Meet Mister Silent (1)

Stockings

We started following each other on Twitter years ago, Mister Silent and me. There was just something about him, something about the words he used that drew me in. He was respectful, interested, well-spoken and I wanted to know more about him. You know how it goes, that when you hear someone’s voice, you form an image in your head and how that image can be totally different from how it really is? That is exactly what I did with Mister Silent. Not that I had heard his voice, but the combination of his tweets, his avatar and his bio had me picturing a shy-ish, quiet guy of somewhere in his late twenties and interested in the oriental arts and antiquities.

I have no idea when we started following each other on Fetlife, but I never linked the man on Fetlife to the ‘young guy’ on Twitter. It took me more than a year to work out that it was one and the same person and even then, seeing his age printed in red on Fetlife, my brain seemed unable to make the switch that Mister Silent was in the same age group as us.

Even on our way to our first meeting with Mister Silent, right at the beginning of 2016, I still had this younger man in mind, but I was in no way disappointed when Mister Silent arrived. We had a nice chat, had two cups of coffee and then our ways parted again. Some sexy things were discussed, as well as general things. He made a calm and quiet impression on me – hence the name Mister Silent and not because he’s really silent – and when we said goodbye, we promised to meet for coffee again.

Our talks on Twitter continued, as well as on Fetlife and gradually I got the feeling that he was interested in more than just a cup of coffee. However, I wasn’t sure. I loved talking to him, using messages with double layers, the same way we did. We said things to each other without really saying it. I showed Master T the text and he confirmed what I thought I had seen.

A second meeting was inevitable and in a private message it became clear that Mister Silent was interested in more than just coffee. As I always do, I asked him to discuss the details with Master T. Our double-layered messages continued. A couple of days before our lunch meeting I received my dressing orders: a dress, stockings and boots.
“No bra?” I asked while in my mind I went through the dresses in my closet that were suitable to wear without bra.
“No, no bra,” Master T answered, “Mister Silent saw no need for it.”

Stockings
Dressed as instructed…

On a Saturday morning I got dressed as instructed. I wore a cardigan and a coat over my dress to keep the cold out, but I still felt my hard nipples brushing against the fabric of the dress. Once seated in the restaurant, I took my coat and cardigan off. I sat next to Mister Silent – on his left – and Master T sat across from us. Somewhere in the first fifteen minutes, Master T informed Mister Silent: “She has followed your dressing instructions. You’re free to check.”
I fully expected Mister Silent to take Master T up on his offer, but he didn’t.

Instead, Mister Silent got up to go to the restrooms, but he combined that with a trip to his car and came back with a bottle of whiskey for Master T and wine for me. He told Master T more about the whiskey and me more about the wine. I love when people put more thought into the presents they give, the way Master T has put more thought into the present we gave Mister Silent. It was when I thanked Mister Silent for the wine that I leaned over and wanted to kiss him the Dutch way: three kisses on his cheeks, but he kissed me on my mouth. I liked it. It felt right. The way it should be. I looked at Master T and we smiled at each other.

Mister Silent explained that he had never done anything like this, meaning having a date with a couple, but also that he’s not that experienced in BDSM. “Yes, I have occasionally given a harder slap,” he said, “but this is totally new to me. Thank you for wanting to lead me on this exciting journey.”

Our starter arrived and while eating, I pulled my dress up a bit to reveal my slightly spread, ‘stockinged’ legs. If Mister Silent would look down, he would see it and if he reached over, it would be easy for me to spread my legs more. I was ready to be checked; ready to feel his hand on my pussy.

To be continued… Meet Mister Silent (2)

© Rebel’s Notes

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