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Disturbing the neighbours - My first proper kinky-dating adventure

#BDSM #bondage #kinky #sex #love #dating #NewYork #onlinedating #Englishman #chains 




One Tuesday evening I found myself staring at a sign on the tumble drier...

"DO NOT ATTEMPT TO DRY FABRICS CONTAMINATED WITH OILS OR OTHER FLAMMABLE SUBSTANCES. THIS MAY RESULT IN FIRE"

"Hmmm" I thought...

"Does candle wax count as a flammable?"

"...It'll probably be fine," I decided, shoving my bed sheets in with the rest of my white and vaguely pale clothes.

"Besides most of the wax should have come off in the wash...right?"







On the Sunday two nights prior[1] I had arranged to meet a girl named Allie. Allie was someone I had been chatting to for a little while through my kinky profile. She was looking for a playmate -or ‘partner in crime’ as she put it- rather than a quick hook-up, which sounded pretty ideal to me[2]. Various photos and bits of titillating information had been exchanged. One Sunday afternoon she was shopping in the city and I managed to persuade her to meet me for coffee before she headed back to Queens.

I suggested a coffee place opposite the NY public library and I said I'd meet her on the library steps under a lion. It would probably have been easier to meet her in the coffee shop, but meeting on the steps of the library had a certain appeal to it. Perhaps I wanted to pretend I was in a rom-com version of ghost busters.

I turned up kind of early and waited around watching the fifth avenue comings and goings. A little while after I had bored of the stone lion's company, my date finally appeared.

"Allie?" I ask
"Yes," she replied.
"Nice to meet you!"

I boldly went for a European style greeting in the form of a hand-shake-cheek-kiss combo. However, this did not go well as she actively dodged my attempt to get near her face with my mouth, perhaps thinking I was trying to make out with her straight away. After this exceptionally awkward start we went across the street to get coffee, or tea in my case. (You should just assume this is what I mean every time I say "get coffee").

Conversation picked up and this time there weren't the awkward silences that occurred the first time I tried to meet someone though my kink profile. The shot of whiskey I had before heading to the library steps may have helped with this. We covered the basics of each other’s lives; she grew up in rural New Jersey but had moved to the city and was making a living bartending in Queens at a Korean dive.
“I’m just a typical college dropout” She said “I smoked too much weed and got my heart broken by my boyfriend. Then I moved to Queens and started waiting tables.”
“Oh yeah? Did all the weed make you paranoid?”
“No, not really paranoid, but I was smoking up like two or three times a day, and it made me, like, too chilled out, so I didn’t care about classes or work, or any of that other stuff that turns out to be important!”
“Do you think you were addicted?”
“Not really, like I hardly ever smoke weed now, but back then it was just this fun thing that me and my boyfriend would do together, and it was just a lot more fun than studying.”

Allie was definitely attractive; blonde, thin, and with a nice face. However, there was a subtle gauntness to her features that hadn't quite come across in her profile. It wasn't off putting but it kept her good looks in check somehow.

Despite still drinking hot alcohol-free beverages our conversation moved onto dating and kink.

“So did you explore much BDSM stuff with your boyfriend?” I asked, half mumbling the word ‘BDSM’ so it didn’t spread too far in this quiet coffee shop.
“Yeah we explored a lot of stuff together, like we were both learning. We were too poor to afford many toys either, in fact this one time we bought a collar and leash for me from a pet store,  because we couldn’t afford the real deal.”
“Ha. It did the job though?”
“I guess!”
“So did you get a good idea of what you like and what you don’t like?”
“I suppose so, it could depend a lot on the moment. When we were in college we started having these threesomes with this girl, and that was kinda fun, or at least I thought it was.”
“Sounds fun to me…”
“Well then I find out that he’d also been seeing her without me, like behind my back, and then he broke up with me and started just going out with her”
“Ouch, yeah that sounds pretty awful.”
“Yeah, I’m kinda over it now. Though it would have been better if they’d just been honest about it, ya know?”

There was an innocent friendliness to Allie that made it easy to bond with her, and yet something seemed slightly off kilter somewhere, as if I was talking to a character from twin peaks who was about to tell me that the owls were not as they seemed.

After I had made my way through my mini pot of tea, and she had finished her refilled cup of coffee, I suggested we get something stronger to drink. She agreed and we boldly set out into the wastes of midtown, guided by my smart phone's bar suggestions.

"Would you like to hear my English accent?" she asked, while we were walking.
"Erm... Sure?" I replied.
I immediately regretted this answer. It was a terrible English accent.




We decided to try the Park Avenue Tavern. After getting lost and wandering around inside Grand Central station for a while, we eventually located the tavern a few blocks down. The place had a nice vibe, with plenty of dark wood, shiny brass and other elegant finishings.We got some food and a bottle of wine, though I stuck to an appetiser so as not to test my panic reflexes too much.


The conversation kept rolling. Allie occasionally did this thing where she would excitedly tell me a random fact that didn’t seem to be related to the conversation. (I think she sourced them from NPR as part of her training in aspirational hipsterdom).

"Did you know," she would start, "that sharks can't actually get cancer?"

Although the scientist in me couldn’t resist sceptical follow up questions, Allie didn't seem to mind me doubting her random facts, or at least it didn't stop her offering them.

A glass and a half of wine down (she insisted on pouring for me), I asked: "So where do you think your submissive side comes from?"
"Daddy issues," she replied cheerfully and without hesitation.
"Oh really? Simple as that?"
"Yeah. I mean my dad was never around when I was growing up, so I guess I never had a male figure to look up to."
"Fair enough."
“How did you get into it?”
“Not sure really, maybe always been into it on some level, but I’m not sure if going to a primary school run by authoritarian catholic nuns may have helped!”

After we’d chatted some more, I popped what seemed at the time to be a big question:
"Would you like to come back to my place after this? I'm not sure I've figured out the etiquette for asking that question yet. It sometimes seems a bit rude to ask on a first date…"

"Yesss, I might do."

"Cool."

I smiled calmly.

Back at my apartment

When we got back to mine I opened some more wine and we continued to chat.

Not far into the first glass of wine she asked, "Can I use your bathroom, I need to go pee!"
"Sure, help yourself," I told her, wondering why she felt the need to clarify what she was going to do in there.

A bit more wine and conversation later I swallowed my nerves and took the plunge; "So are you up for fooling around?" I asked.
"Sure." She replied, sounding as cheerful as ever.
"Are there any things that you don't like to do, that I should stay away from?"
"Not really. I'm open to most things, although I prefer not to kiss unless I'm properly dating a guy."
"Really? Doesn't that get a bit awkward?"
"Not really. I mean some guys get annoyed about it, but that doesn't stop them having sex with me."
I had moved in close and began running my hand over her jeans.
"I don't think it would annoy me, although I guess it's a bit of a reflex I'd have to resist. Is it just the lips? Can I kiss other areas?" I asked
"Sure."
I began to lean further in and bring my hand further up her inner thigh.
"I need to go pee!" she said, getting up and fleeing to the bathroom.
"Again?"
"Don't worry I'm not doing heroin in your toilet or anything"
"Ha, ok good to know!" I said as she closed the door.
When she re-emerged from the bathroom she was no longer wearing trousers.


TO BE CONTINUED HERE.



[1] I had no idea what I was really looking for. I liked connecting with people, so ideally I wasn't looking for one night stands... but I wasn't likely to turn one down either.


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