of claustrophobic panic when it's forced into place. I could see nothing, could hear nothing outside of the hood, could smell only sweaty leather, could taste only the raunchy gag which was making me swallow and push with the muscles of my tongue against the inner edges of the dental guards. My heart was racing but i willed myself to breathe at a calmly measured pace. Bam was far too huge for me to forget about him as he impaled my ass ten inches deep, but i really wasn't concentrating on him much at all as i was so seriously involved with my crazy face-rape. I love spending time all alone doing intense things with every part of my body.
The third strap runs in a circle around my face, going over the top of my head and under my jaw. It is held in its position by several riveted fasteners, and it is actually comprised of two sections (a top and a bottom) which are joined by two buckles, one aside each cheek. I always leave the buckle on the right side fastened to the fifth notch of the leather strap, and curl the end of the strap up underneath itself tightly against the holder which then will not slide anywhere. This means the strap which buckles alongside my left cheek is the final part of the gear which is to be worked into place. When pulling the strap through the buckle it forces the hood to become so tight against my face that it is almost pinching under the edge of my jaw, not quite painful but definitely at the limits of what i could consider to be "comfort". The padding is quite thick around the grommet in front of my mouth and below my nose, and everything was pressed so hard against my skull it created the sensation that my entire life was being squeezed into a tiny opening a centimeter below my nostrils as every breath depended on that single hole. I had to concentrate on breathing deliberately at a measured pace in order to stop myself from hyperventilating. Fucking awesome.
When i had pulled the left buckle to the tightest possible notch against my cheek it caused so much pressure under my jaw that it was actually forcing my mouth to be firmly closed and unmovable. If it weren't for the protection of the dental guards, i'm sure my teeth would have risked grinding against each other. Because of the tightness of the plastic moulded to my teeth behind my lips and along my gums, i could barely suck any air at all into my mouth even when i tried to sneer so my lips were apart. Due to the raunchy cloth which was folded up into a dangerous gag behind the plastic, i could barely move my tongue around with the greatest effort, and i had to repeatedly swallow with extreme care after every third or fourth exhalation through my nostrils. I knew that despite my practise with these devices i was endangering myself because of the risk of choking and suffocating. I knew, and i enjoyed. In some ways, i guess i like to scare myself a tiny bit, as i relish the thrilling feelings of being forced into positions which require the utmost concentration and attention to every sensual moment.
As i pulled the leather strap through the final buckle and then folded it back up underneath itself into position with its fastener, i found that i really could not get enough air through my mouth and i would now have to depend entirely on my ability to breathe through my nose. Maybe this doesn't sound so serious, but really i can't emphasize enough how this gives me a powerful psychological excitement as it makes me feel that my life truly depends on the simple will to breathe carefully and deliberately through my nostrils. I never knew what this was like until i had experienced it personally, and it's hard to describe the way it forces all of my consciousness to align into a single-minded focus that sharpens every moment and puts me at the edge of insanity in a way that i love with all my being. Every motion of my body, every time i swallowed and worked the muscles of my throat, every sensation as i toyed with the leather, every tingle as i squeezed my ass muscles on Bam... it all combined to put me into another dimension of happiness and pleasure.
Now that i had the hood firmly and exactly in place, and i was truly forced to depend on the single hole for the breath on which my life depended, i was ready to ratchet things up to the next level. Already i was in a position where i was at risk of choking if i could not remove the entire hood within thirty to sixty seconds in order to spit out the gag if necessary; despite my experience and deft fingers, i was not sure that i could undo three buckles and untie the laces that quickly; so surely i was in a very risky position. But i crazily enjoy adding to the risk, pushing it beyond the point of safety into what is definitely danger. I stretched my right arm out toward the shelf next to the bed and felt the little padlocks lying in a row. I collected them in my hand and held them for a minute, blindly toying with them between my fingers and against my palms, feeling my dripping cock against my thigh, squirming a tiny bit as Bam filled my ass with rubber. Despite the knowledge of the risks, i always choose to proceed anyway.
The buckle on my right cheek always remains fastened, and i put the first padlock through the loop at the tip of the swing-arm bar which goes through the notch in the leather, clicking it shut so it was now locked in place. This strap which runs around my face over my head and under my jaw has two buckles, one on each side, so fastening the first is not as much of a big deal as the second. In my mind, this first buckle on the right side is just a small step, because if something should go wrong at this point i would still be able to undo the left side. But feeling that first click as the lock shuts is still somehow powerful on some level in my mind. It's like i'm standing at the edge of a diving board, getting ready to leap. It says, "You're ready to go over the edge now."
Reaching behind my head where the strap pulls so seriously tightly around the circumference of my skull and forces the padding against my ears and eyes, i felt the buckle and slipped the U-bar of the padlock through the tiny hole of the swing-arm which goes through the notch in the leather. Up until this time, if i wanted to, i could simply begin undoing all of this gear. Up until this point, at any moment that i so desired, i could reverse all of the steps of the process, and back out of my position. Up until now, everything was left open to the possibility that i could change my mind and go backwards until i was free again. But if i were to close this padlock, i would now be past that point. I would be taking the leap.
I always pause for a minute when i get here. I always feel so afraid, i have to reassure myself by feeling around blindly until i touch the keys next to me. With my right hand i felt the edge of the wooden shelf next to the bed, and slowly slid my fingers along until i was touching the little keys lying there. I pressed my fingertips against them, reassuring myself that i knew where they were, knew how to grab them and use them when necessary. I made myself breathe slowly. I can do this... i've done it before, many times, and i am confident. I reached behind my head and felt the padlock hanging from the buckle. I pressed the tip of its U-bar into its tiny hole on the lock and squeezed until it clicked.
I couldn't hear that click, i could only feel it. But in my imagination it always seems loud. It's the sense of taking the leap, the unheard sound of falling over the edge. On purpose.
My boner was aimed straight upward, and i knew i couldn't touch it because i would cum too quickly. I forced myself to stay away from my crotch and focus instead on my top and bottom. Bam was fucking my ass-end, and the gag behind the dental guards inside my mouth inside the hood underneath all the straps and locks was fucking my throat. I made myself sit there and breathe carefully, swallowing repeatedly, checking to make sure that nothing was blocked, reminding myself that i was okay, i was not sensing any blockage in my nostrils or throat. Despite the intense tightness of the hood against my head and the straps around my face and throat, i reassured myself that i could proceed, could continue with my dastardly process.
I slipped another padlock through the bar of the buckle on the strap around the collar behind my neck, and clicked it shut. Now three of the four buckles were unable to be opened. The only one left was the one alongside my left cheek. I always pause at this point in my headgames, because i have to make a decision here. I felt the tightness of the strap as it went around under my jaw, and i could not get a finger between the the buckle and the padding because it was forced to such a far notch. If i were to undo the buckle and slip it back just one notch, i could reduce the tension here, and thus i might be able to move my jaw a tiny bit. This would help reduce the risk of panic as it might allow me a greater sensation of being able to swallow and breathe with slightly less restriction. But i enjoy the panic, i am thrilled by the intentional anxiety. Should i keep it so tight? Or should i back off just the tiniest bit? Depending how everything feels, depending on the sense of strain, depending on how freely i seem to be getting air through my nostrils, i sometimes decide one way or the other. On this particular occasion, i decided to be extra risky. I decided to keep it at the maximum tightness on the farthest possible notch for the dimensions of my head. Despite the severe sensation of restriction as i tried to breathe and swallow, i would take the risk and lock it in this position. I slipped the U-bar of the final padlock through the hole at the tip of the metal arm of the fourth buckle going through the notch in the leather strap. Before i had a moment to change my mind, i quickly clicked it shut.
There. It's done. Go ahead and panic, fucker. You can't cry out anyway.
It was quite true, there was absolutely no way to make a sound, at least nothing louder than the wheezing of my own breath. Experimentally i tried to groan. First of all, it took effort to draw a big lungful of air. Then when i tried to exhale in such a way as to make a sound, my passages were too blocked by the gag and dental guards to allow any sort of oral expression. Only a very faint hmmmnnn managed to push out my nostrils. Of course i had no way to judge accurately as my ears were plugged and the hood was padded, but i was rather certain that i could not make enough noise for anybody to hear me if they were more than a few meters away. I'm sure i've made louder noises snoring while asleep. I could not speak, could not groan loudly, could only barely grunt in a most diabolically muffled way. This turned me on so much, i thought i was just about ready to faint with pleasure. I had to keep checking with myself, asking myself if i was truly in any danger of passing out. I needed to reassure myself that i was excited but i was not actually deprived of sufficient air, because i knew that if i were to faint, i would most assuredly suffocate and would never wake up again.
It's crazy, but i love it. I wanted to feel that way forever, dancing on the edge of madness, as i sat there very still. I listened to the air rhythmically passing in and out of my nose, felt it whistle over my upper lip as it was forced to go through the grommet hole. I squeezed Bam with my rectum and felt my penis bobbing and dripping. My hands wanted to grab my crotch, but i denied myself masturbation in order to prolong the experience. I slowly felt over my upper body, running my fingers over my chest, my nipples, shoulders, around my neck where the collar was locked tightly around the bottom of the hood. I felt the twin rows of metal eyelets running up the center of the back of my head all the way to where the strap ran over my crown. I felt some drops of perspiration somehow manage to leak out from under the collar and run behind my shoulders. My muscles in my legs and arms and back were all aching a bit. I'd really pushed myself rather far on this day, and yet i still wanted to go farther.
I had two more items in my plan to ratchet the insanity higher. The first was the little bottle of poppers lying somewhere on the bed, the second was the roll of ducttape to my side. I felt around on the surface of the sheets with my left hand, searching for the small glass bottle. No matter how certain i feel about the positions of everything before i don the hood, it always seems that there is a bit of error in my judgments when i can't see. Perhaps my activities had caused things atop the bed to move a few millimeters here and there. It took fifteen or twenty seconds of sliding my hand around, sweeping back and forth, but i found the poppers. While carefully unscrewing the plastic cap i exhaled deeply, trying to empty my lungs of as much air as possible. Then i held the small bottle of alkyl nitrites up to the grommet at the front of my face, and slowly inhaled. I counted silently as i sucked air into my lungs, feeling and smelling the acrid burn of the vapours as they flowed through my nostrils, one one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand.... My head spun dizzily and i felt the warmth flowing through my cheeks. ...eight one thousand, nine one thousand. With extreme care i screwed the cap back on the bottle while i held my breath. My pulse was pounding in my ears and neck. I sat the bottle a few inches away from my left hip, then folded my arms in front of my chest, sort of hugging myself as the universe twirled and throbbed in the darkness. In the blackness as i could see nothing it appeared that some reddish-grey hallucinatory shapes were squiggling and dancing in front of my eyes. The strap was pressing the padding so tightly against them, it was impossible to open my eyelids. The pressure caused me to be aware of my own pulse behind my eyes.
As i've noticed on numerous other occasions (especially involving poppers), an imaginary spot-- a sort of vortex-- seemed to appear somewhere just above the center of my inner vision. Although my eyes were forced shut, it was sort of like looking at something floating in front of my forehead. I think there might be some kind of physiological correlation between the vasodilation and the sense of visual perception, however unreal it might be, as merely a product of something going on in the brain rather than in actual space. As usual, the spot hovered and swirled ahead of me, sort of creating a blind dot in front of my mind. Have you ever accidentally looked toward the sun, or toward an extremely bright light, then looked away quickly? You know how it leaves a sort of dancing spot which persists in your vision for a few seconds? It was sort of like that, kind of like an illusion, an effect which was not disturbing but is always a little weird. I sometimes am reminded thusly of the cover of the album Beaucoup Fish by Underworld.
As my capillaries dilated, the increased feeling of swelling somewhere inside my head caused me to worry more about the flow of air through my nostrils and throat. I listened so intently to my breathing as it went in, out, in, out. I swallowed over and over, pressing my tongue up against the gag, trying unsuccessfully to move my jaws at all. It was worrisome, and i loved it. I sat there very still, letting the sensation of calm gradually replace the feelings of anxiety. I was so horny, and Bam was like some kind of electrifying friend stuffed up far into my colon. Relax, relax, and breathe.... i told myself.
I felt to my right for the jumbo roll of ducttape at the corner of the bed. Turning it slowly in my hands i used my fingertips to find the edge where i could begin peeling it away from the roll. When i had pulled up about an inch i folded it over onto itself, so it made a kind of tag at its end, a little strip of sticky fabric which would be my "safety mechanism", a half-inch of tape on which my life would depend. Every motion i made, every inhalation, every second which passed seemed so deliberate now. It was like i could taste the very essence of my life, feeling it all a thousand times more intensely than usual, experiencing each moment with a concentrated focus that reaches beyond my ability to verbalize. I couldn't make a sound, couldn't hear anything except the rhythm of my continuous breathing which was my only reassurance that i was still okay. I noticed that i was trembling; the room wasn't cold, i was rather warm with my exertions and was perspiring as a result, especially under the tight hood. The shakiness was due to the intensity of my lust. This happens once in a great while, and i love it. It makes me feel like i did when i was about sixteen years old, and my hormones overruled my brain. Such is true joy. It's bliss-- nerve-wracking, wobbly, dizzy, trembling, ecstatic bliss.
Satisfied that i had a good half-inch tab along the edge of the tape, i began pulling it off the roll. Despite my earplugs, the ducttape was so loud i actually heard it faintly as though from far away while the inches separated from the roll. When i had approximately seven inches or so, i held the roll carefully with my left hand and pressed my index finger downward to prevent further unravelling, and used my right hand to rip it off. Skkritchhh, i heard it faintly. Being very careful not to let it stick against itself, i held the piece of tape away from my body with my right hand, and set the roll down to my left side next to the poppers. Then i took hold of the sticky piece of ducttape and stretched it out all the way, feeling that it made a perfect rectangle in my imagination. It almost exactly matched the size of the padding on the front of the hood which surrounds the breathing-grommet. I was shivering, knowing how this was going to feel from numerous crazy experiences, appreciating the trial and error which had gone into these acts over and over until i knew exactly how i liked to do this.
The left edge of the rectangle did not have any kind of 'safety' flap. Feeling the edge of the padding where it was compressed by the locked strap which buckled along my left cheek, i pressed the corner of the ducttape in place, aligning it vertically and feeling it stick in its position on my cheek. If i were to smooth the whole piece down against the padding in front of my face, it would cover the grommet. The right edge of the rectangle would line up alongside the strap against my right cheek, and the 'safety' tab would be the only bit which i could grab to pull it back off. I felt the edges of the rectangle as it hung off my left cheek, felt it dangling straight out in front of my face, holding it very carefully with my fingertips, knowing the deadly risk. Ever so cautiously, i bent the tape backwards so it folded back until the 'safety' tab was up against the leather strap by the left buckle, curling the ducttape back onto itself and pressing it down so it stuck in place. Now i had a giant loop of tape which formed a cylinder and stuck (inside-out) on the padded hood to the side of my face. If i didn't touch it, it shouldn't move. It covered most of my left cheek, but did not cover the grommet.
As i ran my fingers over the padding of the leather hood which covered my mouth and under my nose, i felt the texture of the surface of the material. The section around my mouth was worn quite rough, unlike the rest of the leather which is much smoother. I knew that part was a tiny bit gray, unlike the rest of the leather which is totally black. This was because the repeated usage of ducttape on that front panel had caused gradual damage. Over the past year, playing these headgames again and again, the glue of the ducttape had slowly caused some discoloration and deterioration of the surface of the leather in that rectangular region around the grommet. It had been used in a special way which i had come to love, and i felt that worn area with pride. I knew myself, i knew what i loved, i knew what felt so good, i knew how to tease myself beyond orgasm into a special diabolical insanity which i could not explain clearly but which i understood so perfectly. That's just who i am.
Shifting and squirming i adjusted the way i sat against the pillows until i was as comfortable as possible, and gripped the base of Bam with my hands, twisting and moving him very slightly so he was stuck perfectly in a position of maximum penetration and my weight held him there firmly. I tugged at my scrotum, luxuriously feeling my large testicles as my ballsack was tight with sexual excitement and they were squeezed up against my crotch. Despite already having four orgasms Wednesday morning, there was still some fluid left in my plumbing and i felt the dripping tendrils sticking to my thighs and crotch. My cock stood up straight and i breathed slowly and deliberately. I could see nothing, and the whole universe was focused through that grommet in front of my lips. A tiny feeling of worry was gnawing away somewhere in the back of my throat as i struggled to swallow properly. I knew i would have to remove the gag very soon because the feeling of fullness was passing the point of tolerability and i was becoming a bit afraid that the inability to move my jaws and tongue correctly would inhibit my respiration. If i were to accidentally swallow the wrong way and start choking, i knew i would not be able to undo this situation in time, and the predicament would be the death of me.
I accepted that. I'd accepted the situation so many times before, but i did not allow my experience to imbue any false sense of security just because i was familiar with the dangers. Every time was as scary and intense as the last. The absolutely real sensation of potential death was so strong, but somehow my mind always seemed to put everything into its place, seemed to situate all the sensations and anxieties and genuine concerns such that everything felt just right. If anything felt at all wrong, i would immediately begin to undo my bondage and work my way back out of this; i'd done so on a number of occasions in the past, when i wasn't one hundred percent sure that everything was going okay. Better to disappoint oneself with a tiny bit of sexual frustration rather than take a chance on death. If i had to abort this whole process, i could always start over again later. But on this particular day, everything seemed perfect. So i continued.
As always, i'd lost track of the passing of time as i sat there. Bam was such a stretch for my orifice, and yet he felt so right. My tongue pushed and flexed behind the nasty gag, my jaws ached a bit as they pressed against the moulded plastic, and my lips almost seemed to burn as perspiration collected around them. I listened to every breath, almost hypnotized by my own body's sounds inside my skull. In. Out. In. Out. So tense, but so relaxed. So crazy, but so self-assured. I wanted this to last forever. I drifted into fantasies, and as is often the case in these situations i found my dead friend Shawn coming to visit me in my imagination.
In these daydreams i often picture myself as somehow bound and held in place by some kind of gear which prevents me from moving my arms, legs, or any other part of my body. I like to pretend that i can't use my hands and thus can't adjust or unfasten any of this equipment. I love to pretend that i must completely rely on some friend in order to get free. I imagined that i was strapped into a huge chair, that my limbs were locked into place as tightly as the gear encapsulating my head. I pretended that Shawn was standing next to me, fantasized that he was gently pushing on Bam, wiggling it around in my ass. I liked to think that Shawn was in possession of the keys, and there was absolutely no way for me to move a millimeter unless he set me free. In reality i was sitting there on the bed extremely still, my left hand holding Bam in place inside my ass, my left wrist against my scrotum; my right hand was up to my face, holding my chin, feeling the edge of the piece of ducttape with my middle finger, feeling the perfect metal circle of the breathing-grommet with my index finger.
Shawn activated the special fuck-machine which jackhammered Bam up my ass, pounding me furiously with ten inches of thick, massive, textured rubber dildo. I was forced to take it, frozen in place by all the bondage gear, unable to move a muscle, barely able to breathe. I couldn't even moan-- the gag was so viciously locked into place, i could only manage to get a tiny wheeze through my throat, it barely sounded like the smallest of groans. My fantasy was making my cock so hard, i thought i might burst. Despite already exhausting my body sexually with the day's four orgasms so far, i was somehow ready to cum yet again. Shawn was against me, i felt his skin on mine, felt his hands gripping the sides of my head. I was frozen, immobilized, fucked. I wanted to cry, and the pressure of the padding against my eyes caused the salty tears to leak out around the corners of my eyelids and mingle with my sweat as it ran over my lips. I wanted to scream, but no more than a soft nnmmnnmmnn emerged from my nostrils and hissed out through the grommet hole.
"Sshhh," imaginary Shawn said to me, "I'm going to make you cum now. I love you."
I picked up the bottle of poppers and exhaled completely while unscrewing the cap. I held the bottle in front of the grommet, next to the curled piece of ducttape, and slowly inhaled an enormous lungful. I quickly and deftly screwed the cap back on and set them aside, holding my breath. The stinging vapours felt like they were making the inside of my nose and throat itch uncomfortably, and i was very afraid that they might make me retch. That could spell my death, and i willed myself to stay calm and perfectly still for a few seconds. My tongue felt sticky against my throat as the gag pressed down and my jaws were clamped so tightly shut. I was biting the dental guards so hard, they almost hurt my gums. I pulled the folded edge of the ducttape outward from my face oh-so-slowly, feeling its edges along the sides of my index finger and thumb, using my left hand to keep it pressed against my left cheek. Unable to hold my breath any longer, i let the lungful of vapours softly flow back out of my nostrils as slowly as possible.
I inhaled slowly, then exhaled. Another slow breath, then out again. One more time, then emptied my lungs. Pressing the rectangle of tape against the padding over my face, it went into position and covered the grommet. It was stuck there now, and the only way to remove it would be by grabbing the 'safety' tab along its right edge. I felt sexual fluids dribbling from the tip of my penis although i was not touching myself. My head spun as the nitrites coursed through my veins and made my pulse pound louder than a bass drum.
Imaginary Shawn held me. He gripped my bound head, and Bam was his enormous penis, fucking me. He fucked me in both ends at the same time. His Bam was stuffing my asshole so intensely, and he had the gag locked into my throat, raping my face, overpowering my head, simultaneously reaming my top and bottom, drilling through my soul, forcing me all the way out of my mind. "I love you, Kevin," said Shawn. "I want to fuck you forever." He held me, he penetrated me, he danced inside my mind, he squeezed me inside and out. He made me feel so good, i was willing to die then and there. I would die happily, as my life would be quite complete, needing nothing more than this perfect sensation of being so exquisitely and totally merged with him.
The fantasies are always overwhelming, but involuntarily my body always remains in reality, and soon enough has to struggle to survive. I tried to inhale, but the hood was sealed so perfectly i achieved almost nothing; the leather covering my nostrils was pulled up tightly against them by the suction as i tried so hard. Some tiny amount of air was barely managing to come in somewhere down around the imperfect seal under the collar around my throat, but it wasn't enough. I sucked and sucked through my nose, but it seemed to take at least twenty seconds to get one full breath into my lungs. Then when i tried to exhale the hood was sealed too tightly for it happen quickly enough. The air pressure caused some of the leather to expand very slightly away from my cheeks, but it took at least ten or twelve seconds to force all the air out.
I kept trying to breathe like this, but it wasn't nearly fast enough. It wasn't like choking instantly, but it was a slow and certain suffocation. I tried to scream behind the gag which filled my mouth and pushed my tongue to my dry throat, but it took too long to get the air into my lungs, and the excruciatingly slow exhalation made no more than a faint wheezing sound as it pushed out from my nose and made the cheeks of the hood puff very slightly from the air pressure. With my hands i crazily felt the surface of the ducttape covering the padding and sealing the grommet. Every instant was an intensely overwhelming cascade of sensations which seemed to crowd too quickly into the passing of time, as though life was compressed and filling my senses to the point of overflowing.
"My special friend Kevin," imaginary Shawn whispered in my mind, "let's do this forever." He invited me, and i wanted so badly to accept, to stay with him until everything faded beyond blackness into nothing. I wanted to feel my friend Shawn McFetridge, wanted to play with him, to fuck with him, to be with him so intensely and so honestly, lusting beyond all sanity and beyond reality into the realm of willingness to be nothing more. He pushed Bam harder, making the inside of my rectum tingle with electricity, straining with the unbelievable penetration. He pressed his hand over the grommet, sealing my head in the suffocatory pleasure as i swam insanely in the darkness, sinking crazily into the pleasure that we wanted to flow forever. Some part of my mind knew i could hear the straining sound of air barely passing through my throat, could feel the true immediate sensation of the gag blocking my oral passage completely, could hear my pulse knocking like a hammer in my skull. My hands were almost unconsciously squeezing my genitals now. Shawn held me in this frightening, crazy, friendly, ridiculously joyful moment. It was exploding, shattering, insanely falling apart in my mind. I wanted to beg him to stay forever, but couldn't make a sound.
I was genuinely astonished as i orgasmed for the fifth time Wednesday. The fantasies were intense, but the pleasure was real. Too much was going through my mind to be able to make any sense of it all, but it felt so good. It was all right, truly ALL was PERFECT. I had done this, it was so complicated, but it was all the way it was supposed to be. Somehow i just knew for sure, even though i couldn't even say what it all was.
I felt my jizz splashing over my thighs, my legs, my balls, my hands, my stomach; it should have been almost totally depleted by the previous four ejaculations, but apparently the power of lust had somehow caused my body to produce more. The pleasure spilled, my body strained, and i kept resisting the urge to do what survival dictated. I forced myself to keep pulsating as spasms wracked my muscles and my back arched involuntarily. Fucked in both ends, my ass and my head were overwhelmed and i had an instant when i thought i might just pass out right then and there, surely to die. But it didn't happen, i remained conscious, and the ecstasy began to seep away now as it was replaced by the onslaught of desperation which i knew with such familiarity.
Fumbling suddenly with my slippery fingers i grabbed at the folded edge of the tape along my right cheek. It took an incredibly frightening two or three seconds to get a good grip on it, then i was finally able to yank it away and rip it off my face, opening the grommet again so i wouldn't die. The first gasp of air into my nose and lungs was so powerful, but it wasn't enough. And i was momentarily convinced that i was going to choke now as the air sucked down my throat, somehow expecting the gag to be swallowed partially and lodged in such a way as to cause me to drown in my own saliva. I thought there was a genuine risk that i would aspirate and die on the spot. But my fears were fortunately unfulfilled as another breath made its way into my lungs, then another and another. I wasn't dying, but i had to get out of all this, and i just couldn't go fast enough. I threw the piece of tape down to the bed, and it stuck wherever it landed.
The pressure of the strap under my jaw was constricting my mouth in a way which prevented me from getting significant air through my lips because of the plastic guards filling tightly against my teeth and gums, so it seemed my immediate priority was to relieve this. My fingers were all wet and slippery with semen as i felt blindly along the shelf next to the bed, panicky as i tried to grab a key. I commanded myself not to freak out. I had done this plenty of times, i knew how to succeed, i just had to remind myself to be careful and clear. I found one of the keys and held it up to the little padlock dangling from the buckle against my left cheek. It took a few seconds to figure out which direction to orient the 'teeth' of the key in order to insert it correctly, and it was such an important feeling of victory when it finally fit into place and i was able to turn it, releasing the U-bar. Twisting it away i yanked it out of the metal hole at the tip of the swing-bar, feeling such incredible relief as the lock came off. But as i tried to unfasten the buckle the sensation of panic returned because the strap was too tight and although i pulled it out from under the metal i could not seem to get it to lift far enough to free the swing-bar from the notch. Oh my god, i'm going to break my jaw, i thought as i pulled with all my strength. I used enough force to actually cause it to tilt my head and something was pinching nastily near my forehead in front of my left ear. But the strap finally lifted far enough to let the swing-arm pop free from the notch, and that moment was almost as satisfying as an orgasm in its level of relief.
Oh, thank goodness! Now that the excruciating pressure was no longer being applied under my jaw, i felt that i could move my mouth slightly again. But the plastic dental guards were still too large and the gag too fulsome to allow much air to flow through my lips, so i continued to be forced to breathe mostly through my nostrils. What had been so awesomely exciting before had now become frighteningly uncomfortable, and despite my familiarity with the procedures i still felt that i just couldn't complete these actions quickly enough. I chose to completely ignore the incredible sensation of Bam stuffing my ass so ferociously, because i had to focus on getting my head free so i wouldn't choke to death. Priorities.
Using the same key, i scrambled to find the padlock on the strap at the back of my head. It slid correctly into place on the first try, the lock popped open, and i slipped the U-bar out of the hole on the metal swing-arm. I pulled the strap through the holder and out from under the buckle, then yanked it hard enough to make the swing-arm pop out of the notch in the leather. That suddenly caused such a relief of pressure to the region over my eyes, it was like all the insanity instantly dropped by a notch and i could think more clearly. Oh, yes, much better. I pulled the same key out of that lock and tried to find the padlock on the strap behind the collar. The muscles in my arms were aching so badly now because i had been holding them up around my head so much. You stupid fucking idiot, i scolded myself silently, What if you had a cramp during all of this, and been unable to use an arm properly? You could have died! Of course i knew all these things clearly now, but had been choosing to ignore those thoughts earlier while in the throes of ecstasy. I imagine many people might be prone to these sorts of behaviors, each in our own way. Right?
Unlocking the back allowed me to unfasten the third buckle, and this relieved pressure around my throat. I hadn't even been fully aware that it was squeezing my neck that much, but in retrospect it was probably too tight for safety. I'll have to account for that the next time i play with this gear. Fortunately it's all very adjustable. It's fun to spend hours searching for the proper balance between danger and sensory intensity, bringing myself into that dance along the edge of sanity until i cross over to the part where it's all too much.
Now i could lift the edge of the flap in the back and begin tugging at the laces which were bunched up underneath. But i had to will myself to be very careful not to tangle them. If they should accidentally become knotted and i couldn't untie them, i'd be in a fucking mess. There were safety shears in the box of bondage gear on the shelf, but i didn't ever want to have to use them. So i conscientiously worked the laces out and carefully unraveled them until i could pull the bow and then separate them widely as they were undone. Working with mirrored motions between my left and right hands, i pulled the twenty or twenty-five inches of loose laces quickly out of the first pair of eyelets, then the second. It almost felt like i was getting a rope-burn on the sides of my knuckles as i yanked them so quickly. Mental note: don't injure your fingers like that, sillyhead. After the laces were out of the first couple pairs of eyelets the rest didn't need to be completely undone, i just had to pull them wide enough and loose enough to get the back of the hood open. It took a few more seconds to get the leather apart sufficiently, then it all felt like i should be able to finally get it off. I grabbed the straps and riveted holders around the front of my face and pulled, but it barely moved. Damn, this is complicated, i thought, as usual. I pulled the back open wider, then grabbed the strap-holders above the sides of my forehead (they're located right where my devil-horns should be) and yanked with a great deal of strength. Finally, with a further sensation of relief, the hood came up and forward and i managed to get it away from my face and off my head.
Blinking in the morning light which now seemed intensely bright after such prolonged darkness, my eyes stung as perspiration ran into their corners. I wondered how long it had actually taken me to remove the hood in my desperation. Three minutes? More? Less? Whatever the duration, i knew that it was too long for the sake of safety. If i had actually been choking or my nostrils had somehow become blocked by mucous, there's just no way i could hold my breath for a whole minute while struggling to unlock and unfasten the headgear. Two minutes was definitely beyond the limits of survivability, and three minutes was absolutely a death sentence. I knew this, i accepted this as a fact, and yet i did not let it deter me. I knew i would do it all again, and again, and take those risks, and enjoy every moment of it. It's not a very sane attitude, but i can't help feeling this way. It is most certainly the way i am, it's who i am, it's what i like. I don't care if nobody approves, i don't mind if there's nobody in the real world with whom i can completely share all these activities, and it's all right if imaginary Shawn McFetridge is the only character with whom i can participate in these scenarios comfortably. That's just the way it is.
Surprisingly, despite the fact that all the headgear was removed and my face was free, i found that i could not easily spit the gag out! The dental guards were sufficiently large to block the opening between my teeth even as i tried to stretch my exhausted jaws widely, and it took a few seconds of pushing with my tongue and pulling with my fingers to suddenly pop the whole three pieces out of my mouth. These three: upper guard, lower guard, handkerchief; i think of them as my "potential killers". I love them.
Free at last, free at last. I gasped and slobbered and panted as my mouth could now hang open, drooling down my chin. The three oral items had been pressed so firmly against each other for so long, they actually retained their shape and remained stuck together. I held the moulded plastic with their wedged lump of cloth in the palm of my hand and looked at them, realizing that they formed the exact shape of the inside of my mouth. It was like looking at my head inside-out. I could see the indentation where my tongue had been pushing underneath the gag. Now i ran my tongue around my teeth and along my jaws, and i found that the dental guards had left marks, impressions inside my mouth. They actually made two perfectly curved U-shaped lines in my gums, one running around my jaw behind and more than a centimeter below my lower lip, one running around the front of the top of my mouth above my teeth. I figured correctly that the marks would wear off in a few hours or perhaps a day.
Since i was able at last to breathe freely through my mouth or nostrils however i wished, swallowing however i liked, i could turn my attention to Bam. Let it be a testament to the powerful muscles of my experienced asshole that i can nonchalantly keep a giant dildo wedged thusly for so long. I lifted my body up enough to be able to pull him back out of my rectum and out from underneath myself. He was slippery with lubricant but still impeccably clean, as i always douche thoroughly before beginning my ass-play sessions. I kissed him, sincerely thanking him. He'd been integral to five orgasms over the course of about eight hours, certainly a record for me. I might be old and tired, but i've still got it!
I cleaned myself off and tidied the playspace. Looking at the clock i calculated that i must have been playing with the headgear for over two hours. My, how the time flies! Tony was awake and lying on his bed watching television while i washed up and put things away. I looked in the mirror and saw that the tightness of the headgear had left barely-detectable marks along the sides of my face. I knew from experience they would fade away in a few hours because they were not too severe. There was a slight dent in the spot above my nose between my eyebrows, but it wasn't bruised. Everything had been just right, enough but not too much.
Tony cooked omelettes for our brunch and i had some Ceylon tea. We enjoyed the day peacefully, listening to more music and relaxing. I took a shower and dressed so i could go out to meet the Alternative Bellingham group of gay men for dinner at the Tokyo House restaurant just down the street at 5:30pm. Every Wednesday they get together at various local restaurants for a pleasant meal, and i have been joining them a couple times per month when i'm feeling sociable and physically able to go out and enjoy myself. On this particular day i was in good physical shape (compared to most days when i'm too crappy to leave the apartment because of various problems from having AIDS for all of my adult life) but i was tremendously exhausted due to all the morning's excitement. I smiled and happily spent an hour and a half listening to them chat while we savored some delicious Japanese cuisine. I had several kinds of sushi (some with flying fish roe, some yellowtail, and crab with avocado, cucumber, sesame seeds, and other vegetables.) A hot bowl of miso broth with little bits of tofu and green onion was quite tasty and nutritious. Then i had assorted tempura, including prawns, string bean, yam slices, and other vegetables all fried up nicely in a crispy batter. A large serving of cold creamy taro bubble tea was a wonderful beverage which was almost a kind of dessert, and hot cups of green tea also accompanied my meal.
As i sat at the table quietly and heard their various trivial conversations, i wondered what they would think if they knew how i'd spent my morning. I wondered who among them would be repulsed, who would be indifferent, and who would be titillated? Any of these guys? It's not like i had any way to work my adventures into the idle chatter, so i didn't speak much. I enjoyed some casual discussions about nothing too important with Robert, Ken, and other gentlemen present, but didn't elaborate about anything very personal. I supposed it might be considered tactless to mention deeply sexual activities in public at a restaurant; but if any men were to express a personal interest in me elsewhere, i wouldn't mind opening up about the things i love. I've met a number of men during my lifetime who were fond of similar sexual pleasures, but this particular dinner table didn't seem quite like the sort of situation where any of that would be appropriate.
I returned home at 7pm and lied down with Tony. He got up a number of times and probably only spent a couple hours in bed with me Thursday morning, but i continued to sleep for nearly fifteen hours! I had been so completely worn out by all my fun activities, i could not get out of bed until Thursday afternoon. Then we enjoyed some lovely arabica coffee, and i spent a few hours typing my recollections of the week as completely, honestly, and sincerely as possible. I mean every word here, truthfully and happily. I hope it is obvious where i have italicized the fantasies about Shawn, and it should be clear where i distinguish between imagination and reality.
While i was surfing through my usual trawl of interesting websites, i found that my friend MixMaster Morris had posted a new video on his blog. 6th Sense - Illusion (Irresistible Force mix) features graphics by Matt Black (from Coldcut) and is quite a lovely song, in a style which i appreciate immensely. I admire the talents of these people, as musicians and visual artists, and as men who share so many delightful little treasures with audiences everywhere. I also came across an old article about anthropocybersynchronicity which was rather interesting.
Despite spending fifteen hours in bed, the muscles along the backs of my legs were still considerably sore and fatigued Thursday night because i had used them more extensively than usual. But it was totally worth it, as i considered all the deeply satisfying pleasures i'd experienced.
I've had a lot of excellent Wednesdays in my lifetime, but that was one of the best Wednesdays ever.
Thank you, Tony.
Thank you, MixMaster Morris.
Thank you, Bam.
Thank you, Headgear.
Thank you, Shawn.
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