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Cuffed - part three
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Cuffed - part three Bound by the handcuffs, wrists pulled almost painfully tight above her, hanging from the door hook, the orgasm that erupted from his hand gripping her pussy took her by surprise. She had never come so fast or so hard. She arched her back and thrust, pushing her hips down on his fingers, forcing them up against her pussy with a ferocity that surprised her. She felt his mouth cover hers, opened her jaws wide, swallowing his tongue, pushing hers into his mouth, barely aware of his hand squeezing her breast. He pulled back for a moment, his hand leaving her pussy, she felt her hips roll, trying to follow the hand. She knew his fingers were slick. He was grabbing at his pants, unzipping. “Yes!” Some part of her screamed. He was going to fuck her. She couldn’t wait, she wanted it, it was all she could think of. Her urgency, her heat, was like a runaway train. “Wait,” she said, “do you have a condom? Put it on.” She was almost disappointed when he stepped back, fumbling it from his pocket, his pants falling around his knees. His erection was huge, already thrusting the part at the bottom of his shirt. His hands were shaking, she saw, as he tore the wrapper, rolled it on. Then he stepped forward. She lifted up her knees, letting her wrists and the handcuff chain take her full weight for a moment. He stepped between her legs, she wrapped them around him, locking her ankles, as he reached down. The seemed to shift together, finding each other, his cock sliding against her pubic mound, the inside of her thigh.... Then suddenly, she felt him at her lips. She tried to arch her hips, lift her legs a little higher, one heel digging into the small of his back. Suddenly, he surged deep, all the way up her in an instant. Her legs loosened and she felt the weight of her body settle around the base of his cock, pushing it deeper up inside her. No man had ever been so deep, had ever had so much of himself in her. They were so deep, so tight together, she felt the imprint of his pubic hair pressed into her lips. He kissed her again, his mouth ravenous against hers. His hands grabbed for her breasts, squeezed and then caressed, he lifted them, as if to memorize the shape and weigh them. Finger pinched her nipples, as she worked her thighs up and down, humping herself against him. He reached down, grabbed her ass lifting some of her weight and began to thrust savagely in her, long deep thrusts that had her screaming with pleasure. Her back and ass were slammed against the door, banging in its frame with each heave of his body. She was already drenched with sweat and excitement, could feel it running down her spine, trickling between her breasts. All she wanted was him inside her fucking harder and deeper. He let go one ass cheek to grab her breast, mashing it almost painfully between his fingers. With only one cheek held, her weight shifted, she felt him move differently inside her body, the angle of penetration changed a few degrees. Her legs kicked up, wrapped around him, fell, kicked and wrapped, she tried to climb up his cock with her thighs, her hips grinding down against his pussy. The long thrusts rapidly gave way, becoming shorter and faster, each lunge of his hips slamming her against the doorframe harder and louder. They were both loud, screaming, grunting, moaning. She was coming again, and she could feel him, his thrusts going frantic and brutal, pounding up into her and knew he was coming too. She wanted to come first, could feel the rushing surge of pleasure. And then it hit, she arched her back, her legs dropping, wrapping around his thighs, pushing herself down on him, she shrieked. She could feel him thrusting harder and faster up into him, pounding, his orgasm exploding even as hers went on and on. As he stiffened inside her and against, pushing mindlessly, and then slowly relaxed. Finally, it ebbed. The pleasure was still so intense, that even after orgasm, her skin tingled. It was almost too much pleasure. He stepped back, his cock falling out of her. “Holy shit,” he whispered. He seemed almost deflated, as if coming had emptied him out physically. “That was intense.” “Uh huh,” she didn’t trust herself to say anything more complicated. She just leaned back against the door, feeling the smooth panel slick with her sweat. Letting her cuffs take the weight, it hurt a little, but she didn’t seem to care. Her legs felt too wobbly and weak to support her weight. He stepped forward, reaching between her legs, and she felt a tiny pull, a slick movement. The condom came away in his hand, he let it fall to the ground, making a tiny plop. It had come off his cock half in her, she thought, after he came. As he’d lost his erection, she’d been squeezing, and her pussy had stolen it. She took deep shuddering breaths, tried to straighten her wobbly legs. Her chain rattled against the door hook. She couldn’t quite pull it off herself. “Help me to the couch,” she asked him. She felt his strong arms wrap around her, easing her weight up briefly. Her cuffs came off the hook, and the relief in her arms and shoulders was exquisite. Together, they staggered to the couch and flopped on it, still panting with relief. “Holy shit,” he said again, “this was like something out of a porno. I never imagined anything like this. It’s like the stories you hear about.” At his words, she felt this strange flush of pride. She was like something out of a porno, out of stories. It made her feel special. Powerful in a strange way. “It was pretty amazing,” she said. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” “You’re kidding!” His amazement was in his voice, and obvious on his face. “You’ve got to be kidding.” “No,” she laughed. “First time.” “Wow.” He laid his head back. “Well, if that’s a first for you, then you got it right in one. My god. Why me?” She laid her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. His shirt was half undone, the lower buttons opened. She could see a hairy belly, and bare thighs. She reached down, finding his cock, even limp, she wanted to feel it, to squeeze it in her hand. “I don’t know,” she replied. “Right time, right place, I guess.” “Oh,” he said. He sounded a little disappointed. She wondered if she hurt his feelings. The handcuffs had served their purpose. Rather than triggering the release latches, as she usually did, she had him get the keys from their little bowl in the kitchen. There was an intimacy in having him unlock her, even if it was unnecessary, she still enjoyed it. Her wrists were bruised, red welts in the flesh where the handcuffs had bitten into it. She allowed him to massage her wrists. Afterwards though, neither of them found that they had much to say to each other. He was at least a decade younger. She didn’t feel like she wanted to talk to him. After sex conversation, the idea of it seemed exhausting. She felt him grow restless as well. When he made some excuse she was all too willing to let him leave, his presence now unwelcome and unnecessary. Once he was out the door, she simply relaxed for a while. At length, she made herself a hot cup of coffee, and sat back on the couch. The handcuffs, opened and harmless were on the floor. She picked them up and put them on the coffee table. She couldn’t help smiling at them. It was a satisfying, amazing experience. Brief. Had it only been ten or fifteen minutes? Amazing. Finishing the coffee, she went for a shower, luxuriating in the feel of the hot water on her skin. She didn’t scrub, just let the water wash over her in sensuous sheets, carrying away the sweat and smell of sex. And yet, there was something so sensuous about the shower, the glow of the sex had never left her. Her fingers slipped down, feeling hard nipples, teasing them, pinching them. One hand slipped lower, spreading her lips apart, stroking her clit gently. Closing her eyes, leaning against the side of the shower, she could feel the heat, the lust building up again. She reached for the memories, concentrated on them, the feel of him, the wet sounds of his cock thrusting into her pussy, the feel of the cuffs, the way her legs wrapped around him. The frenzied passion. Abruptly, she stopped and turned off the water. She put her hands up flat against the shower stall, panting. Not yet, she told herself, not now. It would be better in cuffs. It would be so much better, wearing the cuffs. She toweled off roughly, her body still half wet, droplets clinging to her skin everywhere, her hair heavy and limp. The cuffs were on the coffee table in the living room. Reaching for them, she noticed a text. It was from him. “Had a wonderful time, would love to do it again.” She almost laughed, it was so carefully neutral. “Fucked you like a slut, can’t wait to pound you all over.” Would have been better. “Are you hard?” She texted back. The answer was instant. “Yes.” “Then come back and fuck me again.” “10 minutes!” She laughed this time. She hoped that he’d last longer this time. “The door will be unlocked.” With her knee, she pushed the coffee table away from the couch. Her heart was pounding all over again. The first time, that had been a wild wanton impulse, but this was deliberate, this was calculated. It excited her, made her feel bad. The lights were too bright. She turned them down, and lit a couple of candles. She moved the coffee table further out, making sure that it would not obstruct the view of the couch from the doorway. She wanted him to open the door, and see her right there on the couch, legs spread. She leaned back, the cuffs in her hands, assuming the position. Back elevated on cushions, so she could look right at him. Carefully she spread her legs wide, one knee lifted, foot on the seatcushion, the other leg sprawled off the couch. She was wet all over again. This is how he would see her when he came in. He’d stand there in the doorway and look, staring at her naked body draped over the couch, at her wet pussy waiting to be fucked. At the glint of steel between her wrists. She ratcheted one of the cuffs closed. And below them, her fingers opening her.... The other cuff closed. She stretched her arms down between her legs, letting the cuffed wrists rest on her lower belly. Gentle fingertips teased her clit.... Opening herself for him. She blinked slowly, playing with herself, watching the door. By the time he arrived, she had almost come two or three times, had brought herself up to the edge of orgasm, but held it back. She didn’t want to come until she felt a hard cock inside her, until she felt a male body on top of her. She wanted to feel him between her legs, to listen to him grunt, to touch him, smell him, lick him. The door opened, spilling light into the living room, overwhelming the candles. She blinked. He was silhouetted, frozen, staring as she had imagined. She writhed, half in pleasure, half in performance for him. Long fingers reaching between her lips, she slid them against the labial folds and pulled apart, opening her wetness. She imagined he might simply drop his pants, rush upon her, fucking her with the furious urgency of the last time. Instead, he stepped in, and closed the door, locking it. “Fuck,” was all he said, half prayer, half amazement. He approached slowly, unbuttoning his shirt, staring at her as if afraid to look away, as if he was afraid that she might vanish if his gaze wavered. She shifted her hips as he moved into the room, keeping her opened wetness facing him. She watched him, enjoying his hypnotized fascination. He’s hard already, she thought. He was hard before he got here. But when he opened that door, it was as if he hadn’t had anything, all of a sudden all he could think about was how hard he was for her, how badly he wanted her again, she thought. She loved the effect on him, loved the sense of power and excitement. Still watching her, he slid his pants down to his ankles, kicked awkwardly out of shoes, and stepped toward her. He did not immediately lunge to mount her, lift her legs and push his cock hard into her with one brutal, exciting thrust. Instead, he circled the coffee table, moving towards her, his erection bobbing between his legs, until he was near her head. His cock was inches from her face. He reached between her legs, pulling her chained wrists away from her pussy, up towards his cock. Hands linked by the cuffs and the narrow chain, her hands were almost in the position of prayer. Guided by him, they curled around both sides of his cock, her little fingers brushing the soft sack of his<b> scrotum. </font></b>“You wanna suck my cock,” he whispered. Half a request, half an order. Or was it simply a statement. She had never cared much one way or the other before, but she wanted to suck this cock. To taste it, to feel the shape of it against her lips, under her finger tips. She ran her bound hands along the shaft, enjoying the hardness of it, the hotness, the texture of the skin and the feel of the veins. It curved a little she noticed. He was uncircumcized. She peeled the foreskin back gently, staring at the graceful curve of the glans. There was already a bead of pre-cum. She stuck her tongue out, licked the tip lightly, harvesting the wet pearl of semen. He pushed forward gently. Abruptly, she opened her mouth, took the head in, squeezing with her lips just past the glans. He moaned. It thrilled her to know she had made him do that. Was there a trembling in his thighs. She felt him move, balancing his weight with one arm over her, on the back of the couch. His cock bobbed gently between her lips. She felt his other hand on her belly, spread her legs a little wider, arched her hips until she felt his fingers curling into her pussy. It was her turn to moan. He let her suck his cock for a while, sometimes her mouth pulling off, to lick and lap its length with her tongue. Sometimes she cradled his balls in her cupped hands, as she worked the head. She tried to get that moan out of him, the sound of helpless pleasure, and was gratified every time he gasped. Finally, he pulled his hand from her sopping pussy, she felt his weight shift as he stood upright, the cock pulling away from her lips. For a second, there was a long thread of drool joining his glans and her tongue. A condom was pressed into her cupped, cuffed palms. “Put it on,” he ordered. “Oh yes,” she whispered. She hadn’t put many condoms on. Mostly, men just did that for themselves. But she wanted to do it now, it was like a new adventure, an action. Opening it, placing, rolling it down his length. She gave a chaste quick kiss to the tip of his glistening, latex member, tasting a hint of lubricant oil. “Time to fuck me now,” she whispered. He pulled her cuffed wrists back, until her arms were straight out, above her head, out of the way. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it left her whole body open for his gaze, his touch, his cock. “Oh yeah, I’m going to fuck you,” he said, moving to straddle her, one knee sinking down into the couch cushion. His hand moved from her pussy, the knuckles parting her lips, up her belly, up her ribs to close around one breast. “Fuck me good,” she told him, bending her knees back. Looking down, she could see his erection hovering over her belly, could see her pussy lips. He reached down, moved his cock. She felt the head of it slide over her clit, down between the lips. Her breath froze as she watched it enter her, watched and felt it at the same time. This time, there was no instant orgasm, no explosion, no runaway freight train. This time, it was a steadily mounting excitement, a heaviness and lightness within her, a feeling of accumulating tension and desire, that built and built. He sank in her up to the hilt. His body pressed down against hers, one hand still clutching her breast, the other forcing her bound wrists above her head, his weight partially on her. She loved the feel of him, the way the couch seemed to creak and shift under them. He began to fuck her. Not like before, not in the frantic out of control way, as if he had been racing to stay one step ahead of his orgasm. No, this was a good fucking, a hard fucking a steady rhythm that built and built up inside her. It took ten minutes to reach her first orgasm, and then only a moment after that for her second, and she loved ever moment of it. His passion built. His hand left her breast, his entire weight pushing her down into the couch. His mouth found hers, his free hand cupping her face. She came as they kissed. Abruptly, he pulled out. She floundered awkwardly, as he turned her over, moved her into position on all fours, her upper body straddling the arm of the couch. He thrust into her from behind, fucking her doggy style, pulling her hair, making her back arch as she came, her ass thrusting, pushing back onto his hips. Later again, she turned, onto her back, legs wrapping around him, him lifting her half off the couch, only her shoulders touching it, as he pushed in and out of her until finally her grip broke and she fell back, only to come as he plunged into her. By the time he came, she’d lost count, was drenched with sweat, the couch soaked with their fluids, her whole body ached and felt hot and feverish. It was wonderful. |
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I very much enjoy your writings and stories, and only wish/hope that you would choose to continue to entertain us all. Cheers.
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