Tangled Passions Pt. 01 Ch. 04-06

"I don't know why I'm doing this," Matt admitted, allowing a small, frightened voice to release some of his inner turmoil. "I love my wife. We have a great sex life."

Dara, continuing to excite his stiffening prick with slow deliberate strokes, looked at him with a coy innocence that was belied by the circumstances. Tilting her head slightly to one side, she asked softly, "You may have a great sex life, but do you ever have great sex?"

"Are you kidding? More than great – wonderful!" he replied in a rush, his thoughts in jumbled competition with the growing intensity of arousal between his legs. Suddenly he thought of his treatise on passion, which he had nearly forgotten. It gave him pause to wonder. "Marvelous sex, usually." But how often? How often is usually? How is it otherwise – usually? Adequate, I guess; good sometimes; but not often great. And why? Dara watched patiently, allowing her caresses to slow and lighten, as he retreated far away into some labyrinth inside his head – pondering an imponderable. Matt's hand stopped – hidden in the warm smoothness of Dara's inner thighs. Almost imperceptibly Dara allowed her towel to drop, keeping only the lightest touch of her encircling hand against his semi-rigid cock. For some considerable length of time – minutes, perhaps – while Dara waited, Matt weighed all the sparse and inadequate data he had; the pros and cons; right and wrong, moral and immoral, legal and illegal, and tried to divine the correct course of action. Eventually he realized that he was basically not equipped to make such a decision; so, simply by omission, they proceeded.

Matt had not had sex with anyone other than Jenn since they had first met. His experiences prior to that were obscured in his memories by the mists of time. Even his fantasies, of which he had had many over the years, did not advise him on how to begin; his dreams were very sparse on preliminary detail, tending to cut to the chase, as it were. He was lost in a miasmic swirl of sensation. Not knowing what else to do, he let his cock-head do the thinking, and gave in to the abstruse desires that raged within.

Hand still in the towel, still snug against Dara's vulva, Matt slowly came back to life. Letting the towel drop, he began to twiddle and diddle his fingers among her damp curls, slipping them furtively between her moist lips. He was delighted to find her slit slick with anticipation, and the discovery caused his own semi-erection to bump and jolt as it gained rigidity in her barely moving hand. Dara slid her hands up his chest, stopping for a moment at his hard nipples, and kissing his lips before continuing to his shoulders. Then, gently applying her weight, she pulled him down onto the thick, wet bath mat.

Despite his rampant hard-on, Matt didn't believe he could get there again after such a short respite so he shuffled around and literally dove headfirst into her dark, damp muff. At first he was almost overcome by the tranquilizing effects of Dara's wonderfully pungent aroma. He allowed himself pause enough for a few deep satisfying breaths of her scent, before beginning in earnest. Dara lay still and relaxed. Her hands rested passively on the back of Matt's head. Only the occasional sigh or quiver evidenced her excitement; her labia were warm and pink and open like a blossoming water lily. Matt ran his tongue up and down her repeatedly, reaching in with his hands to hold her even wider so that his tongue could reach down into her folds and poke as deep as possible into her vagina. On each back-stroke, as he drew his tongue back up to the front of her mons, he swirled it over and around her stiff clitoris, before plunging it back into the depths. Dara's thighs trembled and her quim got hotter but the edge of orgasm seemed to be teasing her – staying just out of reach. Matt redoubled his efforts, sending the tip of his tongue even further forward, around her bottom and back, to tickle the puckered rose of her anus, and taste its sweet earthy flavour. His fingers took the opportunity to creep back and bother her clit as it stood waiting beneath his chin. Dara sighed again, tentatively lifting her knees, before letting her quaking thighs fall back to the soft rug.

Then, closing her legs to squeeze Matt's face clear of her sex, she silently indicated with her hands that she wanted him to turn around again. Her eyes were closed; her face a mask of passive contentment, as he clambered about to cover her right way around. "But you haven't..."

Without opening her eyes, Dara put a finger to his lips. "Shhhhh," then slipping her hands down to his buttocks, she pulled firmly, lifting her hips at the same moment to smoothly and completely swallow Matt's rigid tool with her velvet box. Using her strong vaginal muscles to caress him, she let her lips and fingers wander all over his chest and nipples. His cock twitching and surging, Matt began to stroke in and out in an increasing frenzy. He couldn't believe the magnitude of sensation building within his loins. Dara rocked her hips to meet his savage thrusts, giving an involuntary grunt as he hit bottom. Matt's bubbling, boiling arousal was burning through his core – from the engorged tip of his purple glans, through his balls and up his spine to crackle in blinding white flashes behind his wild eyes. He was suddenly afraid that he was going to faint; then it detonated. The flashes behind his eyes merged into a fireball that sent fingers of flame licking at every nerve right down to his groin. His hot liquid load – unbelievably the second in a half-hour – surged up his cock to gush out in spurt after spurt, filling Dara's quivering womb. She had swung her legs over his back to pull him into her tighter than possible just as he got there. Her eyes still closed, she smiled a smile of genuine contentment as Matt collapsed, panting heavily, onto her chest. She held him tight, and for the moment there was no movement except for Matt's heaving chest and Dara's still rhythmically grasping cunt.

Matt lay still, trying to settle his pounding heart and recapture his breath. His head swirled in afterglow and amazement. He hadn't come twice like that since – well, ever that he could remember. And wasn't that the kind of thing a guy is likely to remember? As his awareness gradually returned, he raised himself off her chest and looked her directly in the face – and what a beautiful face, glowing with some sort of mystic serenity, as if she knew some secret – something he couldn't begin to fathom. "What about you?" he asked. She opened her eyes, without giving up any of her serenity. "You didn't get there yet, did you?"

"Not yet," Dara replied, and her smile, tinged with anticipation, held some deep, indefinable sensuality. She gave his deflating penis another squeeze with her talented vagina, "but I'm sure we can do something about that."

Matt kept his eyes on her face as he slowly raised himself up and helped her to her feet. She was a puzzle to him – an enigma. She seemed to be mildly amused at the situation and not at all concerned that he had already come twice whereas she hadn't even got there once yet. He kind of felt that she was toying with him – although, not maliciously – or patronizing him. Not that it really mattered at that point.

Quietly taking his hand, she led him out of the bathroom, across the hall and into her bedroom. In spite of what her sister had implied about the number of boyfriends she'd had, Matt felt, upon entering the room, that he was, indeed, privileged to be shown her inner sanctums. There was something spiritual in the hushed presentation. He paused to admire the room. It was a show piece: more thick white carpet; the furniture – a dresser, a vanity, a stool and an easy chair – all in white with pastel blue highlights; and, with its headboard centered against one wall, draped with sheers, stood a large four-poster bed. After a moment, Dara tugged once again on Matt's arm, and towed him over to the bed where she flopped down, pulling him down beside her.

Immediately, she clasped herself against him and began sucking on his nipples while running her hands over his chest. The stimulation was almost too much. Her lips on his hypersensitive nipples caused him to audibly moan. It was excruciating – wonderful, but excruciating. Matt moulded his hands to her breasts, catching her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers; then he gently pulled himself back, just a bit. As her lips came free of his chest, she murmured in a husky whisper, "I want you to tie me up."

Matt didn't believe his ears, although he knew he had heard her. His hands were suddenly motionless against her firm globes. He was dumbstruck. "Now what?" he wondered, not knowing what to do next. The stillness of the moment seemed interminable.

Dara spoke in a soft conspiratorial voice. "I'll show you how. The stuff's all here. Just do as I say. I think you'll really enjoy it." She pulled away, sat up and moved to her night table where she retrieved an ornate enameled chest from the lower drawer. Matt sat up and gazed at her as if she were an alien. She returned his stare with a little mock pout. "You do want me to get there, don't you?"

"Uh, yeah." Matt shook his head to get himself out of his sudden trance.

"Well, here." She handed him four soft leather straps, each with a silk-lined cuff at one end and a spring-hook at the other. "There are eyes in the posts," she added, leaving the box open on the bedside table and plopping herself down in the middle of the bed. She pulled a pillow from under the covers then, positioning it under her bottom, laid back, supine, her arms and legs reaching for the corners. "Start with my wrists," she said with an almost frightening nonchalance.

Following Dara's instructions in a sort of a posthypnotic trance, Matt strapped the cuffs on each of her wrists and ankles then secured them to the eyebolts which he found, inconspicuously set into the corner posts of the bed frame. Once he had done that, he sat back on his heels and surveyed her bound body. She seemed even more beautiful than before – stretched and helpless, like a sacrificial offering – laid out at his mercy. Still, he didn't exactly know what to do. Dara waited for a bit, watching his eyes as they swept repeated across her exposure, and smiled; then she spoke softly. "Use your imagination." Her eyes twinkled as she nodded her head toward the chest. "There's lots of inspiration in there."

Matt had to deliberately tug at his attention to temporarily escape her thrall, just so he could look into the enameled box; however, once he had he was amazed at the number and variety of things it contained: lubricants and oils and stimulating ointments; incense sticks; dildos and vibrators; scarves and feathers and straps; whips and paddles; blindfolds and gags; nipple clamps and apparatus whose intent he couldn't determine. It was like a Pandora's Box of fantasy sex. Matt's heart thumped and skipped in his chest. Tentatively he reached into the chest, not actually knowing what he was reaching for. When his hand came out, it held a long fluffy ostrich plume. He returned his attention to Dara, and slowly, lightly drew the feather's tip across her nipples.

"That's right." Her voice was barely audible. Her chest heaved in a long heavy sigh, her nipples pressing out in search of more. Encouraged, Matt repeated the strokes – around and over her nipples, circling her breasts before lightly dragging the plume across her exposed neck. She sighed and moaned as he continued, scraping the soft tip down the insides of her upper arms to swirl it in her open pits. Matt paused, staring appraisingly at her vulnerability, then he turned his attention to the 'toy box' once again. Transferring the Ostrich plume to his left hand, he withdrew a second feather – a peacock plume, this time – from the chest. Matt started on the soles of her feet, running the tips simultaneously up and down both arches, until Dara writhed and moaned and complained. With one feather in each hand, one feather per leg, Matt slowly, teasingly drew their tickling touches up her legs, pausing to torment the inside of her knees before continuing up to her inner thighs, and after a moment, past them. "Oh, OH!" Dara cried thrusting and twisting her hips – trying to find relief.

Matt suddenly felt completely relaxed and completely in control. "A quick study, eh?" he complimented himself. Mercilessly, he continued to swirl the feathers in interlinking circles around her now fully opened vagina. He kept the tips, still barely in contact, brushing only her labia, deliberately encircling but not touching her clitoris.

"Don't!" she pleaded. "Stop! Ahhh, more! Over... A bit... Let me... AAAHHHH!" She was getting frantic in her pleading. Her head snapped from side to side as she struggled against her bonds. Matt was amazed. He had never seen such passion – such arousal. Knowing that it was all his doing allowed him to stay in control. He felt his pecker begin to twitch as he finally let the ostrich plume dance across her clit. It took only that one light brush to drive her over the edge. Her orgasm was of a magnitude that he had scarcely believed possible let alone witnessed.

Matt persisted in his tickling as Dara crested again and again, one peak running into the next so that he wasn't sure if she was having one long climax or several in a row. Finally he slowed his assault, allowing the intensity of the stimulation to gradually decrease to nothing – letting her response follow suit. He watched as she lay panting, a sheen of sweat glistening on her skin, her eyes remaining closed. Before her breath had fully returned to normal, Matt dug into the box of goodies once again. He brought out a large vibrating dildo with which he abruptly attacked her exposed genitals. Dara's screams of surprise and dismay rapidly degenerated to howls of raw pleasure and the lusty moans of ecstatic agony.

Again and again he brought her to long violent orgasm, after tormenting her with an assortment of devices extracted from the seemingly bottomless decorated box. During the entire ordeal Dara barely uttered an intelligible word; nevertheless, eventually, it became obvious to Matt that she was exhausted. Matt was surprised at the calmness with which he had participated in the libidinous spectacle. It had not been, of course, without effects on him. Indeed, an undeniable life and substance had slowly infused into his pecker once more, so before he untied her, Matt climbed aboard Dara, his sacrificial lamb, without a word and put her to his rod, riding her with more gusto than he thought he could conjure. Thrusting into her with long, quick, violent strokes he rapidly brought them to yet another – a final tremendous mutual orgasm. His third in the same afternoon; he couldn't quite believe it. Dara swooned as he collapsed onto the soft slickness of her chest. After several minutes – his heart pounding, panting harder than when he had finished the run that morning – just that very morning! – Matt roused himself. He felt a silly grin on his lips that he couldn't remove. He had just had three orgasms – three great orgasms, in one afternoon. "Un-fucking-believable!" he muttered under his breath.

Dara's glistening body still heaved with each deep ragged breath. Other than that, the only movement he detected was the delicate quivering of her limbs and face. He began unbuckling her – her wrists, then her ankles. Her eyes opened slowly and dreamily, as her breathing finally calmed. "Phew, you learn fast," she whispered breathily. Her sparkling eyes were watching him as he looked up at her. She smiled with a seductive innocence that tingled his loins yet again. Then he saw the clock on the bedside table. It read almost five-thirty.

"Oh shit. I've got to go." He scrambled into the bathroom, yanking his clothes on and muttering repeatedly, "Oh, shit."

"Was that as good for you as it was for me?" Dara repeated the old cliché in a half-mocking, half-amused sing-song. Matt stopped for a moment and stared at her, still lounging on the rumpled bed, her leather bindings lying next to her limbs. She was a real Aphrodite – a true temptress.

"It was great! Really great! The best I think I've ever had." He paused, reflecting on what he'd said. It was true; he realized that he was being completely sincere. It somehow made him sad.

He snapped quickly out of his reverie, though. "I've really got to go. I'll be in shit up to my ears unless I can think of a good excuse." Looking around he turned toward the door.

"As Aladdin's genie said, 'How about the truth?'" she whispered. He pretended not to have heard.

"Thanks so much. I'll see you. I'll call." Slipping out the door, he heard her dreamy 'bye just before he closed it. As he hurried to his car he realized that he didn't have her phone number. "I'll deal with that problem later," he muttered to himself, "but for now..."