MidSummer Nights Kink

on rope, power exchange, gold fairy dust, and writing three Substack posts I'd been stuck on for weeks

I spent Juneteenth weekend doing kinky shit in the woods, and I haven't come all the way back down yet.

“Treat me like fire.” - Lion Babe

It was loud.

Spanks. Moans. Begging. Laughter. Flames roaring against skin. Fans clacking. Black fairies prancing around anointing us with gold dust. Everyone fully in their skin and unafraid to be heard.

I got bit by the self-tying bug at a shibari workshop — something about the rope against my skin and the artistry of it. The patterns of knots. Another way for me to be displayed.

Learned a power exchange framework that gave language to things I'd only felt before. Said yes to electro play and felt my whole nervous system reorganize itself around a current. Said no to needle play, but enjoyed watching people in their enthusiastic yes. And ate strawberries, pineapple, and brownies off a lovely person's body, displayed on a table as a feast for all to enjoy.

And then there was kinky prom — and I love a theme so I went all in. "MidSummer Nights Kink" was so whimsical! That night, the exhibitionist in me took over in a way I’d never seen. I was introduced to other parts of myself… the archivist… the seductress. Both of them showed up that night. And I have never loved looking at myself more.

I met subscribers of this very Substack in person. Hugged people who told me what this framework cracked open in their own bodies. That part undid me a little. I keep returning to that — how something I built for my own sensual and scattered brain is now living in other people's lives, doing its own quiet work.

After-care

When the woods let me go, I nursed my drop the way I know how: a burger from The Vortex in my old ATL neighborhood — Little Five Points. Slow mornings. No urgency, nowhere to be. Just integration.

And with my body still loose with pleasure, I wrote and scheduled three Substack posts I'd been stuck on for weeks.

I didn't even need my writing ritual because I’d been in collective erotic ritual for the last 4 days. The writing arrived because I had finally given my body enough pleasure to bring forth what was already there. It just needed the right conditions first.

Pleasure really is my productivity tool. I didn't make that up to sound clever.

It just keeps being true.