by Qwillia Rain
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30 Qwillia Rain
The next surprise George sprang on me was nearly the end of our relationship. It was also the longest, most erotic thirty-six hours of my life. Although it did bring Garrick into our lives, I’m not sure I’d ever repeat it.
It had been a long week, so I looked forward to the minivacation spring break created at the beginning of April. To make things even more enjoyable, George’s work schedule and mine had somehow meshed. We would actually be able to spend the entire week together.
Every time I’d tried to finagle an answer from him about the plans he’d made, he’d laughed and assured me I would love it.
I didn’t expect him until later in the evening since he’d called me at work to tell he had to work later than expected. With that in mind, I was anticipating a long soak in my tub, a chilled glass of wine, and maybe a few hours to finish the romance novel I’d started the previous weekend, but hadn’t been able to find the time to pick up since.
I knew something was different when I entered my apartment and the living room was dark. Dropping my purse and keys onto the hall table, I was reaching for the entry lights when familiar hands grabbed me and turned me toward the wall.
“George.” I knew my surprise was evident, but I was too wound up for games at the moment. “What in the devil…?”
Laughing, he didn’t answer me, only slipped a soft blindfold over my eyes and guided me into the living room.
“George,” I began again. “I’m really not in the mmmm…” My protest trailed off beneath the seductive caress of his lips. Arms lifting to wrap around his shoulders, I absorbed the heat of his body, reveled in the feel of his hard cock against my belly. Allowing him to leave the blindfold, I moaned in protest when he eased my arms free and stepped away.
My disappointment at our separation was short-lived, though. Blunt-tipped fingers slipped the buttons on my blouse free. Taking his time, his lips teasing mine, George aroused me with the slow, sensual removal of my clothing. First my blouse, guiding the front panels Meeting a Neighbor’s Needs
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open and over my shoulders, hands following the descent of my sleeves down my arms, raising goose bumps in their wake. Next, the removal of my black lace demi-cup bra, front catch opened, cups eased away from my swelling breasts with a little caress of the nipples for added arousal. I could feel the brush of his hair against my chest as he lowered himself to his knees to suckle the coral tips to hard points. First one, then the other, before skimming his mouth over my stomach, tongue bathing my flesh, dipping into my belly button as his fingers freed the catch and lowered the zipper on my skirt. The drift of silk as it fell away exposed my black, lace-topped stockings and matching lace thong, wet with my arousal.
With my eyes covered, my sense of hearing seemed heightened. So much so, I could have sworn I heard a nearly inaudible groan from someone other than my lover or me.
“George?” I queried softly, but again he ignored me. Instead, he took time to concentrate on teasing my nipples with delicate nips and licks while easing my thong over my hips and onto the growing pile of clothing I could feel against my ankles. The low-heeled pumps were slipped free and my legs urged to part as his mouth again descended over my belly and into the damp curls between my thighs. Parting the moist folds, he stroked over my clit, swirled the tip of his tongue around the wet opening of my vagina, and scooped out the juices pooling there with a single erogenous flick. Trembling with arousal, I whimpered when he withdrew, the fabric of his shirt and jeans rasping over my hypersensitive flesh as he rose.
“Come with me,” he ordered, lifting me from the tangled heap of silk at my feet and carrying me into my bedroom. He set me on what I guessed was a long, narrow, smooth length of board near my bed. I had never had such a thing in my home before, so George must have brought it earlier. Perched on the wooden riser, I could feel the cool cotton of my comforter against the back of my knees, so I knew I stood at the foot of my bed. I waited as George kissed and caressed my breasts. Warm hands trailed down my arms to my wrists and then lifted them one at a time over my head to fasten a soft cuff around each wrist.
32 Qwillia Rain
I’d never tried bondage with George before, despite our discussion about our fantasies.
He had asked me about the cuffs I had bought the same night I’d gotten my vibrator. After I’d mentioned my curiosity, he’d told me he’d dabbled in it, but nothing serious. When he never broached the subject again, I was a bit disappointed he didn’t seem interested in indulging me, but considering how well he could fuck without the cuffs, I wasn’t complaining.
Moving his hands back down my arms, George abandoned my breasts to trail kisses lower, following the path of his stroking fingers. He removed the riser, and without the added inches of wood, I was forced to stand on the balls of my feet to keep my arms from being pulled.
I complained. “It’s too tight, George. I need the step back, or loosen my arms.”
He murmured a soft apology and replaced the riser under my feet, relieving the pull on my shoulders. His mouth teased the sensitive insides of my thighs while his fingers eased the silk stockings from my legs. He attached a second set of cuffs to my ankles, spreading my legs wide, feet poised near the rolled edge of the wooden step.
When I opened my mouth to protest the awkward position, George slipped a sliver of fruit inside. He followed the fruit with a chilled beverage. It was a heady brew, a honey flavor mixed with nutmeg. I took several swallows, enjoying the smooth feel of the drink as it slid down my throat, recognizing the taste as it lingered on my tongue.
George and I had played with the aphrodisiac he’d discovered on one of his trips. We’d mixed it into a drink as well as soaking fruit in it and enjoyed the rush of prolonged arousal it provided. I wasn’t surprised when, within minutes, I was in a state of arousal I had only experienced once before.
Every minute of that day and a half is etched into my mind.
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The whisper of cloth over flesh had my pussy gushing. Knowing George was stripping away his clothes was nearly as arousing as the brush of his hands over my skin or the rasp of his tongue between my thighs.
George had me first. His mouth played with my breasts as he slipped his condom-covered, engorged cock into my tight channel. My spread-eagle position left me little room for movement, and the blindfold heightened my other senses. I could smell the musky scent of his arousal mixed with the smell of my own sexual interest. The moist sounds of our joining, George’s animal-like grunts, and my own husky cries filled my ears. It was the other sounds, though, which set my every nerve and sense on alert.
George had brought someone else to watch us. I could hear the heavy breathing of the man -- it had to be a man -- as George pushed me to completion.
As I pulsed and spasmed in climax, George withdrew and moved onto the bed, his thighs brushing the backs of mine. The snap of a cap opening and the cool application of lube barely registered over the waves of sensation vibrating through me. I knew what was coming as he spread the tight cheeks of my bottom. “Do it, baby,” he ordered, sliding his wet cock between the rounded globes. In the throes of completion, I concentrated on relaxing the muscles.
Despite my stretched position, the wooden step beneath my feet added inches to my height so George, though still taller despite being seated behind me, didn’t have to bend too far over as he eased himself into the tight sheath of my ass. He took his time, easing past the first ring of muscles, coaxing my body to admit his. Ever since the first night he’d taken my ass, George had been careful to acquaint my body with the delicious pain this particular fucking produced. Although I enjoyed it and had achieved orgasm with his cock up my ass, I still preferred vaginal penetration, and George was fully aware of this. His fingers teased the damp opening of my pussy.
34 Qwillia Rain
“You just don’t like to be ignored do you, baby.” He spoke as
if the wet channel were a person. “Don’t you worry.” He worked his fingers in and out, and then spread the soft folds of flesh.
I could hear someone approaching me, and the warmth of a second naked body drew closer.
“This is Mike. I think you’ll like him.”
Mike stepped between my spread thighs and slid his hot cock inside. He wasn’t as long as George, but he was thicker.
The twin penetrations left me breathless. Opening my mouth to draw in much-needed air, I discovered Mike was a kisser.
George usually liked to concentrate on varying the speed and depth of his penetration when we fucked. He used his mouth to encourage or direct my reactions or movements.
Kissing was either a prelude or reward, the seductive caress of his lips over mine, the thrust of his tongue imitating the motions of his body were all carefully choreographed to build up my arousal or sooth my senses after climax.
This stranger, Mike, seemed to enjoy wet kisses as he rocked and thrust against me. The rasp of five o’clock shadow scraped my cheek as he adjusted the angle of his mouth; the twining of his tongue with mine altered the surprise his presence had produced to curiosity.
Not since the episode in the bookstore with Gideon had George allowed another man into our relationship.
Slipping his hands away once Mike filled me, George smoothed them upward to my breasts. Cupping my hot, swollen tits, he fondled my nipples, pinching and pulling at the aching peaks.
Mike swept my mouth with his tongue, licking and tasting in time with the thrusting of his cock within me. I felt his hands smooth over my hips and cup the quivering flesh of my bottom. Sliding his fingers between the spread cheeks, Mike traced the taut opening.
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Pulling his lips from mine, I heard him speak to George as if I were an object and no longer within the room.
“Think she could take me, man?”
“No.” George’s response was quick, without hesitation, and the conscious part of my mind heaved a grateful sigh. “She’s not completely broken in yet.” He thrust against me, filling my depths with the slow advance and retreat that made me beg for release.
“Well, shit,” Mike complained, gripping my bottom tightly as he worked his hips against mine.
Poised on the knife-edge of climax, the dual penetrations, the touch of George’s lips to my throat, and the pinch of Mike’s broad fingertips against my clitoris had my arousal growing. But no matter the pace or the depth of either man’s thrust, I could not make the last drop into orgasm. I awaited the sensations of heat and pulsing flesh that signaled completion, but it didn’t happen.
And both men tried.
Twice Mike spasmed and gasped in climax, his fingers tightening painfully on the curve of my ass, his semen captured in the condoms George demanded he wear. Even George’s awesome control broke before he could make me come a second time.
When I felt his pulsing completion, I began to sob, knowing the pain of arousal would continue for long minutes as my tormenters recovered. As George eased from my body, Mike pressed another drink to my lips, and I swallowed greedily, hoping whatever was in the wine would relieve my suffering. Against my bindings, I tugged and twisted, pulling desperately in an effort to free myself to end the torment. I heard George and Mike whispering.
Their voices were too low for me to hear, but I was aware when one left the room, and the sound of the refrigerator opening in my kitchen followed.
“Dammit, George,” I growled. “Make it stop! How can you eat when you’ve left me like this?”
36 Qwillia Rain
The crinkle of paper kicked my anger up even higher, making me pull furiously at my cuffs. Fucking bastards, I thought, eating my food while I writhe in an agony of frustration.
George’s chuckle slid over my ears like silk. “Cherry, huh?” he asked Mike.
Cherry ? I didn’t have anything with cherries in my refrigerator.
Some slurping sounds followed, and my confusion cleared away. Icy wetness circled one nipple, then the other. In my mind’s eye, I could envision a bright red film of cherry-flavored water coating the taut peaks.
As George bent to sip the Popsicle juice from my tits, he thrust the six-inch frozen dessert into my quivering pussy. The cold, solid phallus rocketed me over the edge as George stroked my pulsing channel, painting the contracting walls with cherry flavoring.
I was dimly aware of the wet drip of the melting treat, but having spent so long striving for climax, I cared little for the stain the ice pop would leave on my carpet.
George was hard against me. I could feel his hot length surge as I rode the wave of orgasm. Pulling the Popsicle free, he pressed it past my lips, filling my mouth with the taste of warm cherry and myself as he replaced the treat with his own firm penis. He rocked his hips in time with the spasms shooting through me, but wouldn’t remove the Popsicle from my mouth.
“Suck it, baby,” he whispered, licking at the juice slipping from the corners of my lips.
“Eat up all that pussy-flavored cherry, and we’ll have some more.”
Confined as I was, and within the throes of completion, I swallowed every drop, lapping and sucking at the dwindling coolness while enjoying the surging thrust of George deep within me.
The slickness of my juices made our coupling sound like the slurping noises I made as I sucked down the last of the Popsicle. Behind me, I could hear Mike’s breathing increase in tandem with ours.
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His hands smoothed over my bottom, following the crease to the wet, sticky opening filled by George. I had just pulled the last bit of treat from the wooden stick when George withdrew both the Popsicle stick from my mouth and his length from my pussy. Mike immediately replaced him, slamming his cock into me from behind.
He must have been kneeling on my bed, because his thighs, thick and sinewy, were braced wide, forcing my legs even farther open. His broad palms lifted me completely from the step, pulling at the restraints on my ankles.
From the bathroom, I heard water begin to run, but my full attention focused on the forceful pounding Mike was giving me. “Come on, baby, come on,” he growled. His fingers gripped my hips as he pulled out of me, and then shoved his thick length back inside, again and again and again. “That’s it, girl. Let that hot, wet pussy eat me all up. I want some of that cherry pussy.”
His words were guttural, coarse, but the feel of his hot penis so soon after the cold sent me spiraling into climax, just as he slammed into me a final time. Through the thin shield of latex, I could feel his heated fluid explode out of him. Since my first night with George, I’d taken the extra precaution of gaining a prescription for birth control pills from my doctor, but I appreciated the added care George took as he demanded Mike pull free carefully so as not to expose me to any leakage. Having finally achieved the climax I so desperately sought, a part of me eased. The blindfold heightened my hearing, and I could tell when Mike shifted off the bed and padded into the bathroom. The flush of the toilet and the rush of water had me breathing a sigh of relief.
George released the bindings from my wrists and ankles and carried me into my bathroom. Easing me into a tubful of warm water, he positioned me on my knees in front of him and slipped his damp erection between my lips. The sticky residue from the icy treat had been removed along with the protection he was always so cautious about wearing. I tried to resist at first, but his tight grip in my hair and the pulsing of his hips forced his length deep into my mouth, filling me with his flavor. A hint of cherry scent wafted to my nose and 38 Qwillia Rain
dampened the turned-up tip as the moist curls surrounding the base of his cock tickled my nose.
Accepting the inevitable, I suckled his turgid length clean before I swallowed every drop of his passion as he came between my lips. Following that, I bathed the damp curls at the base of his shaft with my tongue and a damp cloth he’d pressed into my hand, guiding m
y ministrations with quiet words of praise.
George returned the attention I’d given him. His hands were soothing, gentle as he bathed my body, paying particular attention to my breasts and my pussy. As he rinsed the soap from my belly, he must have noticed the tension tightening my thighs and swelling my breasts. Drawing me out of the cooling bath, he patted my body dry, taking time to drag the towel’s soft loops of cotton over my taut nipples and the delicate flesh between my legs.
Through the entire bath and after, I realized he’d never removed my blindfold. When I reached up to take it off, George pulled my hand away. Exhausted, I gave in. After all that had already passed, my seeing whom I shared my body with seemed a moot point.
Walking behind me, George marched me back into the bedroom and to the bed. Again he fastened the restraints around my ankles, but left off the handcuffs. Placing me at the foot of my bed on the very edge, George plied the damp folds of my body, opening them for the slow penetration he found most exciting. He braced his body over mine, with one hand pressed into the sheets at my right shoulder while he teased the aroused peaks of my breasts with the other. His every thrust was slow, smooth, calculated to touch every sensitive nerve lining the tight walls of my cunt. Again I was slow to reach climax, but George drew me to it, caressing my skin, kissing my lips, every gesture and touch an act of such caring that the affection I’d felt building over the last few months seemed more real than just my imagination.
As the spasms lessened, George slid from between my thighs and Mike took his place, slipping in after a heated demand from George that the other man take care to cover himself before doing so.
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And that was how the evening progressed.
They fed me slivers of the doctored food and made me drink what seemed like gallons of the special wine. Each time I’d eat some, my arousal would last longer and longer, drawing out my tension to the point at which first George would mount me and ride himself to completion, and then Mike would slide between my thighs and seek his satisfaction. My own climaxes were longer between, but more intense.
