Welcome to Costco

Welcome to Costco is a true story about the changing phases of life.

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I’ve reached a milestone this year, 40 years. And while I understand in the grand scheme of things, I am still relatively young, I also understand I am not so young anymore. It’s a weird place to be, this phase in life. Add to that the event of my oldest leaving the nest and the change in my dynamic with Mister K from 24/7 to casual partners and I’ll admit I’ve been feeling somewhat out-of-place. I was on board (if reluctantly) when Mister K and I agreed that D/s would take a back seat for this next part of our journey together, mainly because I hadn’t thought sex, or play of any sort would be going with it.

One recent morning, as I made Mister K’s lunch (old habits die hard), I was pondering the dust that topped our toy box. A locked cabinet once used as a coffee station at a former place of employment had been transformed easily into a storage vestibule for all things indecent. But the key had not been placed into the lock for so long, the embedded handle had collected a layer of dust, a stringy fiber reaching from side to side, of which I wondered, does it belong to an eight-legged friend, or just the bunnies who leave dust all over our home. Somewhere in my wandering thoughts, I began to deliberate if I should check my coochie for cobwebs too. Would that be a step too far?

Perhaps, Mister K was also concerned about the state of my vagina, because while I packed away a sandwich and a serving of fruit into his lunch bag, he approached me from behind, wrapping his arms around me.

“I could use a few things from Costco, if you could make a trip today?”

At first, I was suprised. It had been a long while since he’d asked me to make a special trip anywhere, for anything. We’ve enjoyed our peaceful cohabitation as of late, and it seems neither of really has any desire to rock the boat, as it were. But once a submissive, always a submissive, so my s-side popped up her head and said,

“Of course. Send me a list.”

After the surprise passed, I realized I detected a familiar tingle running through me. A not forgotten but tucked-away desire had sparked. His next words burst it into full flame.

“Wear your jeweled butt-plug and take a picture in the bathroom for me.”

As natural as water in a stream, and almost as wet, I replied,

“Yes, Sir.”

Although the idea inspired me and made me look forward to the day with excitement, I knew I had to wait until the afternoon to complete this request. One reason being, Costco doesn’t open at the crack of dawn, and the second excuse, I knew the longer I waited to complete the task, the closer I would be to Mister K’s arrival home from work.

A win-win, for us both, or so I hoped.

The extended duration of my upcoming task only served to extend the length of my morning and add an uncomfortable amount of lubrication to my panties. It was only 10 a.m. when I was debating if I should chance wearing pants or skip straight to a dress. Which would contain the mess I was likely to make best?

Pants seemed safer, somehow.

I’ll admit as I slipped the cool metal inside, hissing against the now unfamiliar sting of being stretched in that dark place, I thought about taking a picture then and there, and skipping the rest of the day. Simply taking my pleasure and moving on as there are no certain rules in place. Not subjecting myself to the potential disaster that awaited me, if only in my head.

But habits die hard as I said, and arousal is a great instigator in all things.

Those first tentative footsteps from my bedroom were a reminder of why butt plugs used to be such a fun chore in our dynamic. Each stride further reinforced that a trip to Costco, plugged and edging closer to horny with every step was a delightful idea.

The drive to and then across the city was uneventful, and why wouldn’t it be? Regardless, I heard echoes of my mother’s chiding, “make sure you wear clean underwear, you never know when you’ll be in an accident.”

What do emergency crews think of butt plugs?

I hope to never find out first-hand (although as a former nurse, I’ve heard many horror stories- some that made me laugh until I cried- but those are for another day).

Once arrived, I had an important decision to make. Take the image right away and hurry through the store and subsequently home, or take my time shopping, and click the pic before I left. I compromised. No reason not to get the work out of the way and make more time for fun.

Inside the women’s restroom, a line awaited me. I felt absolutely silly waiting to take a picture of the plug in my ass while many others were doing a dance indicating a necessity. But in for a dime, in for a dollar. When a stall became free, courageously I marched on and then realized I had a very real issue; the space in which to make this work is quite tight.

Unfortunately, I’m not talking about my backside.

With some shimmying, and shaking, a strange angle or two, and once an elbow against the wall so hard I bit my lip to stifle my cry with my potty pal next door saying, “excuse me,” sounding quite offended, I managed to take a usable pic.

A quick edit, and a witty little text, and mission accomplished.

And wouldn’t you know it, all that work and worry, while tiring, made me prance with pride.

Down every aisle of Costco.

I had intended on rushing my trip so I could get home, but that would not be the case. I’ve been told before that a woman looks different when aroused. Her cheeks are rosier, smile a bit more vibrant. Looking in the mirror, I am unable to judge this transformation, but I can confirm during this particular trip, I did seem to gather more attention than normal.

Additional heads turned my way, a couple of smiles stretched longer than necessary (inherently, smiling at strangers is a Canadian thing, or so I’m told), and once, a lovely looking man even winked. The extra appreciation only added to my appreciation of the entire scenario.

May I say, there’s nothing quite like being virtually fucked in public to get your groove going.

After spending as much time as I could soaking up the awareness of others and my response to it, I knew it was time to head home. My timing was a success and I arrived home just before Mister K, randy and ready, roaring to go.

Guess what? No cobwebs!

And the layer of dust on our toybox is gone.

It was nice to have a time out from current life to live a moment in our past. I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed it until it was presented to me. Most interestingly though was that a simple task was really all I needed to feel like I was living the dynamic I’d spent so much time perfecting, even if only for a small time. It was enough to make me feel like I am still a submissive.

I also enjoyed discovering that Mister K and I can still have kink without giving it a label. We can enjoy a challenge, a moment, a secret between lovers, without the pressure of roles or labels.

We can partake in kink simply because it’s fun.

This new phase in our life may just become the best one. No worries, no hassle. Just two people being who they are and doing what they love.

 Maybe Carl Jung was right all along.

“Life really does begin at 40. Up until then, you’re just doing research.”

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Welcome to Costco is linked to Mmm Mondays- Turning Monday woes into Monday whoas!

What makes you say Mmm?

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For more real life stories of Kinky Shenanigans. Check this out.

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