The Boys, Me and Keith Urban

Another post from A Poly Life that rightly deserves its place here. Unfortunately the video that I originally linked to in the post is no longer available, so I’ll have to make do with a pic from that night.
Somehow, I don’t think ya’ll mind/ 😉
(From January 2010)
I have been productive this weekend.  And kinky. Kinkily productive too. (Is that a word?)  Had an amazingly fun night last night with The Boys.  We got back from dinner at our favorite Mexican place, me a little tequila’d up (ok maybe a lot), enough to bring out Sassy Jade.  I had on boots and jeans, which I promptly stripped out of to show off the new brown lace panties and bra set I had on, then put the boots back on, because they matched. Then I pranced around, showing off, being a flirt and a tease.
I guess my boots inspired some Wild West thoughts, because the guys took me upstairs and soon had me rigged me out like a pony, hobble-chains around my booted ankles, hands chained behind my back and a bit gag in my mouth, to which Ad attached two long, thick, heavy leather reins.   And then they proceeded to try and tame the SassyJade pony. Hah!  This pony will not be broke!  But hell, they sure tried.  They whupped the heck out of me, when they weren’t trying to wrestle me to the floor, or wrestle me on the floor…I was a wild-ass pony, bucking and fighting.  It was crazy.  (And fun.  Did I mention fun?)  I have sore spots all over, from the leather reins Ad used to whip me as well as haul me around as I ran and danced around him, and from body parts that connected with the chains and the floor and various body parts on either guy.
Keith Urban is now officially scene-music.
But it wasn’t over yet.  After I managed to free myself and they gave the pony a rest break, they rigged me up so that I couldn’t move in the middle of the room with rope and chain (huh, think I wore them out, that they didn’t want to have to chase me around anymore?) They then proceeded to cane me, both at once, in time to the music. I wish I could figure out which playlist I had my iPod on so I could remove the damn six-and-a-half-minute song right in the middle. “Isn’t that fucking song over yet?” I think was the last totally coherent thought I had before I sort of fuzzed out, sensory overload, and just floated, hanging in the rope and chain.  Next thing I knew, I was on the hardwood floor, W on one side, Ad on the other, holding me as I came back to earth, no recollection of having gotten there.  Fucking heaven.
Between last night, the day and night I spent with W  Thurs/Fri and the…was it Monday?…scene I had with W, I am flying high.
And now I am sitting here eating leftover Mexican food and basking in the tired, sore, fuzzy glory of my life.  Can it get any better than this?

Ok so I lied…I just spent an hour on YouTube watching and listening to my man. (I only meant to find the one from the original post!) This isn’t it…but this is the song that makes me think of my guys.

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