by Redbeard ©
You stare at the ceiling, lying on your back, thinking "How did I get myself into this?" Your brain is still a little fuzzy, so you strain the think back.
You setup another meeting with me by email the other day. I said I was going to be in town on a business trip and that we should get together for dinner. Acting nonchalant online, but with your heart pounding in your chest, you said that sounded like a great idea. I had been working on you pretty hard, trying to convince you to make another road trip down to see me, so this opportunity seemed to be a wonderful compromise. We agreed to meet at a restaurant for dinner. Both of us left unspoken what might happen later as the evening progressed.
You decided that telling your husband that you were meeting a man you had met online and had lunch with before would probably be a bad idea. So you told him you were going out with the girls for dinner and maybe go dancing afterward. He smiled his little smile and said that sounded fine with him.
For the next couple of days, you re-read the stories I had sent you, each reading getting you a little hotter at the prospect of actually acting out some of the scenes. You seesawed from one extreme to the other, from contacting me to say our meeting was off to trying to decide what panties you would wear. Each time you would read a story, though, would tip the scales in favor of the meeting.
On the morning of our dinner date, you realize it's too late to back out - I'm already on the road. You stand in front of your closet, twirling your hair, wondering what you possibly are going to wear. You finally decide on a dress like the one you wore for our lunch, the idea of being braless making you giggle. Yes, you think, this one will do - not too revealing or enticing, but with hidden treasures lying just beneath. You giggle even more.
Just after lunch, your stomach is a jumble of nerves. You think perhaps a nice bath is in order. And a drink. Definitely a drink. As you slide into the warm water and slip underneath the bubbles, you feel yourself relaxing a bit. After downing half your drink in one gulp, you lean back and close your eyes, letting the soothing water and the alcohol work their magic. As the warmth from the bath permeates your body and your body absorbs the alcohol, images from my stories pop into your head. Scenes that excited you before play out on the mental movie screen behind your eyelids. Your hands slide over your body as each scene plays out, every nerve in your body becoming more primed for excitement. You pause occasionally to sip on your drink, soon draining it down to the ice cubes. Wanting another and realizing your skin is starting to look pruney, you let out the plug and wrap yourself in a robe.
Padding back into the bedroom with a refreshed drink in your hand, you glance over at the bed, smiling wistfully. Your glance then falls on the nightstand and the toy that's in its drawer. Checking the time, you smile and head for the nightstand. Taking out the vibrator, you slip out of your robe. You take a big swig from your drink and settle down on the bed. Your body is still electrified from your bath, so it doesn't take long for you to take off the edge. Running the vibe over your breasts, down over your belly and finally to you already moist pussy. A few short strokes brings you quickly to a climax. Breathing hard, you realize how horny this whole situation has gotten you.
Time to get dressed. You slip on the french cut panties you had picked out earlier and turn to your dresser, retrieving the perfume bottle. Dabbing carefully in strategic places, you're cautious not to overdo it. Slipping into the dress you had laid out, you check your look in the mirror. God, what am I doing, you ask yourself. Then you smile coyly, because you know what might happen. I mean, damn, you think, if he's half as good as he writes....
You say your goodbyes and get into your car. You barely hear the music on the radio as you make the short drive to the restaurant, your thoughts swirling madly around your head. You reach the restaurant and pull into an empty space. Turning off the car, you look into the mirror. You can still back out, says a voice in your head. He'll understand. He's here for business, after all. Not like he's paying for it himself. He'll understand. Just turn the car back on and head home. Make up a story on the way. No problem. No fuss, no muss. Then you realize that your hand is on the doorknob and the door is halfway open. Thinking back to the bath, you smile at your image in the mirror and head for the restaurant.
We had agreed earlier to make the reservation in the name of "Mr. RedBeard". When you check with the hostess, she says that I'm already there and leads you to our table. You spot me sitting alone at a table with two place settings, dressed in the same purple shirt I had worn for our lunch. I stand when I spot you and you congratulate yourself for having worn flats. I take you hands in mine and lean forward, giving you a soft kiss on the cheek. The whiskers from my beard and mustache tickle against your soft skin and a chill runs down your spine. Damn, you think, this is going to be quite an evening.
After holding your chair for you (always the gentleman) and sitting down across from you, we order drinks. Definitely drinks, you think, smiling to yourself. We exchange small talk while perusing our menus. You decide on a salad again. I order some kind of chicken dish. I also order a bottle of Zinfadel to go with our dinner. You order another drink and the waiter scurries away.
We begin chatting as we did at lunch, revealing things about ourselves that we probably wouldn't otherwise. The wine arrives soon followed by our food. As you eat your salad, dressing gets caught on the corner of your mouth. Waiting to be sure that I'm watching, you flick your tongue out and remove it. That's it, you think, let the games begin. Our conversation turns more toward erotic subjects, not quite centering on what's going on between us but dancing lightly around it, moving ever closer. The drinks and the wine are definitely loosening you up as we talk more and more overtly about the electricity between us.
We both decline dessert but order another round of drinks. Yeppers, you think, definitely more drinks. We begin talking about writing. Back and forth we talk about the power of words. You tell me about how you enjoyed and continue to enjoy my stories. Our feet brush against each other under the table, smiles sprouting on both our faces. You slip your shoe off and brush against my leg, this time no accident. I begin telling you of another idea for a story I had as your foot slips up to my crotch. Revealing more and more detail, I begin to massage your foot. You sip your drink, watching me over the glass, your eyelids have closed, a sultry look on your face.
Sudden uncertainty floods your brain. God, WHAT AM I DOING, you think. Then you suggest we go dancing. I smile and say sure. We leave the restaurant in my rented car and head for the club. We find a table and order drinks (definitely more drinks). You're starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, but it's still the early phases of the buzz. A favorite song of yours starts paying and you grab me by the hand, leading me out on the dance floor. Well, this one is full of surprises, you think. He's actually got a sense of rhythm... Not a bad dancer at all. Another tune with a good beat starts up. Our dancing becomes more sensual, more hypnotic, the rhythm moving us both. The next song is a slow one. Taking your right hand in my left and slipping my right hand around to the small of your back, we begin to sway together to the music. I lean forward to say something in your ear, but you can't hear. You do feel my warm breath against your neck and the slight tickle of ! my beard, however, and another chill races down your spine. Our hips bump against each other. Even though we haven't done anything overtly sexual, your pussy is hot. You skin is electrified. Every touch is making you hornier. You know where this is going to lead. Let's go ahead and get there, you think.
After the song ends, you excuse yourself to visit the ladies room. You stumble slightly on your way there and realize you had way too much to drink. You spot a pay phone on the way and decide to go through with it. You call home, saying you're too drunk to drive, so you're going to spend the night at a friend's. Have a good time, your husband says, and that is that. In the bathroom, you take care of business and check yourself in the mirror. Focusing seems a bit difficult and your smile at yourself. Yep. Definitely buzzing.
Winding your way back to our table, you grab the waiter and order a round of Sambucca. I laugh. "I remember what you told me about that stuff... And how it affects you" The waiter returns with a bottle of 'bucca and two chilled glasses. Before you know it, two shots have burned down your throat. When the bottle is empty and both of us feeling no pain, I pay the bill and we head out into the night.
You remember us weaving our way back to my car. Getting in. Chatting for a bit. Then... waking up here.
Musta passed out, you think. And now I'm here. Staring at the ceiling. Lying on my back Staring at the ceiling. Tied hand and foot to the bed. Completely nude.
You glance around the room. His hotel room, you think. But where is he? A light shines from the open bathroom door, but there's no movement in there. Straining your neck up, you look over at the nightstand. A clock. A bottle of something floating in a glass of what looks like water. What looks like a toothpaste tube. Your head flops back down on the pillow, your head spinning slightly. Your eyesight is still too fuzzy to have read the labels.
You hear the door to the room open. I walk in, dressed in a bathrobe from the room, carrying an ice bucket. You glare at me through narrowed eyes. I smile and say, "Hey! You woke up! Welcome to my room!"
"What the hell is going on here, Red", you say, anger in your voice.
"Shut up, sweetness. You know exactly what's going on", I say, still smiling.
"What the fuck..."
The smile vanishes from my lips. "Sweetness, I said shut up. Don't make me tell you again."
Realizing how tenuous your position is, you clamp your lips together. Your mind races. Have I judged him entirely wrong? What the fuck is he going to do? Am I going to get out of here alive?
You see a smile spread across my face and relax a bit. It's a friendly smile, no hidden evil. Your eyes follow me as I cross the room and set down the ice bucket. I take an ice cube and pop it into my mouth. You watch me intently as I sit next to you on the bed.
"So there I was", I say, "chatting to you on the ride over. Running through my mind were wonderfully erotic scenes about what would happen when we finally reached my room. Then I realized you weren't participating in the conversation. I glanced over and saw that you were sound asleep, a wry smile on your face. Well shit, I thought. There goes that. I didn't know where you lived so you'd have to spend the night in my room. I could give you the bed and stretch out on the couch. Great I thought, what an erotic experience. Maybe in the morning if she still wants to, I thought, not sure whether you had simply been teasing the whole night or whether we would actually get to know each other in the biblical sense.
"So I pulled into the hotel parking lot and parked around back. I'd have to carry you in, so I thought the side door would be better than hauling you through the lobby. But as I lifted you out of the car, I noticed a wet spot on the seat. Checking the back of your dress, your ass was soaked. Well, now, I thought. This does change things a bit. You were so horny that you had soaked your dress. Things were looking up.
"I carried you upstairs and laid you down on the bed. Wondering about whether I'd be charged with date rape, I check your panties. Soaked. Sopping wet. That's when I decided to go for it."
Your eyes follow my hand as it reaches over to the nightstand. I grab the bottle floating in the glass of water. Wiping of the water with a towel, I open the bottle up.
"I started wondering how in the world I was going to wake you up. Then I glanced over at my open suitcase and saw the restraints. I thought maybe they might come in handy, and they sure did. I removed your clothes and stretched you out on the bed. Your dress is hanging up, by the way. Hopefully it'll be dry by morning. Anyway, I tied your hands and feet and got ready myself."
Holding the bottle over you, I begin dripping the liquid inside, drop by drop, down your torso. Just below your neck. Between your breasts. Down over your stomach. A drop falls into your navel. The steady drip of the warm liquid on your skin makes you jump with each drop, a tickling sensation that you can't help. You're finding it more difficult to concentrate on what I'm saying.
"Got some warm water to warm up this bottle of massage oil. Peach flavored. Took out some other things I thought would be of use. Then put on my robe and went down the hall to get some ice."
I drip the oil over your crotch and down your left leg. Then down your right. On your torso, the oil merges together into pools, spreading slowly, tantalizingly over your skin.
"When I got back, you were awake. And so here we are."
"Red, really. Untie me. We can talk about..."
"Oh do shut up sweetness", I interrupt. You notice that I keep calling you sweetness instead of by your name.
"We both know why we're here. You're not being satisfied at home and I'm not being satisfied at all. Cyber is fun and masturbation takes the edge off, but we both know that's not enough."
I set the bottle down. My hands move to your upper chest. I spread the oil slowly outward, slow smooth strokes moving over your skin.
"You, my dear sweetness, are going to cum. You're going to cum hard. And you're going to cum often."
You feel your crotch tighten at my words. You can't help but squirm slightly. I slide my hands down your chest, brushing against the base of your tits, making you squirm again.
"My job here tonight, sexy sweetness, is to satisfy your body, and hopefully restore your spirit. Now don't get me wrong. You will also satisfy me. But for starters, I'm going to make you cum. Slowly. I'm going to move your body through different sensations, building, building, building, until you rock with waves of pleasure as your climax rolls over you."
My hands slide up and over your breasts, spreading the oil, brushing against your hard nipples. You gasp softly as my hands slide over your nipples.
"I decided to tie you up for two reasons. First, I selfishly didn't want to allow you to back out. After discovering how horny you were, I wanted to make sure I had the opportunity to pleasure you. And second, I wanted to control the situation, to make sure that your body was mine to please."
You try to keep the glare on your face, watching me through narrowed eyes, but it's becoming more difficult. My hands slide down over your stomach, spreading the oil in slow, circular strokes. Your head slumps back on the pillow and you close your eyes. Yep, you think, this one is certainly full of surprises.
I stop talking as my hands slide around your crotch. You're almost disappointed as my hands slide down your thighs. From the line of oil in the center of your thigh, I spread the oil out. You squirm again as my hands slide back over to the inside of your thighs. Then down. Across your knees. Down your shins.
I slide my hands back up the inside of your legs and thighs, brushing softly against your pussy. A battle rages inside your head over being pissed or allowing your body to be excited further. Because I am hot, you think. I'm probably making another puddle on the bed.
You hear the bottle go back on the table. You glance up to see me retrieving the tube. What's he going to do now... brush me teeth? I squirt from the tube onto my hand. The smell is somewhat familiar. "Hey, that's..."
I finish for you. "Start out cold and warms right up."
|Another top quality story by Redbeard.|
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