Disclaimer: The content of this story is a little bit harsher and a little more intense than most of the experiences I have written about on here. Please keep in mind that I had safe words – “yellow” for slow down or do less, “red” for stop. The things I did were done willingly and enthusiastically, even when I demonstrated reluctant or fearful behavior. I like to be scared and I like to feel psychologically exhausted, and this experience allowed me to tread some harsher waters. So, I hope you’ll stick along for the ride.

Aside from the endlessly awesome and adorable worthlessrapemeat, I met some really cool people at the munch last week and have been talking to a few of them. One in particular, Flint, was super welcoming at the munch. He was the one who introduced me to WRM (hence, Flint, because he’s good at making sparks. Heh heh I’m the cleverest.) WRM and I ended up hanging out with him and a few of his partners after the munch, and he and I have been texting since. 

Yesterday, he, one of his partners and I met up to hang out before another munch event. WRM was going to join us for dinner right before and potentially drinks after, as she had somewhere else to head off to during the discussion.

I met up with Flint and his partner after work, and we spent a little time walking around town and talking before his partner had to split. 

Things with Flint were going pretty great. He’s super quick-witted, a little sarcastic, vaguely menacing when he wants to be. I got a little brave and linked him to this tumblr, so he’s able to read this (eek) and he was able to follow Sir (eek) and so Sir has been teasing me that he may or may not have been in contact with him (eek.) 

But by far the absolute worst part of the whole thing is the fact that about halfway through hanging out, he figured out that I was ticklish. So, before getting together with WRM, Flint started trying to trick me into lifting my arm so he could tickle me (asshole.) 

“You and my boyfriend would get along,” I said, trying to test the waters to see if any of Sir’s little threats of them having spoken were substantiated. “You’re both jerks like that.”

Flint smiled, “well, maybe I’ll get to talk to him.” 

I grinned. So, Sir had been just making empty threats this whole time. He and Flint weren’t conspiring. They hadn’t even spoken. 

We met up with WRM for dinner and to compare notes on people from the last munch: who we thought was cute, who we thought was totally creepy, who was now randomly harassing us on fetlife. Before Flint and I headed off to the munch, WRM kissed goodbye.

“I’m jealous of you,” Flint admitted, “jealous of her, too, actually.”

The munch was a little bit of a bust, so we ended up breaking off as a smaller group and going out to get drinks. Flint was still being a serious meanie and tickling me, but had invited me to hang out with his primary and one of his other partners after to potentially play a little bit. I liked how things were going with him, so while we headed over to the bar, I texted Sir to ask him if I could play with Flint and if I could have a drink at the bar.

“Sorry,” I explained to Flint, trying to balance holding his hand in my left and texting with my right, “I’m texting Sir to get permission to have a drink.”

Flint cocked a brow. “Did you get permission for the wine at dinner?” 

I brought my index finger to my lips, shooting him a “shh” and a wink. Hopefully, he’d keep the glass of wine I’d had without asking – a careless oversight – to himself. Or, simply have forgotten about it by the time he actually spoke to Sir, if ever.

When we were heading to our table, Flint walked up next to me and placed his hand on the small of my back. He leaned down, whispering, “he’s disappointed in you for not asking. Oh, and you’re up to two tallies now.”

I froze, staring up at him as if he’d just sucker punched me in the gut. He smiled. My mouth fell open before I actually started talking. “How’d you…you just…you…”

He smirked and strode past me.