It didn’t take long for him to end up back in my bed. Well, I did have to tow about 7,000 pounds (camper weight plus way too much clothes and way too many pairs of shoes) about seven hours, but now that his mouth is enveloping and exploring my pussy, these numbers all fade away. The only thing to count–and that counts–is how many orgasms I’m going to end up having. And if history has a way of repeating itself, and I assure you this being our fourth or fifth rodeo shows that it does, then there will be too many to count and I’ll be rendered incapable of performing math calculations after my third.

These parts of ours are like perfect puzzle pieces held together by velcro. Based on how they fit, they seem to have been made from molds designed for the ultimate carnal pleasure. And all we have to do is brush by each other and we’re connected, locked in once again to acting out our fantasies in my boudoir.

Ahhhh Key West, the place where the moped shuttle driver invited on my first visit here: “Let your freak flag fly!!” That was four years ago and I still remember it. I had a silent response to him: I’ve been looking for a place like that. I’m still doing my best to honor it, too.

We need a place to let loose our inner selves without judgement and this island offers it. For me, this time around, that’s alternating between a two-item wardrobe: my volunteer park uniform that as I fulfill the twenty hours a week at the admission gate in exchange for my free site and utilities and my bikini. It also includes writing the most and the best, in my opinion, that my creative mind has to spill.

It also means fucking my ex/now friends-with-a-generous-benefit-package as often and and as kinkily (that’s probably not a real word) as I want. Wherever I want. It means getting naked at the Garden of Eden, the clothing optional rooftop bar that towers over the heavily bar laden Duval street. It means groping while shopping. Kissing around corners. Exposing my ass in alleyways where you can catch a quick dick in the dark without anyone noticing or not caring if they do.

This boy is my playmate in every sense of the word and I’m oh so glad to be back for more fun and games. I’m here for a few months–including October for Fantasy Fest–let’s see what kind of trouble I can get into before going back to reality–I mean, the mainland.

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