If you'd like one of these bondage kits (or any other sexy stuff), use code HAPPY20 at my sponsor SexToys in September

One of the things I love about buying things online is the anticipation between ordering and receiving. While a new pair of black ankle boots provides me with a thrilling tingle, when it comes to sex toys the build-up is even greater. Particularly if it’s something that could be used in more than one way, and you get to plan all the different ways you’ll use it. The next installment of the Sex Fairies project (in which SexToys.co.uk gives people free toys and then they write hot things about them), the brilliant @waitingirl13 has a sexy story for you. It’s the first of a 2-part erotic story inspired by the Sportsheets Bondage Fantasy Kit, which you can buy from Sex Toys for less than £20. Use the code GOTN10 to get 10% off anything on their site. I’m delighted to be able to host it here because not only does it capture that delicious build-up of anticipation, it also neatly demonstrates that if you want to join in with Sex Fairies you don’t have to just write a review. You can put pen to paper and write what makes you hot…

A sexy story, inspired by a bondage kit

I looked at the package, biting my lip and playing with my phone. Zoe had said it might arrive today. If I still wanted to try I was to text her a picture, and one word, “yes”. The three months since we had met at a conference on feminist pornography had seemed like a dream, an impossible one which started with me, late thirties, overweight, inexperienced, meeting someone like her. Someone who made me feel beautiful.

When she touched me, my skin became alive, her fingers tracing a pattern of fire and desire across my breasts, my back, the belly she forbid me from hiding. One night she had rolled me over and, half joking, half serious, spanked me for mentioning my stretch marks. I had been spanked before, by an ex, the same one who had suggested we try swinging. I had agreed, it seemed easier than explaining my confused, repressed thoughts about women. Unsurprisingly that relationship ended in bitter accusations on both sides.

When Zoe spanked me though it was different, each slap making me gasp, my arse becoming the entire focus of my being, waiting for her hand to land, wanting it, afraid she might stop, and afraid it might hurt too much. Afraid but not of her, never of her. Then, after too short a time, which confusingly seemed to last for ever, she had gently touched my clit, and the orgasm overwhelmed me. She had kissed my shoulder and laughed

“Someone is a lot more sub than they have been letting on.”

Which is how we ended up here, a box of toys arriving at mine, and a decision to be made.

A deep breath, I took a picture and sent it, with one word, “yes.”

Zoe’s reply came, unexpectedly, by email. An explanation of preparations I was to make, and a traffic light system of yellow, meaning slow down, amber meaning pause, and red meaning stop everything I am not OK.

“I take no to mean no,” I read “And have never seen the point of complicating things with safe words, but I want you to know that you have total control over how far this goes.”

The rest of the email was concerned with practicalities. After the excruciating breakfast with her Dad the morning after that first incredible night, we had mutually decided that my place was a lot better to meet at. That meant complex diary negotiations though, my days off, days she wasn’t in university teaching first years, and days my daughter was in school. I realised it meant I had 4 days to wait. Four days to contemplate being naked, tied, used, touched and reduced to the animal only Zoe seemed to awaken.

My phone buzzed.

“Bet your cunt is soaking :-) xxxxxx Zoe”