Dad Stories

So my family is in town, and we hung out at my older brother’s place in the Castro for a while. It was me, S and his boyfriend Oscar, my mom and dad, our younger brother R and his girlfriend Dina.

We started talking about broken bones–whose broken them and what. R has broken both arms (both due to rollerblading) and had crutches for a while, but nobody could remember what he did that he was in crutches twice. Dina broke both her wrists in high school while trying to protect herself after falling backwards; one broke right after the other healed and had the cast removed. My mother has also broken a wrist and had pins in her arm for a while because of how badly splintered the bone was in her case (she slipped by a pool). I’ve only broken a big toe; it was two years ago.

Jacob and I were on our way to the gym, walking there, and a man and his kids were on one side. The kids were running, so we moved to the other side to let them pass. However, the side we were then on had one of those large plants with long leaves that flow over the sidewalk, and it partly masked the unevenness of the concrete. My feet got tangled, and I tripped. In trying to stop myself from falling, I kicked my right leg out–slamming my right toe directly into the back of Jacob’s heel. I had to wear an orthopedic shoe for a few months; it wasn’t something they could cast.

Then S asks my father, “But you’ve never broken anything, right?”

He hesitates to respond, and my mother, myself, and R begin to laugh.

“Well, I have,” he says slowly.

“It’s the stupidest way to break anything,” I say.

S, puzzled by the rest of us laughing, asks, “What did you break?”

“I broke my toe,” my dad says. “In a movie theater.”

“How did you do that?”

“I felt an itch on my big toe, and it wouldn’t go away. So I bent my toe and pressed down really, really hard.”

“So you’re either really weak or really strong–which is it?” R laughs.

“Wait, so you broke your own toe? What did the doctor say when he found out?”

“I lied. I said it started after I’d been exercising in the pool.”

“He wanted his doctor to have an impression he gets more exercise than he really does and not admit he broke it himself while sitting down,” I say, still laughing.

“And then they took forever to tell me that I broke it because they thought I might have gout and they made me do blood tests before doing an X-ray.”

“Because you never told the truth!” I exclaim, “They had no idea you broke it yourself!”

“I told the truth eventually,” my dad says.

“Really?” I ask. “When?”

“When I saw a different doctor.”

Othello

I was brimming with excitement all of Thursday. I couldn’t stop thinking about my date with Seabiscuit. I was very excited about his joining me at the theater plus the night adventures that would follow.

I hurried home after work, took a quick shower, and headed out. It had been a warm day, and I was doubtful that I needed my jacket; however, then I remembered being cold at a previous performance in the evening. Even though I had checked the weather and saw Orinda was only predicted to be in the low 60s in the evening, I knew that up in the hills, where the theater is actually located, it can get much colder. I felt foolish carrying such a large jacket on BART and felt too warm to need it, but better safe than sorry.

It was good I did. By the time I arrived at the theater, it was significantly cooler. I was happy without a jacket but realized that once the sun finished setting, I would need to put it on. I waited for Seabiscuit to arrive, and was excited to see him clean-shaven–as I had ordered as his Mistress. How good that he should obey so well! And he finally looked like one of his own photographs.

I told him previously that he appeared to be a servant of the Many-Faced God because his face never seemed to match from one photograph to another. The angles were off or something seemed so strange about it. He didn’t look like his photographs. I knew it was him, but how strange and different they all seemed.

There was a crowd, and I could tell he felt a bit shy. We hugged and kissed each other’s cheeks, then held hands as we walked up the hill from Will Call to the theater.

He bought dinner for us at the cafĂ©, and we continued holding hands. The line was long, and we really only had 10 minutes to eat before needing to be seated. He was impressed by my tickets and how close we were to the stage. The temperature had dropped significantly, so I put on my jacket when we were seated but he was astounded that I didn’t close it until after intermission. I held his hand in his lap during the first half.

During intermission, he rented a blanket while I used the restroom and got my free bag of Peet’s coffee for renewing my subscription for the theater. We shared the blanket, and for the second half, he held my hand on my lap.

The performance was amazing, as all the shows I have seen there have been. CalShakes has done very well at selecting and directing plays that resonate with race issues going on currently, and this play was exceptionally well done in that regard. Seabiscuit enjoyed it greatly, and I told him he should return with me for all of next season. He said he would love to. It was his first time going to the theater in a very long time, and he said the final scenes with the bed on stage would linger in his memory for a long time.

The Craigslist Well

The Craigslist well of correspondents has dried up a bit. My folks across the pond have faced bad circumstances; Lord Byron will be out of contact for a full month. DJ MF has gotten so caught up in a nasty custody battle with his ex that I don’t hear much from him not. Prufrock is MIA, and I suspect something awful has happened as he used to write me multiple times a day. Lancelot hasn’t written in about a week (has something terrible happened or just busy with work?), so this leaves only Richard the Lionheart as an active correspondent. 

Richard and I have exchanged letters now. He finally received mine yesterday, and I await to see what he shall think of his nickname, for in my letter I told him what I shall nickname him. He dreaded whatever mythological nickname he suspected I had come up for him, but it’s a good nickname. I should hope he would be pleased, and I look forward to his next letter.

I recorded myself reading the poem I wrote most recently for Seabiscuit; the title is “Departures”, though it was previously untitled. I have sent it to Richard as we wrote about being curious about each other’s accents. He also has shared poetry, not his own, but some of his favorite poems by poets previously unknown to me. I have enjoyed the two he has shared so far.

I would say that perhaps it is time for me to post again on Craigslist, but I will be busy for the coming months and don’t feel I will be able to respond to people as quickly as I would like. Where shall I post next when I do have more time? Germany? Greece? Japan?

Our Next Adventure

Because of our adventure, I had to change the date of my theater tickets for Othello at the CalShakes theater. On a whim, I picked this Thursday. I have never tried to go midweek, but why not?

In the emails that followed our last adventure between me and Seabiscuit, I mentioned having the tickets and how I’d like to take him to the theater, but I thought he likely already had plans, and my family would be in town (and I don’t think they are ready to hear about Seabiscuit.)

To my delight, he actually is able to make it tomorrow. He shall meet me there, and we will get to see Othello together. Then he will take me back to SF and spend the night. He will have to take off midmorning on Friday.

So my parents will have to wait to see me until Friday, but I do have work as an excuse. I am very excited about Seabiscuit staying with me and being able to see him again. Even though the time will be short and far less than 24 hours together, I am very much looking forward to being able to hold him close and lie side by side.

Off of Market

When we got to San Francisco, we didn’t stay in my apartment long. We headed out to grab lunch and then go for a walk. We held hands while walking down Market St. Occasionally I would put my arms around him, rub his back, or walk with our arms linked.

There was so much intimacy in all those small touches, movements, and things. I was very happy. Euphoric. Blissful. I didn’t want our time together to end.

He observed all the Folsom Street Fair individuals who were dressed up and remarked how good everyone looked. We had previously discussed perhaps going with each other; his suggestion was that he could wear a speedo, collar, and leash which I would hold, being the Mistress after all. However, his flight meant we wouldn’t have time to enjoy the event. Neither of us have ever been to the event itself, and as it got closer to our weekend adventure, he seemed to be a bit shy; he said he would need to practice in private before he felt comfortable going public. In private sounds fun too.

Still, we hurried back to my apartment for one last hurrah: clothes came off, and more cuddling plus other things was had.

When he realized the time, he jumped up and got dressed in a hurry. He had to be off for his flight, so it was a rushed farewell.

As he hurried down the stairwell and I closed the door, I felt drunk–high from the euphoria of our 24 hour romance. I felt as if I were in some dreamy state, and I wanted more. All I could think about was how exciting and marvelous the past 24 hours had been.

It was the best weekend and 24 hours of my life. I was touched when he sent a thank you email about having such a wonderful time with me. 

My only question was when can we plan our next adventure?

Early Mornings

Seabiscuit is an early riser. He woke up before me, kissed me and said I didn’t need to wake up just yet. It was very sweet. 

I couldn’t sleep in though because I wanted as much time with him as I could get. I went to the restroom and saw a new toothbrush had been left out for me, and I felt very touched. I got dressed and met Seabiscuit in his little kitchen nook. When he saw me coming, he rose out of his chair to hug and kiss me.

He offered me some toast and coffee. He chopped up some fresh, sweet tomatoes too. He asked if Lord Byron had emailed me back yet after I sent the photos. I grabbed my phone and checked. I laughed as soon as I read his message. Then I read Lord Byron’s email out loud so he could enjoy it too:

What nice photos! And how happy you look. Clearly Mr Seabiscuit is good for you! Excellent photos.

Lord Byron reciprocated the photos by sending two of his own: one of a river near where he walks, and the other of a surprise visitor in his bedroom this morning! Thankfully it was a little sparrow and not a cock shot. You never know with men from Craigslist, eh? But we all know that’s not Lord Byron’s style.

After coffee, it was back to bed because why not? Eventually we showered and made our way out. We did have a deadline, if only because Seabiscuit had to fly out to Sweden later in the day. There were some great moments in bed though. I’ll never forget his face turning red with embarrassment when I reminded he ought to indulge one of his kinks. He had forgotten, so sidetracked by staring into my eyes. It made me laugh but was also sweet. He said I could have been a cruel Mistress and not reminded him until we were halfway through our 1.5 hour drive back to San Francisco. Now that would have been funny, but I’m not that cruel. Not yet.

Yetis and Ice Cream

After out photo shoot, we headed out to an Indian/Nepalese restaurant called Yeti something or other and then headed out to one of Seabiscuit’s favorite ice cream places. With the exception of where we sat across from each other and we’re too far away to touch, we still could hardly keep our hands off one another.

When he took photos, he would tell me to look at them on his digital camera viewer. I would slide my hand on his back and lean in. When he drove, I would rest my hand on his right, and he would rub my head and play with my hair with his free hand. I loved it so much, all of it. my favorite part of getting my haircut is when they massage your scalp, and I was eating all the attention up eagerly.

At the ice cream parlor, he smiled at me. When I asked what that was about, he said, “I just can’t believe I’m here sitting with you. It was very brave of you to come all this way.”

That made me smile.

We headed back to his apartment. First things first: we had to select which photos were the best from the photoshoot and send them off to Lord Byron. After spending 20minutes or so, we narrowed it down and picked out our favorite five. We were in a rush to pick and send them off so we could jump back into bed. It was a lot of fun.

I hadn’t been planning to stay overnight. The plan originally had been he would drive me back to San Francisco and stay with me, so I was unprepared. No change of clothing, no toothbrush. Not even a comb. But early on he had said we could stay at his place and go back early in the morning, and that sounded fine to me.

He asked if I wanted a T-shirt or something to sleep in, but I figured what the hell. I felt comfortable in my own skin; he made me feel that way. If he was going to sleep naked, then I’d sleep naked too. So we did. That was nice. 

That Golden Hour

Seabiscuit has a lovely red leather loveseat where both sides have side buttons to kick out foot rests. The cuddling was lovely, and he’s as much into cuddling and touching as I am, so there were kisses, head rubs, and arms wrapped all around each other. (Why has no other man I have ever been with offered me this or appreciated how wonderful it is?) I was in heaven and felt pure bliss. It didn’t take long before the clothes started to come off and it was time to move to the bedroom.

I admit still feeling insecure about my body, but I was having too much fun and wouldn’t let it stop me from continuing. The afternoon melted into more bliss between sheets. 

It’s hard to describe how dreamy it all was. I’ve never felt that kind of chemistry before. We seemed a natural fit with one another. “You are commanding me without saying anything,” he said.

Seabiscuit mentioned how serene it felt to be with me, and I felt the same. Although we were excited and indulged in pleasures, there was something else there. It was very comforting.

He was also very sweet. He kept staring into my face and said, “You have such beautiful eyes.” I felt very touched and safe. It didn’t matter what we did–cuddling or kissing or just lying together–everything was blissful.

My fears and insecurities were washed away when he said, “To be honest, I wasn’t sure how I would feel about your weight. But now that I’ve seen you, I love all your curves, and your skin is so soft.” It was the sweetest thing anyone has ever told me.

Pretty soon, we realized the golden hour was near. We hopped out of bed, dressed in a hurry, and drove to those two trees to take my photo in the golden sunlight.

To those I’ve shown the photographs, they’ve remarked how happy I look and what lovely photos they are. Even Lord Byron approved.

Stirring blue waters

The photograph of the two trees in the original photograph sent to Lord Byron was taken in late winter. Their branches were bare and twisted, leafless. The grass around them stood bright green and tall while fog cast a veil over the sunrise palette in the sky.

Seabiscuit had scouted out the location the day before and sent me photos. How different it looked! The grass was dried and yellow, and the intertwining of branches could not be seen as the oak leaves were still nearly covered all branches. I decided I ought to wear blue for a contrast to that landscape, and if I am the Mistress of the Sapphire Seas, then blue seems all the more appropriate. I rarely wear dresses or skirts, but this was a special occasion, so I wore a long-sleeved tunic and a long lacey blue skirt.

I reread emails over and over on the trip there. What does it mean to be a Domme? To have a sub? I told my friends I felt I needed an introductory guide. To my coworker M, on Friday afternoon, I even showed Seabiscuit’s email for advice. M said: “He’s essentially telling you he wants you to order him around, so you can say ‘Eat my fucking pussy!’ and he’ll do it.”

What a foreign thing it seemed to know I would have so much control. I still felt like I needed a handbook. My first venture into the world of BDSM–all the control would be mine.

Well, maybe not all of it. After all, the bus I was to take decided not to turn where it was supposed to, leaving me and 5 others stranded as it never came for us and the next bus was an hour later. Determined not to be left behind with the next one, I hurried in the Saturday heat (wishing I had not worn long sleeves after all) to the Transbay Terminal to catch the bus where it starts (leaving no opportunity to be missed).

When I finally got to my destination, Seabiscuit was running a few minutes late. It was hot–more hot than it had been in San Francisco. It was in the 90s at least, and not a good temperature for long sleeves.We finally spotted each other on opposite sides of the street–him in his red car and me on the corner. He pulled over and got out as I waited for the light to change to let me cross. The sun was in my eyes, so I had to hold my arm up, but I smiled as I peeked at him.

We hugged. “It’s good to see you,” he said, and he opened the door for me. Both of us were nervous and excited. He said he thought we could get me something to eat and drink, rest a little maybe, and then have our photoshoot later near sunset when it was “the golden hour” best for photography.

So we drove to his apartment. He took out some crackers and a plate of three cheeses (a well marbled blue cheese, Humboldt fog, and a hard cheese of some sort) and offered me water or juice. We both drank apple juice while chatting and eating cheese and crackers.

After we finished off the plate, he said, “So what would you like to do now? I can show you around town, or we could go get ice cream, or–we could cuddle.”

I tilted my head to consider my options for a few seconds, and then exclaimed, “Let’s cuddle!” and I grinned.

Confluence

Last Saturday I had planned my adventurous playdate with Seabiscuit. I was to t ake a 3 hour bus up North, and we planned to do our photoshoot of me with two trees.

Leading up to the date, our exchange became very sexually charged and erotic. It felt like two heavenly bodies whose gravitational forces were pulling each other closer and closer together in orbit as we spun around with our own little planetary dance. What he likes, I like. What I want, he wants.

Both of us were scared: what would happen to take the chemistry offline? Absolute failure? Crash and burn? Regret and loss?

I had much to think about on that 3 hour bus ride–besides is the guy sitting in front of me going to go on a killing rampage as he keeps talking to himself.