Not the best start

How we got talking about fetish clubs I’ll never know. Some time in the past, it must be around a decade ago, I recall there was a hint of a conversation, by way of a sheepish mention of TG, and before that even, at the party when my Wife and I first got together, when Robert had shown more than a passing interest in Gabby’s rubber Catwoman mask. (The mask had apparently been bought from the fetish emporium just a few yards from Gabby’s flat; a shop with which I was well acquainted. Whether Gabby had ever bought anything else there – I suspect she may have – was never revealed at that party.) Now, years on, Robert was suggesting that my Wife and I accompanied him and his wife, Beth, to a fetish club.

It’s all a bit of a mystery, maybe we had all been very drunk when we discussed it, maybe the fact that Beth was part of the conversation emboldened my Wife, or maybe in the wake of the rubber elephant incident She had been looking for an opportunity to broach the topic.

Whatever it was, here we all were, checking in to the hotel where a fetishists ball was being hosted. All four of us with tickets. Two rooms, of course. No impropriety suggested. Just a night out for two couples. Old friends who’ve not seen each other much for a long time. Parents who rarely have the opportunity to go out and have fun. At least one of us, possibly two or even three, with a fetish for latex. At least two of us, possibly three, who were keen to party with the kinkters. And at least one of us for whom this promised to be immeasurably far from Her sphere of experience.

And yet here we were.

Having dressed for the evening’s entertainment, we all met in the hotel’s lobby. Robert quickly spotted there was a sporting event in the adjacent conference centre. It was the sport which had brought us all together nearly 20yrs ago. Full of enthusiasm to see if any old pals were competing, Robert bounded in, dragging Beth with him. Wary of bumping into old friends and having to justify our presence, I felt myself recoil and, despite Robert’s protestations, headed briskly towards the hotel’s terrace for a coffee and a moment to collect myself. This never promised to be a weekend free from apprehension, but it was starting to get stressful.

My Wife and I sat at a wooden table. Although we had rubbered up, I had jeans and fleece over my catsuit. For some reason I didn’t know what fetishwear my Wife was concealing under Her day clothes – She must have slipped into something whilst I was squeezing myself into my own second skin – but I’d spotted a black latex shoulder strap. Something on loan from Beth, perhaps? Perhaps not: Beth is a very different body shape to my Wife, and it was inconceivable that anything Beth might own would be a viable size. More likely they had gone shopping together?

Before I could ask, a German couple sat down at the next table. They were wearing matching heavy-knit woolen sweaters, but their necklines both revealed heavy rubber outfits underneath.

They greeted us from a distance. We reciprocated. I turned to say something to my Wife, and in the blink of an eye, the other couple were sat at our table. Maybe this is like cottaging, I thought?

Now I definitely felt very uncomfortable. Because I had been spotted as attending the fetish ball? Perhaps – I was not expecting this to be so public so soon. But more likely because I was increasingly uncomfortable about the whole enterprise, considering my Wife and I were together. And having assiduously avoided discussing my fetish.

My Wife suggested we should join Robert and Beth. She’s good with strangers, but sounded a little uncomfortable too. Perhaps She wanted strength in numbers? Before we could escape, two more couples, obviously friends of the Germans, joined us. We were surrounded.

This was not turning into an auspicious start to Our first rubber experience together.

One of the new arrivals pitched straight in with a question about our fetishes. What were we wearing unde our day clothes? Had we been to this event before? Would we be interested in swinging later?

I really wanted to get out of there.

Somehow my Wife and I extracted ourselves.

Back to our room. She could obviously see I was stressed and tried to reassure me. They were just being friendly. They obviously assumed We weren’t noobies. If We went back down and found Robert and Beth, we could all move as a clique and We would be safer from any other enthusiastic attendees. She was still up for this … if I was.

Before the conversation got anywhere, I woke up with a raging hard-on. Interesting that this was not the first, nor even the second dream I’ve had explicitly about hotels, rubber and my Wife. Who was now fast asleep beside me.

After staring at the ceiling, or the wall, or burying my face in the pillow (and my cock in the mattress) She stirred and put a hand on my shoulder. Even if I wanted to fuck Her, which I did, I was too wound up from the dream.

A few minutes later She put an arm around me. Now I was getting even more stressed. That’s sex for me – stressful.

The clock hand ticked round a couple of numbers, and I extracted myself from both Her embrace and the bed. It was early, but a the spectre of a work deadline called. It was convenient to answer. At least with a mug of tea and the distraction of work, the day might get better.

2 Responses to “Not the best start”

  1. I was really surprised your wife would go anywhere a fetish ball.
    What surprises me even more is how you describe your reaction. You seemed the most distraught of the four friends.
    I wanted to say it’s fairly common in Germany to share a table, even if you don’t know the other people sitting next to you, and doesn’t at all mean people are expecting you to get involved in their conversation or they in yours.
    But obviously, since this was a dream, it’s irrelevant really!
    What bothered you most? To be outed to the world? Or to be seen doing fetish things with your wife?
    XO

    • Sigmund would doubtless have a field day with this dream. 😉

      I agree, my subconscious’s reaction is indeed interesting. I think the stress probably had various roots. It probably says a lot about my own inner anxieties about sex and relationships.

      Incidentally, Robert and Beth do exist IRL, and their backstory is historically accurate. I can almost imagine Robert attempting to initiate such an excursion, even if Beth might not be so keen, my Wife almost certainly not, and I … well, I’d probably bite my tongue and stay in the closset.

      And how did my subconscious know about German table etiquette? I’ve visitted the country a few times, but it’s not something I recall having observed. And why were the couple German? I know there’s a thriving fetish scene in Germany, but there seemed no other reason to attribute a nationallity to two imaginary characters.

      What bothered me most? I think it was the way unforseen events unfolded. Doubtless there is something far deeper that that hidden in the dream, but I’d have to refer to Sigmund on that.

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