Sugar Heights

Disclaimer: there is absolutely zero point to this post. This subreddit is filled with (i) profile reviews, (ii) tales of terrible M&Gs, and (iii) more ghosting than the entire Scary Stories trilogy. I'm just sharing my dumb perspective as a legitimate SD wondering through Sugarland.

...

So I wasn't supposed to see my girl last week. Schedules didn't cleanly line up. They usually don't line up, but we find a way to squeeze each other in. Earlier in the week the girl sent a screen shot of a reminder tuition for the summer session was due mid May. My girl is on a full-ride sugar scholarship. 😝

My girl and I are going on five months and we know everything about each other, but neither one of us is dumb; I'm not giving her my credit card information, and she isn't giving me her registrar log-in credentials. So we plan a date for Thursday.

Now, most of our dates end up involve staying up to greet the sunrise, and so we plan on meeting up late afternoon to maybe get a jump on things and actually get some sleep. We meet at the penthouse of our Tribeca hotel around four. Paying tuition takes all but six minutes ... which honestly is pretty fun. I would be spending X on her regardless of her student status, but it's more fulfilling knowing I'm the sugar is going to an Ivy League grad degree and not a pricey handbag.

Since we still have forty-five minutes before dinner, I suggest we get high on K. That should be just enough time to ensure the high and come down before dinner, right? Wrong. 😒 The high doesn't start to hit until we are walking down the sidewalk to the restaurant. For the first four courses of our two-star Michelin restaurant we are just playing footsie and repeating, "this is great," and "yeah". Fancy restaurants are not the place to be discreetly high, as the wait staff outnumber the patrons and there is always that one guy standing across the room ready to catch the spoon that's knocked off the table before it hits the floor ... but it's also not the kind of place where they kick you out either. The staff are also pretty good at keeping water glasses filled, which is nice. 🤓

As dinner ends, it is still pretty easily so we debate what we should do next. I propose maybe seeing Dune II. A few weeks ago she proposed that as a date, but I refused on account I hadn't seen the first one. But now that I caught up it was fair game ... but spending two-plus hours in a theater wasn't really what either of us wanted ...

Fast forward and we're back at the hotel. We're out on the terrace, re-upped on another bump of K, and somewhere in between rounds three or four of sex (or rather, she's in between rounds three and four, as I've only got three rounds in me 😉😝). So she sits herself up on the terrace wall, looks over, and asks if she'd die if she fell.

The terrace wall is about four feet tall. It has about a two foot depth.

"Instantly", I reply. "So it would be pretty dangerous for you to f* me here?" she asks.

"Pretty dangerous," I say as I walk over and put my arms around her.

"Well, your 'pretty dangerous' is never dangerous enough", she says as she leans back and throws her head and arms over the edge. 😈

At four feet, the height of the ledge isn't conducive to actual f*ing, but it's isn't the perfect height to go down on her while she dangles her upper body upside from the ledge, overlooking a fairly busy thoroughfare in Tribeca. So that's what we do.

...

The next morning, all sobered up, we realize that was maybe a bit intense, and try to guess the probability of me dropping her. 🤔 ... and then we commit to maybe having a sober date where we don't risk death the next time we see each other ... Maybe Dune II.