tagBDSMAn Old Flame

An Old Flame


Samantha had known him since high school. They had never dated...she was always dating another boy whenever he was available, and he was involved when she was available. But they lived a few blocks from each other and they studied together and flirted like crazy. When he packed up to go to out of state to college she went to his house to say goodbye. They found themselves walking together out behind the garage at his family's home, saying how they both wished it had been different, and he leaned over and kissed her.

It was electric. In the warm breeze of late summer his kiss was full of the passion of what felt like an eternity of unquenched desire. He just held her in his strong arms and pressed his lips against hers and they melted together. It seemed to last forever, and in an instant it was over. They walked back to the front yard without another word and he got into his car and he was gone.

In another two weeks Samantha was off to college herself. Over time they remade themselves in college, and moved on to more serious romances, still not with each other, and gradually they grew out of touch. There were times over the years where she felt a pang of regret, or entertained a wistful fantasy about how her life would have been different with him. But in time she found her true love, married and settled down into a happy, suburban American life complete with kids, a picket fence and a minivan.

It was a late summer day a decade and a half after that kiss. Samantha had dropped off the kids at camp, and was on her way to the mall for some back-to-school shopping when her cell phone rang. She looked down and saw a number she didn't recognize. She let it ring through to go to voice mail, because she didn't like to talk when she drove, and it was probably just a marketing call anyway. In a couple of minutes, the phone rang briefly again to indicate a voice mail was received, and she planned to pick it up when she got to the mall.

When she parked near the Penney's and turned the car off she sat for a moment and collected a text from her husband, checked a Facebook post from a friend, then dialed the voicemail to catch up on the call she had missed.

"Samantha, it's me." Her heart raced; she recognized his voice immediately. She was glad she was sitting down because she felt herself go weak with the shock of recognition. "I'm glad you didn't pick up the phone, in a way. It will make it easier for you to be honest with me. I've thought of you often over the years, since the day of our first and only kiss exactly fifteen years ago today. If you haven't thought of me, I understand. If you have, and have wondered...like I have...well, maybe you'll like my idea."

She was breathing hard as he continued. "I'm only in town for the night...tomorrow I fly home and back to my wife and kids. I don't want anyone to get in any trouble, don't want to wreck any homes, but I'd really like to see you." He laughed and sang a verse from the song that popped into his head at that moment, "I'm not talking 'bout moving in, and I don't want to change your life, but there's a warm wind blowing, the stars are out, and I'd really like to see you tonight." She smiled softly to herself...he always had awful taste in music; somehow in him it was an endearing quality.

"Anyway, if you want to see me, meet me downtown at the Orpheum Theater at 9pm tonight. The building is closed for renovations. That's part of what I'm doing here...I'm an architect now...but I'll leave the stage door open for you. It will be just us. If you don't want to see me, just don't come tonight. I'll understand and I won't bother you again. If you do, just be there at nine. I promise you a night to remember."

A little after eight o'clock Samantha was kissing her husband in the doorway. She told him she was headed over to her friend Marianne's house for the evening. Marianne was separated and needed regular comforting. She wore a black wrap dress, black stockings and three inch pumps over her 5'3" curvy, womanly shape. Her bra and thong panties were black and lacey to match the outfit. Since nights out with Marianne often wound up in a night out at a club, her outfit was appropriate. Samantha had already conspired with her friend to cover for her if anyone called.

She drove to the theater with the worst case of nervous butterflies since her wedding. Several times she resolved to turn around, and really visit with Marianne instead. Each time her curiosity and desire overcame her better judgment, she remembered that sweet kiss so long ago, and she steered the minivan back toward the theater.

She arrived in the alley behind the old red brick building a little after 9pm. She hoped he hadn't given up on her already, now that she had committed, she would have been devastated if he had left thinking she didn't want to see him. The stage door was propped open with a brick, it squeaked open onto a long hallway lit only with a dim bare build hanging from a long cord reaching up into the high scaffolded backstage area.

She walked tentatively toward the light. Beneath the bulb there was a small table and a coat rack. A single, perfect red rose lay on the table, with a folded note tied to it with a long red ribbon. The note read in elegant hand-lettered script: "I'm so glad you came. You have another choice to make. If you want to stay, you have to be willing to give yourself to me entirely, without question, without hesitation. To prove you can do this, take off all your clothes, except your shoes, and stockings if you are wearing any, and leave them on the coat rack. Leave your purse on the table if you brought one. Take the ribbon from the rose and tie back your beautiful hair if you still wear it long, and bring the rose out onto the stage, through the curtains at the end of the hall. You'll find your next instructions there. If you don't do exactly what I require, I'll leave and you'll never see me again. It's your choice."

Her heart was pounding as she slipped out of her dress and hung it on the rack. She wondered if he was watching as she unhooked her bra and exposed her naked round breasts, nipples rapidly hardening in the surprisingly chill air of the old building. She paused for a moment before taking off her panties...what was she doing? But the feeling of erotic tension and the wetness between her legs convinced her that she was doing exactly the right thing. If he was near, hiding in the curtained darkness of the backstage, he would definitely smell her powerful feminine desire as she slid the panties down off her hips and released her fragrance into the air.

Samantha was naked now except for the stockings and high heeled pumps. She shivered, though not from the temperature, rather it was from the vulnerability of being naked and alone in a strange place, following the directions of a man could not even see, and hadn't seen in over a decade. She picked up the ribbon and tied her long brown hair, streaked with golden highlights, in a ponytail bow, leaving a long trail of loose ribbon down the pale smooth skin of her back.

She took a deep breath for courage and, holding the blossom of the rose to her chin just below her pouting lips painted in almost the same shade of red, strode forward toward the end of the hall. With a trembling hand she parted the thick black curtains and paused for a heartbeat to take in the scene. The wide stage was bathed in brown-filtered light from spotlights in the dark of the rafters and footlights across the front of the stage. The warm sepia light gave the entire scene a feeling of antiquity. In the middle of the otherwise bare stage, at the front very close to the footlights, was a table draped in a black velvet cloth, with a long strip of black shimmering fabric and a length of red silk rope atop it. Another note lay at the front of the table. With all the lights focused on the stage, everything beyond the footlights was covered in inky, impenetrable darkness.

Samantha's conscious mind told her to turn and run, but her animal desires took over and drove her across the stage with a feline grace she didn't realize she possessed. He was out there, somewhere in the darkness. She could feel his eyes on her naked body as she strode to the table to read the note with his next instructions.

"I knew you'd come, Samantha. Put the rose down, stand in front of the table and face the back of the stage. Blindfold yourself with the black scarf, bend over and rest your body on the table, arms crossed at the wrists across your lower back, and spread your legs as wide as you can. Stay patiently in that position until I tell you otherwise."

With a wicked smile flitting across her lips, Samantha wordlessly complied. She had felt naked crossing the stage, but now, bending blindfolded over the table with her bare bottom facing the darkened house, she felt utterly exposed. As she parted her lovely legs and exposed her glistening sex, she thought she heard an appreciative murmur from the darkness. She smiled more broadly in anticipation as she crossed her wrists behind her back.

Moments passed, and nothing happened. She expected him to take charge immediately, but there was nothing...no sound, no touch. She began to fear that he had left after all, that she sound she heard had not been him. It took all of her resolve to stay in this position and not run fleeing back to her clothing and then to the safety of her suburban home, but her anticipation grew with each thumping beat of her heart, keeping her submissively waiting for his presence.

Suddenly there was music filling the room, specifically "Autumn" from Vivaldi's "Four Seasons," though Samantha had no idea how she remembered that. She started at his unexpected touch, his large strong hand was on her hip. "Shhh" was all that he said, then his hand was gone. She heard him take the rope from the table then felt him wrapping it around her wrists, binding them together snugly, but not harshly.

Now he paced around her, grazing the backs of his strong fingers over her naked flesh, briefly touching her shoulder, her cheek, her hand, her thigh, her side. Just long enough and firmly enough for her to move into him, to feel him more, to desire his touch, but only long enough to tease before he moved on.

He spoke again. "You are so beautiful, Samantha...more so that I imagined, more so than you were when we were children. A gorgeous, graceful woman." He was at the end of the table near her head, and she felt his fingers of both hands lacing into her hair, bending her neck gently backwards.

"Open," he whispered urgently. She parted her lips and as her mouth opened felt the smooth hard tip of him pressing into her, tasting his salty liquid on her tongue. He leaned into her, sliding his thick shaft slowly down her tongue and into her throat. She wanted to suck him, to take him tenderly and minister to his cock, but he was holding her motionless, using her mouth, claiming it with his veiny manhood. As the head reached the point in her throat where she would normally gag, she found herself able to take it down without choking, and still there was more. Another inch, or two, and she finally felt the touch of his heavy balls on her chin and the press of his belly on her nose.

And then he withdrew, almost as slowly, still immobilizing her with his hands. He withdrew his right and she could hear him stroking his long shaft...she wanted to feel it back in her mouth again, staying open wide for him, hoping.

"Tongue," he insisted, and she stuck it out for him. She was hoping he would coat her mouth in his hot juices, but felt only a single drop settle on her outstretched tongue. "Taste," he commanded and she did, taking it into her mouth and savoring the masculine flavor. He leaned toward her and whispered, "more soon...." And then he stepped back.

Both of his hands were now on her round bottom, spreading her cheeks and exposing her completely to his view. She felt him lay his long hard shaft in the cleft, slippery with her saliva, and then press the globes of her ass together around him. The base of his shaft pressed against her anus, and she tried to press back against him, hungry for his weight against her. He laughed as he realized her desire. Pulling back he pressed the tip of his cock against her puckered opening. "You want it there?" he teased.

"Mmmm...yessss," she hissed, surprising herself with a desire she didn't usually feel. He rubbed the tip around her anus, coating them both with his own pre-cum, then pressed his weight against her. She bit her lip as the fat mushroom head of his cock started to burn its way into her ass. He grabbed her ponytail and pulled her, archiing her back and making her lean back into him until the thick tip of his cock popped past the tight ring of her sphincter.

"Aaah," she gasped, partly in pain and mainly in pleasure. He was bigger than anything she'd ever had back there, and he was only just inside her.

He laughed again as she tried to wiggle more of his hardness inside her, but he kept his distance so that there was no more, no less inside. "That's enough of that!" he slid himself back out...leaving her hungry ass clutching for him.

He released her hair and she heard him stroking himself again, then felt him slapping his large heavy cock against her ass cheeks. His left hand on her crack now, his thumb deep in her tight asshole, squirming inside. His right hand positioning the steel-hard shaft at the sopping entrance to her pussy, using the tip to spread her labia and position himself at the threshold. Then his right hand again with a handful of ponytail, pulling her backward into him hard and sharp, his entire throbbing shaft sunk impossibly deep into her in a single thrust.

He was on her like an animal now, thrusting his enormous member deeply into her, grinding away, leaning into her, pulling her hair, fucking her ass roughly with this thumb. Her breasts and hard nipples were pressed hard against the soft fabric of the velvet cover by his weight and by the power of his thrusts. She saw stars erupt in the darkness inside the blindfold as his overwhelming lust engulfed her. Her climax started as soon as she felt his cockhead crash into her cervix, like a crackling electric current that came from inside her and shot through her body, so hard her fingers and toes went numb.

He kept thrusting as the current rippled through her, releasing her hair so that he could untie her wrists. He kept his cock deep inside her as he lifted her as though she was weightless and rolled her over on her back. She continued to shudder in climax as he lifted her face to his, as he slid off her blindfold, her deep blue eyes meeting his clear blue eyes for the first time in 15 years. A warm, profound contentment enfolded her as he wrapped her in his strong arms again, as his tall strong body overwhelmed her, as his lips met hers again, as his hot seed emptied inside her.


It was nearly midnight when Samantha opened the door of her darkened house. Her husband had probably gone to bed hours before. She slipped off her shoes and padded through the house and into the master suite where he lay sleeping, heading toward the bathroom. Closing the door ans turning the lights on low, she stripped out of her dress, bra and panties for the second time that night.

Standing in her stockinged feet she looked at herself in the mirror. He had been right, "a night to remember" she smiled to herself. She felt so alive, so sensual.

Samantha frowned. She should take a shower but that would definitely wake her husband up. Sliding off the sheer black stockings she felt her lover's seed inside her. Maybe if she just toweled off a bit. She grabbed a facecloth and started the water running lightly to get it warm, standing naked in front of the sink and reliving the night's excitement. Her nipples got hard.

Over the sound of the water, Samantha thought she heard something from the bedroom. "Some sort of music?" she wondered. Maybe it was one of the neighbors. As she warmed the washcloth in the flowing water she recognized the melody. Vivaldi's "Autumn." Her heart skipped a beat. She started to panic and as she brought the wet cloth between her legs to wipe away the evidence. The bathroom door opened and her husband stepped into the room.

"Don't, sweetheart. Leave it...for me?" His voice was steady and calm when she expected anger or jealousy. He was naked, and hard. He took her gently by the hand and led her into the bedroom. The music came from the flatscreen television. In the flickering images she saw herself on the stage, bathed in sepia light. She saw her lover take her head in his strong hands and feed his long cock into her open mouth.

Her husband squeezed her hand and positioned himself on the bed on his back. "I want to taste you while you watch," his whisper was tentative, seeking her approval.

She started to position herself over him, straddling his broad chest and inching her sopping pussy toward his face.

"You knew?" she asked. She was starting to lubricate, the panic she first felt at being discovered turning to excitement.

"I found him. I asked him to call you. I gave him your number. I shot the video. You're not angry are you honey? You always said he was a fantasy of yours."

"I'm not angry, honey" Samantha said, watching the screen intently as she lowered their mixed juices onto her husband's face. "Now lick...I want to cum again at the same time I cum on tape!"

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