Ambushed

I’m minding my own business, doing laundry one evening when he suddenly walks into the room and take the basket out of my arms. I start to ask why when he takes my arms and backs me up across the room to the bed. Ignoring my questions, he removes something from his pocket – a blindfold – and puts it on me. This is something we’ve never done before, and so I know immediately that it’s not going to be a typical evening.

My clothes are soon on the floor around my feet and he pushes me down onto the bed where he proceeds to tie my hands to the headboard and my ankles to the footboard. I am reclining on some pillows and my legs are bent and spread. Next I feel him brush my hair away from my ears and put iPod headphones on me. I start to hear heavy breathing…whimpering…moaning. It’s a recoding of people having orgasms. I swallow hard. This is all new and I wonder what exactly he has planned for me tonight.

I wait…not knowing what will come next, not knowing if he is even still in the room with me. For all I know someone else could be with us. I can only hear the sounds of sex, and can see nothing. I start to tremble a little from the cool air on my naked skin and from the nervousness and excitement I am feeling. I smell the sulphur of a lit match, and soon a tropical aroma - a candle, maybe. I can tell that someone has climbed onto the bed beside me.

He kisses me on the mouth, then I start to feel the cold wetness of an ice cube slowly running across my nipples. The melted water runs down my stomach and starts to pool between my legs. It’s not the only thing making me wet there. Suddenly I gasp as I feel a sharp, painful pinch of something clamping down on my nipples, first one then the other. I start to protest, but feel his mouth on mine before I can get the words out. The pain subsides just enough for me to bear it and he continues.

Next the tropical perfume I smelled earlier becomes more intense and I feel the heat of a candle flame being waved in front of my face. I inhale deeply just as the first drops of hot wax land on my breast. In contrast with the ice, it’s very hot but I know he won’t burn me. I trust him completely to know just when to stop. The wax is the kind that turns into oil when it is poured onto skin and now he starts to rub the melting, oily wax onto my chest, stomach and thighs. His hands strongly massage me and I think of how good they feel on my body and in it. I hear a woman’s happy scream in my ears and let out a little whimper of my own.

After a few minutes of slow, luxurious massage I feel a glass at my lips. I open my mouth and he pours a bit of red wine into it. I taste the dark, smoky flavor and ask for another drink. I swirl the liquid in my mouth then feel it burn a path down to my stomach. My legs are already spread, but I feel him start to push my thighs apart a bit more, and his fingers start to explore me. I know that I am very wet, but I feel the cold familiar feeling of lubricant being poured onto me, dripping off my clit, pooling in my pussy and continuing on to my ass. I can’t imagine why we need any additional lube, but suddenly something presses against my ass. Not a finger, but something harder and smooth. It becomes more insistent and starts to enter me. I relax my muscles and feel for a moment like I can not take in whatever this is. But just as I open my mouth to say something I feel it pop in with a smooth motion and there is no more pressure. However there is another similar item pressing against me now. I feel the same momentary pressure, then it slips in. Anal beads. We’ve never used these. He must have bought them for the occasion. How long has he been planning this? Soon six of the beads have been pressed into me and I feel pleasantly full. He gives the string of beads a little tug and I moan.

I am both apprehensive and delighted at the prospect of what will come next. I love the feeling of being controlled by someone I trust not to abuse their power over me. He knows just how much pain I can take, and how many tears are too many. I can let myself surrender completely to him and know that I may experience some pain and fear, but that in the end he will be certain that the main thing I feel is pleasure. As I adjust to the feeling of the beads inside me, the headphones are momentarily removed from one ear and I hear the familiar buzz of my rabbit vibrator held close to my face. The headphones are replaced and now I feel the hard cool tip of the phallus spread the lips of my pussy and push into me. Once it’s in the motor starts to rotate and I feel the vibrator moving inside me, the pearls gently massaging my g-spot. We stay like this for a while as he kisses me some more and flicks his tongue over my throbbing nipples. I am acutely aware that no attention has been paid yet to my clit, but know that once he touches me there it won’t be long before I am joining the chorus of orgasms singing in my ears.

Eventually I feel him situate the rabbit ears on either side of my clit and press it snuggly against me. Just this makes my breathing quicken and when he turns on the vibration I gasp and arch my back. The stimulation is intense and I bite my lip as my legs begin to shake. I start to feel f heat starting in my belly and spreading through my limbs. I try to keep breathing, and relax my tensing muscles and when I finally cum the combination of sensations makes me feel like I might actually black out. The waves start to subside and I catch my breath, but the vibrator is still buzzing away against my sensitive clit. I need a few minutes to recuperate, but there is no indication that he is going to remove the vibrator. I squirm and let him know that it is too much for me, but the only response I get is when he straddles my torso and firmly slides his cock into my mouth.

I struggle to breathe as I feel him slide across my tongue and into my throat. I love having him deep in me this way, but having just cum and struggling to get away from the persistent rabbit I am having trouble getting my bearings. My legs and wrists are securely fastened and I am helpless. As he starts to slide in and out my mouth, he reaches down and gives the nipple clamps a little tug making me jump. I am lost in the tidal wave of sensations: pain, heat, cold, pressure, fullness, vibration and sound. It all starts to blur together and I can hardly tell which sounds are coming from the ipod and which are my own. I feel another orgasm building, and when I cum I buck hard, twisting my hips and clamping my lips around his cock. Just then I feel him start to fuck my mouth faster and soon the warm, salty taste of his cum is flowing across my tongue and down my throat.

Once I have sucked off the last drops, he pulls out and removes the buzzing vibrator from my throbbing pussy. He slowly removes the beads, making me gasp with each one. Next the nipple clamps come off and he gently takes each breast in his mouth, holding them between his lips and soothing me with his warm kiss. He unties me and removes the iPod, but leaves the blindfold on for now as he lays me down, stroking me softly and pulling my head onto his chest. We catch our breath and I am astounded by how much I love this man I’ve chosen.

Anticipation

One of the hottest sexual experiences I’ve had involved no sex at all. It involved a trip to Vegas (I know…another Vegas story, but it’s purely coincidental. This could have been a trip to Barstow and it would still have been hot). For a month before the trip, Hub and I decided to abstain from sexual contact. That was our intention anyway, but it resulted in A LOT of sexual contact – just no orgasms. The act of NOT having sex, made it so we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other! There’s just something about knowing you’re not supposed to do something that makes you want to do it, and do it, and do it.

Those weeks were a deliciously torturous dance of sexual tension. I would go out of my way to dress provocatively, bending over in front of him every chance I’d get in order to flash him my cleavage or panty-less rear end. When he would try to touch me, I’d dart away and remind him that we were abstaining. I even let him “catch” me masturbating a few times because nothing makes him hotter than to watch me touch myself. I would let him sufficiently scold me, but smile to myself as I looked at the hard-on in his jeans. Meals during that time often coincidentally consisted of finger foods that would drip down my hand and forearm, sometimes spilling onto my thighs where I would scoop up the errant sauce with my finger and slowly suck it off.

By the time we finally checked into our hotel room in Vegas, we were both chomping at the bit, so to speak, but we didn’t rush things. Instead we spent most of the day shopping for lingerie and lube and finding just the right wine to take back to the room. Every once in a while, Hub would grab me and throw me against a secluded wall in the mall and grind his pelvis into me or put my hand against his erection while we were pressed together in a crowded elevator. I have to say, the thing that makes me the horniest is the knowledge that someone wants me - REALLY wants me. It almost doesn’t matter what skill or technique they possess, the fact that they can’t wait to get my clothes off and have their way with me is enough to make me crazy with lust. That’s why I enjoy prolonging the foreplay leading up to an encounter, as long as I know it’s torturing the object of my desire.


There is someone I’m in the process of torturing a little right now, and I’m not actually sure if the relationship will ever be consummated or not. I find myself day-dreaming about different ways the encounter could happen and wondering if he feels the same. The anticipation and imaginary foreplay is fun and makes me walk around a little aroused all day, but eventually it will become frustrating and I will have to move on. In the meantime though, I live in a perpetually breathless state wondering what the first kiss could be like…where he would touch me…what he might say.


Oh, just so you know – the Vegas sex was definitely worth the wait. We drank the entire bottle of wine in bed and did it in just about every position we could imagine. At one point we were pressed up against the floor-to-ceiling window of our strip-view room, hoping that someone down there on the street might catch a glimpse of my breasts smashed against the glass and have a good story to take home to their friends. That reminds me of another story I have to tell you involving being pressed up against a hotel room window. Maybe next time I write I’ll fill you in on that encounter.