Packing

The weekend has been circled in our diaries for months and now – finally – I’m pulling the suitcase out of the cupboard, ready to be packed. “I can’t believe it’s nearly time,” I say to Kitty.

“I know,” she replies, “I am so ready for a holiday.”

We’ve booked two nights in a swanky hotel in the city. A mini-break – but with a big focus. 

The grind of daily life has ground us both down and we need to shake things up. We need something new to explore and a change of scenery. Neither of us function well when life gets stale. I know what kind of fuel to add to our fire—and, because we’ve talked about it, I know we are both ready and eager for some sexy fun. 

I’ve put a lot of effort into coordinating the weekend: booked the train tickets, found the best hotel, and – with a bit of searching and networking – found us a party to attend. A queer sex party. 

I’ve been picturing each step of our adventure. I’ve studied the images on the hotel’s website so I know we’ll enter into the fashionable, high-ceilinged, foyer before being given the key to our top floor room. The main focus will be the sumptuous king-sized bed, made up with crisp white linen and plump pillows, but the bathroom will be a delight as well: there’ll be a bathtub and a shower big enough for two. It will just be a short taxi ride to the party venue – with my hand resting on Kitty’s thigh the whole way there, claiming her as mine even before we arrive.

It’s been an age since we’ve been to a sex party. This one is being held in a small basement club equipped with a spanking bench, a cage, a St Andrew’s Cross, and a big area complete with couches and bare walls that the organizers simply refer to as the “free play zone”. There’s a curfew for arrival: once the doors are closed and the event starts, no one else can come in. The artsy online photos aren’t totally convincing—I wouldn’t mind if it turns out to be a bit grungier in real life. Dark and seedy will suit my mood just fine – and I hope it will meet Kitty’s approval too. 

Usually, when we go out as a couple, I like to dress femme. I call it “playing dress-up” because I’m not that femme in everyday life, but on a night out, it’s fun for me to put on some make-up, wriggle into a tight dress, and pretend I can walk in heels. The added bonus is that Kitty loves it. The last time I wore lipstick, Kitty’s eyes got all wide and happy and she couldn’t stop looking at my mouth. Each time she tried to kiss me I jokingly pushed her away. “Don’t, you’ll smudge it,” I warned her, before leaning in close and teasing her some more with my lips just inches away from hers. I made her wait until the end of the night and then I let her have her way with me, challenging her to kiss off all my lipstick – which she did with passion – until our lips felt bruised and plump. 

This weekend I have a different kind of dress-up in mind. 

“Before we pack,” I tell her, “how about a trial run of our outfits? I want to know what you think of mine.” I’m already giddy but I keep my poise: I don’t want her to guess that I’ve got a surprise planned. “And I’d love to see what you’re going to wear,” I add. She grins. “Sure.”

“Let’s get changed in separate rooms, though. So I can make an entrance.” I give an exaggerated wink and walk out of our bedroom. It’s all part of my plan: I’ve got my clothes ready in the other room. I try to guess what Kitty will wear. She loves a smart shirt with cufflinks, tailored pants, and boots polished to a high shine. Or maybe she’ll opt for deep blue denim jeans with a vest top. If she chooses the sharp look, I’ll take a lot of pleasure in undoing her shirt buttons, one by one, to reveal her full breasts and smooth stomach. I’ll allow her to keep some of the shirt tucked into her waistband – I like it when my touch leaves her rakishly disheveled. If she starts off more casually dressed, I’ll want to quickly reduce her to just her jeans and nothing else – I love that half-dressed, caught-in-the-act look too. 

It doesn’t take me long to get dressed, but then I spend several more minutes looking at myself in the mirror. I have to adjust the way I stand to get the outfit to sit right, and then I have to adjust my self-perception: this is a new look for me but one I’ve been fantasizing about. The fabric is reassuringly heavy on my frame and my body feels strong underneath it. I stand tall, shoulders back, chin raised. I feel ridiculously turned on looking at myself and getting into character. There’s a powerful defiance in my eyes and a predatory smirk on my lips. I look almost dangerous. Suddenly, I worry maybe this is too much. Maybe this is something just for holiday and not for home. Maybe I should take it all off, tell Kitty I’m keeping my outfit a secret.

“Are you ready?” She calls to me. 

I take a deep breath and allow myself one more glance in the mirror, regaining my confidence and my stance. “Just coming.”

She’s looking very cute in her vest and jeans and an expectant grin. I can’t help but grin back. She’s owning her boyishness and perfectly complements my look. We’re not boy and girl, however; for this party, I’ve decided we’ll be boi and Daddy. To leave no doubt about my role, I’m wearing a man’s suit: wide shoulders, dark pinstripe. I have a silk tie knotted at my throat and leather brogues peeking out from my trouser cuffs. I’ve slicked my hair back.

“Wow!” Kitty reaches out to stroke the fabric of my sleeve. “You look hot.” Her voice catches slightly as she speaks. She meets my gaze and I see my longing mirrored in her eyes. We both want this. 

“There’s more,” I tell her, unbuttoning my jacket and exposing the front of my pants. 

Her eyes travel down and she sees the unfamiliar bulge.

“You’ve already packed?” We both giggle at her joke.

“Yes,” I say. Then, composing myself and swapping my grin for a smirk, “And now I want you to take off that vest and, then,” I pause, bringing my face closer to hers, speaking low and slow, “I want you – boi – to suck me off.” I stand with my hands on my hips, waiting. 

Kitty gives a quiet groan of lust and quickly undresses so she is wearing just her jeans – just like I’d pictured. She drops straight to her knees and reaches for the front of my trousers. Her fingers fumble a little as she rushes to unzip my fly and comply with my order. I’m wearing men’s briefs and she hesitates for a moment as she tries to figure out what to do. Her confusion is endearing and I help her by easing the packer out of the opening, just like a bloke drawing out his penis.

My packer is soft, pliable, and pink. It looks remarkably unformidable. Kitty cups it tenderly in her palm and then, looking up at me, teasingly runs her tongue along the length.

“Good boi,” I tell her. “Now, make me hard.”

She draws my dick into her mouth and I see her cheeks hollow as she begins to suck. Her lips and tongue work slowly and wetly around the head and the shaft and I watch her the whole time – admiring her desire and her determination. Her eyes are closed as she gives her full concentration to the task. She is so intent on pleasing me, she freely makes little wordless sounds and whimpering noises with each breath. 

I allow myself to be a voyeur of this scene. It’s even hotter than I had dreamed. It’s not just watching and listening to Kitty that’s getting me off, I actually feel like I have a dick, and the hardening and swelling sensation in my crotch corresponds to how I imagine it feels to get an erection.

“Is this okay,” she finds her words as she pauses for air.

“Very okay,” I tell her. 

“Do you want me to keep going?” 

I can tell her mouth is beginning to tire, her lips feeling bruised like after one of our passionate kisses. 

I’d planned to keep up the role play but I have an overwhelming need to feel her tongue on my cunt. The throbbing I feel there blends in my mind with my hard-on and, in this moment, I can almost believe I have a dick and a cunt. And I wish I could make Kitty suck and lick them both until I am totally spent. But, for now, the more familiar urges of my cunt win over and I unbuckle my belt, pull down my trousers and underwear in one move – taking the packer with them – and kick them off from around my shoes. I sit on the edge of the bed and, without being told to, Kitty shuffles towards me, still on her knees. 

“You’re such a good boi,” I tell her, “you get a reward.”

I lie back and expose my cunt to her. She’s made me hard – just like I asked. My clit is now my cock and I want Kitty to continue her blowjob. She moves my legs onto her shoulders as she eagerly leans in. 

As her mouth works over me, I stop trying to make sense of what I’m feeling. A moment ago, I had a cock. Now I have a clit. Now I feel like I have both. Now I can’t tell if she’s inside me or I’m inside her; if I’m going to come in her mouth or come deep in my cunt. And it doesn’t matter. I surrender to all of it and simply come. Quickly. Explosively. Deliciously. 

~~~

Later, as I carefully fold my jacket, shirt, and trousers into the suitcase, I reach into the bedside drawer for another accessory. The packer was just for the dress rehearsal; for our weekend away, I’m taking my strap-on. I want to surprise Kitty some more at the party – if I can wait that long. After all, there’s a two-hour train ride to the city when there’s nothing to do but sit back and fantasize. And then there will be that big luxury bed waiting for us in the hotel room. The party is scheduled for the first night of our vacation; I slip a lipstick into the case for the second.

Photo by Murat Esibatir