So What Happend Next?

After a year or so of university, Posh Brunette Girl and I went our seperate ways, all very amicable I must say, but still tinged with a little sadness.

Needless to say that this was when I began to 'play the field' as it were. It was the first prolonged spell of being single since becoming sexually active. Second year uni was a mad year, going out six nights a week practically every week, although I regined it in to four or five nights a week during exam time. Most weekend nights were at the student union (safest place for scruffy student types), and often I managed to impress a young lady enough with my S Club dance routine or ability to drink copious amounts of cheap alcopops to get myself an end of night kiss, which on a few occasions resulted in a few steps further.

One of the joys of being a student is the fact that fancy dress nights are a regular occurance, which translates to the female fraternity wearing very revealing outfits whilst the blokes used it as an excuse to dodge dresscodes through town. One night the theme was something along the lines of Pyjamma Party versus Bedroom Bondage. Despite my relative experience in the bondage department, I had nothing to wear for such a party, and if I did I can't imagine I would have outted myself as a kinky pervert! However, I wasn't going to miss out on this night out, so I donned my red towling dressing gown and best Homer Simpson slippers and walked through the November snow to the nightclub that was hosting the event, along with a few similarly attired friends (plus one in spiderman PJ's). On entering the club fashionably late (of course), we found it to be 80/20 split in favour of the pyjamma option. However, there was still a sizable number of young ladies attired in PVC, leather etc, which was very pleasing on the eye. The night progressed as normal, lots of silly drinks and crap dancing until when at the bar I began talking to a pretty blonde girl who was decked out in a PVC catsuit that I think I recognised from my bumbling visit to Ann Summers. I cheekily asked her if she wore that outfit often, to which she replied "not enough".

This grabbed my attention straight away, and I even stretched my tight student budget to buy her a glass of potent local brew cocktail that looked like nuclear waste. We adjourned to a table and continued the flirty small talk. This is when I noticed she had thigh high boots over the catsuit, which got me going even more. I asked her where she had hired the costume from, and her answer left me almost speechless. "Oh this, this was in my wardrobe, I have loads more outfits like this, just wearing this one to keep warm between pubs". It appeared that this young lady had more than a passing interest in the wonderful fetish world. I told her I'd like to see more of her collection, and she whispered in my ear that I could as long as I did as I was told.

to be continued...