Desires Awakened

With the death of my husband, I had time on my hands. My grandkids told me that there were places on the internet, chat rooms they called them, where people could make friends and talk for hours with people who shared similar interests and experiences. I soon joined a chat site and began spending some time each day chatting with new friends.

A bit about me: I'm 62, silver-haired and petite. I try to keep myself in shape and wear the same sizes that I did in high school. I'd be less than truthful if I didn't admit that I enjoy the glances I sometimes receive from men far younger than myself.

Of course I learned that women receive a great deal of attention on such sites, and the messages a lady receives can be rather, well, in your face.

One night I received an instant message from a man who was far more polite and sophisticated than the norm. He was younger than I, thirty-one, and I made no secret of my age. After we had chatted for some days he suggested we exchange pictures. He proved to be quite handsome and dashing, with a rakish handlebar mustache. And he was very tastefully complimentary about my appearance.

The anonymity of chatting in this way tends to reduce one's inhibitions, and our exchanges began to be somewhat more intimate than I would ever have undertaken with a man I'd never met. We had reached a point where I confided that although I had loved my late husband, my sex life with him had been less than satisfactory, owing to the fact that he had been far less adventurous in that regard than I was.

"Jill," he typed. "Do you have any interest in bondage?"

I must have turned beet-red. I was a mother, a grandmother and active in my church. And yes, I had an interest in bondage, but absolutely no experience..

"Harry!" I responded. "What a shocking question! Yes, I've had thoughts about such things that a lady in my position shouldn't have!"

"And do you enjoy such thoughts?" he asked.

I couldn't believe that our conversation had taken such a turn.

"Yes," I answered. "I do enjoy them. Quite a lot."

"Do you enjoy pictures of ladies in perilous situations?" he asked.

"Oh my! I've never seen anything like that!"

"Would you like to?" he asked.

My face felt hot. Perilous situations? What would that entail?

"Yes, I would," I replied. "Where would I see such a thing?"

"What is your email address?"

I provided it. In a few moments I received a "you've got mail" notification. There was an attachment, which I opened. I gasped out loud. It was a photo of a mature woman, possibly in her mid-fifties. She seemed to be in a dingy room, perhaps in a basement. She was tied with ropes around her wrists pulling her arms up above her head. And she was completely naked, with her full, slightly sagging breasts thrust out in front of her in a way that was intensely erotic. I had never seen such a thing, and I didn't expect the effect it had on me. It was intensely arousing.

"Harry!" I typed. "I'm speechless."

"Do you like it?" He asked.

"Yes," I responded. "I like it very much. I've never seen anything like this."

"Would you like to see more?" he asked.

"Yes, please," I responded.

He began to send more pics in the same vein. They were all of mature women, some quite mature. As Harry gauged my reaction to each of them the intensity of the scenarios depicted increased. When he sent the first pic of a captive woman being forced to perform oral sex on her captor my hands trembled so that I could barely type. Then he sent one of a pretty, grandmotherly lady with her bare breasts criss-crossed with what had to be welts from a whip.

"Harry," I typed. "I've never seen anything so arousing. Why am I enjoying this so much?"

"What's it matter?" He replied. "I'm just glad you like them."

A few nights later he typed, "I have a serious question for you."

"Shoot," I replied.

"Would you like to see a naked, bound woman, in real time?"

"Harry!" I asked. "What do you mean?"

"I happen to be acquainted with a lady who enjoys bondage play, and she has always wanted to have another mature lady watch and participate. Would you like for that lady to be you?"

My head was spinning.

"Harry, do you really mean this?"

"I do indeed."

"Yes, I want that lady to be me."

"I'll make it happen," he replied.

The next day he emailed me and explained that I would be part of a roleplaying scenario, and all I needed to do was play along.

"Do you know what a safeword is," he asked.

"No," I responded.

He explained that his lady friend would be assuming the role of a completely unwilling kidnap victim, but that if anything that was happening actually became too much for her, she would say a predetermined word that would mean that she REALLY wanted whatever was happening to stop. He gave me his address and a time.

I arrived at the appointed time. I had never been more nervous in my life. I went up to the door and rang the bell. In a short time he opened up. He was more handsome than in his picture, and I could now see that he was impressively muscular as well. He invited me in.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Harry, is this really happening? Is that lady really here?"

"Come with me," he said.

He took my hand and led me to the stairs leading down to the basement. When we entered the room I stood utterly transfixed. She was in the center of the room, naked, her hands tied to a hook in the wooden beam above her head. I guessed her to be in her mid-fifties. She was beautiful, with perfectly rounded breasts, large nipples, and a thick bush. She was blindfolded with a sleep mask and was softly crying.

"We have a guest," Harry announced. Her crying became louder.

"I'll leave you two to get acquainted. I have something to do upstairs."

Harry winked at me. I could see that his leaving the room was just a pretense to get me involved in the roleplay. He went up the steps, but stopped and sat at the top of them to listen.

"Are you there?" she whispered. "Please, help me! He kidnapped me! He was waiting for me in the parking lot outside the quilt store. He parked a van next to my car, and he pulled me into it before I knew what was happening! He says that...Oh God...that he wants me to take his thing in my mouth! I'm a decent woman! I can't possibly do such a thing! But he says that if I don't obey him that he'll TORTURE me! Please untie me!"

"But there's nothing I can do," I responded, trying to respond convincingly. "I have to do what he tells me."

Harry came back down the steps. He stood behind me and spoke quietly in my ear.

"Have you ever played with another lady's tits?" he asked.

I turned and looked at him, wide-eyed, then looked at her perfect, full breasts. I very much wanted to play with them.

"Go ahead," he said.

I took them in my hands. They were warm and her skin was silky smooth. She moaned when I ran my thumbs over her nipples.

"Oh God," she breathed. "No, please don't."

"Are you ready to suck me off?" Harry asked.

"Please," she whimpered. "Please, I can't, don't you see? Oh please, let me go! I promise I won't tell anyone!"

Harry held out two metal objects joined by a chain. I recognized them from pictures that Harry shared with me. They were nipple clamps!

"Put them on her," he whispered.

This was really happening. It was like a wild dream. He was instructing me to torture the nipples of a woman that I had not yet even properly met! I knew to put them on the tips of her nipples. I tightened them just to the point that they would stay in place.

"Oh God!" she gasped. "What are you doing?"

"Ready to suck it?" Harry asked.

"Please," she whimpered. "I can't. I just can't!"

"Tighten them," he whispered to me.

I gave each of the screws a couple of turns. She squirmed in the ropes. Then Harry started taking his clothes off! Soon he was naked, and I couldn't take my eyes from his manhood. It was as hard as a rock and covered in big veins. I couldn't help putting my hand around the shaft. I was overwhelmed now with lust. We began to passionately tongue kiss. He held my hand so that I couldn't stroke him.

"That feels quite nice, but I haven't cum in her mouth yet."

"Oh God, Harry," I whispered to him. "What's happened to me? I am SO into this! I want to torture her! I want to make her scream! I want to make her suck your dick!"

"Have at it. But this might be more interesting if you were naked."

Why hadn't I thought of that? I stripped. I stepped up and pressed my titties against hers.

"You have to do what he says," I said, getting into my part. "The torture won't stop until you do."

"I can't!" she whispered.

I tightened the clamps. She moaned. I tightened them again. Her breaths were now short gasps. I tightened them again.

"STOP!" she wailed. "OH GOD, STOP! MY NIPPLES! YOU'RE KILLING ME! TAKE THEM OFF! I'LL DO IT! I'LL DO WHAT HE WANTS!"

I removed the clamps while she sobbed. Harry loosened the ropes so she could kneel. He rubbed his cockhead across her lips. She opened her mouth and began sucking him. I noted that she seemed rather enthusiastic for a prisoner and it was hard not to laugh.

He took his cock out of her mouth.

"Lick my balls," he ordered.

Instantly her tongue was all over his ball sac. He put his cock back in her mouth and I knew from his moans when he was draining his balls. He untied her and she removed the blindfold.

"Harry, for Christ's sake, make me cum!"

She got up on a nearby table and he began licking her. She began to cum almost instantly, and she was so loud I was afraid the neighbors could hear.

When her breathing was normal again, she got up.

"Hi!" she said cheerfully. "I'm Lynne. It's Jill, right?"

"Oh My Goodness!" I replied. "Yes. Yes, I am. That was incredible! Lynne, don't your nipples hurt?"

"I'll say they do! It wouldn't be any fun if they didn't, would it?"

At this point Lynne was NOT the only one who needed to cum! We went to Harry's bedroom and spent the rest of the afternoon making love.

Lynne and I hit it off right away and we are great friends. When next we met it was my turn. That first time that Harry pulled my wrists above my head the feeling was indescribable, the helplessness, the vulnerability, the way my tits were sticking out! Lynne couldn't be whipped because she is married. Nipple clamps leave no evidence behind, and she wouldn't be able to explain reddened or bruised tits. I don't have that issue, and when I refused to suck Harry off, Lynne mercilessly lashed my tits and ass. When I pleaded for mercy and Harry raped me, it was the first time I'd ever had a man in my mouth.

What would my grandkids say if they knew?