BDSM Bedtime Story

I had lived long enough to know that nothing was impossible. But what was happening to me now was so improbable as to approach the realm of fantasy. An achingly handsome man some forty years my junior was in my bed. We were naked and he was fucking me.

It had started a week ago. I knew that my next-door neighbors, a couple my own age, had decided to make the move to Florida. Their house had sold quickly and I had yet to lay eyes on my new neighbor.

I was doing some gardening, and was struggling to move the largest flowerpot on my patio to another spot. The damned thing always gave me fits.

A deep voice came from behind me. "Now that does not look like something you should be doing by yourself."

I turned and saw a simply gorgeous young man smiling at me. He had brown hair, and a sweeping handlebar mustache. He was wearing a pair of gym shorts and nothing else and was built like Hercules. He was shiny with sweat. What a vision!

"May I be of assistance" he asked.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose," I responded.

"Don't be silly. What would my mother say if I didn't assist a lady in distress? Now where do you want this?" he asked.

I indicated a spot and he picked up the huge pot as if it weighed nothing. The way the muscles rippled in his back as he did so caused my heart to race.

Over the next few days we became acquainted. One afternoon he came into the yard as I was again gardening.

"Eileen," he said. "Do you enjoy the Symphony?"

"Why, yes, I do, very much. Do you as well?"

"I do. And I just happen to have two tickets for tomorrow night's performance. Would you allow me to escort you?"

"Harry!" I said. "Are you asking me to go out with you?"

"Well, I suppose I am," he responded.

"Harry, I can't tell you how flattered I am. You must be aware that I'm old enough to be your grandmother, right?"

"A fact that doesn't mitigate your charm and allure in the slightest degree," he responded.

Oh, what a doll baby!

I couldn't help reaching up and placing a hand on his cheek. He reacted by gently kissing the palm of my hand, as gentlemanly and courtly a compliment as I had ever received from a man.

It was the night of our date and I had stepped from the shower and was standing in front of the mirror in my bedroom. A woman of seventy-two could look a lot worse. I had kept my figure through playing pickle ball at the community center. My c-cup breasts didn't stand up the way they used to, but they didn't sag to my waist either. My stomach was still flat, and the triangle of hair between my legs had gone as silver as the hair on my head, and was thick and untrimmed. Ladies of my generation were not obsessed with removing it as young women seemed to be.

"Mature ladies are supposed to have hairy pussies," I said to myself.

I chose my "little black dress." I regarded myself again in the mirror. I thought I made it look pretty good for an old lady.

Harry called for me, looking utterly masculine in a corduroy sport coat and a snug pair of jeans.

"Shame on you!" I thought to myself as I glanced at his bulging crotch and imagined what was concealed there.

The performance that night was delightful. Harry was a perfect escort, a gentleman of the old school, and I loved being seen on his arm. I could tell people were wondering. Was I his mother? His grandmother?

We dined after the performance and afterwards he delivered me again to my porch.

"Eileen," he asked. "Does our evening together have to be over?"

"What did you have in mind, Dear," I asked.

"Well, there is something I want to ask you, but I'm afraid you're going to find it terribly presumptuous."

"I'm intrigued," I said coyly, as I looked up at him. "What is it?"

"Eileen," he said, as he took a step closer to me. "Would you like to make love?"

My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open. He bent down and ever so gently began to kiss my ear and my neck.

"Harry," I said. The way he was kissing me left me breathless and my voice a whisper. "Are you serious?"

"Very much so," he responded, his deep voice rumbling in my ear.

I pulled back slightly so that I could look into his eyes.

"Sweetheart," I said softly. "My late husband was a wonderful man, and he loved me, but he just wasn't skillful where intimacy was concerned. What I'm trying to say is, I'm not as experienced as you might be thinking a lady of my age should be. I'm afraid I'll be a disappointment to you."

"Well," he responded. "There must be things you've wanted to try, to experience, to experiment with."

I was speechless. I had a veritable laundry list of such things! But how could I ever even say them out loud!

He smiled knowingly. He took my key and unlocked my front door. We stepped inside. My home is a two story, and he effortlessly picked me up and put me on the second step of the three steps that led to the first landing of the stairway to the second floor. This put us at eye level. He held me close and I shivered as he reached behind me and pulled down the zipper of my dress.

"I'm going to strip you," he said softly.

Those words were incredibly exciting. Strip you! Never in my life had I ever removed my clothes, or had them removed outside the privacy of my bedroom. He did it slowly and I knew he could sense my excitement at this new experience. Soon I was naked. He held me tight with one arm, and with his other hand began to squeeze my bare ass.

"So," he said softly in my ear. "Did he kiss your pussy?"

I was shocked at the graphic nature of his question.

It took me a moment to find my voice.

"Never," I responded.

"Did he put his cock in your mouth?"

"He never even let me kiss it," I stammered. "He said acts like that were unnatural."

"It really excites me to know that I'm going to be the first man to fuck your mouth."

I had never heard such language from a man, and it had me trembling with excitement.

"Now I want to see you," I said.

He swept me into his arms and carried me upstairs to my bedroom. My breathing quickened as I watched him strip. It was hard. And big. He got in bed with me and took me in his arms. I put my hand around it.

"Harry," I said nervously. "It's awfully big. Ladies of my age..." I hesitated for a moment. "Ladies of my age, well, our bodies change and we can have issues with things like that. Please, be gentle with me."

"I understand," he said. "I think I can do something that you're going to like that will prepare you."

We began to kiss, and unsurprisingly he was wonderful at it. I was in a state that surpassed lust or arousal. I said something that I never in a million years would have thought myself capable of saying.

"Harry," I breathed. "I want to suck your cock."

With a smile he turned onto his back. It towered from his crotch. I put my hand around its base and kissed the head. The taut skin was silky smooth. It was so exciting! I began licking it. He moaned in response. I put the head in my mouth. It was all my mouth would hold! I was afraid that he was going to be disappointed. But I somehow knew what was needed. After all, I couldn't be the only woman with a lover whose cock was too big for her mouth, could I? I moved my hand up and down the veiny shaft as I swirled my tongue around the head.

"Oh GOD!!" he moaned, as he exploded into my mouth.

It never even occurred to me to not swallow each pulsing spasm of his load. He collapsed with a groan. I smiled at him with pride as I licked the last drops from the tip of his manhood.

"Now," he said. "It's your turn."

My turn? My heart pounded. We kissed for a long time. Then he began to suck and pinch my nipples, gently at first, and then more forcefully. Then he kissed down my stomach. He parted my legs. Then he began to use his tongue. The sensations were beyond description. I wanted to hold back, to make it last, but it was simply impossible. When he sucked my clit into his mouth I shifted into utter wanton whore mode. I was afraid my neighbors would hear me but I was powerless to control my orgasm, or the vocalizations that went with it. I twined my fingers in his hair and shamelessly ground my pussy against his face.

When at last I was in control he poised himself between my legs. He was just as hard and large as he had been before.

"Ready," he asked.

"Yes," I breathed.

The head parted my lips, and I gasped as he began to enter me, slowly and gently. When his full length was inside me we began to kiss again. His strokes were long and slow. He took my hands and stretched them over my head, holding my hands firmly in his. It was clear that I could not free them.

"Harry," I said, stammering. "This makes me feel kind of like a prisoner. Am I?"

"Well, that depends," he responded. "Does that thought excite you?"

Did that thought excite me? Yes, it did, very much. Since I was a girl I had experienced such fantasies. I had tried to suppress them. Surely no decent woman was meant to enjoy such things. And to even hint to my strait-laced husband that I had ever had such thoughts was out of the question. But that was then, and this was now.

"Yes," I whispered. "It excites me. How did I come to be in such a predicament?"

"Hmmmmm. Maybe I bought you."

"Tell me!"

"Well, there certainly aren't many women in their seventies out there who look the way you do. Striking silver hair, beautiful face, perfect ass and tits...if you were traveling you might well attract the attention of slavers."

"Slavers!" I gasped. "What would they want with an old lady like me?"

"There are some men of sophisticated tastes who enjoy the allure of a mature woman. Some of them might be quite wealthy and want to buy such women to serve them as sex slaves. You might find yourself on the auction block."

"Harry, My God," I breathed.

"Some isolated location in a dicey country where officials can be bribed to look the other way. They walk you out onto the block naked. One look at you and I know I have to own you."

"Harry, My God! You mean I'd be naked in a room full of strangers?"

"Completely naked. How else would sex slaves be displayed?" he responded.

"And men would bid on me?" I asked.

"Men, women, couples too," he answered.

"And you would bid on me?" I asked.

"You bet I would," he answered. "And I'd be top bidder."

My mind was reeling with imagery of the scenario that Harry was describing. A darkened warehouse, smoke filling the air. Me standing naked with dozens of strangers looking at me. Somehow the idea that other women would be looking at me, bidding on me, hoping to own me so that I could serve them sexually, was intensely erotic.

"Harry," I said, almost breathless from the way he was fucking me. "What if I won't do what you want?"

"There are things that can be done to a naked woman to assure her cooperation," he answered.

"Harry," I said, my voice trembling. "Are you saying that you would torture me?"

"Of course I'd torture you," he said. "You're a sex slave. You can't refuse to pleasure me. You'll have to be disciplined and conditioned."

"What..." I was barely able to speak. "What will you do to me?"

"Well," he said. "From the first time I saw you I've been fantasizing about what it would be like to string you up and take a whip to your ass and tits. And your cunt."

The way he emphasized the word "cunt" sent me over the edge. I could see, hear and feel him whipping me. I began to cum. He suddenly increased the speed and strength of his strokes. He knew what I needed now. I needed for him to rape me. I needed for him to use his whip and his cock to break me.

What is that saying? "Today is the first day of the rest of your life."

It was indeed. I wanted the fantasy to be reality, and roleplaying became a regular occurrence for us. Harry made a corner of his basement into a small and well-equipped dungeon. Of course sometimes I just wanted him to make love to me in his sweet and gentle way. But other times I needed more. He completely understood my darker needs and knew exactly how to accommodate them.

When my kids and grandkids came to visit I had to check in the mirror and make sure that I wasn't wearing anything too revealing. It would be rather awkward to explain to my children how I got whip marks on my tits, wouldn't it?

Sometimes Harry would be in his yard and would wave in typical "Hi Neighbor" fashion. What on Earth would my kids think if they knew that only a short time before I had been on my knees in front of him, naked, kissing his cock and licking his balls?