tagBDSMA Birthday Adventure

A Birthday Adventure

byKellyP©

I haven't posted for a while, sweeties, because there hasn't been much to report on, sexually speaking. I have had to deal with some insane life circumstances. But last summer I had a great experience I'm dying to relate, one of the true highlights of my life as a slutty college girl.

I have a fuck buddy I'm really crazy about named Grant (not his real name; I don't want to get him in trouble). Grant's a really talented (and really cute) airbrush artist, a really sweet guy and possessed of a gorgeous cock that I just can't seem to stay away from. He travels a good bit, so we see each other just enough to make it a great sexual relationship. I won't see him for three weeks or so, then he'll come into town and we'll fuck each other blind for a few days. About a day or two before he's scheduled to come into town, I'm so distracted I can hardly get through the day. My legs feel like jelly, my stomach is queasy. The boy really does a number on me.

A few months ago, Grant had a birthday, his first birthday since we had met. And he was going to be in town, housesitting in fact for a mutual friend who owned a really nice ranch house in the country. We talked about his birthday quite a bit, if he wanted to do anything or go anywhere special. I made it clear that I was up for any kind of fantasy he had in mind, particularly if it involved that glorious penis of his.

He called me a couple of days before his birthday and, man, was that an exciting call. I had just gotten a haircut, I was in great shape, and I had my cooch waxed nice and bald just like he liked it. First, he told me the bad news: He wouldn't be able to get into town until the morning of his birthday, not the night before like I had hoped. I could spend the night alone in the ranch house and he'd see me in the morning.

Then he laid his fantasy on me. When he pulled up in the driveway, I was to act like an intruder in the house and do everything I could do to escape him, hide, run, anything. But I couldn't anticipate him coming. I could only act when I saw or heard his car.

OK. Then what?

"I'll catch you, and then the fun will start."

"What if you don't catch me?"

"Oh, I'll catch you."

This sounded interesting, really interesting.

So, I went to the ranch house alone. It was a place that he'd been before. But I had not. I got a bit lost, but eventually found the place right around nightfall on a very warm evening.

It was a lovely home, and I sat on the deck, admired the stars, drank some really good wine and went to bed early, not quite knowing what to expect the next day.

The next thing I know, I wake up. Sunlight is filling the room and I can hear a car door slam. I sit bolt upright in bed. Holy shit! He can't be here already. There's a big window near the bed. I slink out of bed, stark naked, still not quite sure whether I'm dreaming or not. I peek out the window and there's a truck in the driveway I don't recognize. It's not Grant's car at all. What the fuck?

I hear the door of the house open downstairs and my heart is racing. I have to get out of this house. Before I know it, I'm quietly removing the screen of the window and climbing out on the roof. I don't know what I was thinking, but I reached out to grab some clothes and, at the last second, grabbed my car keys instead. I figured that was the wisest choice, as if I had to choose between being on foot but covered up, or having my car but driving away naked. Looking back, I'm sure that psychologically I wanted to be naked, on the chance that this was really Grant pulling up in the driveway.

Soon I was on the roof of the house in the cool but bright morning sunlight, naked, clutching my car keys, sitting on these giant square concrete roof tiles that hurt my ass to sit on. I sat still for a moment, having a change of heart of about my state of undress, deciding I had to go back inside and get at least a T shirt. But when I heard footsteps in the upstairs hallway, I scampered as quietly as I could to the peak of the roof and headed to a part of the house that was shady and covered by trees.

Around this time, I heard a man's voice calling on the other side of the house, and two things were clear: that it was not Grant and that he was not calling for me, which means he was not alone. OK, now I'm starting to freak just a bit. Suddenly, I wanted a T shirt very, very badly.

I could see something like an attic apartment attached to the house with a separate entrance, on the opposite side of the house of where the pick-up truck was. I crawled over that way and saw a flight of stairs heading down to the ground, which could be my getaway, if I could get from the roof to the railing on the landing, then hop down on the landing itself. I did exactly that, sliding down ass in the air, scraping my belly pretty bad on one of the tiles until finally my foot found the railing. I carefully and quietly as I could climbed down, but in the process dropped the keys, which disappeared over the steep side of the landing into the bushes below.

I scampered down the steps as fast as I could, peeked quickly around the side of the house at the bottom, and just took off like flash into the yard, weaving through some oak trees on the dead run on an embankment of some kind, until I saw what looked like a wide trail. Once the house was out of sight, I crawled back up the embankment and got on the trail, running again down the trail for as long as I could before stopping to catch my breath.

It was as vulnerable as I ever been in my life. Completely naked and barefoot in the middle of some area I didn't know at all, which could be full of rattlesnakes or coyotes or mountain lions, not to mention strange men, perhaps criminals, rapists and predators on my trail. What the fuck was I going to do now?

It was hilly country, meaning that the house of out of my sight most of the time on the trail, but turn a corner and I could see it in the distance. I comforted myself with the belief that whoever was up at that house, Grant was with them and this was all part of his erotic birthday fantasy, because if that weren't the case, I was in real life-or-death trouble.

At one point, the trail came to a small bridge over a pretty substantial creek. I was feeling too exposed on the trail, so I decided to follow the creek instead, since it was more-or-less secluded by trees. I didn't know where I was going, or what I would do if I got there, but I had learned from the movies that getting into water would throw off your scent in case you were pursued by bloodhounds.

So I jumped into the creek and began wading in the water in the downstream direction. At some points it was only ankle deep, but in other points, it came up to my waist and in one watering hole I dove in the cold water for a swim to calm myself down. Soon, I found myself sitting in the muddy silt on the shore, listening to the babbling of the water, hugging my knees feeling like I wanted to cry. I sat there for some time, rubbing mud on the spot where I had scraped myself on my belly.

If this was Grant, I needed to play along with the game and make myself easier to catch. But if it wasn't Grant, then I needed to find a road or another house or a phone somewhere. Of course, it's possible that whoever came to the house had now left and I could sneak back to the house to see, and wait for Grant to eventually show.

Eventually, I stood and began listlessly walking downstream again. It was then I when I heard something up the hill and looked back to see the pick-up truck slowly driving the trail following the creek. I instantly squatted and crawled in the water down behind a tree trunk and there I saw two men walking the trail while the truck slowly drove beside them. For about 10 seconds, I didn't know who they were. Then, I saw. One of the men was Grant.

I sank deeper in the cold water hiding. I felt elation at first ("Thank God it's not newly parolled rapists!"), then fury ("Who said he could bring other guys with him?"), then righteous outrage that, I have to say, was a real turn-on. I thought darkly for a while that maybe Grant wasn't really the guy I thought he was, that maybe he was some pyschopath out to kill me, or something.

Still, it was relief knowing that this was all his set-up and a thrill to know that I got away from him. I came up with an idea: with Grant following the creek looking for me, I would double back and head back toward the house, find my car keys where I dropped them in the bushes, maybe grab some clothes if I had time, and peel out of there in my car. I would show that Mr. Bounty Hunter a thing or two.

And that's what I did, at one point, brazenly jumping back upon the dirt road and walking back like I was a nudist on a country stroll, all the while looking behind me for any sign the truck might be coming. After five minutes or so, as I was getting closer to the house, I heard the truck coming. I leaped into the brush to hide, biting my tongue when a thin tree branch whipped my left tit (there's still a bit of scar there some months later).

Lying flat on my back in the leaves, I wondered if they saw me. To my panic, I heard the truck slow until it was right above me on the trail. Then a car door opened and slammed and I knew I was cooked. I jumped up and tumbled down the embankment back toward the creek, hearing Grant call my name and run after me. Just as I splashed into the creek, I felt someone grab me just above the elbow and spin me back toward him. I was in Grant's arms.

"Let me go," I screamed.

"Kelly, do you want to use your safe word?" he said looking me in the eyes. That, of course, meant that I could instantly opt out of whatever little game he was playing. Our safe word was "Mrs. Peacock," the name of my first-grade teacher. "All you have to do is say it, and I have some of your clothes in the truck and I'll take you home and everything's cool."

I had scraped by belly, my tit hurt, my feet were sore and I got scared out of my wits for a while, but I was getting into this. I looked at him with fury and said, "Fuck your safe word."

Grant smiled, and said, "OK, now's the fun part." He whirled me around, folded my arms behind my back and fastened them in two places with something like handcuffs. It didn't hurt or cause any kind of discomfort or strain, but it pretty well robbed me of any use of my arms. He then took a small ball gag, which we had used before, pushed it into my mouth and then kept it in place with a bandana.

It was then that I wanted to tell him that I was seriously upset about the other guys. I wasn't really thrilled about the idea of a gang bang. I wanted this to be between Grant and me. But, of course, I couldn't say anything at that point.

Suddenly, Grant faced me, bent down, put his shoulder into my belly and lifted me up, walking back up the embankment to the trail. We reached the trail and he walked back to the truck and I could hear him talking to the other two guys, by their voices I couldn't recognize them. It was a shame I had to meet them like this, ass first, my beaver right there at eye level and me powerless to move or cover myself up. If this somehow went wrong, I could imagine the cops interviewing these guys: "Well, officer, I didn't see much of her face, but I could certainly pick her little twat out of a line-up."

Grant, probably channeling my humiliation, said, with me still thrown over his shoulder like a sack of flour, "Dudes, this is Kelly," then, a meaty hand swats my ass cheek. He asks one of them to tie my feet. I start kicking to express my displeasure and Grant again reaches up to slap my ass, this time with the flat of his hand, and it stung.

With my feet tied, they placed me in the back of the pick-up, on my side. I felt like a bagged deer or something. We drove back to the house, no more than five minutes or so. When we stopped, Grant again heaved me on his shoulder with my girl parts exposed to God and everybody, and to my pleasant surprise, he began shaking hands with the other two guys. They were leaving.

"Bye, Kelly," said one of them opening his car door. Not able to do anything else, I kinda flexed my asshole as an acknowledgment, much to the delight of everyone.

After the other guys left, Grant changed back again to grateful lover mode. He untied my feet and took the gag out of my mouth, but left in place the arm restraints. By this time, I had had quite a morning, and frankly I was pretty damn horny.

"I just want to have a nice day with you with plenty of sex and relaxing, OK?" he said as I stood unsteadily my hands still fastened behind my back. "But I'd like to keep you cuffed like this all day, if that's all right. It's a real turn-on for me. But all you have to do is say "Mrs. Peacock" and you're free, OK?"

"You promise to take care of me?" I said.

"Of course. I'll feed you, bathe you, everything," he smiled.

And that's exactly what he did. I spent the whole day naked with my arms bound behind my back. Grant lovingly washed my body in the shower, and then just as carefully put ointment on my little flesh wounds. He made me a nice lunch and a wonderful dinner, feeding me both times because I couldn't feed myself. Once, he deliberately dropped a hot forkful of pasta on my belly just to see me jump. He poured me wine, brought the glass to my mouth and licked spilled wine off my titties.

But mostly we had sex, lots of it. It was such a weird experience to suck that glorious cock with no help from my hands, but it was an incredible turn-on. He would turn me over, lift my pelvis up and fuck me long and slow from behind. Then, when he would lift me up again, sit me on the floor, lean my head against the bed and slowly fuck my mouth, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

I've always felt that I was a damn good blowjobber. But you don't really know how good you are until you have to do it with no hands all days long. We had to get into positions where it was easier for me to keep my balance. But once we did, it was off to the races. I never felt more comfortable and more desperate to get my payload.

Grant's a vegetarian and he really takes care of himself, so he has some really clean-tasting splooge. And I really got a bellyfull of it that day. At one point, he blasted in my mouth and little of it dribbled out on my upper lip just out of reach of my tongue. Since I couldn't exactly wipe it off, it just stayed there the rest of the day.

Finally, as the day was coming to a close, we went for a little walk along the very same trail on which I had tried to escape him earlier. I was still cuffed and still naked. But the evening was warm and Grant let me wear some sandals. I must admit, I felt fantastic – energetic yet relaxed, enjoying Grant's company and feeling totally free, sexually speaking.

We broke off from the trail, opposite the creek to a small meadow facing west and the setting sun. He took off his clothes and I knew what he wanted without him having to say a word. As his last birthday gift, I dropped to my knees, awkwardly groping for his member with my open mouth. He watched the sun go down while I sucked his beautiful cock. When he came, he groaned loud enough to let me know he didn't care who heard him. His jizz gathered at the back of my mouth, I savored it and then I swallowed big, feeling his warmth go all the way down.

He pulled out of my mouth, bent down and kissed me, and said to my shock, "I love you." I choked out, his semen still warm on my lips, "I love you too."

He took the cuffs off and we walked back to the house, naked, holding hands, laughing all the way.


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