A case of femdom & the cougarling

Hidden under my bed is a beat up old suitcase. It’s a large bright orange lockable Samsonite that I’ve had for countless years of various kinds of travel.

It’s always locked. It’s heavy. It’s full.

When you open it, it looks disorganised, but it’s not.

Dildos of silicone, glass and steel, vibrators, butt plugs, lube, strap-on harnesses, various kinds of rope, cuffs, leashes, clips, blindfolds, an electronic zapper, paddles, a carpet beater, a breadboard, a slapper, a gorgeous leather garter set and…and… I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT ELSE.

I don’t know how that happened.

An entire suitcase full of femdom playthings.

Most of my impact toys are not in there: They hang in the wardrobe, hidden in a suit-bag. So there’s those as well.

I’m kind of impressed with myself, if I’m honest.

The cougarling arrives tomorrow. I will drive just over an hour to go and pick him up at the airport and ferry him home, where we will spend the evening making ourselves familiar to each other again.

Given I have an appalling memory, I can’t really remember any of the detail of our time together.

I have impressions, and moments, which is how my brain works.

He’s sweetly affectionate, very touchy, which I don’t usually like so much, but I liked it with him. I can’t remember what we talked about, or where we went, what we did. My feet in his lap while we chatted, or curled up against him at the pub, throwing myself against him because I know he can take it, some frustration that we couldn’t connect in the way I wanted.

I can’t recall the negotiations we had previously about play, what we talked about, what he likes, or doesn’t.

I know the big ticket item for him: Rope. He also has something of a foot and hand fetish, or perhaps it’s nails. I forget now.

We tried some impact toys at my behest, but I can’t really remember how it went.

He offered me his arse after a bad experience previously, because he trusts me, he said. We explored that a little, but only a little.

I have a vague recollection of some part of his body that he does not like me to touch.

I remember that he was super-sweet with making me coffee and breakfast, and cleaning up after us.

So we will have all of those chats again, figure out where the boundaries are, where the intersections are.

It’s cold here again. We will need the heater on if he’s going to get his kit off. Which he will, of course.

The spare bedroom is made up for him. Last time I made up the spare bed, he laughed at me. He slept in mine then.

I expect our first night to be a dance of strangers while we get used to each other again.

So we will see where we can go from there.