Wedding Anniversary #22: Green Horse Party, Kitchen Table Orgy, a Couple (2-2) Orgasms Each & a Copper Moon ❤
Seems like just 22 hours… but it was 22 years ago that I tied the marital knot with the love of my life, and Saturday night we commemorated that auspicious, legally binding (all that bondage language tells you something about marriage, doesn’t it?) human mating ritual with a rolling party at the Green Horse bar, a squirting-screaming orgy in the Bonoboville kitchen and another epic episode in the ongoing “show” that is our conjoined Saturday night lives.
I know I sound like a big sappy ball of corn, but it’s true: the apex of the celebration was just the two of us being together, letting all the wild energies of the night climax—twice each (two and two for 22 years)—into the sweet, all-embracing heaven of each other’s arms. And yes, it was “special” 22nd anniversary sex. With a tip of my big hat to Gwyneth Paltrow, I’ll call it “conscious coupling,” the flip side of the great actress and Chris Martin’s much-lampooned “conscious uncoupling.” More power to them for moving on without acrimony, but I can’t help but feel that maybe if Gwyneth and Chris had been a little more “conscious” about coupling, they wouldn’t have come uncoupled. Of course, marriage bondage isn’t for everybody. I think you almost have to have a marriage fetish to make it work. See my blog “Is There Sex After Marriage?” from our 18th anniversary for some of the reasons I think that, against all odds, our marriage keeps on ticking, with lots of licking.
But no couple is an island, least of all Max and me. We need our Bonoboville as much as our Bonoboville needs us… probably more. So, since April 12th fell on a Saturday this year, we figured we had to throw a little party. The question was where to do it. Usually we put on all our shows, bacchanals and parties in our own space, but DrSuzy.Tv studios are now under renovation and our little RadioSUZY1 broadcast booth fits only three or four people (five, if one’s on the stripper pole). So we chose to do it at our current favorite bar, the divinely dive-y Green Horse Nightclub. Tended by the generous, voluptuous Rosa and her savvy hubby Joe, it’s got that homey feeling essential to a stellar Bonoboville gathering, with a nice dance floor surrounded by mirrors, a pool table, a courtyard for the smokers and a life-sized neon green stallion on the roof that looks like it’s ready to jump hurdles over the cars galloping down Centinela.
Friends, lovers and interesting strangers cycled in and out through the evening. Since the Green Horse is a public bar, the antics stayed pretty PG, though there were multiple discreet panty and nipple reveals, passionate kissing, a bit of dirty dancing, pool table bondage, casual flogging and serious spanking. I don’t know how many people celebrate their wedding anniversaries by interviewing their guests about their views on marriage, but I did quite a bit of that too. Unsurprisingly, despite their avid interest in bondage, most of our guests weren’t too keen on tying the marital knot, some of them being POMs (Prisoners of Marriage), which can be as traumatizing as being a POW, and a lot more common. And yet there were quite a few happily married (or at least hope-to-get-married) couples, though most were swingers, polyamorous or monogamish like us. Strict, unbending monogamy with one person your whole life isn’t very realistic in Bonoboville—nor among most humans for that matter.
Speaking of Greater Bonoboville, it was nice to see peeps of all ages, from 21 to 86, as we honored the idea of longevity. There were hot newbies, Speakeasy regulars Meet-Up members, friends and lovers that we haven’t seen in months, including Anthony Winn, Ashley Manta, Brent Woods, Brock Doom, Charlotte Stokely, Chas West, Chris Gore, Crystal Jewelz, Dark Phoenix, Dr. Hernando Chaves, Erika Icon, Hannah, Isiah King James IV, Jack the Zipper, Jaded Dawn, Jason Rouse, Jin N. Tonic, John Barrymore, John Clark, Judy Bloom, Jux Lii, Luzer Twersky, Mr. E, Master D, Patrick Ian Moore, Robert “Corpsy” Rhine, Selma Sins, Shay Lynn, Siren Selene, Sophia Jade, Steve Nelson, Tammie Parrot, Tom Quin, and Vice Magazine‘s Alison Stevenson, plus a bunch of wonderful folks whose names I’m way too blonde to remember (especially since Mark Brown did such a great job on my hair). My apologies if you were here and your name is not in this paragraph. I just want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart, soul and gonads for coming out to toast the oddly conventional union of two such unconventional individuals as me and my Max. And may you find lots of love and lust like this in your life, whether you choose marriage or not.
I also want to thank our stupendous sponsors, starting with Jux Leather who created my new green finger-flogger that perfectly matches the green horse on the roof of the Green Horse, and Condomania whose dependable condoms of all colors and brands went into the nifty gift bags for the featured guests.
BiG thanks with vanilla cream on top to Jamaica’s Cakes, featured on that Curb Your Enthusiasm episode where Larry David finds himself picking up a big chocolate cock cake (a BCCC instead of a BBC?). Jamaica herself created our fabulous, anatomically hilarious and rather artistic “his and hers” twin anniversary cakes. The female looked like she went to a fine Beverly Hills plastic surgeon for her boob job, had detailed chocolate pubes and was accessorized with a candy-pink rabbit pearl vibrator. I didn’t know whether to eat it or rub on it. The male cake sported nice abs and an impressively thick hard-on with dribbles of vanilla-creamy “cum” dripping down the shaft. And how sweet it was. Delicious! Demure as her strict Mormon upbringing but naughty as her delightfully wicked imagination, Charlotte Stokely ascended yet another notch on Capt’n Max’s Favorite Blondes list by licking the sugar-cum with her dainty but teasingly lascivious tongue. Then several other porn stars and starlets deep-throated the thing. That’s how good it was–or how cock-cake-hungry they were!
More thanks (and a few spanks) to Trixie Plenty, Gonzo Bonobo, Abe, Vyns, Bennett, Pandora, Nikki and Casey and all the amazing photographers and volunteers who helped make this event—and the evolving adventure we call Bonoboville—not just possible, but meaningful and fun. And The Horse, of course: multiple thanks to the great Green Horse, the best dive in Southwest LA. In honor of the Green Horse bar, I wore a “green horse bra,” which from certain angles made me appear to be nursing a miniature stallion. Incidentally, a “green horse” is a horse with little or no training, one who hasn’t been indoctrinated or “broken.” That’s kind of how our marriage is, despite those binding ties, and that’s what we were celebrating: 22 years of unbridled love, lust and bonobo revolution.
But the best part of the party was the after-party! Isn’t it always? At closing time, we took a few diehards, including Dark Phoenix, Dr. Hernando, Jux and the luminous Miss Stokely (who Max and I have now formally adopted), over to New Bonoboville. There Charlotte and I switched shoes, played footsie, spanked each other with white roses (thanks to our wonderful webcam therapist Layla who sent us the bunch!), rubbed each other with petals and toured around the studios, bar and art gallery under construction… when suddenly our tired ears were greeted by shrieks of laughter and pounding on the gates. Shay Lynn and her horny entourage had arrived!
Having just competed at the Exotic Dancer Invitational Competition, where she won “Best Pussy” (or so she squealed), Shay couldn’t break away until 3 am, so like a panther after prey, she tracked down our new location and now here she was, in all her glory, rebooting the after-party with an electrifying jolt that turned it into a full-blown orgy in the commissary (this being the only room with any real room right now). With no beds or couches, all we had was the 10-foot-long kitchen table. So up Shay climbed up on the table top, splaying her tanned, toned, naked body amongst the wine glasses, beer bottles, artichoke dip and potato chips, offering herself up for all of Bonoboville to feast upon. But unlike most meals, the more we ate Shay, the more Shay wanted to be eaten… as well as fingered, pounded from behind and pretty much everything else, including Dark Phoenix’s scary-looking “oscillator” power tool sex toythat sounded like a buzz saw and felt almost as good as a Hitachi Magic Wand (though in our impromptu Vibe-Off, the Hitachi won).
After Shay had about a dozen orgasms with the help of various helpful bonobos, her friend’s friend Selena took her place on the kitchen table as everybody’s breakfast (it now being about 5 AM, that seemed the appropriate meal). Sexy Selena had “never done this before,” but she pulled out all the stops as she opened her luscious body for the delectation of all, including her boyfriend AJ who screwed her so silly (with his real BBC), I had to ask if she was all right (“Yes!” she assured one and all, “I’m having the time of my life!”). Several shrieking orgasms into things, she asked and then begged her friend Cotti to go down on her. Though they’d known each other for years, their friendship had never before included sex, but Cotti slowly, teasingly granted Selena’s request, and the two girlfriends had a real bonobo moment of erotic truth. Meanwhile, Jux was making Shay and her “personal slave” Brandalyn Schumacher squirt all over the kitchen floor, and oh so much more! You’ll just have to see it on DrSuzy.Tv. Speaking of which, sorry that we don’t have this amazing 22nd anniversary show–footage and photos!–posted just yet, but we will very soon! Now excuse me while I kiss the groom.
P.S. I don’t want to get too weird, but… was the moon just celebrating our 22nd wedding anniversary or what? In tonight’s breathtaking total lunar eclipse, this so-called “blood moon” actually appeared to be the color of copper, the designated gift metal for 22nd wedding anniversaries. Who can say what it all “means,” but it sure was beautiful and very romantic, leaning back in my handsome captain’s arms, surrounded by our fellow bonobos here in Bonoboville, about seven of us hanging out on the balcony, sharing a cosmic moment, gazing up at the copper moon glowing and going through its changes 236,900 miles above us. Who cares if Max broke the mood complaining about his neck aching from all that gazing up? It was “our moon,” as copper as the two lucky pennies Max found on the ground today, one from 2013 and 2014, and gave me for our anniversary, one of my favorite gifts ever. Both pennies are now on my mantle glowing like mini-copper moons reflecting our love.