That ass is 47.

I haven’t always liked to look at my ass. I am a Black woman with a pretty flat-ish ass and since childhood it fucked with me. I am better with it now. I even joke at times that I wasn’t given an ass to make things fair for the rest of femaleness.

There’s a fair amount going on in the photo, but I think what was going on in my head is worth mentioning.

This was taken on my birthday by August 4.

Let’s backtrack just a little for the sake of comparison. Birthday 2018 was not a failure, but it did not live up to my expectations at all. I had Vizionz of the 2 guys I was toying with showing up to the munch. I planned to drink too much, dance too much. I wanted to be the center of attention and party like a rock star. I mean technically I *did* party like a rock star. I got really high and drunk and passed out in my hotel room while the people around me fucked. That is absolutely rock star behavior. It wasn’t what I *wanted* though.

This year, in the year of manifestation, I decided I wanted to actually have a scene for my birthday. I decided I wanted to have sex for my birthday. I wanted to figuratively let my hair down and just have time that didn’t revolve around work, or responsibilities, or anything other than decadence. It happened that way.

I was worried about money leading into the weekend. I’m still working on that altering the thoughts about money, and I am getting there, but old habits die hard. For the record, that habit WILL die.

The universe said though I got you, and put into place the series of events I needed to roll into Unity Munch with my people, having the fun, reconnecting with those who I appreciate, removing those who might kill my vibe, and giving me epic birthday weekend part one.

I am of the mind that birthdays are the only real holiday in a calendar year. They should be celebrated to the fullest and be the stuff of legend. My birthdays have not always been that way. From a youth with a mother who removed celebrating birthdays because it would hit her pockets, to my 20s where I don’t even remember some birthdays because of my addictions. To my 30s where the responsibility of family told me I had to sacrifice my own birthday for the sake of the family…epic was not really a thing. I had a few recent years where my birthday was just a countdown o October 31 and darkness.

Last year though I wanted to make it different. I came out of that birthday weekend thinking it wasn’t. In my petulance about not getting dick, I over looked the people who came out to celebrate me. It was the most attended of the Speak and Sing year. It was what kept bringing people out for months after as I struggled to get Tempest to take it seriously. It was amazing fun, amazing energy and it was people saying I fuck with you. I ignored all of that because 2 fickle men who I was just gonna fuck and leave behind didn’t show up. Yeah, I haven’t always made great choices.

20&19 though has me in a new city, with a Patti LaBelle New Attitude and I got what I needed and then some.

Unity Munch is an annual gathering of kinky Brown people. We descend on Baltimore and do what we do. From my history traveling north on I95 to NYC, Unity has always been a fun time. Living in Pennsylvania meant that I didn’t always make the trip. I would often decide it didn’t make economic sense, even if the event itself was a soul filler. I am going to move forward with a different mindset, but even being in the city hosting this year didn’t prevent those wild thoughts from taking root.

I have both a six month and one year plan. I was struggling to see how the expense would fit into that plan. Yes, there are still expenses even when living in the host city. The universe provided though, and I go to stay at the hotel Friday night. It was a different vibe. The hotel I must say was an upgrade. What was different though was the ability to mingle and party like we historically have at the Clarion. Overall that’s not a bad thing, I mean let’s keep it real, at this point I sleep. It’s not that I don’t WANT to party I have to be realistic that I can’t party like I did when I was 30. When I show up you’re gonna have the time of your life, but I also gotta go to bed, a bitch is older.

I volunteered to be a welcome ambassador for my WR people. There seemed to be a need, I thought I could help. I didn’t realize that my job started at the mixer the night before, but I am glad it did. I got to meet lots of new people. I hopefully bridged a gap for them. While I know at least one person still felt off, I can also accept that I can’t be the magic stick. Some are going to have to work on their own issues. That’s not my failure. Moving forward I have some plans to mitigate that, but at the end of it all, I cannot carry the responsibility of everyone’s fun.

Munch day was upon me and I got to wear heels. That is a big deal for me, a shift I’ve waited for and thankful to have. I used to wear heels ALL THE TIME. Then I started chasing a toddler. Then I started picking old women up off the floor. Then I got extra fat. Then I didn’t want to live, etc etc etc.

A return to heels is a happy milestone for me. Now, don’t get it twisted, I am not going to ALWAYS be in heels. I appreciate comfort over style these days, but the accomplishment of wearing them, walking in them yeah I will celebrate that. And they were kick ass heels.

The new and nervous table didn’t work out like I wanted it to. Surprise! I am going to eat that one though. The actual new and nervous people had a good time. I however spent too much time with my energy devoted to the 2 NOT new NOT nervous people who parked their behinds at the table. That’s all me though, and I won’t let it stay me.

Playtime at the Playhouse !!

I am especially happy I got to work first shift, and also help a friend set their stations up. What I can say is assisting looks like service and I can admit that service may not be as person specific as I’ve told myself it is for me. Forward.

This year instead of wandering the Playhouse wondering if anyone would find me worthy of playing with, feeling like I was competing with bottoms half my age with asses that looked like the ass I’d always wanted to have, I took my masochism into my own hands.

A moment of disclosure, I needed a release. I haven’t had an intense scene in 2019. I was overdue for a lot of things. I also was walking into the Playhouse on a month long abstinence kick, after reminding myself earlier in the late summer that I missed fucking. I was in a need. I did my standard Hi there this is what I wanna do on the Fetlife play date thread, and then said fuck all that shit. I decided to create my own scene, which would give me a part of what I needed, and with the understanding the 2nd half of epic birthday weekend would make me whole.

With the help of one of my lifestyle nieces – yes I am Auntie no I am not Ratchet Auntie, but I have ratchet within me – I set the scene I wanted.

A thing about being single in the scene without any local prospects, it can be a challenge to get the S&M you want. When you are a person like me, who needs something ‘more’ you can leave a play space wanting more, feeling just a little unused. I live in the energy, I bathe in the extreme. Random top #56 won’t often take me to the place I want to be in S&M. It’s not that they aren’t giving me something, and that I am not grateful. I frequently am thankful for those who touch my body. I was offered a beat down earlier this year. I didn’t decline it, I asked why. As I think back on that moment it should have told me what was gonna happen, but we all know how obtuse I can be about some things. We will put that on the list of things to alter.

The scene: grab me restrain me beat brakes off me. Simple in description, less simple in execution. Surprise admission, I tend to get in my own way. That won’t always be the case, it is changing. That is some of the beauty of leaning into the skills of Harley. The beauty of sending the concept into the universe and trusting that it will deliver. I had lots of questions and doubts at first and then I sat down, shut up. I stopped concerning myself with the participants, the logistics, the what ifs. I gave her my limits which to my own surprise were fewer than I would normally assign to myself. I was in for a penny and a pound and any other monetary reference you wanna toss out there.

Even during the scene itself when things didn’t do as planned, it was all good. When I say it was all good I mean it was all good.

I worried that knowing the grab was coming would impair my headspace. It did not. It actually helped. The decoy was obvious, and because it was obvious it started the adrenaline. Instead of putting my head on a swivel which I was convinced I would do I focused on her beautiful hair, and nipples [look I am a pervert okay]

The suggested pillowcase was more than I could manage, it was heavier and hotter than I was comfortable with. I think I twisted wrong and my righ shoulder threatened to pop out the socket. Corrections were made though and we were off. I learned after their intention was to take me to the spiderweb. I’m happy that didn’t happen. While it would have been what I said I wanted, a restraint I could not escape from, it would have denied me the rush from all my multiple escapes which fed the energy of the moment. I would have panicked and tapped out. The universe protects fools though, and they took me to a cross.

I laughed internally. I’d suggested a bench because while I could still free myself from a bench its harder than a cross. Crosses are easy, as they would soon discover. They caught me off guard by 4 pointing me. With that I mean, each person grabbed a limb and lifted me. I was prepared for something different. What I loved about it? It made me think on the move.

In the lead up to what will now be known as #PhillyvsEverybody

In the lead up I had multiple conversations with a friend who kept asking if I wanted to get my ass beat, why did I have all these plans to fight and escape? I don’t think she ever fully grasped the concept, that the thrill wasn’t just the impact. It was the mental mechanizations. It was the mental tug of war. It was making them and me earn it. I knew I would eventually succumb. I am tough as shit, but the numbers meant I would eventually ‘lose’. I’d told Harley 4-6 people. I will get to the final numbers later.

I knew I had an advantage as soon as I felt the cross. They’d caught me off guard with the grab, but I was in my element at the cross. I counted on two things – my size and the ego of a top. Y’all got egos. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a part of what makes you appealing. Don’t lose it, but ego in this case? Advantage me. There wasn’t a restriction on gender identity for my scene, my ass is equal opportunity. I knew the ‘Women’ would see the solve, I knew the ‘Men’ would rely on their instincts. I relied on patriarchy to give me the space I needed and that old institution did not fail me. Step one get that hot ass pillow case off my head. Step two identify my abductors. Once I could breathe again without panic, once I could see who I was dealing with I could tip things back to my favor. Some voices I recognized, but I wasn’t sure ‘where’ they were, and their proximity.

Step three – escape.

Again, I always knew at some point I would have to take the beat down, what I desired was to hype myself to the point I would be able to accept more than I normally would with a top I was not intimately connected to. Intimately doesn’t = fucking, it means that history and connection that allows me to lean into the masochist knowing the person on the other side won’t take me to a place I can’t come back from. That’s a hurdle in pick up play, that hurdle as evidenced has a work around.

I counted on instinct. They’d try to secure my arms first. They’d ignore and neglect my legs, they’d miss gravity. I was right. By the time they got around to trying to secure my legs I was out of the first set of cuffs. I wish I could have talked more shit, but frankly despite being in better shape than I’ve been in years, I am not peak performance. It took a lot to resist and I found myself sucking wind more than I preferred. My reputation as an escape artist was on the line through so I had to show up and show out. I did 🙂

Memory says I got out of three attempts at cuffs and both bondage and duct tape. The tops could tell better. I’m especially proud of never fully allowing my legs to be secured. There was also rope. RIP rope. Eventually they said fuck this shit and took me to a mat on the floor. I took that moment to accept my fate and it was glorious. I got to lean into my reward for all that hard work resisting, I got to release. Fuck you to my captor on my left who snitched I was enjoying it. I mean fuck you in jest not in anger. I wanted to moan like a slut in silence and there you were announcing to everybody that my squirming wasn’t trying to avoid the blows, it was trying not to orgasm on that mat. I mean, I am totally unapologetic that pain turns me on, but I don’t think any of my tops signed up to get squired on. I mean, if that’s what you’re into? Let a sister know we might could make that happen.

I did threaten to safe word once. It was the hollow side of a bamboo implement. Yes it hurt. I hurt A LOT, on an ass which had taken a lot. What it was doing more though was making me even more horny than I already was. Remember 30 days without intercourse, 8 days without masturbation. I know me. If we’d kept rocking with that implement, someone was getting mounted. Shit multiple someone’s might could have gotten mounted. In my pleasure though, I still remembered my commitment to August 4 and had the presence of mind to stop that path. Turns out my slut actually can be leashed. Good girl. Even better girl that you did it yourself without the explicit instruction of someone else.

The scene concluded with the ‘traditional’ count of blows based on the bottom’s age. Me being me I kept trying to throw them off count and sneak a few more blows in there. I was Gordon Gekko. I’d told Harley 4-6 people. I’d find out days later by the time it was over we’d hit a dirty dozen. One of my concerns was random people popping into the scene. People did end up in the scene who weren’t part of the planning, but I won’t call them randoms. They were put there to give me what I craved, and for that I thank you.

Epic birthday weekend does have a part two which happened in Philly. I don’t yet know how much of that I will share here though. I will say it was amazing.

Aphrodite Brown