The Big Four Oh

"Okay," he said, taking it. "No problem. I thought you were still on the pill?"

"I am," she said, calmly.

"Okay. Sure."

Rob noticed that his penis was starting to stiffen. Not surprising, when Emily was talking -- however obliquely -- about them having sex.

"Good. Next item." She handed him a soft bundle of red tissue paper. When he unrolled it, he found that it contained a blindfold -- the kind that is shaped to cover your eyes, rather than being just a long ribbon.

Rob smiled. "No problem with that." Yep, he thought, definitely more of an erection now.

"Let's see, then." Emily told him. "Put it on."

Rob did as he was told, It took him a couple of attempts, because the headband was quite loose, and he had to take it off again to see how to adjust it once it was on. Then he sat comfortably. "See?"

He heard Emily get up from her stool and move around to him. She ran her fingers over his head, arms and face. "That feel okay?" she asked. He nodded. He felt her remove her hands again.

Then there was a pause. He couldn't hear her moving. "Em?"

A hand clamped over his mouth from behind, while another grabbed his penis. "Ump!" he said in surprise, but the hands had moved on, stroking more sensuously. His shaft throbbed, wanting more attention.

"Still comfortable?"

"Comfortable isn't the word I'd use," he said with feeling, wondering where she was going to strike next, "but I'm okay with it."

Then he heard her return to her seat. "Okay. You can take it off now."

He did so, putting it back into her outstretched hand. "That was different, but okay. It's good."

She smiled. "Good. Next." Another bundle of red tissue paper. This one was a little larger, and he could feel something more solid inside. Not much more solid, mind, but there was a definite structure. He removed the paper and found that he was holding a pair of soft, black rings made of some padded material. They were like very chunky watch straps.

"Handcuffs?" he guessed.

"That's right."

He laughed to himself. Looks like some bondage was on the table this evening after all. "Okay."

"You're okay with wearing those? And being restrained?"

He shrugged. "Sure. I mean, I think so. I want to be." He'd mentioned being turned on at the thought of restraints -- although there was a lot about BDSM that didn't appeal. And he was kind of vague about who would be restrained, in his fantasies. Women in bondage gear looked hot; blokes in bondage gear usually looked like sad slobs or butch leather boys. He guessed that this was, in part, just down to the fact that most porn was made for straight men, at the expense of young, attractive women. But he could see both sides of the equation.

He had no interest in pain, or suffering, or humiliation. Rob didn't harbour any rape fantasies, not even a little bit; he couldn't think of anything more likely to turn him off than the awareness that his partner was distressed by his attentions, let alone non-consenting. But restraints seemed to be about exchanging physical freedom for emotional freedoms.

She is asking to be restrained, so he can do as he wishes -- he can aim for pleasure without guilt.

He is asking to be restrained so he can focus just on experiencing pleasure -- since she is not restrained and he is, she has to take care of her own pleasure, and he is off the hook.

Or something like that. He was pretty sure there were some holes in that rather shaky argument, since it seemed to be biased towards him in both directions, but the point was that he was okay being restrained. He thought. He hoped.

"Try them on," she told him, again. "I don't want you to freak out tonight."

He peeled back the velcro fastenings, and placed each cuff around a wrist, closing them again. He could feel his erection throbbing.

"Happy?" she asked. He nodded, hands resting on the table. She reached forward, and clipped the cuffs together. "How about now?" Again, he nodded.

She came around behind him, picking up the link between the cuffs as she did, raising his hands up and over and behind his head. "How about now?" she whispered in his ear, as she held his hands there with one hand, and ran the other over his chest, under his t-shirt.

Rob's shaft was really hard now.

"Oh, I think that's a definite yes," he told her.

"Good." She lowered his hands again, unclipped the cuffs, and then moved his hands around behind his back, clipping them there. "And now?"

"...still okay."

"Close your eyes."

He did. He felt her moving around him, touching him here and there.

"All good?"

He nodded. "Yep. I'm happy."

"Okay. You can open your eyes now." She unclipped the cuffs, and he relaxed his arms again.

"Last one," she said, taking out small wrapped tissue bundle number three. Smaller than the other two, but definitely more solid.

This time, when Rob unwrapped it, he found he was holding a black ball, about an inch in diameter, with an adjustable loop of elastic fastened from one side to the other. The ball was hollow; he could see through several holes drilled into it, from front and back. His eyes widened. "Is this a gag?"

She nodded. "It is."

"You want to gag me?" He was having a bit of trouble with this one.

"Not all the time," she told him. She gave a wicked smile. "I intend your lips and tongue to be very busy too!" she added with a laugh. "But yes, for a little while. It's to accentuate the sensations."

"Ummm..." he said.

"Try it. Put it in and adjust it to how you feel comfortable."

He still wasn't sure.

"Look," she said, taking it back from him, "you don't have to wear it tight. Watch." She put the ball in her own mouth, looped the elastic over her head, and pulled on the end to secure it.

Rob had to admit that, even in her everyday clothes sitting at the breakfast bar, she looked hot with the ball in her mouth.

Emily was turning her head this way and that, making "mmm-mmm?" noises, and gesturing with her hands to say, "See?" She held up a finger, pausing and commanding his attention, and then pushed the ball out with her tongue, so that it fell onto her chin. A shake of her head, and it was dangling around her neck. "It doesn't have to be so tight that you can't get it out if you want to," she said, pulling on the elastic to get it back over her head, and passing it to him once more. "You can retain control while enjoying the pretence of giving it up."

"Okay..." Rob said. He followed her lead, going through the motions of putting the gag in, pulling on the straps, and then spitting it out, before removing it and loosening the straps to try it again. A few times, he pulled it too tight, and couldn't spit it out; he had to use his hands to remove the gag. Finally, he was sitting there at the breakfast bar in his jeans and t-shirt, a cup of coffee cooling beside him, and a ball-gag in his mouth. Just a normal Saturday morning...

"Let me check the fit," she said, moving behind him again, "so I know how tight you like it." She ran a finger under the elastic and tested the play. "Okay. Right, stand up."

He stood, and she manoeuvred him away from the breakfast bar a bit. She held up the blindfold. "Let's try this agaIn." and when he didn't indicate any objection (though he was gagged), she reached up and fitted it over his eyes. "All good?"

Rob paused, checking, then nodded.

She ran her hands up and down his back, along his outer thighs, back up to his shoulders, and then down to his wrists, still adorned with the cuffs. Slowly, she moved his hands back and clipped the cuffs together, giving him time to respond first.

His erection had faded a bit while trying to find the best fit for the gag, but now it came back in full force.

He felt her stand back, then move around him to the front. "Mmm," she said, sounded satisfied. "You do look appealing like that. Oh, the things I could do to you..." He jumped when he felt her hand touch him, without warning. Once more, her hands moved around his body, and she grabbed his shaft through his jeans. He moaned with pleasure. "You certainly don't appear to be objecting," she noted, feeling his hard erection. He was surprised to feel her unbuckling his belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans so that she could slide her hands inside his underwear. Again, he moaned, as her fingertips caressed his penis, skin to skin.

"For example," she said softly. "I can do this." And she pulled his jeans and shorts down, allowing his shaft to spring forth, solidly erect. "Very nice," she said, and his knees almost buckled as, a moment later, he felt both her hand grasping the shaft and her mouth over the head.

He was painfully aware that they were in their kitchen, in the morning, with the curtains open. The neighbours might be able to see in. And he was bound, gagged and blindfolded while his gorgeous wife masturbated him gently into her mouth, for all to see, if they happened to look in this direction.

He let out a sigh that turned to frustration as she released his member, standing up. "That's enough of that," she said. "I don't want you to be coming even before we've properly got started."

He felt her pull on the velcro strap for one of the cuffs, giving him back his arms, and he ejected the gag and pulled up the blindfold, before pulling his jeans back up again.

Emily had seated herself again, and gave him a sweet smile. "So, is it all right? You seemed to be enjoying that. Are you okay to wear those for me again later this evening?"

"I would love to," he said honestly.

She smiled. "Thank you. I promise you're going to enjoy it." She claimed the items back and returned them to the box.

"So," she asked, "do you like your present so far?"

"I do. It's certainly a new experience."

"Good. One more thing." And she handed him another black envelope. inside, there was a plain piece of paper with a number of items listed on it. It make no sense to him. There were some plants. A roll of picture wire. Some ingredients for a pasta dish. Library books.

He looked up at her, baffled. "What's this?"

"What's it look like? It's a shopping list. I want you out of the house this afternoon while I get things ready, and I don't want you just sitting in a pub getting shitfaced. So you can make yourself useful. Be back here on the dot of five." She gave him a wicked grin, her eyes twinkling. "I have plans."

***

If she had to guess, Emily would say that, in the weeks following his thirty-ninth birthday, Rob was pleasantly surprised to discover that his wife was considerably more amorous and hands-on than usual. Emily was often reaching out to fondle him as they passed in the house. Way more hugs than usual morphed, after a grope or two, into full-on spontaneous intercourse. And when she wasn't initiating sex, she was talking about it. She was always talking about sex one way or another. Threesomes, BDSM, sex out in the open. Oral, anal, toys, showers. Boobs, bums, feet, legs. Heels, stockings, boots, basques. Sex at work, sex in a car, sex on the beach, sex in the shower. Sex, sex, sex. Rob was probably having the time of his life.

What he didn't know was that Emily was trying to probe his fantasies. Which ones really turned him on, and which ones were just casual interest. Which ones would he genuinely like, and which ones would actually freak him out, if they came to pass. And, importantly, which ones Emily could get behind and bring about.

This meant Emily spent most of her waking hours obsessing over the details of how she could give her husband the best sex he'd ever had. Emily was horny all the time.

Eventually, she figured out what fantasy she was going to fulfil, and then set about making that happen. It look a lot of advance research, and some cautious, "hypothetical" conversations with complete strangers on social media, but after about six months, things came to a head.

It was a Saturday afternoon. Emily was sitting in the bar of a Hilton hotel well over on the other side of town. She was sitting at a table for two, with her coat dumped on the second seat. On the table, there was a vase with a sprig of heather, a candle, a jug of water, two glasses, and a carton of skimmed milk, unopened.

Emily was reading from her phone, determinedly not meeting the eyes of male customers, and occasionally reaching out in a panic to keep hold of the other chair as someone else tried to steal it. A waiter came, took her order for coffee, and stared at the carton of milk, faintly offended, but she ignored him; it was a Hilton, for god's sake, not the Savoy. Her coffee arrived, she finished her first cup slowly, waiting, fidgeting nervously with the end of her pony-tail. She was well into her second cup of coffee and was starting to worry when she saw a tall, young woman threading her way through the tables to Emily. The woman was stunning: long, straight blonde hair (not natural, based on her roots), a beautiful face, and an effortless grace and command to her movements that made Emily feel dowdy and ugly.

They air-kissed, European-style, and the blonde woman took her seat as Emily retrieved her coat.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet me," Emily said.

The woman frowned, slightly. "Not a problem. There are nearer places we could have met." She raised a finger and the waiter was by her side in an instant. "Mint tea, please."

Emily waited until the waiter had gone. "It's a delicate situation. I have an odd request or two to make."

***

Shopping done, everything on the list ticked off, Rob drove back home and pulled into the driveway at a minute before five. Nicely done, he told himself. The sky was dark now, and the curtains to the house were closed. A bit safer than the morning, then, he thought.

He carried the bags in, filled with curiosity of what he was going to find. Everything looked normal, although it was quite warm. Despite this, Emily was overdressed: a loose, light jumper, loose trousers, and big, fluffy slippers. He wasn't sure what to expect -- some kind of leather-clad dominatrix, perhaps -- but Emily looked.... comfy.

"Right on time, well done!" she said, pleased. She took the bags and dumped them in the kitchen, quickly going through the bags to find the things that needed to go in the fridge. Rob was getting suspicious; he wondered whether this was another case of Emily getting him all worked up, and then saying, "oh no, we're not doing that!" But as soon as she finished in the kitchen, she gave him a peck on the cheek, turned him around by his shoulders, and pushed him back into the hall and into the dining room at the back of the house.

The dining table and chairs had been moved out of the way. Most were over in the corner, while one was next to the doorway to the hall.

In the middle of the room, in the space vacated by the table, there was one of their sun-loungers. Emily must have brought it in from the garage, and covered it with some clean sheets. The black box from the morning was on the coffee table nearby. He turned to her, a question on his face.

She ignored it. "So, are you ready to get started? I hope so. I've been looking forward to this for a long time. Happy birthday, Rob. Let's get you naked." In a few moments, she'd helped him remove all his clothes, and he stood before her, not sure what was going on or what was going to happen, but optimistic and turned on all the same. His penis stood to attention. She gave it a couple of quick strokes appreciatively. He gasped in response.

"Okay," she said. "Down on the lounger, please." It was arranged in a reclined position, so that the back was propped up about forty-five degrees. As soon as he was sitting, she gave him the cuffs to put on, then the blindfold. Then she used the cuffs to fasten his wrists to the armrests of the lounger.

"Happy? Comfortable?" Emily asked him.

"Fine," he said. So far, this looked promising.

"I'm going to put the gag in for now," she told him. "You won't have to wear it for long, but this is how I want you presented at the start."

"Okay," he said, with a shrug. Soon the gag was in.

"God," he heard her say, "you look so sexy like that. Okay, one more thing to put on you." He heard her retrieve something else from the tissue-laden depths of the black box, and then shivered in pleasure as she grabbed his hard shaft. She fitted something over it. Tight at the base.

Then he jumped, as it buzzed for a moment, sending vibrations through his shaft.

She gave a peal of laughter. "Oh good, it works." He heard her move away, and sit down on the dining chair by the hallway door. "Mmm," she said. "I could eat you all up!" And once more, there was a buzz from the cock-ring. It must be remote control, he realised.

"So we're going to be like this for a bit. Maybe five, ten minutes. We don't have too long to wait. Then we'll get started properly, but we want to keep you interested, don't we?" And the ring started doing a series of long-short buzzes for a while, then stopped.

Rob didn't know how long Emily sat there, commenting on how sexy he looked, and talking about some of the things she'd like to do to him while in his current predicament but, weirdly, she didn't seem to be interested in doing any of them now. She was keeping him turned on, buzzing him occasionally, while just sitting over on the other side of the room.

Then the front doorbell rang.

"Hang on," Emily said, "I'll see who that is," and he heard her leave the room. There were muffled noises from the hallway -- the front door opening and closing, and some low conversation -- and then two sets of footsteps came back down the hallway and into the dining room; Emily's soft, slipper-clad steps, and steps from someone wearing heels.

Emily just brought someone else into the room where Rob was tied up and naked.

"This is my husband Rob," Emily said with a note of pride in her voice, as if she was showing off a child's attempts at a painting. "Doesn't he look adorable? Rob, this lovely young lady is Jane. She's going to fuck you while I watch. Happy birthday, Rob."

***

The blonde woman in the Hilton bar picked up the milk carton and put it on the floor next to her handbag.

Emily's eyebrows knotted slightly. "Why did you ask me to bring some milk?"

"I'm out of milk," the woman said, expressionless. "You said the situation was delicate."

Emily looked around, then leaned forward. "Hypothetically, if I were to ask you to sleep with my husband while I watched, would that count as delicate? I think it would."

The blonde woman raised her eyebrows. "That's quite a request. Hypothetically speaking."

Emily laughed. "Oh, you have no idea. There's more. Listen..."

And as the blonde woman leaned in, Emily explained what she had in store for Rob.

***

Rob said "What?" But it came out as "mmf?" He couldn't believe what Emily had just said. She'd said she would make a fantasy come true, but he found it hard to believe she'd go this far. And yet, there were definitely now two people in the room with him.

They'd talked about something similar in the past. They'd been watching some porn where the guy blindfolds the girl and then brings in a mysterious stranger to fuck her. Emily had been pretty clear that she wouldn't want that happening to her, but Rob had admitted that he could see the appeal in the mystery; he thought it exciting, being a man.

Emily had reversed the scenario, and now he was strapped down on the sun lounger and some woman called "Jane" was seeing him stripped bare. And fully erect.

Who was Jane? Who did he know called Jane? Who did Emily know?