Reverie
Active member
This weekend. Holy shit. It was weird. A lot of good, a little bad, and just a ton going on.
Friday night, I had a chastity date with Rider. We went to our darkest neighborhood restaurant/bar and got nachos and margaritas. We miraculously got seats at the bar during happy hour, which meant that said margaritas and nachos were only $5 apiece. Plus I could fondle his cage surreptitiously under the bar since he was wearing a kilt.
Then we headed over to Trader Joe's where I wanted to pick up a couple more bottles of that good wine that Dustin and I had found. On the way, though, we passed by a place that was having an opening. It was a rock/crystal store downstairs and an art gallery upstairs. I wanted to check it out, so we walked around. I saw a shit-ton of labradorite, which is my favorite, but it was all horribly overpriced. But I still had fun fondling the rocks. I don't go in for the bullshit end of crystal things, but I really do like rocks in just a "neat science things" kinda way.
Trader Joe's was good and uneventful. They had the wine. I got a bottle to drink with Rider that night, and one to drink on my trip.
When we got back home, Rider and I hung out just smooching and talking. Then he played a recording of a cover song he'd made for me, and it made me feel super weird emotionally, and I kind of reacted in the wrong way probably. I think the lyrics made me feel oddly pressured and defensive, because they seemed so . . . kind of mono-centered . . . and it felt to me, whether true or not, like he wanted me to shift that mono-centered-ness onto him? And I can't do that right now, so I started saying this whole thing about how no one can really be anyone else's home—we each have to be our own home and other people are visitors—and Rider got really upset.
In hindsight, this is totally understandable, because we've always talked about each other in those terms, and here I was suddenly deviating from it. But I just felt so put on the spot, like in recording that and playing it for me, with lyrics like "you're my only home" and talking about "rather not roaming," that he was almost asking me for reciprocity in that in a way that I couldn't give him with Dustin in the picture. The truth is that Rider is *A* home base for me, a place of peace and respite, but at this point, he is not "my only home." And both of us have been talking for months about how much he actually wants to "roam." So I felt like shit and made verbal objections which made him feel like shit and we had to work it out.
We did work it out, though. And we ended up playing with the cats together and bonding and having strap-on sex, which is one of his favorites.
In the morning, I woke up earlier than my alarm, for some reason. I packed and showered. Rider made coffee. Dustin showed up exactly at 10:00 on the dot. While I grabbed my bags and our travel mugs of coffee, Dustin showed Rider the little tricks to his car, which we were leaving for him since we were taking the one that Rider and I share. I always love how Dustin makes an effort with Rider, reaching out first to shake his hand, or going in for a hug, or joking and making small talk.
Dustin and I piled into the car and hit the road. Traffic was not too bad, and we got to his buddy's place by like 12:40. We'd briefly popped by this property the last time we were in the desert—it's an art ranch with crazy sculptures everywhere and a performance space and airstream trailers. The dude had offered for us to stay in one of the airstreams.
He hosts crazy events there, though, because of the unique ambience and performance space, and it happened that he was having one that night. He said we'd be welcome to stick around for it and mill about, but we weren't really into the scene. (It was very pot-centric and neither of us are much into smoking.)
We opened our bottle of wine and shared it with the host and his partner. They were both super sweet. Dustin has known them both for years. The host dude is somewhere in his 60s, and his partner seemed maybe 10 years younger than that. That's about the age of my parents, so it was cool to hang with people who were still wild artist types at that age, given that my father has passed and my mother turned super religious as she got older.
After a glass of wine, we put our stuff in the airstream. It was tricked out in a style that exactly matched the outfit I'd picked for the next day: rainbow zebra print and purple velvet everywhere. There was a metal double bed with real springs and a heavy metal sofa and chair. It was all so cool!
Once we were set up, Dustin and I headed out to the wilderness, onto national park land. The rangers told us we'd pay our fee on the way out. We took some mushrooms and headed off the beaten path with our picnic lunch (which was all the food I'd mentioned in my previous post). We wandered for a good long while, deeper and deeper into the desert.
"We'll know the spot when we find it," Dustin said.
And then we did. We dubbed it "coyote canyon" because we could see a great many animal tracks in the sand, and some seemed to be those of coyotes. It was a sandy wash at the mouth of a little canyon that clearly turns into a river in flash flood situations, but the sky was totally clear of clouds, so we were safe.
The mushrooms started kicking in right after we laid our blanket down and started to eat. They miraculously did not inhibit our appetites.
After eating, Dustin and I lay down on the blanket, just kissing and looking into each other's eyes. I was amazed because every other time I've tripped with a partner, I've felt a heavy sadness like we were going to break up—some kind of heavy vibe that my own head lays on me. But in this moment, I felt only peace and rightness. We had one crazy moment where the breeze had been blowing softly over us, rustling the desert plants, and I whispered some kind of sweetness to Dustin, and as soon as the the words left my mouth, the breeze dead stopped for a full minute, plunging the canyon into complete silence. We both giggled nervously and remarked upon it.
I was intoxicated by the mushrooms, but I was even more intoxicated by just Dustin himself. The light-colored iris texture in the blue of his eyes, with that very slight orange ring around the pupil. The plumpness of his lips. The sparkling silver that is starting to come into the blonde of his hair near the temples and above his ears. The crinkled texture under the corners of his eyes. The way his facial hair is every possible color: black and brown and red and blonde and white.
After the first wave of the drugs came on and we'd settled into them, we decided to explore. At Dustin's encouragement, I ended up climbing waaaaay the fuck up on top of a big outcropping of rock. I was up so high that I could see all the way back to the car, and all the way into the next valley. It was magnificent. I love rock climbing, though I don't know the official techniques. I always just kind of wedge and spiderman my body into the places it needs to go to ascend.
Dustin never came all the way to the top, but he did meet me halfway on my descent on the other side. We climbed down together and decided to follow the canyon to see where it led. We finally found an old dry dam, obviously human made, and decided to turn back. We saw so many cool plants and weird little caves on the way. I even spotted some kind of tiny frog or toad! In the desert! It seemed so out of place.
When we got back to our picnic blanket, it was almost sunset, so we decided to pack up and head back. We hadn't taken very much of the mushrooms, so they had already worn off of me by the time we got back to the car, and I was fine to drive. We headed back to our airstream. On the way, we passed a car that had flipped up onto its side. The chick was talking to police and seemed unscathed, but we wondered how anyone could manage to flip a car on such an untroublesome desert road. The ranger station was closed as we left, so we never did have to pay the fee.
(continued . . . )
Friday night, I had a chastity date with Rider. We went to our darkest neighborhood restaurant/bar and got nachos and margaritas. We miraculously got seats at the bar during happy hour, which meant that said margaritas and nachos were only $5 apiece. Plus I could fondle his cage surreptitiously under the bar since he was wearing a kilt.
Then we headed over to Trader Joe's where I wanted to pick up a couple more bottles of that good wine that Dustin and I had found. On the way, though, we passed by a place that was having an opening. It was a rock/crystal store downstairs and an art gallery upstairs. I wanted to check it out, so we walked around. I saw a shit-ton of labradorite, which is my favorite, but it was all horribly overpriced. But I still had fun fondling the rocks. I don't go in for the bullshit end of crystal things, but I really do like rocks in just a "neat science things" kinda way.
Trader Joe's was good and uneventful. They had the wine. I got a bottle to drink with Rider that night, and one to drink on my trip.
When we got back home, Rider and I hung out just smooching and talking. Then he played a recording of a cover song he'd made for me, and it made me feel super weird emotionally, and I kind of reacted in the wrong way probably. I think the lyrics made me feel oddly pressured and defensive, because they seemed so . . . kind of mono-centered . . . and it felt to me, whether true or not, like he wanted me to shift that mono-centered-ness onto him? And I can't do that right now, so I started saying this whole thing about how no one can really be anyone else's home—we each have to be our own home and other people are visitors—and Rider got really upset.
In hindsight, this is totally understandable, because we've always talked about each other in those terms, and here I was suddenly deviating from it. But I just felt so put on the spot, like in recording that and playing it for me, with lyrics like "you're my only home" and talking about "rather not roaming," that he was almost asking me for reciprocity in that in a way that I couldn't give him with Dustin in the picture. The truth is that Rider is *A* home base for me, a place of peace and respite, but at this point, he is not "my only home." And both of us have been talking for months about how much he actually wants to "roam." So I felt like shit and made verbal objections which made him feel like shit and we had to work it out.
We did work it out, though. And we ended up playing with the cats together and bonding and having strap-on sex, which is one of his favorites.
In the morning, I woke up earlier than my alarm, for some reason. I packed and showered. Rider made coffee. Dustin showed up exactly at 10:00 on the dot. While I grabbed my bags and our travel mugs of coffee, Dustin showed Rider the little tricks to his car, which we were leaving for him since we were taking the one that Rider and I share. I always love how Dustin makes an effort with Rider, reaching out first to shake his hand, or going in for a hug, or joking and making small talk.
Dustin and I piled into the car and hit the road. Traffic was not too bad, and we got to his buddy's place by like 12:40. We'd briefly popped by this property the last time we were in the desert—it's an art ranch with crazy sculptures everywhere and a performance space and airstream trailers. The dude had offered for us to stay in one of the airstreams.
He hosts crazy events there, though, because of the unique ambience and performance space, and it happened that he was having one that night. He said we'd be welcome to stick around for it and mill about, but we weren't really into the scene. (It was very pot-centric and neither of us are much into smoking.)
We opened our bottle of wine and shared it with the host and his partner. They were both super sweet. Dustin has known them both for years. The host dude is somewhere in his 60s, and his partner seemed maybe 10 years younger than that. That's about the age of my parents, so it was cool to hang with people who were still wild artist types at that age, given that my father has passed and my mother turned super religious as she got older.
After a glass of wine, we put our stuff in the airstream. It was tricked out in a style that exactly matched the outfit I'd picked for the next day: rainbow zebra print and purple velvet everywhere. There was a metal double bed with real springs and a heavy metal sofa and chair. It was all so cool!
Once we were set up, Dustin and I headed out to the wilderness, onto national park land. The rangers told us we'd pay our fee on the way out. We took some mushrooms and headed off the beaten path with our picnic lunch (which was all the food I'd mentioned in my previous post). We wandered for a good long while, deeper and deeper into the desert.
"We'll know the spot when we find it," Dustin said.
And then we did. We dubbed it "coyote canyon" because we could see a great many animal tracks in the sand, and some seemed to be those of coyotes. It was a sandy wash at the mouth of a little canyon that clearly turns into a river in flash flood situations, but the sky was totally clear of clouds, so we were safe.
The mushrooms started kicking in right after we laid our blanket down and started to eat. They miraculously did not inhibit our appetites.
After eating, Dustin and I lay down on the blanket, just kissing and looking into each other's eyes. I was amazed because every other time I've tripped with a partner, I've felt a heavy sadness like we were going to break up—some kind of heavy vibe that my own head lays on me. But in this moment, I felt only peace and rightness. We had one crazy moment where the breeze had been blowing softly over us, rustling the desert plants, and I whispered some kind of sweetness to Dustin, and as soon as the the words left my mouth, the breeze dead stopped for a full minute, plunging the canyon into complete silence. We both giggled nervously and remarked upon it.
I was intoxicated by the mushrooms, but I was even more intoxicated by just Dustin himself. The light-colored iris texture in the blue of his eyes, with that very slight orange ring around the pupil. The plumpness of his lips. The sparkling silver that is starting to come into the blonde of his hair near the temples and above his ears. The crinkled texture under the corners of his eyes. The way his facial hair is every possible color: black and brown and red and blonde and white.
After the first wave of the drugs came on and we'd settled into them, we decided to explore. At Dustin's encouragement, I ended up climbing waaaaay the fuck up on top of a big outcropping of rock. I was up so high that I could see all the way back to the car, and all the way into the next valley. It was magnificent. I love rock climbing, though I don't know the official techniques. I always just kind of wedge and spiderman my body into the places it needs to go to ascend.
Dustin never came all the way to the top, but he did meet me halfway on my descent on the other side. We climbed down together and decided to follow the canyon to see where it led. We finally found an old dry dam, obviously human made, and decided to turn back. We saw so many cool plants and weird little caves on the way. I even spotted some kind of tiny frog or toad! In the desert! It seemed so out of place.
When we got back to our picnic blanket, it was almost sunset, so we decided to pack up and head back. We hadn't taken very much of the mushrooms, so they had already worn off of me by the time we got back to the car, and I was fine to drive. We headed back to our airstream. On the way, we passed a car that had flipped up onto its side. The chick was talking to police and seemed unscathed, but we wondered how anyone could manage to flip a car on such an untroublesome desert road. The ranger station was closed as we left, so we never did have to pay the fee.
(continued . . . )
Last edited: