The Old Man

Standing back to admire my 'handy work', my mind absorbed every erotic detail. I gazed the length of the girder and then at the blue nylon rope binding my wife's wrists together. From there my gaze followed along her outstretched arms to her excited and nervous, blindfolded face.

I paused to watch and listen. Gemma was fidgeting against the rope and her breathing was concentrated, as she tried to get herself comfortable and relaxed. My gaze went further, appreciating the size of her soft mounds peaking under the dress, the buttons that I would soon be pulling apart, to finally the hem of her dress.

My wife looked hotter than I'd seen her in a while, and that was saying something. I also felt my cock start throbbing inside my jeans again. I don't think it actually ever stopped throbbing since my wife got her tits out. It all felt like a sexy dream since we left Gemma's parents' house.

"You look so sexy," I said softly.

"What are going to use as a gag?" she asked curiously.

I didn't answer her right away. Getting down on my knees I removed her sandals from her feet and softly ran my hands up her smooth legs. Gemma giggled and let out a soft squeak when I pushed the dress up to her waist, and exposed her thighs and panty covered mound. She was hot and moist with a sizeable damp patch showing at the front of the white lace fabric

"I'm going to use these," I told her, tucking my fingers inside the waistband.

"You could have at least gotten a clean pair from the car," she laughed.

"But they are clean. You only put them on this morning," I teased, slowly removing the panties down her legs.

"Uh, mmm, uhhhhh," Gemma softly and quietly moaned, until I eventually pulled her panties down her legs and over her feet.

My sexy wife's shaven pussy was raring to go. Ready and in need of some serious action. Her clit was no doubt throbbing, I thought, because her outer lips were swollen and slightly parted, and her hole was glistening with pussy juice. My sexy wife was ready to get fucked. She probably had been for a while now, but our game was only just getting started.

Running a hand up the inside of her left thigh, I traced my fingertips softly along her sensitive skin. Gemma gasped and exhaled suddenly. Then I gently rubbed my fingers against her pussy, watching her melt as her head lulled erotically from side to side. My wife's mind was now firmly fixed on what I was doing to her.

Moaning softly, she pulled her feet up the blanket and spread her legs. "Just fuck me now, Tim!" she begged.

I smiled and started moving her clit in small circular motions. Gemma gasped and raised her backside an inch off the ground. I then slid my finger down the centre of her pussy, pressing into her slit, then into her pussy.

"Ohhh fuck yes! That's it!" My wife exhaled her approval as I fingered her gently, taking her to the brink of her first orgasm in days.

Once I had Gemma panting and gasping, bouncing her backside up and down on the blanket, I knew it was time. She exhaled in frustration when I stopped, but she knew it was all part of the game. I would shortly return to fuck her hard.

"Nod your head when your panties are in far enough," I said, carefully stuffing her undergarment into her mouth.

Gemma wriggled, struggling to settle her heightened arousal. With her mouth now full of damp, lace material, excited short gasps started sucking and blowing through her nostrils. It was hard not to just take off my jeans and fuck my wife right there and then. She looked incredibly hot, so sexy and so very, very vulnerable.

"Is that comfortable enough for you, Gem? I don't want you chocking to death on your own underwear," I chuckled. My wife gave a muffled laugh and nodded her head.

My heart started racing at the realisation of what we were about to do. Although the risk was minimal, it still very much existed. I put my mouth close to my wife's ear and whispered.

"As your husband, your protector, I'm going to leave you now. You'll be safe, but I want you to slip into your fantasy. Try to let go and enjoy this experience, Gem. When I return I'm not going to speak. I'll be fulfilling my role as the stranger. The silent passer by."

"Uh! Uhhhmph!" Gemma breathed through her nose and pulled on the rope. She was on fire now.

I kissed her forehead softly and pulled her dress down, making it presentable. Rising to my feet, I smiled at my wife, my helpless, super-horny wife. Man, she is perfect in every possible way, I acknowledged. I then turned and left her all alone.

Outside the barn I scanned anything and everything for signs of human life. Nothing. I sighed in huge relief and excitement. The scene was as it was when we arrived, some thirty minutes ago. It was peacefully quiet and spacious.

I walked around the barn for five minutes and checked on my wife through the many gaps and rusted holes in the corrugated steel. She wriggled for a little bit, not trying to free herself, but to contain herself.

Eventually, she did settle and become almost lifeless, breathing steadily through her nose as she lay on the picnic blanket, blindfolded, with only her dress covering her modesty, and of course, with her wrists above her head, bound securely to the girder.

The barn was largely hidden from the overgrowth in the field that reached the fence and track. Before returning inside to really get things underway, I went into the bushes to take a piss. That's when my heart rate quadrupled.

I heard voices. Lots of voices. Male and female coming down the track. Quickly finishing my piss, I put my cock away and crept around the bushes to find lots of heads bobbing up and down. Then more of who they actually were came into view.

"Ramblers!" Or something similar, I thought anxiously. Basically, a group of people, usually retirement age, whose hobby it is to go on walks with likeminded people. My grandfather was a member once upon a time.

My anxiety got worse when the group stepped off the road and through the gate into the field with the barn.

"For fucks sake!" I cursed angrily under my breath. The group dropped their rucksacks and decided to take a water break.

A few of them looked at the barn and started discussing what they thought it was once used for. One of them only need approach the huge opening at the front and they'd discover my wife tied up like a psychopaths victim.

"Gemma!" I gasped, then quietly made way over to the back of the barn.

I peered through a fairly large gap to see my wife laying as dead still as she possibly could. She was panicking though, breathing fast through her nose. I knew she could hear the group of walkers to, because I could see and hear them from my standing position.

That moment was truly terrifying. There was nothing sexy about this group discovering my wife. They'd no doubt come to Gemma's aid and call the police. I started thinking how I would reveal myself and confess that my wife and I were playing a game.

Gemma would of course back me up, but the shame and embarrassment we'd both feel would surely dissolve any chance of us having fun outdoors again. This very experience was likely to dissolve any chance of us playing this game as it was. The memory of getting caught by this lot would be a very humiliating one indeed. I had to wait it out, and so to did my wife, and hope nobody would discover her.

"Pssst! Gemma!" I hissed through the gap in the barn. Her head turned sharply towards the sound of my voice. "Just stay still and don't make a sound. It's just a group of Ramblers. They've stopped for some water. They'll be on their way again soon, and then I'll come and untie you and we get the fuck out of here."

My wife nodded and remained still. I couldn't even imagine what she must have been thinking and feeling during those intense moments. It scarily felt like the unknown and that time had stood still. The Ramblers hung around for about fifteen minutes before they finally started putting their water bottles away and pulling on their rucksacks.

Then, our worst nightmare began. An old looking fella, around mid-sixties, I guessed, strolled into the barn. Looking up at the decaying roof, he had his hands in his pockets, whistling. I moved away from the gap close to my wife and to a more inconspicuous one further down the rear of the barn.

The old man was tall, stocky and bald on top, with grey hair around the sides and back of his head. He was obviously fit, but he still looked old compared to me and Gemma.

I glanced at my wife. She appeared very tense now, and her chest was rapidly rising and falling as she breathed through her nose. I then flicked my attention back to the old man. He was still looking around the place as he whistled a tune I didn't recognise, but one I will never forget.

"Don't look this way!" I muttered anxiously under my breath. "Just turn back around and leave with your group!" I begged in a whisper. No such luck.

My stomach felt like it was going to drop out of my arse, and my adrenaline released so fast I felt nauseous. The old man turned around and immediately stopped whistling. He was now staring with a blank expression at my bound, blindfold, gagged wife.

My whole body started shaking uncontrollably and I didn't know what to do. The old man glanced back at his group, who were chatting amongst themselves and getting ready to leave. He then glanced back at Gemma, with an air of curiosity that suggested he might have found something valuable he didn't want to share. Like a bullion of gold.

I swallowed hard and gritted my teeth as this stranger stood a couple of feet in front of my wife, skirting his eyes up and down the length of her body.

He was so difficult to read. The idea that Gemma might actually be there against her will, didn't seem to cross his mind. It was as if he was trying to decide what he should do. Ditto. I was also trying to decide what I should do. I was worried but aroused. Worried for my wife but aroused by his presence.

As the realisation began to set in, that my wife's fantasy had now come to life, I selfishly decided to wait and see how it would actually unfold. I was overcome by so many emotions that it felt as if my feet were rooted in the ground anyway.

The old man took another glance at his group then stepped towards the right side of Gemma. Staring down at her with piercing eyes, he adjusted the front of his walking trousers and got down on his knees, close to her head. I should go to her, I urged myself. I should go to my wife, but I couldn't. I just had to see what he would do first.

I watched almost paralysed as the old man gently stroked my wife's arms, up to the rope and around her wrists. Calm and controlled, he rubbed his thumb over my wife's diamond ring. He grinned and Gemma gasped, pulling on the rope. Her breathing increased but she didn't kick out, wriggle, or try to scream like you see in horror movies. I gulped and my heart started pounding.

"Ok, everybody!" a woman shouted. "Let's get moving again!"

Hesitating for a moment, the old man appeared to be in two minds before he stood up and finally left the barn to join the group.

I knew I had to come out of my hiding place and try to pass it off as some kind of fucked up joke, before the old man called the police. No way was he going to pretend he didn't see my wife. Only God knows what Gemma must have been thinking. Her mind would have been in turmoil after that ordeal.

Static by what I had just witnessed, and all the worrying thoughts bouncing around inside my skull, I watched from a distance as the old man stood talking to the woman who had gathered everyone up. There were no signs of concern or distress. No urgency to run into the barn and free my wife, or call the police. Nothing.

It quickly became apparent why not when the group left without the old man. The area descended into complete silence and I noticed my wife relax. Oh no, I thought. He scanned the track from left to right, checking all was clear before heading back to the barn.

"Fuck!" I cursed.

I went to warn my wife of his return, but instead of entering the barn, the old man dropped his rucksack and decided to walk around the structure. Going out of my mind, I quickly dashed for the bushes and hid.

Only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, the thorns and brambles attacked my arms and face, scratching and cutting into my flesh. I had to grit my teeth to stop myself from cursing out loud in agony.

The old man suddenly appeared at the rear of the barn, suspiciously scanning the area, even looking in my direction before he disappeared down the side nearest me. He did two laps before eventually going back inside.

Cursing quietly at my cuts and scratches, I crept back to the inconspicuous spot to find him standing over my wife. One foot either side of her vulnerably accessible body. What the hell is he going to do? I wondered.

Any hint of reluctance from my wife, however, and I'd jump this old fella for sure. He looked fit for his age, but I wasn't about to let him rape my wife. I was more than confident I could over power him if it came to that. I was certain.

The old man slowly got down on his knees with my wife laying through him. He wasn't applying any pressure to her body but Gemma was gasping through her nose. Still she didn't protest. He then reached for the top button on her pretty floral dress and I froze. The old man breathed steadily, taking his time with each button that was aligned down the front of her body, prolonging the anticipation. Gemma inhaled sharply and seemed to hold her breath.

The old man's face remained concentrated and serious, showing little emotion, then Gemma exhaled and her body began to tremble with a familiar nervous excitement. I'd seen it before when we had risky, outdoor sex. I'd have robbed a bank if I could, to pay for her thoughts in that moment.

When the old man eventually released the sixth and final button, just below her navel, he kept the dress together as if it were still buttoned up.

My cock was straining so bad I unashamedly took it out and slowly stroked it. I then watched as the old man held the two sides of my wife's dress between his thumbs and fingers.

"Do it," I gasped quietly, losing my shit. Gemma was still yet to protest. I wondered how far she was prepared to let him go before kicking out and begging for my help.

Staring at the front of my wife's dress for a moment, the old man finally whipped it apart. He nodded and grinned, absorbing the wonderful view of my wife's big tits.

Words don't do the memory of it any justice, but it was insanely intense and addictive. Like coming up from a powerful drug, I wanted more and more. I wanted to see my wife continue consenting, but above all, I wanted to see how far this stranger was planning to take us all.

In complete silence, he slid his hands up the sides of my wife's body to her underboob. She snorted and tensed up. Gemma had so much breast tissue he took his time gently cupping and pushing her big tits up her body.

The old man then opened up the palms of his hands in preparation. I swallowed hard as he moved from my wife's underboob to the outer curves of her round flesh. He then began caressing there for a few moments, before moving on to feel, fondle and caress her full tits. Gemma responded as if it were me touching her.

Satisfied he had my wife writhing beneath him, the old man remained high on his knees and gently stroked her right nipple. Gemma muffled a gasp, and then another, as he moved to gently stroke the left one.

My wife could no longer contain her excitement when he started circling her large, dark, protruding areolas with the tip of his finger. She finally became audible, groaning muffled sounds from her panty stuffed mouth.

This gentle play lasted only a minute or two before the old man shuffled backwards down my wife's younger body. He bent his older one forwards and my throat tightened. I watched him open his mouth and bring his tongue out. He then began drawing light circles around Gemma's nipples, taking his time with each one whilst grinning at her responsive groans.

Gemma's nipples were so hard they appeared to spring back into place when the old man increased the pleasure and gently flicked them with his tongue. My wife arched her back and her muffled groans became a little bit louder, rising in that corner of the abandoned barn.

With my own selfish lust having rendered me powerless, I squeezed my shaft and watched another man take one of my wife's ripe teats into his mouth. Knowing Gemma wasn't in any rush to protest, the old man alternated between her nipples, licking and sucking on them.

Throughout the experience he was paying particular attention to my wife's physical and audible cues. Everything he did drew the best possible response from her. I learnt a thing or two myself.

Pre-cum was dripping from the tip of my cock but I was unable to let go of myself. The visual and physical stimulation for me was overpowering, so I slowed the strokes right down instead.

While the old man had his mouth focused on my wife's nipples, he used his hands to gently grope her tits at the same time, and despite all of Gemma's writhing and muffled moans of pleasure, he didn't get carried away.

The old fella was good. I had to give him his dues. He knew exactly what he was doing, holding and squeezing Gemma's tits in a way that kept her electrified, and him able to suck, lick and tease her nipples effortlessly.

Losing track of time I figured he'd been playing and stimulating my wife for a good ten minutes. I wondered again what the hell she must be thinking. After all, she knew it wasn't me on top of her pleasuring her big tits.

The old man finally removed himself from my wife's body and stood up. He clicked his knees then stepped back. Gemma was frantic on the floor. Wrists pulling on the rope, breathing heavily through her nose, all with her tits exposed and her excited nipples covered in saliva.

Opening my wife's legs, the old man got back down on his knees, this time between them. My heart missed several beats and it felt like I couldn't breathe for a moment. Gemma pretty much spread her legs for the guy and pulled her heels a couple of inches up towards her backside. He grinned at my wife's wantonness and pushed her dress up around her waist, exposing her shaven mound. I felt nauseous again.

There was no teasing this time. The old man got right in there and ran his tongue along my wife's inner and outer folds. It sparked an immediate response from her. She moaned into her panties and her blindfolded face looked directly upwards at the barn roof. Even her toes curled.

From my angle it was like staring into the centre of a clock from the eight and nine o'clock positions. I could see everything. Well, everything I needed to see.

Ramping up my wife's libido, not that it needed it, the old man licked and covered the entire area of her soaking wet cunt. He moved gently but firmly, and repeatedly.

"Um! Um! Um! Um! Um!" Gemma groaned, as he worked a figure eight motion into her lips, clit and opening.

"Um! Um! Um! Um! Um!" my wife groaned again. The rope was digging into her wrists now, I could see the red marks on her flesh.

"Ummmm! Ummmm! Ummmm!" she groaned louder and longer, using her thighs and hips to shift her pelvis closer towards the old man's mouth.

He already had his head between her legs and his tongue buried inside her cunt, but like me, Gemma was desperate to cum. She loves to grab the back of my head and pull my face hard into her pussy when I go down on her. I knew this would be torture for her, not being able to use her hands. A pleasurably intense torture.

"Um! Um! Um!" Gemma's body bounced on the blanket. The old man concentrated his tongue on just her clit and slid two fingers inside my wife. "Ummmm!' Ummmm!" she cried into her panties.