I met up with my artist friend, Byron, in the hope that he would take me to Emma McManners. I followed his Bentley into a suburban district and then into a conventional three bed-roomed house. We were met at the door by Vee, the owner of the house. Vee was in her mid-forties with black hair, dark eyes and a sleek figure. She escorted me into a sitting room and I sat there, admiring the erotic paintings on her wall, while Byron quietly disappeared. Shortly, I was joined by four ladies, aged from late twenties to early forties. All were good looking and all carried an air of respectability. We smiled at each other, somewhat nervously, apprehensively, then sat down to wait. What we were waiting for, and where Emma fitted into this picture, I had no idea, although all became clear as the evening wore on.
When Vee rejoined us, she was wearing nothing more than a thong and a black, silky bra. And she had a companion, a man in his mid-twenties with a mischievous smile and a long pony tail. Vee and her companion took centre stage and, obviously, they were there to put on a show.
First, Vee knelt before her companion. She unbuttoned his leather trousers then kissed his semi-hard penis through his boxer shorts. From my left and right I heard sighs and moans of appreciation as the ladies in the room looked on with approval. Then Vee removed his boxer shorts and started to caress his penis. It hardened instantly and she took him into her mouth. To my left and right the sighs and moans became louder and I noticed that the twentysomething lady was unbuttoning her blouse and cupping her breasts. Fully erect, the man lay down in the centre of the room. Smiling, Vee unclipped her bra and freed her breasts. She cupped them, then rolled her tongue around her nipples. Then she removed her thong to reveal a completely shaved pubis. With her thong in her right hand, she knelt beside the man and kissed him before, deftly, draping the thong over the man’s throbbing purple head. The man groaned and he was joined by a chorus of appreciative onlookers. I noticed that at least two of the ladies had slipped their fingers into their knickers and were starting to play with themselves. And, I have to admit, my nipples were starting to tingle too.
Vee teased her partner with her thong until his groans became plaintive. Then she went down on him again, taking him into her mouth. With a skilful tongue and skilful fingers, she brought him close to orgasm. The ladies to my left and right were moaning along with him and they gasped as one when Vee craned her neck back, caressed his shaft and produced a stream of spunk from the man’s cock. He shot his load across the room and I have to admit that seeing him come turned me on. And I guessed that that was the name of the game, for impressive though it was, Vee and her partner’s performance was merely an hors d’oeuvre and the main course was yet to follow.
And a few minutes later, after the man had left the room, we got a sense of what the main course would entail. Vee produced five blindfolds and invited us into the centre of the room. There, she tied the blindfolds around our eyes. Blindfolded, I felt a sense of anticipation and trepidation. Vee’s performance had turned me on, but what was going to happen next?
While I was pondering that point, I sensed a male presence in the room, in fact more than one male, possibly one for each lady present. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. That hand took hold of my hand and guided me from the room. Someone had selected me and he was guiding me into a bedroom. I knew that because he placed me on the bed. Then, as I sank into the soft, silky sheets, I felt his hands on my blouse, undoing the buttons. Later I discovered that the men had been watching the performance through a two-way mirror. However, now my mind was in a whirl. Should I remove the blindfold, protest and blow my cover, or should I submit to this man’s desires? I decided on the former and I was about to protest when I felt a strong finger on my lips. The finger insisted on silence and, for some reason, I obeyed. Then his hands, firm and strong, were on my breasts, cupping me through my bra. Then he removed my blouse and bra and I sensed that I had no option now, other than to play the game.
His teeth nibbled my nipples. Then he bit them and I gasped and complained. In response, he licked my nipples soothingly and I moaned. I sensed that he was a big man, powerful, and he used that power to pin me to the bed and kiss me, ardently, on the lips. After a moment’s hesitation, I responded, and then his fingers were on my behind, fondling me, caressing me, producing a passionate response. He was between my thighs and I was writhing against him, enjoying the sensation of his hands on my arse and my clit rubbing against his erection.
Then he stood and I sensed that he was getting undressed. Then I felt his fingers circle my wrists. This was followed by a length of silk tied around my wrists. And before I could respond further I realised that he had tied me to the frame of the bed. I gulped and moistened my lips. I was at his mercy now, semi-naked and his for the taking.
He unzipped my skirt and pulled it over my thighs. Then I felt his weight on the bed as he kissed my inner-thighs. His kisses ran up my thighs towards my panties. He kissed me through my panties and I moaned. He continued to kiss me and I sensed his lips broaden into a smile. He knew I was wet and enjoying his kisses. He knew that I was ready for him and that I wanted him to enter me.
Slowly, kissing every inch of skin as it was exposed, he removed my panties. I was naked, except for my stockings and suspenders. I heard an intake of breath as he breathed in the musk from my panties. Then I felt his lips on my labia and I groaned.
As he kissed my labia and licked my clit, my hands gripped the silk tie binding me to the bed. I arched my back and pulled against the tie, my hips writhing to the left and the right as his tongue licked me towards orgasm. I was soaking now and he could taste this. The licking stopped and I sensed that he was ready. With a sigh of anticipation, I parted my legs and invited him inside.
He needed no second invitation. He entered me with one powerful thrust. My body convulsed as I took his full length. Indeed, he filled me to capacity, and his length and girth reminded me of my lover, P.J. Parker.
His strong, muscular body was moving on top of me now. His hands were still caressing my behind, pulling me close. I was sighing and moaning, my legs hooked around his thighs. He was grunting, loud. Then he started to move fast and hard. He took me like that for awhile and I cried out in my desire. Clearly, the idea of taking me while I was tied to the bed, helpless, turned him on. He moved faster and harder, and my head moved from side to side as my fingers gripped the silk ties.
Then his movements slowed, he groaned and I sensed that he was coming. He gripped my arse tight, shuddered and shot his load. We moaned in unison, then he kissed me. Spent, he rolled off me on to the silk sheets.
My legs were apart, my lower lips wide open, my clit throbbing. I felt his hand on my thigh, his fingers moving towards my clitoris.
“Yes!” I gasped, and he started to circle my clit. “Yes!” I begged. “More!” He kissed me again as his fingers worked their magic. Sometimes, I like a man to be slow and sensual, to tease me towards orgasm, other times I like to feel the power in his fingers, I like him to bring me off without a pause. Today, I was in need of the latter, so I cried out, “Don’t stop! Don’t stop! More! More!”
Skilfully, his fingers obeyed my command and they raced me towards orgasm. My hands were pulling at the ties now, threatening to tear them from the bed. I arched my back, opened my legs wide and yelled, “Fuck!” as the first wave washed over me, then, “Oh, fuck, yes!” as another wave consumed me, then, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop! More, more, more!” as my orgasm held me in its all-embracing, exquisite grip. My lover continued to finger me until I was totally spent. I cried out, “Enough.” Then he kissed me and wrapped his powerful arms around me and, sighing with contentment, I smiled and lay back on the bed.
When I’d recaptured my senses, my lover eased the blindfold from my eyes and I gazed up, at P.J. Parker’s grinning face. “What are you doing here?” I asked, my question sounding close to an accusation.
“Same as you,” he continued to grin, “looking for a teenage runaway.” He explained, “I discovered that Emma McManners and my runaway, Sarah Castleton, had been seen at one of Vee’s parties, so I came along to investigate. They were here, but it seems we’re one step behind them. Then I noticed that you were here and so I decided to step in to save your honour. You knew it was me, I take it, from the first touch?”
“I knew it was you,” I admitted, “when you entered me; no man fills me like you do.”
He kissed me, then he caressed my cheek. “I suppose I’d better untie you,” he said with a regretful sigh.
“We can always try this again,” I replied with a cheeky smile, “the next time we meet up.”
“We will,” he said, his right hand cupping my left breast, his lips kissing its nipple. “We will.”
Story Copyright © 2014 Abigail Summer. All rights reserved.