Storyline

Would bondage work for us? Although my wife’s fascination with S&M in books and movies has always been pronounced, somehow the titillation of actual bondage scenes always eluded Tricia and me. We had gone only so far as to buy a pair of shackles that now sat buried in my sock drawer, and yet I knew, deep down, that we had the capacity to buy into bondage, if only we could find the right scenario. Little did I realize that that very scenario was just over the horizon. B&D dreams were the last thing on my mind as Tricia and I screeched into the parking lot of the airport, then hurried past gate after gate, glancing at our watches as we ran. Luckily, April’s plane was even later than we were. April is a colleague of mine, an art rep who had become a close friend. A week earlier she had eagerly accepted our invitation to spend four days’ vacation with us far from the hectic work schedule that had plagued her back home since the last time we had gotten together. April, Tricia and I had discovered our exciting sexual chemistry a year earlier, during April’s last visit. One night, after lots of champagne, some bold hints and a few completed passes, we decided to go to bed, where we found a special connection topped by a unique rhythm of lovemaking. All this with April-who had always seemed so straitlaced and faithful to her husband of twelve years. Blonde, petite little Tricia, who was then only beginning to explore her bi-sexuality, reveled in the lushness of April’s full breasts and eagerly sampled our friend’s flowing juices. The most memorable night, one that I’ll never forget, had April astride me as I lay back on the bed, with Tricia holding April from behind and nibbling on her neck while holding a vibrator to April’s clitoris, pinching her large nipples and bringing her to the most spectacular orgasm I have ever witnessed. That vivid image of our incredible sex flashed through my mind as April descended the ramp of the arrival gate at the airport. She was more beautiful than ever, her hair longer, her figure trimmer. She was wearing a blue dress and perched on her very high red heels, which she knows are my favorite. April is in her mid-thirties and a head-turner. It’s always both a kick and an ego boost to be seen with April, who, with her huge breasts, womanly figure, great legs and a certain sensuous something about her, can cause whiplash in guys walking the other way. We all hugged, and Tricia handed April a bouquet of fresh daisies. Soon we were heading home, where April settled into the guest room. That evening we talked for a while, but it was clear that after a day spent at her agency and an evening spent on a plane, April was worn out. As I lay in bed that night with Tricia, I again thought about that magical night a year earlier-specifically the moment when April was riding me, my cock deep inside her. At some point I had lightly raked her ass and back with my nails. April’s head fell back, and she drew in her breath sharply, then moaned. Later she told me what a strange thrill that had been, and how that “little flash of actual pain heightened all the other sensations for me.” I could tell by her tossing and turning that Tricia couldn’t sleep either. I idly mentioned to my wife what I had been thinking. Tricia then told me of a letter April had written her months earlier, wherein she described her most vivid fantasy. It was so revealing that she hadn’t dared to share it with anyone before Tricia, who now dug it out of her nightstand. In the letter, April wrote of “being grabbed, dragged off, having my panties torn off and being forcibly fucked and/or eaten until I see stars, by someone who won’t stop even if I plead and who will ultimately have me begging for more.” My heart pounded as I lay there, staring at the paper. Words failed me, but my cock didn’t, and Tricia reached over to stroke it through the sheet and blanket. The scene April had described was certainly enticing, but I finally told Tricia that I didn’t believe I could actually act it out. After all, I’m dominant, but not vicious. To which my sweet wife replied in the dark, rather ominously, “There are ways, my dear. There are ways.” The next day, April and I went out to a lithograph opening and then returned home to find that Tricia had prepared a lavish supper and was wearing her black suede dress and red heels so high that she had never before dared appear in them. I looked at her; she looked at me. It didn’t take a genius to realize that something was up, and that the evening could get interesting before it ended. After supper, we sent April into the living room while we cleared away the dirty dishes. Tricia then popped the cork on a bottle of champagne while two others chilled in the refrigerator. “What exactly do you have in mind?” I whispered to her as she poured the bubbly into three crystal champagne flutes. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” she replied with one eyebrow arched, then sailed into the living room with a glass in each hand. She handed one to April and sat down beside her on the sofa. Very close beside her. I settled into a chair facing them, more a curious observer than anything else. April had dressed to the nines for the opening, and she looked so beautiful. Now she and Tricia engaged in some small talk, with Tricia seeking eye contact that grew to smoldering, especially after April mentioned what this particular beverage had led to a year before. Tricia ordered me into the kitchen for the rest of the bottle of champagne. I refilled their glasses and again became a spectator. As they chatted, Tricia’s hand reached out to touch April’s nylon-covered leg, and very subtly, she began stroking it lightly with her fingertips. I was struck by the notion that Tricia must have something very definite in mind, because she rarely takes the lead in sexual situations. Over the past year, she and April had grown quite close, to the point where they talked several times a week. I felt as though I were witnessing something special: two friends very much on the same wavelength, chatting intimately, rather than two strangers gripped by sexual tension. Tricia’s hand drifted higher and higher on April’s thigh. I saw stocking tops appear. Suddenly April gasped. And then Tricia gasped. She looked at me. “Marty,” she said, “April’s not wearing any panties.” April covered her face with her hand, obviously embarrassed. Tricia smiled and added, “And you should feel how wet she is. You naughty girl.” She leaned closer to April, very slowly and deliberately removed her hand from under April’s skirt and brought her glistening fingers to our friend’s lips. “Taste yourself,” she commanded. April, in shock, gazed deep into Tricia’s eyes, but after a long moment, she silently opened her mouth to suck on Tricia’s fingers. I was so distracted that I wasn’t drinking anything by now and still I felt light-headed. Tricia set both their champagne flutes down, brought her face near April’s and replaced her fingers with her mouth. Even now I hadn’t the faintest idea what Tricia was planning, although I knew I wanted to be in on it. I fell to my knees in front of the sofa, raised April’s skirt, parted her thighs and brought my mouth to her pussy. She wasn’t just wet. She was drenched — proof that she too realized that Tricia had something up her sleeve. My tongue dove into April’s tasty depths, and I lapped her up. She moaned and hugged Tricia closer, and they kissed. I realized that I should be subtle now, but I couldn’t resist seeking out April’s clitoris and strumming it so that she quickly built toward orgasm. Tricia breathlessly broke their embrace. “Yes, but don’t let her come,” she hissed at me. I was shocked by her tone, and April ignored her, putting a hand on either side of my head and pulling me back toward her cunt. I began eating her again and she quickly rose to the brink of orgasm. I stayed with her as she bucked and squealed through her release, and barely caught, out of the comer of my eye, a flash of shiny metal. I heard a series of clicking sounds. I glanced up and saw those long-forgotten shackles of ours being strapped onto April’s wrists. I looked at Tricia in surprise and, I’ll admit, admiration. April looked positively resplendent. Terrified and glowing. “I told you not to come,” my tiny, soft-spoken wife said through clenched teeth. She stood and pulled April to her feet by the chain that Linked the cuffs together. “Come with me,” she told our guest and led her into the bedroom. Most surprising of all, April willingly followed, her head bowed. With a nod, Tricia motioned me along also. She needn’t have bothered. I wasn’t going to miss this. ln the bedroom, lit by the glow of one small lamp, Tricia laid April across the bed. Then slowly, sensuously, Tricia removed her suede dress as April watched. Tricia was naked underneath: not even stockings on her perfect legs, only those spiky pumps. She then climbed onto the bed and pulled April’s arms over her head and held them firmly in place. Take her, Marty,” she said to me. “Fuck her. Right now.” I still couldn’t believe it. This must be a dream, and I’d wake up at any moment. I was out of my clothes in a flash, figuring that if this was a dream, I’d better take advantage of it before I woke up. I climbed onto the bed, all the while remembering what April had written about her bondage fantasy, roughly unzipped her skirt and pulled it off her. She was compliant at this point. I moved up between her legs, roughly tore open her blouse and unhooked her bra. With Tricia pinning her arms, April looked helpless, and something stirred deep within me. My cock was harder than I could remember it ever being. And as I aimed the head at the lips of her frothy cunt, April began truly living her fantasy. She started to struggle. I plunged into her with one stroke. She groaned long and low, and I began fucking her, pounding her really, and she struggled just enough to remind herself that she was trapped. Her moans matched my rugged strokes, and we both neared the peak. I felt Tricia’s hand grip my shoulder. I glanced at her. She slowly, icily shook her head, and as much as I wanted to continue, I respected Tricia’s cunning more. When I pulled out, April nearly broke into tears. “I’ve got something else in mind,” said Tricia, who moved around on the bed until she was straddling April’s head. Tricia reached forward and again pinned April’s shackled wrists and slowly sank down until she was flush against April’s mouth. April began reaching up and licking, going at it with fervor. Tricia’s head lolled back, her wild mane of blonde hair swaying in the dim light. I began now to sense what was going on here, what this was all about. It was the night of a lifetime, as if everything else we had experienced together was helping us reach this one beautiful, golden moment. Tricia looked over her shoulder at me and pointed to the floor beside the bed. I reached down and found her vibrator, plugged in and ready to go. I switched it on, moved back between April’s legs and began languidly exploring all the nooks and crannies of her sopping cunt with the humming nub of the attachment. Tricia didn’t have to issue any more commands, because now I knew what she wanted. Tricia was nearing orgasm now as she moved against April’s mouth. Suddenly she let go a long, jagged breath, slumped and collapsed onto the pillows. I pushed the head of the vibrator against April’s clitoris and watched her own orgasm approach. And, at precisely the right instant, I shut it off. “Oh, please!” April cried, covering her face with her cuffed hands. 1licia sighed deeply and touched her own pussy. “Oh, very good, April,” she said, a touch patronizingly. “Very good. You have the most wonderful mouth.” April looked pleadingly at me as I sat at her feet, idly feeling the texture of her red pumps. Her hips rose off the bed, her pussy completely exposed and yawning open. She was all but begging me to fuck her. At that instant, I was struck by a wicked idea of my own. I looked down at her. “Say ‘Please fuck me.’” She stared at me as though hoping she’d misheard. “Say ‘Please fuck me,’” I repeated. April closed her eyes and shook her head like a petulant child. I should explain here that while April is an extremely sexy woman and the perfect partner for a threesome, she has always had problems putting her desires into words. It’s a genuine hang-up with her. Writing it in letters is one thing. Verbalizing it is another. April’s foot jerked away from my hand, and without hesitation I pulled her onto her side and smacked her ass. Not hard, but with enough force to get her attention. 1 then pushed her onto her back once more and crawled between her legs. Looming above her, I held my cock and rubbed its head on the lips of her pussy. “Say it. Say ‘Please fuck me.’” She pursed her lips. I rubbed my cock against her clitoris. She gasped. “Say it.” Still nothing. “I’m not going to fuck you until you say it,” I told her flatly. I kept teasing her with my cock and she kept squirming, trying to impale herself. Tricia pulled on April’s cuffs, rendering any downward movement she tried to make quite impossible. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I heard a faint whisper. “Please,” April said. “Please what?” I persisted. Another long pause. “Please fuck me,” she breathed. I sank deep into her, giving her what she wanted. After a few strokes, I stopped. I wasn’t playing at this; this was real. My desires, Tricia’s desires, April’s desires, all primordially real. “I think you should say it again,” Tricia told her. This time there was no hesitation. “Please fuck me.” I did, and as I stroked, long and hard, and April gasped and moaned, we kept making her repeat it. And she did repeat it, until she was saying it without being prompted. Tricia leaned forward and began sucking on April’s nipples. From one to the other she went, until April found the strength to whisper, “Bite them.” Tricia concentrated on one nipple while I took the other. Every time I used my teeth on her, she moaned louder, until we were both out of control, climaxing together with almost violent force, my come spurting deep within her. Later that night, and for the rest of her visit, we played out variations on our bondage scene. April was insatiable. By the time we saw her off two days later, Tricia and I were blissfully satiated, and April proudly sported bruises on her bottom. She told us that it would be a genuine challenge to keep all marks of passion hidden from her husband, but that he’d never understand the unconventional friendship we three had forged. It’s his loss, because his incredible wife helped us explore this strange, thrilling aspect of our sexuality as we helped launch her on a new voyage of self-discovery. None of us will ever be quite the same.