The canvas bag sits empty on the bed as I rifle through our toy chest.  The first thing I put in is Jill’s Eroscillator, followed by the Hitachi.  These are the powerhouses of our collection, larger and versatile vibrators that never leave Jill unsatisfied. The former buzzing on her clit while the latter thrums against her pussy will cause a chain of intense orgasms, complete with ejaculation, pretty much ten times out of ten.

That reminds me.  I take the Throe from the bed, fold it into a manageable size and stuff it in along with the toys.  It takes up all the remaining space, so I pull it out and leave it folded  beside the bag.  The Throe might not fit in the bag, but there’s no way we’re not taking it with us.  When sex is as wet as it usually is with Jill, it makes sense to bring something to facilitate cleanup.  Making her squirt is my favorite party trick.  Even among a sexually seasoned group, the spectacle always elicits a few gasps.  I make a mental note to also bring a couple bath towels, in the event that the circumference of her ejaculation exceeds the Throe, as it sometimes does.

It occurs to me that the two toys I’ve packed require AC power.  While I’m certain there will be electrical outlets at the venue, I can’t guarantee that we’ll find any available by the time we want to plug in and play.  So into the bag go two of Jill’s favorite battery-operated toys, and I remind myself to grab some extra double-A batteries before we leave.  It’s probably unnecessary; I imagine most of the attendees who bring toys will not bring the sort that require an electric current.

I consider packing her fuck-me heels; it is either these shoes or her boots that Jill usually wears when we venture out to a club or a party.  However, I’m not sure which she’ll wear and which she’ll pack to change into later, so I figure it’s best to let her figure that out.  Instead of the heels, I throw a flogger into the bag.  We rarely use it, but the way I see it it’s best to be prepared.  We’d hate to be the only ones there without some sort of spanking accoutrement.  Better to have it and not need it than the other way around.

And lube!  Can’t forget the lube.  We don’t use the stuff enough to justify one of those industrial-sized drums with the hand-pump at the top; instead we keep a smallish bottle in my nightstand drawer.  Given the efficiency with which Jill’s pussy keeps itself moistened, lube is reserved for anal sex and fisting, and sometimes for handjobs.  We doubt we’ll have anal sex at the party (although it’s conceivable that we might), but in the very likely event that Jill wants to be fisted we’ll be very glad to have brought it.  Additionally, she might decide to wear her plug during an exciting bout of cowgirl-position sex.  Speaking of which, I pull her plug out of the trunk and put it in the bag as well.

Baby wipes go in the bag next.  Not a whole package; we’ve got a couple smaller travel-size packs that we take to barbecue restaurants, and that’ll be plenty.  For all I know, wipes will be provided by the organizers.  But they might not, and as we learned when we attended our first party and I fingered Jill to a very gushy orgasm before a group of onlookers, unpreparedness can bring the evening to a screeching halt.  We’re not taking any chances this time.

Condoms might also be provided – in our experience they usually are – but I still pack the handful we got at our last party.  Given our propensity to limit interactions with others to just oral sex, it’s unlikely we’ll need them.  However, Jill and I both feel that it’s a good idea to have condoms just in case; after all, as she points out, she has no way of knowing whether she’ll want to watch me fuck the sexy twenty-five-year-old who’s giving me head.  It could happen.

The bag is nowhere near full, so I toss in a pair of carbon steel handcuffs and a blindfold.  Moreso than the flogger, these are the BDSM items that are likely to see use by Jill and I.  I handcuff her pretty frequently, typically while fucking her doggy style face-down on our bed.  She enjoys the lack of control that comes from being denied one’s mobility, and she trusts me to take care of her needs.  I consider the flogger for a moment, then take it out of the bag and toss it back into our toy chest.  I can imagine myself trying to show off, accidentally hitting someone who isn’t Jill, and getting ejected.  Best not to risk it.

The bag’s just about packed.  Can’t forget the tickets!