Doo Wop all over again, [more NEST pt 1]
or Still Funky after all these years.
“Where do all the hippist meet? South Street, South Street”
Like the Orlon’s sang in 1963, South Street South Street. The street is cooler than anything I’ve seen in .. oh .. say almost 39 years. It’s more fun than Duvall Street in Key West, more ethnically diverse than Ste. Catherine in Montreal, more hip than M Street in Georgetown (DC) in 1970.
This place, running east west through central Philly that must be at least as funky, if not far more, and far deeper now than it was then. Strange store fronts, stranger store insides, and denizens, players, and hangers on. That neighborhood was like a hub around which much of our NEST weekend centered, sort of set the tone for the whole time.
At the announcements and raffle “break” in the madhouse tickle play action, Max opened a large map, showing where all the NEST’ers had traveled from (the overseas NEST’ers having to be imagined off scale). In Max’ own words “Oh My God!”
Net/Scene names can be cryptic, or sometimes a bit hard to remember ‘at first’, and it can be made harder when there are scores of names to retain all at once. But in one short weekend, that is of fetish gathering and play, it is amazing how close you get to feel to so many people, how very many of those cryptic names we can remember.
That’s what we did, starting with our Saturday night social hour. The one thing I remember wishing we’d done at the first NEST M and I attended, was to get a chance to at least have everyone introduce themselves around the room. We did this time with grace and honors, and much fun and mirth filled comment tossed in. A few I knew from last time, many more were new, but familiar names from this Forum, and now become NEST buddies.
I’m glad my Melinda wanted to sort of ‘go first’ or at least go early. We’ve done a lot of public play (in different venues), so we really aren’t that shy, but we haven’t had as much opportunity to do all that much public tickling play [as other kinds of play] in front of those who’d most appreciate it. So this made it fun. And from past times, we knew that once people heard those distinctive noises, it could shortly get contagious.
After M was “done”, she’s wiggling some post tickled toes and remarks teasingly, “I wonder where a girl could ever find a foot fetishist around here to get a foot rub?” About a dozen hands shot straight in the air!
Sometimes… just watching can be infectious enough to push one past that final shy barrier over into the recklessness of play. Just as M and I were finishing up, I remember looking over at a pretty lady [jeans, white peasant top?] sitting on a couch, who was gazing at the foot stocks with what seemed to be a little longing tinged with nervous trepidation. She seemed to really wish to “try them out”, at the same time very hesitant to ask. A little encouragement and she and her partner were at it within ten minutes! They both seemed to enjoy the experience tremendously.
And it is real --intoxicating-- . I’ve been to large “leather-sm” conventions, where there may be the cracks of impacts and the resulting moans, sometimes low gasps and perhaps even a yelp or two. And to tattoo conventions with the constant drone of two or three dozen tattoo guns going all day and into the evening, accompanied by a cacophony of music on small stereos.
It can be truly mood altering where the noises are both near and distant, the sounds of forced, yes even tortured laughter is filtered down through all the rooms and the floors. Hearing all that hysteria going on, just elevates what’s going on in your own ‘scenes’, multiplying continually as it goes on.
I could barely believe Jen, there in the middle of pleading, laughing, yelling, cursing, still and all, sassing her tormenters to do even their worst! Egging even more tickle torture upon herself. That girl is simply too much, and just what every tickle sadist could fantasize about in our wildest imaginings (and I was so happy I could be a part of it!). Even as hard as we were torturing Jen, we could hear other desperate tickling going on in the background. Made us even more determined.
And you know, … the noise at those bondage cons, even with four or five hundred perverts in a huge hotel ballroom, was ctually ‘quieter’ than our NEST’ers at their finest.
I would repeat my thanks with all the others for the hard work and efforts of all the organizers; Max, Jan, Pete Hyde, and those who jumped in to help on party weekend itself. There are several I wish I could have met and spent some more time with, several I would even wished to have perhaps solicited a tiny bit of “innocent” tickling with. But there will be more times and more parties.
As the party was winding down … we could hear Jan going from room to room, “five minutes to Pre-Grid”. Then I heard from one corner, “what the hell is she talking about?” I knew and I just smiled to m’self.
One afternoon is a warm-up. One weekend is too short, we oughta make this a lifetime, huh?
Spenser
