Friday Night, Saturday Morning

Mystified, taking a moment to identify the top of the bed, he obeyed. Then he treated himself to the sight of a beyond gorgeous woman in stockings rooting about in a set of drawers.

Not that the view lasted long enough. All too soon she straightened up and returned to the bed, her hands full of multicoloured items.

Scarves, he realized. Longish silk scarves. What the heck!

'Give me your wrist,' she commanded, dumping her items at the bottom of the bed before selecting a scarf that matched her eyes.

The small pile was well out of Danny's reach. Studying it via the overhead mirror, he was concerned to see what looked like sex toys amongst all the colourful neckwear.

'Heather,' he began cautiously.

'Not listening. Give me your wrist.'

Reluctantly, he offered her his right hand. She'd somehow fashioned a loop in one end of the bright green scarf. Then, with well-practiced ease, she secured his right arm to one of the vertical rails of the bedhead. Impulsively, he tried to pull himself free, but her loop acted like a noose; the harder he pulled the tighter it got around his wrist.

A strange excitement ran through him. This was new to him and Heather was getting more attractive by the second, which was no mean achievement, considering her starting point.

'Give me your other wrist.'

He complied and it was swiftly snared and secured with a light blue scarf. His reflection showed arms splayed, one either side of his head. It also showed his hardon had somehow gotten even bigger. It'd got harder too. Never mind steel, right then it felt as if it was made of titanium.

'Raise your head,' she instructed, now bearing a folded black scarf.

'You're not going to blindfold me.'

'Oh yes I am. It's part of the game. And it'll heighten your other four senses.'

It occurred to Danny that he was already securely tied to the bed and Heather was stronger than he was anyway. She might well be right about heightened senses too. He might not have played games before, but she obviously had. Abandoning the protest, he raised his head.

Trust (not-so) Little Miss Perfect. She fastened the black scarf deftly, effectively blinding him.

'Let's test those senses,' she said softly, 'starting with touch.'

Next thing he knew she was licking his nipples before progressing to kissing, sucking and nibbling.

And like wow! He'd indulged in girl-on-boy nipple play before, but never like this. This was out of this world.

'God yes,' he moaned, 'more, more, more!'

She obliged long enough for him to wonder what a woman would feel in his position. Women's nips were infinitely more sensitive than men's, weren't they? Heather had drenched her panties when he had paid attention to hers; how would she react if tied and blindfolded?

That was one for later; Saturday afternoon, wasn't it . . . assuming he survived that long.

All too soon she broke contact. He could feel the bed moving as she repositioned herself but hadn't a clue what was coming next. Her voracious attack on his titanium erection therefore came as a bit of a surprise. Using a hand (and that old R&B rhythm again), tongue and hot, wet mouth, she set to work with a will. But by no means for ever. No, after maybe five minutes she let go of him.

'Please Heather,' he begged, 'please don't stop.'

As if she was a quitter. Out of seemingly nowhere his cock was engulfed by female flesh. It took him a moment to realize what was happening. When he finally did another bolt of excitement hit him.

She was giving him a titjob. Yes, he was between her magnificent, pressed together tits!

He desperately wished he could watch. He also wished his hands were free so he could touch her.

But, if wishes were horses, and all that. Better to make the best of it and enjoy the beggar's ride.

Chapter Seven

Quite early on another realization came to Danny: Heather's theory about his ejaculations was one built on sandy ground. Okay, so that second time he'd lasted far longer, but this third was shaping up to be as good as premature.

And he didn't know which way she was working on him. Using some dark magic, excluding her oh so lovely titties, the rest of her body was not in any tangible contact. Unable to see or reach and feel he feared his cock was currently pointing at her face. And, although he knew that was how guys did it in porn videos, he most definitely did not want to spray semen all over her face.

Call him old fashioned but he thought that would be demeaning, whether she wanted it or not.

'Heather,' he as good as groaned, 'I'm gonna cum any second.'

'What do you think I'm doing this for?' she purred back at him. 'Come on Big Boy,' give it to me.'

Not much reassurance there, then.

And not much resistance left in him. Peaking faster than ever, praying that he was aiming elsewhere, he came in three relatively mighty spurts.

True to form, Heather carried on stimulating a while before (presumably) unclamping her tits and at last shifting position. Yet again, he was aware of the bed moving and this time there was very overt bodily contact. This time she straddled his chest.

'Impressive finish,' she said admiringly. 'You splashed all over my tummy. Now lick it off me.'

Danny never had tasted his own seed. Well, not directly, anyway. He'd been down on a girl after fucking her, but that was a blend of the two of them, wasn't it? That was different.

But Heather had tasted his seed, devoured it, so it wasn't poison.

She was also steering his head onto that washboard stomach and who was he to wimp out?

Salty with sweet undertones, it wasn't so bad. And his obligingness had Heather purring again.

Yes, it had her purring and guiding his mouth up and down her luscious body, particularly onto her tits.

'There,' she declared after a delicious age. 'You've got every drop. Let's sixty-nine.'

Turning her own body through 180 degrees (for another change), she lowered her pussy down to his mouth, allowing him a sample of her version of their blend of sex. And it was a great blend, one that would have sold gallons if out on the open market. Hardly a connoisseur, he reckoned the sweetness was all down to her.

He'd have remarked on it if his face hadn't been full of her fanny. Then, bare seconds later, her hand was on his manhood; her hand soon followed by her hungry, welcoming mouth.

Yes, yes, yes! More, more, more!

*****

By some miracle, his fourth cum took an awful long time and, even more miraculously, Heather's did too. Climaxing together, faces clamped tight onto groins, was remarkably good. And Heather's finish was almost biblical. Think floods and arks and you won't be far off.

'Time for more wine,' she announced, lifting herself athletically off him.

'I can't drink like this,' he observed. 'No hands and flat out on your bed.'

'Where there's a will there's a beneficiary,' she replied, her voice fading a tad as she went to bag her refill.

Unable to ogle her just then, Danny focused on his hardon. Still titanium level, he was glad to notice. And thank fuck he was tied up on his back. His cock may well be up there with the hardest of known materials, but his knees were currently supported by elastic bands, and old, very worn elastic bands at that. Doing things front downwards was so not an option.

'Yummy, yummy,' she said, re-joining him on the bed, noisily slurping vino.

'You could unfasten one arm,' he ventured.

'No way. You're staying where you are until ten o'clock. Or did I say eleven?'

'You said ten,' he lied.

'No, I said eleven. Well I'm saying it now. Drink your wine and stop whingeing.'

'How can I? I can't even see it.'

She noisily slurped more vino, making him wince with envy.

Then she made everything all right again by pressing her lips to his, squirting that delicious red into his mouth. Taken aback by such childish behaviour (taken aback but secretly charmed) he managed to accept the gift and swallow, rather than cough it all up over her bed covers.

'Your performance really has been exceptional,' she said conversationally. 'And you're still totally at my mercy, aren't you?'

As she said that she ran her fingers over his scrotum and up between the cheeks of his ass. Before he had time to comment she'd buried a finger in his A-hole.

Now that really was a first!

'Feels virginal to me,' she giggled. 'I guess my favourite strap-on might be a step too far.'

'You guess right,' he gasped, surprised to find her finger felt quite nice in there, supposing it was all those heightened sensations.

'Maybe this afternoon,' she said. Then, giggling again, 'Or should I say maybe after midnight, when it gets round to my turn once more. In the meantime, let's try something less extreme.'

Moving away from him again she returned to inject another mouthful of shiraz into his mouth, then she poured some sort of liquid onto the crack of his ass and, after a little massaging, inserted at least two fingers up where the sun don't shine.

'See,' she cajoled, 'not so bad after all, is it?'

'No,' he admitted. 'But I'm not convinced.'

'Don't but like a billy goat. Try this instead.'

At the time he seriously thought she was pushing a dildo into him. Later he found out she was using a quite small butt plug. And talking about sensations, how good was that!

He'd never felt so full in his life. And he had weird internal pressures in all directions, all of them very moreish.

'Omigod,' he groaned, 'what are you doing to me?'

'Haven't even started yet,' she replied smugly. 'Now, let me show you the way ahead.'

Without further ado she boarded him like a bloodthirsty pirate. Unable to resist, he lay back and let her have her way with him.

Yes, again and again and again.

Not that he was shouting out "foul!" Oh no, not him.

Sinking into her, still restrained as he was, was a treat to end all treats. All his Christmases coming at once and all that. If anything, her oven had got even hotter and wetter. And Danny's cock was more appreciative than ever.

Nice, nice, nice! More, more, more!

Heather drove him to his next (his frigging fifth!) orgasm in no time at all. Then she switched from a conventional cowgirl to reverse cowgirl and he lasted another awful long time. So too did she. Forget her multi-orgasmic past, she was suddenly the queen of control.

She gave him that three-two-one countdown again as well. He joined in with her joyfully. Only then did he at last go floppy.

'Don't die on me now,' she crooned, still unseen, her voice coming from somewhere close to his left ear, there's life in you yet.'

'No there is not,' he replied with ultimate certainty.

'Oh yes there is,' she countered, stroking him, paying attention to the pink strip of flesh between his helmet and shaft.

And abracadabra, he was instantly titanium again.

'Works every time,' Heather trilled. 'Now then, what happens next? Let me think.'

Chapter Eight

Heather untied him bang on eleven o'clock. Leastways she assured him that she did. Danny couldn't see any timepiece anywhere near. Come to that, after all those hours and hours of being blindfolded he couldn't see much of anything. But never mind his fit of blinking, he wasn't interested in the time of day anyway. He had other things on his mind right then.

Severe cramp in his arms topped the list. Next came a weird pain in his back, between his shoulder blades, suggesting some form of muscle strain.

And he was utterly whacked as well. Don't forget that little fact.

Heather, by contrast, looked as if she'd just spent a week at a spa. 'Come on,' she said brightly, 'let's be having you. A quick shower then off for lots of lovely, revitalizing food and drink.'

'I don't think I'll be able to stand up. You'll have to go without me.'

'Spoken like a man who knows he agreed to buy lunch. Come on, get to your feet.' Danny did as commanded but was by no means steady. Fortunately, Superwoman was at hand, ready to catch him. 'A cold shower will do the trick,' she announced.

'A cold shower will probably finish me off for good,' he grumbled. All the same he went with her, an arm hooked around her powerful shoulder, letting her set the pace to wherever her bathroom was.

Turned out it wasn't far (thank God). There was a well-concealed en-suite adjoining her bedroom, complete with a walk-in shower.

'There,' she said, bringing him to rest under a showerhead. 'I'll leave you a moment before I re-join you.'

'Make it lukewarm rather than cold,' he pleaded, propped uncertainly against bright white tiles.

'Softy,' she laughed. Then pointed to a rail in the wall. 'I had that installed for my mum. Not that she has ever used it. When my parents stay over, she always insists on the visitors' room.'

Danny grabbed the rail and instantly felt steadier; much, much steadier. He felt better for Heather's choice of water temperatures, too. She went for quite warm but not hot. He could live with that. It even began to revive him.

Water spraying everywhere, he watched the hostess with the mostess unfasten her suspender belt and peel off her black stockings.

'They're even wetter than my panties,' she grouched playfully. 'How many times did you ejaculate all over them, exactly?'

'I think you'll find at least half of that's yours,' he replied.

That made her laugh again. 'Whoever's guilty they need a wash,' she said with an air of finality, out of range of the shower as she crossed the bathroom to a large wicker basket with a detached lid. It made Danny think of snake charmers, except this was much bigger.

Never mind charming a cobra, that could have held an anaconda.

As if Heather was considering such trivialities. Fully naked at last, she joined Danny under the spray and made an immediate grab for his cock.

'Oh no,' he chided her, alarmed by the speed he hardened up again.

'What?' she said, all sweet and innocent. 'You don't want a below job. Are you unique among men?'

'I want to save it for later,' he replied firmly.

'Okay then, you'll have to do me instead.'

'I can't kneel here. I'd never be able to get up again.'

'Do me manually then,' she said, snatching his hand, leading it onto that incredible six-pack of hers.

That demand seemed reasonable enough, so Danny stroked her wet flesh, slowly edging his way lower and lower.

'That's it,' she sighed, 'slow and steady wins the race.'

Who was he to argue with that sentiment?

*****

Their taxi pulled up on the Busfeild Arms car park shortly after twelve thirty. Heather paid the fare, ignoring Danny's protests that this was his treat. Then they were admiring the picturesque old pub as they approached the front door, arm in arm.

'Haven't been here in yonks,' he said.

'Me either,' Heather fibbed.

That's right, and she was exposed as a fibber as soon as they turned left out of the hallway, heading into the restaurant, only to be greeted by a perky young waitress.

'Heather,' she cried in greeting, 'I didn't see you among today's bookings.'

Heather shrugged and smiled beguilingly. 'I forgot to book. Can you squeeze us in somewhere?'

Glancing around Danny saw the few empty tables all had "reserved" signs on them. Before he got downhearted the perky waitress had guided them to a table for four next to a multi-paned window with a (maybe) idyllic view over Morton Rec.

'Usual place,' she said, scooping up the reserved sign and putting it in her apron pocket. 'Am I right to assume you'll be drinking your usual?'

Heather nodded, still smiling: 'Predictable as always, that's me to a T.'

'And you sir?' the waitress asked, turning to Danny.

He'd been aware enough to look right, into the main bar, as they entered the pub. 'I'll try a pint of your finest Caffrey's,' said he, the beer pumps duly memorized.

'Hero,' Heather observed as the waitress retreated, en route to fulfil the first part of their order.

'It's not as strong as it used to be. It's been toned down.'

'Yeah, you would say that.'

Before they could start bickering their drinks arrived. 'I'll give you ten to absorb the menu,' waitress perkiness personified said graciously. Then, when she turned to go back to her greeting position, the restaurant door reopened.

'Good grief, it's Josie,' Heather exclaimed.

Danny looked around to see a well-developed young lady who had obviously been abroad. Tans like that were not part of your typical British summer. Okay, his dad went on and on about "the summer of 1976" if encouraged in the slightest. But that was centuries ago, back in Victorian times, almost.

'I'm sorry,' the waitress said to the new arrival, I won't have a free table until after five.'

'Jo,' Heather called out, 'over here. Come join us.'

Josie looked over at them, her expression changing from concern to delight as she realized who had come to her rescue. 'May I?' she wondered aloud.

The waitress shrugged and two seconds later the newcomer had taken a pew.

'Get her a large pinot,' Heather said to the waitress. 'best get us refills as well. And get yourself one, into the bargain.'

Danny flinched at the cavalier use of his tab. But he was too polite (and far too enraptured by Josie) to lodge a complaint. How sexy was she! And that tan . . . it must have been acquired from the same source as Heather's. Maybe they were sisters . . .

But they weren't.

Chapter Nine

'Where've you been?' Heather asked Josie when they were armed with fresh drinks. 'I haven't seen you in donkey's years.'

'I finally took a leaf out of your book,' the tanned deity replied. 'I chucked my job and went travelling around the world.'

'Really, at your age?'

'Yes, at last!'

'Brilliant. Where did you get to?'

Feeling overlooked, Danny swigged ale and signalled for yet another round.

Well, he did after covertly admiring Josie some more. Yes, yes, yes! If Heather was number one in the world for looks this vision had to be in at number two . . . with a bullet. Also very tall, she had a mane of dark red hair and strikingly blue eyes. Okay, so red hair didn't usually go well with a deeply tanned body, but on her it certainly worked.

Who cared about the possibility of hair dye when a figure like hers was involved!

'We went everywhere.' Josie giggled, girlishly and seemingly oblivious to his admiration. 'Well, "we" varied as we went. Travelling partners changed from week to week. But it was all good, I went to all the major cities: Paris, Madrid, Lisbon and everywhere else up to Washington, Seattle and New York. Okay, so Washington was a bit boring, but I loved almost everywhere else.'

'Did you venture Down Under?'

'Course I did. It was the highlight of the last twenty months.'

'Twenty months? When did you get back?'

'Thursday morning. I've been asleep ever since. Then I woke up, all famished, and remembered all of those medium-rare fillet steaks you can get in here.'

'No brainer,' Heather agreed. 'Tell me; when you were Down Under, did you go west, at all?'

'Into Western Australia, you mean?' Josie laughed lightly. 'I didn't just go there, I spent two months living on a deserted beach.'

'Not near you know where.'

'Esperance. You bet it was near Esperance. You sold the location to me better than any travel agent.'

'Did you meet anyone called Ingrid?'

'Meaning the love of your life?'

'Yes, as you well know.'

'No, I didn't; I spent my time alone, doing my best to copy you and get rid of all the white bits.'

'That's not your natural colour!' Danny interjected, somewhat rudely.

'Yes, it is,' said Heather. 'Don't say you thought I was mixed-race and have a hang-up about it?'

'Trust me, I like women of all shapes and forms. Skin-tone doesn't come into it. In fact skin-tone like yours is a definite plus.'

'That might well be the correct answer, Hev,' Josie put in. 'Let it go.'