Little white bag

“Vanilla is fine but Kink is so much better…”
― Annie Edmonds, Second Chances Sammy’s Story #1

The bell rang. I was attempting to hear something on the speaker as he knocked gently on the door. Nice I thought. Now I look stupid because my landlady thought to install the same bell for the apartment door as the buzzer.

I let him in and was surprised, he had managed to find his way to the third floor. He looked skinnier than his profile picture – not the worst that could have happened – and was wearing big awful thick glasses which made him look kind of nerdy. I was not opposed to them, but I was still too much in shock to think clearly. He gave me a clumsy hug that I was too slow to return and then he took off his sandals. Not some sexy – I’m hot and I can pull them off sandals – rather some black “I’m father of three children” sandals with Velcro fastener. Ugh.

I focused on his long dark grey hair hanging over his chest. It was tied up in 4 knots. He was wearing short brown marine blue squared pants and a blue t-shirt with some writing on it.

Ha walked in slowly without sitting down, even after I offered. I asked if he wanted to drink anything which was an odd question since he had texted me before, he was going to bring his own tea. He had a white cloth bag from which he pulled out a big bag of some strange tea mixture. I started making tea while attempting small talk. He was not an easy man to talk to. He sat there silently, talking very slowly, with such long pauses that I was never sure if he was done talking or if he was planning on going on with it.

He was an electrician in a chemical company who really liked to talk about his wife. And his work and his wife again.

He mentioned he had recently moved into a new apartment not long before (about a month) and was not paying rent before, because of him staying at his in-laws. So, I asked if he was married. And that was the biggest mistake I ever made – after agreeing on going on a date with him.

I am still not sure about the order of the things he told me but the evening could be summed up into four main points:

his work. Really boring but he managed to make it even more boring by talking slow, with pauses in which he kept staring in my eyes. Which made me really unsure about what he was expecting me to say. And each time I started to say something. He kept going.
His wife. The biggest topic of the evening. I felt like his therapist even though he was 12 years older than me. But now I know his story, and somebody should have told him that there was no way it was going to end as he thought he wanted it to:

He and his wife were married for 20 years. The sex was boring, he pressed her to do kinkier stuff, but she refused every time. To spice things up, they decided to swing with another couple. The other women got a little ruff with his wife, and she discovered she liked it. They then started to try more stuff including a little bdsm. After a while they got bored with the couple. He could not get it up anymore (because he was not really into it anymore) so he had to take Viagra for it – which he also brought to my apartment (I discovered later) – until they stopped seeing them. They tried an open marriage and while he was having sex with a few other women, she bloomed into her sexuality, discovering a whole new world. She found a playmate who though her husband a thing or two. Soon the relationship changed. There is nothing more profound than the link between a sub and a dom. He started to feel left out and was soon to discover they had new rules at home. He was not allowed to have bdsm sessions with her anymore. He mentioned that he lost his temper once which she did not find ok. RED FLEG. A dom is never supposed to let his anger out on a sub. He did. I think she had made the right move. She started distancing herself from him and he started feeling even more left out until she told him she wanted a break. And there we were. A guy, desperately trying to impress his wife, by learning everything about bdsm and still I did not have the feeling he was really into it. I could understand his wife. He had the knowledge, but the feeling of dominance was not there. At all.

BDSM: we talked very little about it. Every time we came to the topic, he started telling me about his wife, which was not very sexy, no, actually, it is never sexy.
Conspiracies. I should have known. The guy was a conspiracy theorist. That was also a reason his wife wanted “a break” and I get it. He was so keen on angering the government that he proudly announced he was still not wearing a mask at the grocery store. I tried to avoid the topic as much as possible.

All the while, his little white bag was sitting on my table, and I saw the ropes. I struggled to focus on his talking, distracted by the thought of being tied up.

Not sure how or why but as soon as he asked me if I wanted to try, I said SURE. Like a lunatic.

Hadn’t I listened to anything he had told me so far? Apparently not.

The jute rope had a really nice colour and felt awesome on the skin. It was soft and strong. He tied my hands together and went on to my arms, placing knots between them every 6 cm. As he fastened my underarms together my boobs got pressed together showing my cleavage. Finally, he had stopped talking. He moved to my upper arms and then stood up moving the rope behind my neck. In that moment I thought I had gone completely insane; I had let a stranger in my apartment and was willingly letting him tie me up. He fastened the rope and was done. It was fascinating. Nothing was hurting or bothering me, and it was like my arms were light as feathers. No muscles needed. I was contemplating his work. Speechless. I could not believe my body could be so comfortable just sitting.

He freed me up but my wrists and pulled my arms behind my neck. He tied them on my chest, I think. My brain was so distracted that I can’t really remember how he did it, but it was also very comfortable. As he was done, he stroked my arms and my ribs and quickly untied me again. I was so confused. He had a pretty face and what he was doing, were my dreams coming through. I started making Smalltalk to get the tension out of my brain. I was getting nervous because I was not sure if I wanted to sleep with him or just because I did not want to be aroused. As said. Confusing thoughts, and I can’t even remember what stupid jokes I made that he did not get. No sense of humour. But nice ropes. He pulled out three more ropes out of the white bag and thew them on my bed.

“We are going to do the three-something tie”. A figure with three ropes, 8 meters each. I had to stand up and we came to a new topic: condoms. “Condoms are stupid and he had a vasectomy once” Sure I said, “but they prevent illnesses” He went on telling me about his wife getting rid of her uterus and how awful it was. Just so she could go on dates with lots of people; he also mentioned on the fly that he does not believe in illnesses. So, while he was going on and on about his wife’s uterus, I was getting even more confused. He was already tying me up, and I was letting him and that usually made me really horny which it kind of did but his talking about his wife was making me bored and the talk about her uterus was undoing the effects of the ropes while I was still debating if I should sleep with him. He then commented the scars on my arm, which is also not a topic fit for the situation, also by then, it was clear, he was not going to use a condom. A guy, who was still sleeping with a lot of other people and couples too. What the hell was I doing? I felt the rope caressing my arm as he tied my whole upper body in a nice package. We had to move to the bathroom so I could see the intricated knots on my back in the mirror. He adjusted a few things, so I looked like a little present. All wrapped up.

He explained to me how one could hang me on the ceiling from the side and then he pushed me with one hand forward. He held my upper body with his hand, pushed his penis against my booty and told me how practical that figure was for that sex position. And it was. And there I was. Confused again. My upper body was weightless, all in his small hand, compact, unmovable. Had he ripped my pants off I would have probably let him do it without complaining but he didn’t. The tension between dom and sub was not really there. His presence was not a strong one. He untied me and kissed me. Not a great kiss. Not worth remembering. Actually, while kissing him, I was thinking about the other guy I was seeing. He was a good kisser. This one was not. He pushed me on the bed, and I thought “Oh hey, there is a dom somewhere in there after all” but the kissing was getting worse, so I felt the need to tell him I was on my period. Which I was. And apparently also 42-year-old guys are afraid of a little bit of blood. “What now?” he asked, “what about a blow job?” as soon as he said that I thought about having his penis and all the sicknesses coming with it in my mouth “OR we postpone it” he kissed me again pushing me upper body on the bed, holding my hands over my head, his knee between my ties. Yes, it was hot, but something was missing. I could not feel it. He kissed my neck which is also a very good spot and that was also very hot. Still. The hotness was gone with the talking we did before. Stupid me. He had all the right moves, but they felt stiff, mechanical, as if he had them from a book. He wasn’t doing anything out of passion or lust. I asked playingly if he was a patience person. He got in a plank position and stared at me, my face, my ears. And I started getting uncomfortable again. He asked about my piercing and why I had so many on one side. Odd question. He got off of me, seeing that this was going nowhere, – I don’t know what was going on in his head – and asked me about some of my books. Then he went on telling me about anime and his daughter and computer games and his wife again. I watched him tiding up the ropes, a nice, relaxing motion which was distracting me again from his talking. I was more into the ropes than into him. I politely hinted for him to go. I mentioned I wanted to go for a smoke, which ended up with him coming with me and then back to the apartment, in which he continued to talk about his work and his wife. I wanted to mention the time, it was already half past 11 pm, but his pauses were making it a little difficult. Every time my lips wanted to move; he went on talking. Finally, I blurted out I had an early morning. He talked for another 10 minutes. Standing in his sandals in front of my door until he finally left.

My date mama asked me if I was going to see him again. “Not sure” I told her. He looks cute when he doesn’t talk.