24-7 in 3

I'm exhausted. I slept so long last night when I got back from Switzerland and am still just wiped the fuck out. ... and whipped the fuck out. Heh.

My ass is turning a deep, dark sunset. My tits are speckled in bruisey stars. I look at my arm with sleeves rolled up and there's a little scratch reminder. I don't know its birthplace, as many other reminders around my body.

My mind? I feel like I'm floating down the street. I'm overwhelmed with such motion on the street after being ensconced in his apartment for 3 days (we did leave once for about a half-hour, and it's not that I wasn't allowed to leave for I was, but chose not to). I'm still processing. If I was frantically obsessed with the idea of meeting him and if I was consumed with examining bdsm the weeks before we met, then I am now calmly absorbed in what happened from meeting him and passionately processing the activities, thoughts, words, gestures, lessons, and feelings.

That's all for now.

I'm happy, safe, was not murdered, and have another date in April to see him.