Blade and Blanket

A long time ago. When I was younger, less experienced, I hadn't yet learned what aftercare, or any care, was. I remember I had recently broken up with my girlfriend and went on FetLife to find my next fix.

I found a girl who didn't seem to need too much... courtship, and I used the same old tired excuse; I didn't have pictures on my FetLife account, so I need your snap. I showed her what I look like, but spent most of the time showing her my ropes, cuffs, and other fun things I had lying around. And before you know it, she wanted to come see the place with all the toys. I remember I had to convince her not to bring her dog, which I thought, still think, was weird.

She knocks on my door alone, no dog. I give her a smile before I reach out my hand to lead her into the living room. When we get to my table, I wrap my arm around her and pull her in to bite her neck as I slide my hands between her legs to grab and lift her onto the table as she's pulling off my shirt. Things moved quickly. Then again, I'd found her on bdsm-tinder a few hours ago. It's a little late to pretend you don't do this until the third date. In hindsight, a hello would be nice.

The ropes were already knotted to the table. I won't pretend this was spontaneous, or the first time I'd done it. I leaned over her, attaching the ropes to her wrist before moving my way down to the end of the table so I could get her pants off. I hesitate to say I needed her clothes off so I could go down on her; she's the one who went up to me. I'm kneeling on one side of the table, she's stuck to the other, and I'm balancing this girl as I'm eating her out. This might be one of my few flaws: even when I'm giving, I can't make myself go below you.

I make sure to stop before she's able to finish, I put her back down, and secure her feet. Taking my time, I walk around the table checking the knots that I know I already got right. Each time I get to her wrist, I lean up against her face, turning it away every time I see her mouth start to open. It's the usual song and dance, but between her whimpering and trying to suck my cock through my pants, this girl seems to be a little too... impatient.

I do what I expect anyone else would do in this situation. I get back up on the table, kneeling in the same place as before, listening to the ropes as she's desperately shuffling her hips. I lean her, grab my shirt that landed on the chair beside the table, and tell her I'm going out for a smoke.

I don't remember much of the conversation. As I put on my jacket, she probably told me I couldn't go, and I'm sure I reassured her I'd be back soon.

My apartment back then wasn't fancy. I didn't have a balcony, so I had to go down a couple flights of stairs to smoke outside. While I'm down there, a few friends of mine walk by, we do the obligatory chit-chat, and I find out they're on their way to a concert. I rarely pass up any opportunity for a good time, so without a second thought, I told them I'd join.

I wish I could tell you about the fun night I had, but for the life of me, I can't remember who was playing or how long I was there. I only remember getting home to find an angry girl, and my living room table covered in piss. She started yelling, and me letting out a laugh probably didn't help the situation.

I untied her, still careful not to get too close to her mouth, but this time for very different reasons. She barely gets her clothes on before heading to the door, and on her way she shoves me into the TV, breaking it, and giving me a little scar momento. I would've loved to post about how we had the most amazing angry sex, but I'm afraid I'm not good enough to salvage this situation; maybe if I didn't laugh. Instead of amazing sex, I jumped into the little nook at my kitchen window and had a cigarette; there wasn't actually a rule against smoking in the house.