Startled Awake

A loud slam startled me awake from a deep sleep.

When I propped myself up on my arm, I remembered nothing more than the stinging pain on my forehead as the world went dark again.

It could have been hours, but more than likely minutes when I finally came to. No longer was I in the comforting warmth of my bed. Now, I was sitting in a wooden chair in the corner of my room. It took me a little while to figure things out. In the darkness of the room, I could recognize that I was still in my bedroom, and I recognized the chair as one from the hallway -- the solid oak chair that got very little use sitting outside the door of the bedroom. Someone had moved it to the foot of the bed and didn't want me to move from it.

I tested the restraints that held my wrists to the arms of the chair and wiggled my feet, which were tightly secured to the legs of the chair at my ankles. I was still as naked as the moment I slipped under the sheets beside my wife, for what I thought would be a good night's sleep.

My mind suddenly turned to my wife. My eyes started to find their focus in the low light of the room, and I looked around frantically. As I tried to call out for her, my voice was muffled by the sock that was shoved into my mouth.

It didn't take long to find her silhouette leaning up against the headboard. Her arms also seemed to be tied there. She was trying frantically to free herself, rattling the headboard and pulling at her restraints. I could hear her muffled sobs through her gag as well.

But who did this? Why us? Why now?

There didn't seem to be anyone else in the room with us. Was this just a robbery? A smash and grab, leaving us tied up so we couldn't call the police?

All of my questions were soon answered.

The sounds of footsteps outside the bedroom door indicated to me that there was still some unfinished business.

The door swung open, and the light on the nightstand flickered to life. My eyes hurt from the sudden change of contrast. My first thought was my wife. I looked across the bed and there she was, indeed restrained, her naked skin now gleaming in the light.

As she continued to strain and struggle, she would arch her back, her breasts reaching out in front of her. Whoever tied us up seemed to be liking the show, with a soft laugh coming from that side of the bed.

I looked over to the man, trying to see if I recognized him.

A rubber mask of George W. Bush covered his face, and a tight white t-shirt strained to contain his well-built chest and arms. He stood about 6'4", towering over the bed.

"That would be why my head hurts so much right now," I thought to myself, still trying to shake out the cobwebs of unconsciousness.

He worked his way around the room, slapping me on the back of my head as he moved to my wife's side of the bed. He stood beside her, silently looking. She tried kicking him but missed. Her sobs had now turned into angry grunts as she continued to fight to try and free herself. I'd long given up the battle with the leather straps.

Finally, the man spoke.

"You should stop struggling. You're just making it worse for yourself," he said in a slow and deliberate tone.

My wife did stop, her arms hanging from the straps at the top of the headboard. She turned onto a hip in an attempt to hide her nudity in front of a total stranger.

I felt helpless.

"I have this to make you stop struggling, if you want to go that route," he said as he flashed a fairly large kitchen knife. "It's really your choice."

My wife started to cry.

The man traced the knife down her left arm to her shoulder, down her collarbone, over her left breast and then down her stomach, the knife leaving a red scratch in its wake.

"You know what you can do for me so you don't get hurt?" he asked, not really expecting an answer. "You're going to fuck me right in front of your husband here," motioning in my direction.

"All right? I'm going to untie you, and you're not going to do anything stupid."

My wife nodded her head in agreement. It wasn't like she could really do anything to this neanderthal; she was only 5'4" and about 120 pounds soaking wet. She wasn't overly busty, but well-proportioned for her size. Sure she worked out a little, when she had time, but this guy could probably break her in two.

He used the knife to cut the straps around her wrists and her arms fell to her side.

Her wrists glowed red where she struggled against the straps. She rubbed them to try to bring some relief.

He looked at her, holding the knife out in front of her, so she could still see that he was in charge. "We cool?," he asked in a very friendly tone.

She nodded in agreement again, looking over to me. I nodded to her as if to say, "do what he says."

He set the knife down on a chair behind him and turned his attention to his clothes. He slipped his t-shirt over his head, revealing a chiseled torso. The mask popped off his head, but he quickly put it back on. I tried, but still didn't get a clear look. He unbuttoned his jeans and slipped them down over his hips. He wasn't wearing any underwear and in the dim light of the room, I could clearly see his manhood hanging in front of him. Judging from where it hung down to his thigh, I quickly recognized that he didn't need any help in that department.

"I'm going to take off your gag, but I'm warning you now: if you scream, I won't hesitate to cut off his cock," he said, again looking in my direction. She looked over too, catching my eye, and then nodded in agreement.

He pulled the gag from her mouth and pitched it onto the floor beside the bed.

"Now, I want you to pretend I'm him," pointing over to me, "and I want you to suck my cock." He took a step closer to the edge of the bed.

She turned her body to him, looking over at me. "I . . . I can't," she muttered softly.

"You will, or I'll be forced to make you suffer."

Reluctantly, she reached out with her right hand, her fingertips touching the shaft of his still soft cock. It bounced at her touch. She grabbed the shaft and held it out, inches from her face.

She looked over to me one more time, before opening her mouth and taking the tip of his growing member into her mouth.

I couldn't believe my eyes; my heart was pounding a hundred miles an hour. I focused on her mouth slowly swallowing his shaft, getting about halfway down before backing off completely. Amazed, I found my own erection growing. I'd never thought of "sharing" my wife but watching her handle another man was a complete turn on.

It didn't surprise me at all that before too long, he was at full mast, with her skilled lips sliding easily down his now glistening shaft. His hands fell to the back of her head, as he pushed her face deeper onto him. I could hear gagging as the end of his cock reached the back of her throat.

He started to moan a little and picked up the pace, seemingly getting lost in the feeling of fucking her face.

My own cock was throbbing as I watched the scene unfold in front of me. Knowing what it feels like to have her mouth on my stiffness, I knew exactly how he felt right now. I wanted it right now, too. I pulled at my restraints again, but couldn't free myself. My cock was begging to be touched.

A solid groan came from his lips as he pushed my wife back onto the bed. She fell back, her breasts bouncing as the soft mattress cushioned her fall. He stood there, his large cock standing out straight from his body, and a grin growing on his face.

I couldn't believe my eyes when I looked over to my wife; she wasn't scrambling to cover herself up. As a matter of fact, a sly smile was growing on her face to mirror his.

He leaned over and grabbed her by the hips, manhandling her roughly. He spun her around and pulled her up onto her knees. She looked over her shoulder back to him as he positioned himself behind her. With one solid thrust, he pushed his entire length inside of her. She let out a loud gasp as he filled her and held it in there for a second.

Slowly, he started thrusting, pulling almost all the way out before pushing it deep again. Their bodies slapped together as he built a rhythm.

I looked down at my own cock. Pre-cum was dripping from the throbbing tip, so much so that it was forming a little puddle on the seat of the chair. I couldn't believe I was loving the sight of my wife being forced to fuck a stranger.

And fucking him she was, pushing her hips back against him, meeting his thrusts. She looked just as much into it as he was. She would bite her lips as he continued to slide his entire length inside of her. Her hands gripped the sheets tightly in a fist. I knew exactly what was going to happen next.

A loud groan came from her mouth as her arms collapsed under the weight of her body. He wouldn't let her fall completely, holding her hips and moaning loudly as her pussy spasmed on his cock. The muscles in his chest were rippling as he pulled his cock from her and spun her around on the bed.

She sat in front of him, her breasts at the level of his cock as he gripped and stroked it quickly. Still wet from her pussy juices, his hand easily slid up and down the length. He started to grunt and groan before his back arched and he released stream after stream of his thick white juices onto her face. It covered her cheeks and lips, with some dripping down onto her perky breasts.

He pushed her back onto the bed again, as he quickly got dressed and grabbed the knife. He didn't say a word while grabbing the knife and turning for the door. My wife didn't look at him as he went to leave, but I couldn't take my eyes off him. As he walked past me, he noticed my throbbing, dripping cock: "Looks like you enjoyed that almost as much as I did. Maybe I should come back," he said, with his voice returning to that earlier soft tone. "Better lock your doors," he said as his footsteps disappeared down the hallway and out the front door.