Singergirl and I went up to DC on Saturday evening for our semi-weekly trip to her favorite fetish club extravaganza. Like last time, I had an average time, spending most of my time lurking in the huge red booths in the back with a gin and tonic. I danced a bit more than last time as the hour got late and many of the crazy dancing goth kids parted from the dance floor. Singergirl is an incredible dancer, moving like water against me. We pulsed with the beats and the lights like there was no one else there, even through the various tight vinyl clad bodies moving against us. We grabbed and groped and kissed in lustful passion on the dancefloor in the fog and swirling lights. I was sober and flying, hard against her. Couples and some people around us touched our backs as we embraced, someone grabbed my ass, but I didn't care. Dancing with her was like I was free from all the little inconveniences of my life. I was free of my job, my work, my bills, and even ChI.

We slinked back to our hotel room around 4am, covertly groping and kissing in the back of the cab. I almost brought her to orgasm a few times, finally she smacked me playfully in the face and demanded I cut it out or she was going to explode. Back in the hotel room was a different story. She sank on top of me as I watched the blades of the ceiling fan whir (whump whump whump) into bliss. Her fingernails dragged across my chest to my stomach and I'm certain we woke the neighbors.

We played until the sun came up until we passed out exhausted, sleeping for a few hours before checking out and driving home. These weekends of passion out of town are somehow so much more exciting than just staying in. Maybe it's the change of scenery, sights, smells, the hotel sheets... These weekends are incredible for my sanity and for satisfying my seemingly kinetic lust energy.

Dean