When he finished, I pulled my underwear out of his mouth. His lips worked soundlessly as I kissed him and untied his wrists.
“Well,” I said. “I guess now we know who you are, too.”
Jackson bent over and unbound his ankles. I handed him his shorts without massaging his wrists and ankles like I usually would with someone. He got up slowly and didn’t look at me as I dressed.
“I’m here for a few days,” I said. “I’ll try to stop by again.” I kissed his hair and he managed a weak smile as I walked out.
The skies were black and starless as I made my way through the pine trees. It was definitely going to rain tomorrow, which meant my mother and I would probably be shopping in Hyannis when Jackson woke up alone with rope burns. I wouldn’t be coming back. He knew that, though. Education came at such a premium these days. I moved down the sandy road to the beach, where the cottage of my adolescent summers was waiting. Everything was the same—the distant rhythm of the tide, the dunes silhouetted against the indigo sky. Eighteen-year-old me could have been inside right now, sleeping off a tryst with the first man to shatter her confidence. I looked at the darkened windows, thinking of the things I could tell her.
THE TIPPING POINT
Lolita Lopez
Mia shivered as Cal brushed the looped end of the braided rope against her collarbone. The silky rope followed the curve of her naked breast, teasing the stiff peak begging for attention, before sliding even lower along the sloped plane of her bare belly. Cal playfully swatted the tender lips of her sex with the looped braid. Mia hissed at the sting and pressed back against the stone wall. The shock of the cold masonry on her hot skin forced her ramrod straight.
Cal’s fingers tangled in her black hair. He claimed her mouth with a possessive kiss, his tongue darting between her lips and swiping her own. A hint of peppermint licked at her taste buds. She gave a little mewling sigh and shoved her aching breasts against his chest. The pearlescent buttons lining the front of his crisp cotton shirt lightly scratched her flesh. Cal abandoned her lips and nipped the edge of her jaw. His teasing bites moved ever lower, sliding along her throat to the swell of her breasts. He sucked on one nipple and then the other. With his tongue and teeth, he teased her erect nipples until they were glistening and ruddy.
Mia breathed heavily as arousal blossomed in her chest. Her pussy ached with need and seeped its slick juices. Already she could feel the sticky wetness pooling between her thighs. She squeezed her knees together in a desperate attempt to calm the overwhelming urge to open wide and beg Cal for his cock. A deliciously dirty image filled her mind: Cal taking her up against the wall as she clutched at his shoulders and sucked on his earlobe. She bit her lower lip at the phantom sensations of Cal pounding into her.
The looped end of the rope caressed her cheek. Cal fixed her with a searching gaze. She swallowed hard and gave a little nod. Desire burned bright and hot in Cal’s eyes. He wasted no time working his magic with the rope. With deft movements, he bound her in the hemp fibers. Her breasts jiggled with every tug and tie. Rope zigzagged her torso and hugged her thighs and buttocks. The harness framed the plump lips of her cunt and squeezed her ample breasts, amplifying the heavy ache of her aroused flesh. She reveled in the intimate embrace of the rope.
Dropping to his knees, Cal outlined her navel with his tongue. He nuzzled his nose against her bare sex and inhaled her musky scent. He backed her up against the wall and forced her knees wide. The rope cupping her sex heightened her arousal. Mia’s toes curled as he delved into her pussy, his pointed tongue swiping the length of her slit. When he circled the swollen kernel hidden between the folds, she tipped her head back and cried out. The sound echoed off the walls of the basement playroom.
“You taste so fucking good.”
His tongue dipped inside and gathered the cream at her entrance. Mia pumped her hips against his invasion. She wanted to milk every ounce of sensation from that talented mouth. As he lapped hungrily at her cunt, Cal slowly pressed one of his thick fingers into her. Another finger followed the first and then another. Mia swiveled her hips and rode his hand as he brought her to the brink of orgasm—and then stopped.
“Cal!” Mia shoved her pussy against his lips but he made no move to give her release. “Please.”
Cal sat back on his heels and smiled devilishly at her begging tone. His fingers still buried in her cunt, he shook his head. “Not yet.”
On fire and frantic with need, she twisted against the wall. “Bastard.”
He chuckled softly and rubbed his lips side to side across her mound. “Undoubtedly.”
The vibrations of his voice buzzed right though her clit. The engorged nub pulsed. She was just a few quick tongue flicks from tumbling over the edge into ecstasy. Mia clenched Cal’s fingers inside her slick passage. He remained completely still, watching her, waiting. It was time to barter.
“What do you want?”
Cal enjoyed trading pleasure for discomfort. Under his careful and patient tutelage, she’d been introduced to the sometimes overwhelming but always satisfying world of BDSM. Mia was new to the concept of predicament bondage. They’d ventured close to the line of complete surrender but Mia’s hesitance and uncertainty kept her from giving in completely.
Rising slowly, Cal cast a glance behind him. She followed his gaze to the suspension hooks hanging from the ceiling and gulped. He’d spoken of his desire to subject her to his sensual tortures while she dangled bound and helpless from the hooks. While the intricate rope harness was beautiful, it also served a more practical purpose. The silken fibers would bear her weight and allow Cal to place her in whatever position satisfied his fantasy.
Could she do it? Could she grant Cal complete control? Trust wasn’t the issue. Mia trusted Cal implicitly. No, it was more to do with her fear. The thought of being completely at his mercy was simultaneously frightening and thrilling. He could lick her cunt or subject her to his various toys or shove his cock into her ass if he wanted. Their safeword was always an option, but lost in the throes of passion, could she deny him anything?
A quiver of panic pierced her core. This was it. Tonight she took the plunge into a new world of sensual possibilities. She yearned to feel the sweet agony of pleasure and pain at the peak of her climax. She craved the gratification only her complete submission to Cal could provide.
Cal offered his hand. She placed her palm on his. Cal’s warm, strong fingers clasped hers. His brow lifted questioningly. “Well?”
Mia took a bold step forward. She gasped at the naughty sensation of the rope squeezing her labia together. Her clit throbbed. Cal smirked knowingly. She moved closer, so close she could smell his spicy cologne, and buried her nose against his throat. His pulse jumped against her tongue. She licked his lower lip before sucking it between her teeth and nibbling it gently.
Cal issued a throaty groan. Mia pulled back just far enough to stare into his eyes. Her free hand found its way to his chest. His heartbeat thudded against her palm. There was no mistaking his excitement. She hovered on the verge of coming with anticipation of what their night together would bring.
“I surrender.”
AS LONG AS YOU DON’T WAKE ME
Neil Gavriel
Occasionally, just occasionally, there are downsides to dating a kinky girl.
You’d think I’d be referring to one of the many times she’s sent dirty pictures of herself to my phone while I’m at work. Of course, the fact that I opened up that slightly blurred picture of her favorite toy jammed firmly up her perfect ass during an important meeting at work was purely my fault.
My phone burned a hole in my pocket for the next two hours as the droning speakers clicked their way through an especially banal PowerPoint presentation on databases. I wanted to ask for a bathroom break, but I knew if I dared open that photo again I’d get an erection that wouldn’t take no for an answer. As it was, I had to concentrate on anything but my girlfriend in order to keep from tenting my business casual khakis. I pr
obably paid more attention to that presentation than any other presentation of my career—anything to distract me from that image of my favorite butt in the world with that string of Thai anal beads in up to the last round, jellied one, her slender fingers barely holding on. Jen’s subsequent texts of Pop! every thirty seconds or so really did not help the situation. Some people use sports statistics to dull the roar of horniness—I, apparently, can use database administration techniques.
Then there was the time I came home to find her with her hands handcuffed behind her, on her knees with a bowl of water, a can of shaving cream and a razor in front of her, her panties stuffed in her mouth, and a note Magic-Markered on her rounded little womanly belly saying, SHAVE THE SLUT.
At first I was alarmed and a little angry. “Jen, you know it’s dangerous to handcuff yourself when you’re all alone!” She looked sheepish and nodded over to the key sitting on the nearby table, and I relented a bit, my alarm giving way to the heat of the tableau before me.
And then another thing struck me—she hated the word slut. Well, she loved it as part of a stream of dirty talk, with my cock deep inside her and my hands in her long, brown hair, pulling it in the way I knew she loved. But the feminist in her hated the double standard of it—that men were “studs” and women “sluts.” I absolutely agreed with her, of course, but I also knew that double-edged word got her off like a rocket under the right circumstances. For her to write it on her own body, though, was significant. She’d never called herself a slut before, and here it was written in all caps in permanent marker on her ready flesh. She trusted me and was making herself vulnerable to me in a profound way, and it took a moment for the full weight of that to settle on me.
I set my things down, doffed my coat and started running my hands lightly down her body. My little Aussie dream girl had left her “map of Tasmania” unshorn for months for just this occasion (I found out later), and I pulled lightly at the tufts of dark hair as I shifted into the frame of mind to best give her exactly what she wanted.
She was dripping wet well before I lathered up her pubic hair, and I commented on it, on the ease with which she could’ve taken the giant cock of any man or dildo-wielding woman who happened to come through the door before I did. Each touch of her swollen pussy, as I washed and readied her for shaving, elicited a moan through the panties in her mouth. The panties were sopping, and I suspected they’d been dripping before she’d even stuffed them in there.
I tortured and pleased her by lathering slowly and gently, fashioning a shaving cream Mohawk, laying the razor against her skin, then changing my mind and lathering some more. I stretched her lips tight to expose every little wisp of hair, my hand gentle with the razor, but rougher on her sex. I used another loaded word as I cleared away swaths of hair, telling her that her cunt was getting cleaner by the moment, well, except for all that slut-juice pouring out of it.
I eased her onto her back on the carpet, removing the handcuffs long enough to recuff her hands above her head, threaded around a convenient table leg. I had her lift her knees up to her chest, exposing her ass and pussy in a way I knew she found intensely vulnerable. I shaved around her asshole, putting a finger inside to “hold her in place” since she was squirming so much with the delight of it all.
Finally, when she was completely denuded and rinsed and lightly oiled, I undid my pants, slipped out my painfully hard cock and slid inside her in one smooth motion, declaring, “The slut is clean now.” She came hard on my cock, the little mini-eruptions earlier as I’d stretched her pussy lips this way and that and brushed against her clit mere phantoms compared to this epic orgasm, one that made tears come to her eyes. Later, uncuffed, ungagged, and cuddling, I reprimanded her again for binding herself when I wasn’t there. “What if there’d been a fire, Jen? Or someone had broken in?” She just smiled and said, “Danger gets me hot,” with that accent of hers.
If I sound smitten, I am. Honestly, I think she’s “the one.” She’s way smarter than I am, no joke, and I feel no shame admitting it. Kids and animals love her, and she literally wouldn’t hurt a fly. She even bought this little vacuum bug wand, so that she could safely deposit house spiders—which she’s deathly afraid of—outside without getting near them or harming them. (I haven’t had the heart to tell her that indoor spiders can’t survive outside.) She genuinely has a kind word for everyone and everything, whereas I’m largely a fair-weather grumpus monster sprinkling sarcasm on a bad day like others sprinkle salt. So, in addition to being the ravening lust monster I’ve described, she’s just about the nicest person I know.
Well, except for tonight.
See, I’d had a bad day at work. Everything broke on the server at once and it took me hours to pinpoint the problem. Meanwhile, everyone needed something, and the mail was stacking up in my inbox while I dealt with one fire after another. If there’d been a banana peel on the floor behind my desk and I’d slipped on it and given myself a concussion, that would have been the perfect capper. In the end, I got on top of it all and fixed everything, but I came home late and exhausted. She, however, was ready to play.
“Jen, I’m sorry. All I want to do is take a nap right now,” I said.
“I can make you forget all about your bad day, Kevin,” she said, kissing my neck and rubbing my chest. I would not be betrayed by her skillful manipulation of my erogenous zones, though, and I was firm.
“You can do whatever you want, as long as you don’t wake me.”
It wasn’t until later that I realized my mistake. We’d often enjoyed the pleasures of a sleepy fuck. One of her favorite things was to be woken up in the middle of the night to an orgasm. It short-circuited any inhibitions she had, she’d told me, and she loved that feeling of coming in her dreams and then waking up and realizing it was real and that my fingers were inside her. At our house, a lazy Sunday often started with Jen sucking on my morning wood until I woke, her hand pumping me until I spurted into her waiting and eager mouth.
So I took my nap, using her sleep mask, as she’d suggested, to block out any light. I woke up and was almost surprised that she wasn’t sucking me off. And then I was very surprised to realize that my hands were bound to the rail of our bed.
“Uh, Jen?” I asked.
“Oh, good. You’re awake,” she said, and stuffed something into my mouth.
I tasted the tang of her pussy and knew it was her panties, premoistened.
“Baby?” I said, or as close as I could get to that through the damp silk gag.
“Shh,” she said. “You said I could do what I wanted. This is what I want.”
Her hands worked expertly on my sleep-dazed body. My cock, never far from erection, quickly grew hard in her hands. She slicked it up with her mouth, then with some cold lubricant, and then slid a cock ring down it until it rested at the root.
“Hmm,” I said.
“Shh,” she said, and slapped my chest lightly.
She touched something on the tight, rubbery ring on my cock and I felt a vibration. It felt good. Not enough to make me come on my own, but enough to keep me very aware of my own hardness.
She moved her hands up to my nipples, pinching each in turn. On our very first date, we’d kissed at her door and her hands had rested on my chest, until she’d discovered my nipple hardening under her touch. I was betrayed by my sudden intake of breath, and she instantly knew just how sensitive they were. Tonight was the first time she’d ever used clamps on them, though.
The metal bit pleasingly into my flesh, just on the edge of too much. I groaned and she tugged on the chain between them, testing how hard she could pull before I cried out. To my surprise, she could pull pretty hard before I did.
She’d done all this quickly and without speaking, except for the occasional admonishment to me to be quiet. Then she started talking.
“See, I could have just woken you up with a blow job. Or I could have gotten you hard and mounted you and ridden you awake. But I was patient, so very patient, and now we play the
way I want to play.”
There was an edge to her voice that I’d never heard before. I was aroused for sure, but I was a little scared, too.
I heard a wet sound and then her fingers smeared something on my nostrils, and I smelled her musk invading my senses.
She climbed on top of me and teased the tip of my cock inside her slick hole. I groaned in anticipation and she denied me, brushing that tip against her clit. I was never more aware of just how little she needed me in order to get off, as she used me like this. I wished the gag wasn’t in my mouth so I could beg her to slide down. I tried to say, “Please,” but it just came out as muffled nonsense.
She slapped me, surprisingly hard, for my transgression.
“How many times do I have to tell you to shut up, cock?” she asked me.
I toyed with saying something else. To my surprise, I’d felt that slap on my cheek all the way down to my erection, and I realized I’d loved it.
“There, that’s a good little cock,” she said. She teased and rubbed her clit with her human dildo. I could hear her wetness and feel it, but I was denied the fullness of her wrapped around me.
She came then, a short, little, sharp orgasm—a prelude, really. She cried out in pleasure, and I wished I could see her face. I love to watch her come. I love watching her do just about anything, but coming is one of my favorites, the way she scrunches up her eyes and opens her mouth, and then her eyes fly open as if she’s surprised by it all. I thrust my hips up to try to slide inside her, to give her more sensation in that moment, and give myself something more than the tease I was getting now. She lifted off me like I was on fire, and slapped me again.
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