wandering hands

Rising out of a dream I opened my eyes, the passage of sleep was still slow to disperse so I tried to move my arm, my hand to help rub away some of this sleep but it wouldn’t move but barely an inch.  So I tried with the other and it was the same and couldn’t move no matter how hard I pulled.

Where was I?

My other wrist was the same, tied to the top corner of the other bed post. I cleared any vestigial dreaming from my eyes turning my head side to side as if not believing what I was seeing.  I was definitely bound on my back to the bed. I didn’t panic, oddly enough, even though it soon became clear it wasn’t my own bed either, nor my room or even my house. Just then I remembered.

Of course, the party.

I remembered feeling tired as the night got later and later and I had, like everyone, been drinking though never beyond tipsy. I recall also a friend said I could commandeer a bed for a doze in one of the rooms. I obviously had done but didn’t recall tying myself to the bed, not that such a thing would have been possible, but here I was.

All I could hear was distant music issuing from somewhere in the house, whose layout I hadn’t committed to memory. I guessed I was upstairs. Then it dawned on me, I wasn’t alone. I raised my head to see a guy sat there; did I know him?  Yes, I remember now, Richard. At least I knew him a little anyway, friend of a friend, maybe even of a friend.  A memory washed through my half-awake brain of flirting with him earlier, though I would say just innocently chatting.

It was mostly coming back to me now. I think we kissed at some point, I couldn’t quite remember. He saw me looking now and smiled, “hey!”, he said cheerily. I replied similarly. It was actually him who suggested the room saying earlier I seemed a bit, shall we say, out of it”. Since then everyone else had left, he’d forgotten about me until he came up to bed, it was his room, his house, and still found me still here dozing on top of the bed. 

So how did that get to this, me tied to his bed and him enjoying the view? He didn’t really explain that when I asked, only to say he’d remembered my, what he called, ‘flirting’ earlier with him and certain topics of conversation we’d had.  

He said he would untie me if I really wanted and then reminded me of part of one of these conversations about such things as bondage, submission and the like.  I searched my memory and yes, there it was, we had and now I did say I found some of it, but not all, erotic and exciting and wouldn’t mind giving it a go sometime, and that being tied to a bed for example sounded tempting.

Well, it seems he took me at my word and here we were, here I was, here he was. So, he’d took me at my word and took it upon himself to basically tie me to a bed, his bed, as a surprise. Well, he certainly managed to surprised me, I was surprised, to say the least, both wrists secured to bedposts.

He asked then how I liked it so far. It was weird, I said, but not too bad really.

He sat on the side of the bed looking down on me laying there where I was still, phew, fully-clothed and suggested that now we are here like this, meaning now I was like this, bound to a bed, that we could put some of that earlier ‘flirting’ to the test.  I felt a smile cross my lips, albeit apprehensively. It was more a reflex than an outright, oh yes, I totally agree. Not that I didn’t as such, hence the muddled mind.

Regardless he took that as an invitation and began running his fingers down my wrists along my bare underarm making me shudder, down my sleeveless white blouse. I gave him my best enquiring look to which he replied, flirting, of course. His hand found its way over my top, over my breasts entertaining each with a little momentary squeeze.  I bit my lip, so he did it again, clearly more sign language going on here than we had words for.   Clearly my brain wasn’t working fast enough to process all this stimulation, meanwhile a sensation deep inside me kept me keenly compliant.   

This bold move without objection from me seemed to encourage him further.

Both hands now wandered over my blouse, enjoying every curve I possess, kneading, teasing, flirting with increasingly aroused nipples inside my bra, something he also seemed to know by osmosis. My blouse was already being unbuttoned and as it was being opened to drape to one side then the other showing increasing coverage of my bare skin and blue bra. He stopped, drinking me in with his eyes my shirt now no better than a useless rag for concealing anything. My arms remained stretched to both top bedposts. I experienced his paws indulging in further wanderlust over my contours.

And wander they did.

They did so, tantalising my bra and taking as much time as they pleased while inside I was feeling feelings quietly surging from a trickle to a flood coursing into every limb. He raised me just enough to slip both hands around my back to unhook my bra. Something I guessed he had done to other women many times before based upon how smoothly this little operation was for him.

He lowered me back onto the bed and smoothly pulled my bra away, making the most of it, from one breast then the other, savouring the moment I imagine. I inhaled, held my breath feeling I really should say something, like, ok that’s enough you can untie me now. Instead nothing emerged from my moist lips as he completed his task exposing me to his wolfish grin. I’d also noticed how my nipples had also responded to current events, making no secret with regard to my emotional state. He wasted no time in exploring aureoles and nipples with first his fingers then his tongue, which was almost unbearably thrilling. He didn’t neglect my neck either in his salivery slithers.

Despite attempts not too, I was guiltily responding to all this attention, the motions, the touches, fingertips, mouth, breath, so dexterously they cooperated to incite the perfect shivers. 

My blue jeans were next for attention which he unfastened as though he’d done this very thing to me a thousand times before, which he hadn’t ever until now, the top button then tempting the zip down exposing my black knickers. As my ankles weren’t bound I kept my legs tight together, which proved no barrier to his plan. He waited, as though pondering his strategy, jeans open, a glimpse of knickers. Something was telling me this wasn’t the end of it.

Under the waistband he slipped pulling them until they came away from my hips.  I spread my legs making it impossible to slide them any further but he easily pushed them together again: I didn’t object, how could I by now? They were tight-fitting so took a bit of encouraging to extract from my hips and over my buttocks which I obligingly raised seeing it wasn’t really a choice. He did take care though to leave me with my knickers on. I raised my head from the pillow and watched as he tugged, and tugged until he’d got them below my knees then one leg at a time removing them entirely. There I lay in just black knickers and dishevelled blouse and bra. My thighs were warm. I held my legs together once my jeans were gone.

His next move was completely unexpected.  Having discarded my jeans he produced a new tie and proceeded to bind my right ankle to the right lower bed post before I’d even had a chance to take it in, leaving just my left leg untied. I hopelessly attempted to keep my legs together but to no avail as his hands slid upwards and over my knees to keep them apart.

A second later he touched me between my inner thighs, rubbing the black material against me. I had no doubt he could feel my increasing warmth and moistening there while cupping his hand over me, his fingers beneath teasing the cotton into my contours serving to make my inner juices flow more so. I couldn’t help it.   His fingers tracing my curves through them over my mound and gently pushing them inside me where they began to stain.

I didn’t want to admit how ecstatic his foreplay was becoming, and he clearly was nowhere close to finishing what he had in mind.

My knickers were now soaked with myself, his hand having encouraged me into ever feverish turmoil when he pulled them to one side to bare my smooth sex glistening, my mind’s eye telling me how pink and flushed my folds will have been, such an intimate admission and responding to his finger’s demands.  

I felt two fingers entering me, I was tight but I felt them moving unhindered as I lifted my hips in response to this penetration, shockwaves surprised every corner of my body. They moved in and out each time deeper, or so that’s how it felt, a fucking motion getting easier for him and me each time. His fingers must have been covered in me as I felt him smear them over my thighs. I felt my left leg being bent and my knee lifted when his fingers fucked into me rougher this time, still just the two thankfully, quicker, unrelenting for what felt like almost too long. I couldn’t stop my body convulsing as just before I was about to tell him to stop I had the most uncontrolled orgasm break inside me, all the while his fingers continued until my hips collapsed and I tightened around them preventing them from moving. Beads of sweat puckered across my face.

In the time it took me to rouse myself out of my petite mort to regain some kind of focus he’d unfastened and removed his jeans with alarming speed then clambered back onto me between my just-orgasmed thighs.  I was like pleading for a break, the ache inside my was both overwhelming and enticing, I wasn’t sure I could take more straight away. 

But there was more. I was at his mercy spread, bound by both wrists and one ankle, essential naked and thus he showed me no mercy guiding the tip of his now rigid, almost inflamed, erection into my cunt. I felt myself opening as he pushed and he felt even bigger now. He wasn’t wasting any time now so I held my breath while gripping the ties that bind. I knew his precum was easing progress and lining now my insides as he went deeper, clear sticky precum easily forcing my muscles to surrender any inhibition remaining until with a final effort he was fully inside, knickers off to one side.

He was relentless now, feeding my thighs with one greedy thrust after another, his hungry cock more determined than ever to go all the way. All I could do was submit: not that I was by now in any way unwilling.

Was I ever? 

My body replied in kind mimicking his rhythm as his body flowed over me like waves over the sand. I was left rippling beneath with every crash he imposed upon my shoreline.  Inside me his bare naked erection taking felt all that I needed and wanted at that very moment.

His flushed face glowed with lust, with want, with taking, his few words breathily telling me how he was loving how tight I was still as I was sure his erection expanded its girth further. He gripped my bottom enabling us to fuck harder. I no longer had any urge to stop this, and being tied like so just seeemed to make it even more ridiculously erotic. His pace quickened as did my heartbeat, my pulse bounding like a greyhound. His stamina was remarkable though I knew it had to be soon, soon, soon. I knew the signs so I grabbed a final breath before he did: and then he did.

Just as my own body imploded his exploded, both orgasms perfectly timed, his semen was like a projectile inside me as he’d spent so much effort edging, building, waiting, until now as apart from an initial moment of release he continued fucking and fucking until he was sure every drop had been drained from him into me. It was, believe me, as I felt his dying throes and then the inevitable trickling onto my thighs especially noticeable when a guy has a lot to give. He had a lot to give to my sweet surrender.

When he eventually pulled out he rolled over onto my bound leg which I think was numb by now anyway, I tried to hold as much in as possible inside with partial success.  Exhausted, sweating, probably stinking of carnality, hi cum inside me, or mostly.  He leaned over and kissed my cheek. That’s sweet, I thought. His once proud erection now less proud but very red, raw and glistening. I placed one hand between my thighs using the warmth of the palm to soothe myself, and, when he wasn’t looking, brought my fingers to my mouth and tasted them, me, him, it was most definitely a delight.

Unsurprisingly by this point I was somewhat in a post-carnal haze but I was sure I heard him suggest that maybe, just maybe he might not untie me just yet, and that maybe, just maybe he might invite a friend over, or maybe two, or now he thinks about it, perhaps three. Now, I could have been wrong but it would have been a strange thing for me to be imagining just there and then. What? I said, rather uncertainly. Oh, nothing, he replied.

He stepped out of the room, still fully naked as I watched his bare buttocks as he did, realising I was in fact still tied to the bed.

(Part 2 to follow? Maybe, let’s wait and see)

© Emmaleela