A Captive Audience

This is the story of my least gracious breakup.

This was ages ago, and I'm married now, but I don't think I'll ever forget it. Strictly speaking, I know it's something I ought to be ashamed of, and, in fact, I must be a little bit, as I've never told my husband this story, or any other boyfriend or prospect who came afterward, and very few of even my closest friends. But a part of me can't help but feel a sneaky sort of pride. Not even all of the few friends I've confided in believe it, and I don't blame them, but be that as it may, I hope you at least enjoy it, since I sure did.

It was the second semester of my Junior year in college, and relationship ennui was beginning to set in. I hadn't been entirely faithful and sneaking around was becoming more tiresome as my boyfriend (let's call him, hmm... John) and I found ourselves spending more and more time together. Yet I found increasingly that spending more time together produced diminishing returns on becoming fonder of him, or none. I started to miss being single. I had suspected from the get-go that attempting a serious relationship at my then age, headspace, and stage of my life was less than wise, but against my better judgment had decided to give it the old college try. Well, now I'd tried.

I could have simply dropped that bomb and left, but that wouldn't have been as interesting.

I'd originally gotten the idea from an on and off friend-with-benefits of mine (we'll call this one Fred). At his place, two or three months prior, in a state of semi-undress and semi-sobriety, we'd been discussing fantasies. And he, eventually, coughed up this one. I remember laughing and making fun of him, while he defensively reminded me that I'd been the one to ask so insistently, and, not too long after, he wrestled me to the floor and shut me up.

I had laughed the idea off at the time. But afterwards found myself dwelling on it. What was the appeal? And why was it starting to appeal to me? I found myself fantasizing about it while I was alone, sometimes touching myself to the thought, sometimes even when I was in the middle of the act with my boyfriend, I would imagine I was with someone else while he, red-faced and struggling against his bindings, provided me my captive audience.

A few weeks before the end of my relationship, it came up in conversation and I admitted to Fred the fwb that I was thinking of ending it. Having known that I was starting to enjoy his earlier fantasy, he suggested I make things interesting on my way out. It took a lot of careful coaxing, and a lot of patient waffling on my part, but eventually, he (and I!) convinced myself to go for it.

On the big night, I met up with John and twenty minutes later he and I were on the couch, watching something unremarkable on tv. I looked over at him and reflected for the first and last time in awhile that he was a decent looking guy. Dark medium length hair, slender but in decent shape, with a cute nose, full lips, and greyish eyes. He wasn't a supermodel, but he was definitely one of the better looking of the not huge number of guys my age who were in the market for a relationship. But there's just no substitute for interest.

Without much prelude, I started making out with him, and felt his hands run upward along my leg he pulled me closer with his other. It came to rest on my skinny-jeaned butt for awhile before moving upward and creeping in under my top. I disengaged from his lips to sweetly whisper into his ear "I want to tie you up".

We'd tied each other up before, so this didn't come as a shock to him. He grinned and stood up and allowed me to lead him to the bedroom where I had one of my sturdy chairs set up and tape on hand. He chuckled at the fact that I already had the chair in there but didn't seem otherwise suspicious and happily plopped down into it. Almost giddy with excitement and nervousness, I looked away from him as much as I could to hide my expression, looking closely instead at his arms and legs as I wrapped the tape tightly. first his forearms to the arms, then each of his ankles to the legs. This was a slightly awkward position as his stance wasn't naturally quite as wide as the chair legs' but it was close enough to work. Halfway through, he seemed to notice I was being a little more thorough than last time. "Huh, a little tight there" he said, not yet quite in the tone of complaining. "Damn right" I stood up, leaned over him, took him by the neck, and said into his ear "can't have you going anywhere. You're mine. And I'm about to get mean. You're in for it darling." 'You have no idea' I thought as I returned to the taping. To be on the safe side I put a rope tie on each limb and then told him to do his best to wiggle free. He couldn't.

"Now for the fun part." I said, with a sinister grin, I unbuttoned his shirt as I kissed him some more, sometimes stopping to strip off an article of clothing or lean over the bed and dance for him, at one point I paused to sit in his lap and grind a little, gently teasing him. When his shirt was unbuttoned, I raked my fingernails down his chest teasingly, and planted a line of kisses down it until I reached his waistband, and pulled his sweats down to his shins. With my lips hovering an inch from his manhood, I asked "You know what you're gonna do now?"

"What's that?"

"You're gonna wait." I cackled as I stuck one last piece of duct tape over his mouth and strolled out of the room. I adopted my best runway walk for this, as I was, after all, down to my frilly purple lingerie. A quick text to Fred (who had been waiting in his car) and two minutes later I was leading him by the hand into my bedroom. He gave John a half smile and a friendly wave. John had never met Fred before. Fred had almost half a foot on him, and with a decent amount more muscle (something accentuated by the tank top he was in at the moment), with his best feature being his arms and calves. His hair was lighter, without being quite blonde, was shorter and more tidily styled, and he had rather sharper facial features, and very large hands. John did not look inclined to return the friendly greeting, even had he been able to move an arm. In fact, I've never seen anyone look quite so surprised in my life, and I'm sure his jaw would have dropped had the tape not been holding it up.

It seemed to dawn on John that tonight was not about to go the way he planned, and he started visibly struggling with his bonds (something it should have occurred to him he'd just proven impossible) and I heard three muffled syllables that (if I had to guess) might have been "what the fuck".

Fred looked down at me for a long, suspenseful second, and then kissed me for several more, pulling me close. Then, without warning, he broke off, and slapped me, hard, in the face, then grabbed my shoulder, and pushed me downward to my knees. I had told him to be rough. This sudden change seemed to surprise the already quite surprised John into silence, as both the shifting and muffled grunting momentarily paused. Taking the hint, I unzipped him, and started giving him head. I pleasured him exactly the way he liked it, first with long licks up the shaft, then with a short, swirling motion just under the head. With one hand I stroked the length of him in front of my lips, and with the other I took a handful of his nicely toned bottom, gripping it tightly and digging my fingernails in. Whether from this, or from the pleasure of the blowjob (naturally I prefer to think the latter), he began to moan.

Not wanting to end the main event too quickly, I stood up and he took me by the throat and kissed me deeply again. Then he bent down, hoisted me up over his shoulder (to my shock), and threw me down onto the bed, where I landed with a bounce and a startled laugh. I flipped over onto my hands and knees and began to crawl up the bed, to make room for him, but he had other ideas. I squealed with surprise and delight as he grabbed me by my ankle with one hand and yanked me backward, until my ass was level with the edge of the bed and my legs dangled off the side, half resting on the floor. When he pulled my panties to the side I was so ready for a good fuck that I was, for a brief moment, disappointed to instead feel his mouth on my bits.

"No, I want you to fuck me." I moaned. "I don't want head I wa- oh, ah, OHH". Odd as it may sound, sometimes I manage to forget just how much I enjoy a good licking. Friends don't let friends forget something so important.

It was electrifying. He primed me perfectly with big, slow 'ice cream cone' licks, then moved in for the kill, burying his face between my legs and hitting me with a rapid-fire helping of short zix-sagging licks right across the clit. By the time he'd finally decided I was ready for the fucking I'd so readily demanded, I was quite a bit readier than before. I wanted to look at him, so as he stood up and pulled off his shirt, I flipped back onto my back and finished scooted back as I removed my panties. He supported himself on one elbow as he entered me, pulling my breasts out of my bra with his other hand and playing with them each in turn. He built me up with long, slow, practiced strokes, and I pulled him close and clawed his back.

But missionary is not really our best position, and after a few minutes I suggested switching to doggy. I got on my hands and knees, and he grabbed my ass with one hand, and with the other, roughly shoved my head down into the covers as he entered me for the second time. Oh that's better. I gasped as he found his rhythm and hit the spot. "Yes! There!" Then, remembering I was performing live for an audience, I repeated myself, much more loudly, beginning to play it up and make a huge, loud, ungracious mess of myself, by turns moaning and practically screaming, when I wasn't biting the covers. I realized also that (discounting that my face was buried in the comforter) oriented pretty much exactly towards my boyfriend, so I lifted my face up to look at him. He was red as a tomato, but had evidently given up on speaking, and just glared at me. He was now steadily rocking the chair back and forth. In retrospect I wonder why. Would falling over sideways have made him any more comfortable? I grinned sheepishly and blew him a kiss. His eyes darted upwards and I realized the two men also had pretty much direct line of sight in that position.

This didn't go unnoticed by Fred, who laughed and said. "Are you looking at your boyfriend right now, you kinky little pervert? Well don't be shy, go right ahead." He collected my hair in his fist and pulled my head sharply backwards, so that I had to lift myself up onto my palms, and brought my eyes directly level with John's. "That better? You want him to see what you look like when you're getting properly fucked, is that it?" I had not, in fact, given the matter any thought, and by now was beyond considering my audience. I wouldn't have cared had half the world been watching. About a minute later, I finished, rather explosively, and quickly removed myself from the position and laid in front of Fred, inviting him to finish where he wanted. He went with my stomach, and then fell to the bed, panting, and we lay like that for some time before I asked "snacks?"

We retreated, still nude, to the Kitchen, where Fred helped himself to a scotch (one of the few things he had in common with my John, they both liked scotch, or at least made a solid effort at pretending. Welcome to men in college), while I went with a mini-frogurt bar. After a not overlong period of rest & recovery, we returned to the bedroom. What followed was something of a best-hits marathon of all our favorite positions. We did 69, sitting up, prone, and even one with him lifting me by the butt with his hands and pinning me to the wall. By the end we were both thoroughly exhausted but eager to make the best of the special occasion of celebrating my return to singleness. We finished in missionary again, actually, and for the first time that night I told him to come in me. I didn't generally let people I wasn't dating do so, but I was on the pill and, like I said, it was a special occasion. To cap off the perfect night I sucked him off a little more afterwards before it was time to get dressed and go.