Mr Knickers Meets Barefoot

It’s interesting looking back through my photos, finding shots of rope, rubber and random body parts. Remembering the thoughts, feelings and expectations surrounding glimpses into the past. But what have these knickers reminded me of?

Before Sir left he’d removed all restrictions. Now, as my own Sir, I decided to set a task to make myself happy. By creating a scene that would make my bottom sore and, hopefully, ease the heaviness in my heart.

I couldn’t face fabswingers so soon, there was too much connection to Sir there. Not that he’d ever controlled my time on there, but in my verifications there were references to him, and my tasks. It was The Brat who suggested Tinder. She’d been enjoying her time on there and made some interesting connections.

Perhaps I would find a kinky hook-up on there?

Holy smokes! That site is a minefield.

I wanted a hook-up, yes. But I soon discovered that the Tinder I’d been expecting was entirely different in reality. It seemed that people were looking for friendship, one-night stands, romance, long-term dating or lifetime relationships. And no-one seemed clear on which they wanted in their profile. It seemed lots of games were being played and it was hard to know what the rules were. Were there any? Goodness knows! (Please enlighten me in the comments, if you have any more clue than I do.)

My profile can only have been up for a couple of weeks, but shortly before I took it down I had an interesting prospect. He described himself as dominant, and explained he had a knicker fetish. When I shut my account we switched conversation to Kik. I sent him pictures of my knickers and his photo responses indicated his (somewhat unsophisticated) appreciation.

I was excited to meet with him.

He would be a fun distraction for an afternoon but probably not more than a one-off. I knew that his text speak in messages and dick pic replies wouldn’t old my interest for long.

The day he came I was definitely upholding my promise to Sir, to make myself happy. He enjoyed my underwear, he spanked me, fucked me in all of my holes, tied me a little. I had marks and a big smile on my face as our scene drew to a close.

But there was something he’d asked for.

For his aftercare he wanted to shower me, dry me and moisturise my skin. During discussions I’d shared my preferences post-scene, having the right way out of intense play times is so important. As I’d never experienced what he needed I agreed to try. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? Though I knew I would include that in the play time and take care of my own after he’d left. The sandwich, fresh air and quiet time would be there for me later. And who knew, I might discover something new about myself.

As it turned out I wasn’t keen. Not because I feel I’m “not worth being pampered and spoiled” as he suggested beforehand. I wouldn’t describe myself as sensual, or particularly touchy-feely. I adore light and shade, but more as brilliant flashes of bright lightning in the midst of a thunder storm of (consensual, erotic) torture. Perhaps it is something that would work with A.N.Other but… not him. And not now.

Mr Knickers and I stayed in touch for a little while but without intent to meet again.

We had a great afternoon of play, but my motivation wasn’t there for repeating the experience. Instead, our replies took longer, conversation stalled. Both moving on to find our next exciting prospect. But what would that be for me…

I’m sharing to the final prompt for Wicked Wednesday: Bingo. Crossing off Leather And Lace with my play that dipped a toe into the world of a knicker fetishist.

Mr Knickers Meets Barefoot is the next instalment of the story behind the blog. You can find the rest of the posts here, or head right back to the beginning with this post. Feelings That Come Back Are Feelings That Never Really Went Away. You can continue with the follow-up post here: Fuck and Go: An Anonymous Encounter.