Monday, 05/31/2010 - 1:02 a.m.

Nigel got here Friday and I dragged him all over hell's half-acre. We went panty shopping and I got several cute pairs of froo-froo lacy rufflies. We ate and then the Universe tried to cock-block me *again* - the damn Target didn't have any non-lubed Trojans anywhere. Luckily I found a few in the bottom of the toybag so we could do butt stuff. And did we ever. He's such a whore...YAY!

Wicked Women was Saturday night and it was pretty much fabulous. DC and Nigel did excellently and I'm proud of both of them. We had a ton of women and only a few men so it was rather intimidating from the guy side of things but it was still fun. Just plain fun. I beat the crap out of the Bird Kid for his birthday and everything just worked between us. He was feeling it, I was feeling it, and it was *good*. I wanted to slap Nigel around a little after the Bird Kid came down to Earth but there was one new little guy wandering around, spaced out of his mind and a little bit shocky, and not really getting any kind of aftercare. I wrapped him in a couple of blankets and sat with him for a while til his shakes passed and he was semi-coherent. I apologized to Nigel since he got the short end of the stick but I couldn't in all good conscience turn my back on spaced-out dude.

It finally got down to just me and Nigel - it was going on 1:30 am or so and the place had cleared out. He's not a painslut but he'll take a little bit and whimper for a little more so I knew I couldn't flog him ala Mutiny on the Bounty. I got out the soft fur and soft nylon floggers and had Enigma all cued up and was just getting my groove on when he asked to stop. To go throw up. Some of it was sheer nerves (he'd been nervous about this party all afternoon) and some of it was not eating right. Alrighty then. I got him situated on one of the couches and he was out. I cleaned up the club some and packed all my stuff up and wrangled him to the car.

I was still keyed up over the spaced-out dude *and* the barfing *and* quite disappointed because I had waited all evening to get my hands on Nigel and I wasn't fit to be shot. So I threw a lot of salt in the hottest water I could stand when we got home and wallowed in salt water til I felt better. Nigel washed my back and my feet and that really helped. We went to bed to snuggle and he did scritchies and I passed clean out when I finally settled down.

So we stayed in bed most of Sunday and fooled around. We still can't have sex-sex but that doesn't even really matter anymore. Obviously we like each other and are attracted to each other without actual penis-in-vagina so yay us. That doesn't stop us from making out like teenagers, though. Hee. Or stop me from doing bad things to his butt. We finally dragged ourselves into the shower about 7 pm and I took him to Bob Evans because it was time for post-play-party breakfast. So we ate and chatted and ate some more and then...

You know how when you're still in the flirty-datey-we're-still-getting-to-know-each-other stage you don't want to admit you have bodily functions? Yeah. Nigel threw up Saturday night so it was my turn on Sunday. My GI tract said it had had all of the flirty-datey stage it could stand and tried to kill me. Baby elephants don't crap that much in a week. Jesus Gawd. So I'm mortified and poopy and praying while on the potty for the earth to swallow me or lightning to strike me or *something*. Anything so I don't have to leave my bathroom and face this guy I really really really like after losing 8 pounds crapping myself inside out. Feh. So the deities heard me and *he* had to potty. Alrighty then. So we're equal on the butt score and I'm now down one throw-up.

At least we got the poop hurdle out of the way early on in the relationship.

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