The First Tie
There’s nothing like a bus ride home to put you in a bad mood.
Here I was, walking the long road to our house from the bus stop in town, musing on how much it was going to cost me to get the car out of the shop, what I was going to do about my many problems at work, and how sore my feet were getting as I trudged home in the hot sun…
I was hot and sweaty by the time I walked up the driveway and slowly swung the door open and entered the relative coolness of the house, when you met me at the door.
“Oh, bad day, honey?” you asked, a look of concern on your face.
“You bet,” I nodded grimly, and then suddenly I knew my day was going to be different.
Instead of your usual jeans and T-shirt, you were wearing an elegant red dress and high-heel shoes, with your blonde hair cascading to your shoulders with a grace that bespoke a careful preparation for this moment.
Your dress, which ended at mid-thigh, showed off your long, shapely legs, and clung to your every curve. My thoughts of work, of the bus, of the long walk home, quickly evaporated as I thought ahead to the coming evening.
“Are we going out for dinner?” I asked, taking in the sight of your beautiful, intoxicating body and feeling a slight, familiar stirring in my loins.
“No, I thought we’d stay home and enjoy ourselves… I’ve got a couple of steaks on the grill, and we can open that wine we’ve been saving… I just thought you’d like a special evening with me…”
“Every evening with you is special,” I murmured, and you giggled in reply as you hugged me. The smell of the sizzling steaks drifted through the back door, causing my stomach to speak of its own hunger, as a hunger more basic also awoke, stimulated by your scent that hung in the air as we parted and you swayed through the doorway to pull the steaks off the grill.
I struggled with the wine cork, and managed to work it free just as you returned, your legs long and graceful beneath the hem of your dress. I poured your wineglass first, followed by mine, as you smoothed your dress with a sweep of your hands, and sat down.
“Your wine, my dear,” I smiled.
“Thank you,” you replied with a dimpled smile, and we dug into our food. You kicked your shoes off and began playing with me with your bare feet as we ate, caressing my feet and lower legs, and I found it hard to concentrate on my food as we repeatedly paused to gaze at each other.
We lingered after the meal was complete, slowly finishing our wine and talking, and then I got up and began gathering the dishes from the table.
Your hand stopped me. “No,” you murmured. “We’ll have time for that later.” Leading me to the living room, you turned and bent over slightly as you put on a record, and, as the soft scratch of the needle gave way to the beginning of Kenny Rogers, you held out your hands. “Dance?”
“By all means,” I murmured with a smile, as our arms enfolded around each other and we began swaying to the music.
“My day just improved,” I murmured into your ear. My hands caressed you restlessly, playing with your hair, and stroking your curves through the fabric of your dress.
“It gets better,” you giggled. Your hands drifted lower as we danced, tracing a line along the inseam of my trousers, slowly trailing your long fingernails lightly up my inner thigh until you found the rapidly-growing bulge at the front of my pants.
“Mmmmm, it does, indeed,” I murmured. You felt a hand slip under the hem of your dress, to caress your soft skin through the fabric of your panties. The hem of your dress lifted slightly with my efforts, revealing the lacy hem of your black satin half-slip, and our bodies molded together more tightly as we began slowly, tentatively, exploring each other’s mouths with our tongues.
Your hand became more insistent on my growing bulge, stroking along my length boldly. Our breathing quickened, and grew more ragged, becoming punctuated with soft little sighs of pleasure as we surrendered to each other.
“I want you, John,” you murmured.
“I want you, too, Nicole,” I answered, easing my fingers past the waistband of your panties and searching for your warm wetness. “Tell me again that you want me… that you want my hard manhood…”
You reached down and unbuckled my belt, then pulled it free from the belt loops and cast it aside. “No,” you declared. “This time we do it my way. I do NOT want your ‘hard manhood’.”
“You don’t?” I replied, puzzled. Your fingers quickly unclasped my trousers and pulled my zipper down.
“No,” you said, then paused, a look of indecision passing over you, which was then replaced by one of determined resolve. You took a deep breath, pulling my stiffness free and stroking it with your fingers.
Dropping to your knees, your warm, wet mouth descended to my hot, hard desire. “I want your COCK,” you blurted, closing your lips around me and wetting my length with your warm tongue. “I want your COME,” you added, becoming braver as you cast your fears aside with an abandon growing more reckless by the second. “I want your hot COCK to spurt your sweet COME down my throat, and I want to SWALLOW it.”
With each deliciously naughty phrase, your mouth and tongue worked more vigorously over my long… hot… COCK… (yielding to your desires, I began to adopt that term as my own), bringing me so close to the brink of orgasm that I knelt on the floor before you, gasping in pleasure. Your warm, wet mouth followed me down.
Our bodies lay next to each other, as you took my cock in your mouth again and again. You could feel it getting longer as my excitement grew. And then you gasped as well, as my hand reached beneath the hem of your dress and tugged at your panties, drawing them down enough to reach you with my fingers again and slip inside your warm wetness.
Your mouth stroked me, and my fingers stroked you… relentlessly, insistently… and our cries of pleasure grew more passionate… You jerked your head as you felt your mouth fill with a hot, salty taste that betrayed my passion as a foretaste of my life spasmed over your loving tongue… then again, as you cried out in your abandon and a larger spurt issued from the large, thrusting member in your mouth.
And your sighs became louder, climbing in pitch as my tongue probed within you, exploring you, tasting of your hot, sweet tanginess with complete abandon.
Then you felt me withdrawing from you, and looked up with your green eyes to see me unbuttoning my shirt. You took this moment to grasp your damp panties and pull them down your long legs, scissoring your legs to cast them aside from your ankles.
Then you gasped in surprise as you saw me reach over, pick up my discarded leather belt, and grasp one of your arms firmly and begin tying one end of the belt to your wrist.
“John, what are you doing?” you screamed, struggling, as I looped the belt through one of the couch legs and began tying the other end of the belt to your other wrist.
“Just making sure you don’t get away,” I murmured huskily, and you suddenly stopped struggling as you realized what I was doing. Actually, you knew you could wriggle out of your bonds quite easily if you wanted to… but you didn’t want to. You wriggled sensuously on the floor in a mock struggle to free yourself, your hands high over your head as you lay on the floor.
“Ohhhhh, then what are you going to DO with me, then?” you purred in a low voice. Your dress had hiked up your hips, and your glistening, wet womanhood beckoned to me as your legs opened in silent invitation, framed by the black silk of your half-slip.
I was stepping out of my trousers, and casting aside my white shorts, watching you eye my exposed, hard manhood with unconcealed interest.
I took a deep breath, as I bent to unbutton your dress, starting at your throat and continuing down, exposing your lacy black bra… kissing your exposed skin at your collarbone as each button came free. Finally, as I undid the button at your navel, and turned your body slightly to unclasp your bra and ease it up out of my way, I paused, a hand massaging one of your nipples, gently, and looked into your eyes.
“I want to fuck you,” I murmured.
“Oh, say that again… it excites me,” you sighed.
My hand felt your nipple harden, and your eyes glazed over with unashamed lust. “I want to fuck you,” I repeated.
“Ohhhhh, again.” My body pressed against yours, and you felt the heat of my member on your inner thighs as I positioned myself at your eager entrance.
“I want to FUCK you,” I breathed into your ear, as you drew your knees up and spread your legs wider, arching your back as I slid deep, deep inside your honeyed warmth.
“Again!” you moaned. “Ohhhh, how I want you!”
My mouth drifted to your breasts and began tonguing your nipples as your body responded with a series of shudders than ended in a gasp and a soft moan from your moist lips. “UhhhhNNNNGGHHHH!”
“I… want… to… ohhhhhhh, Nicole! Want to… to… FUCK… ohhhh…”, I moaned, as your body endured my passionate thrusting and our breathing intensified.
“Yes!” you cried. “Yes! Oh, John, COME inside me! I want your come! I want you to FUCK me! I want… ohhhhh…”
Your back arched suddenly, and your head tossed from side to side spasmodically, as a tremor slowly but completely took over your body, and I felt you tense under me as you experienced each wave of pleasure, more intense than the last. Your eyes closed for a moment as you were overcome by the intensity of your response, and I watched as your eyelids fluttered briefly, and you gritted your teeth… and then your mouth dropped open again.
Then I groaned in pleasure as my thrusting… COCK… spasmed, once, twice, countless times, endlessly filling you with my sweet, heavy seed… and the sensations brought you over the brink, triggering a squeal of pleasure that echoed off the walls, as your body bucked and writhed beneath mine.
You closed your eyes as I collapsed against you, and experienced that dreamy twilight state for an endless moment, as our breathing slowly returned to normal, and then you felt my hands releasing your bonds, and you slowly brought your hands back to their normal position, noticing a slight stiffness in your muscles, as you caressed my hair gently.
“Ohhhh, John, that was beautiful,” you murmured, still stroking my hair at the base of my neck. Your voice was languid, tranquil. “So how’s your day now? Still having a ‘bad day’?” You giggled.
“I’m having a wonderful day,” I murmured gently, a soft breathiness coloring my voice.
“Wait till you see what kind of NIGHT you’re going to have!” you taunted, giggling again.
“UH oh,” I smiled in response.
–end–
written by John
