So last weekend was an event we were really looking forward to. Lots of kinky folks. Lots of fun. Two enormous play parties. Excellent presentations and presenters.
But i can't tell you any more than "We had a awesome time." Maybe i could tell you for lunch the first full day, we met up with two wonderful friends, and had dinner with one of our first kinky friends. Maybe i could mention that we learned a lot about ourselves, though i can't tell you how the insight came about. Maybe i could write about the fact that Master and i played hard . . . if i didn't mention the event (and maybe i'll do that later).
Because the event requires that we don't write about it. In fact, i pulled down our posts about last year's event, because the seriousness with which they take this "don't write about it" is actually frightening.
i kind of understand why. The privacy concerns associated with the event are of course, at the forefront of the organizers' minds. No one wants to be incidentally outed. But it makes me angry that i can't talk about what Master and i experienced, or how we played. The event was still awesome. And we'll go back every year they have it. Maybe, in time, we won't have to be afraid to share experiences like this. But today, it sucks.
Today, Master and i are lamenting the lack of air conditioning that we enjoyed all weekend. We're lamenting that the fantasy the event inspires has vanished, and real life awaits. We have, as good friends put it, "con-drop" because the convention is over. (sigh)
Hopefully we'll be able to squeeze in some awesome kinky fun at home to share with you. After all, all these bruises on me are good "starting" points for new play. (grin)
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