The Puppy and the Koala

"I was, but... it was just a few dates."

"So who broke it off? You or her?"

"Her, I guess."

"You're not sure?"

"Well, it wasn't exactly... an exclusive arrangement. Except then she found somebody else, and decided she did want to be exclusive... but with him."

"Ah. That sucks," she said. "And nobody since then?"

I shook my head.

"Have you asked anybody out?"

I shook my head again.

"You don't get anywhere unless you ask, you know."

"I know... it's just... well... it's terrifying."

"It's not that bad!"

"It's all right for you," I said with some heat. "You're gorgeous. You've got men lining up to ask you out. Somebody like me..."

"What about somebody like you? There's nothing wrong with you. I'd say you're rather handsome, actually."

"You're just being nice."

"Not at all. I'd like you to get a haircut, and I'd get you some much better clothes, but you're tall, you're lean, you look like you've been working out.... And you've got those lovely sad puppy eyes."

"Christ," I said with disgust. "The puppy and the koala. We're like a Disney film."

She gave off a peal of laughter. It was the loveliest sound I'd heard in a long time.

Then she stood up. "Time for this koala to go to bed," she said. And you should get in your basket, young puppy."

I nodded reluctantly. Then to my surprise, she bent over and kissed me on the forehead.

"You've cheered me up," she said. "I'm actually pleased you decided to break in."

"Thanks," I said. "And thanks for the first aid."

She went through to the kitchen to get herself a glass of water. I gingerly tried to get myself comfortable on the sofa. It was about six inches too short for me to fully stretch out, but if I tried to bend my legs the pain was agonising. So I ended up with my calves resting on the arm and with my feet dangling over the edge. It wasn't remotely comfortable, and I could see it was going to be a long, restless night.

Tess came back in with her glass of water. She looked at me.

"You're not really going to sleep like that?" she said.

"I can't easily bend my legs," I explained. "But I'll be fine."

"You should sleep in Sarah's bed."

"She explicitly told me not to. It's more than my life's worth. Particularly if I get blood on her sheets."

She seemed to think for a long moment.

"Well then," she said eventually. "You'll have to sleep in mine, won't you?"

**

For a brief moment my head swam and my mouth went dry. She laughed at my expression.

"Down boy," she said. "You sleep in my bed, I'll sleep in Sarah's."

"Right," I said. "Of course. That's a much better idea."

She looked at me with amusement.

"Come on upstairs and I'll show you where everything is. And I'll get you some painkillers."

I hobbled upstairs behind her. Her dressing gown swung invitingly in front of me, and I could see glimpses of her thighs. They looked firm and supple and eminently strokable.

She found me some painkillers in the bathroom which I gratefully downed. Then she dug me out a sleeping bag and a towel from a hallway cupboard and showed me into her room. It smelt wonderfully feminine and mysterious.

"Well then," she said. "I'll say goodnight. Not one of the best Valentine's Days ever, but one of the most memorable, I suppose."

"Yes," I said.

She patted me on the shoulder in a disappointingly platonic way, said good night, and went off to my sister's room.

I surveyed my new territory. A dressing table covered with strange girl potions and brushes. Piles of clothes in the corners. A slightly rickety bookcase. And a large, comfortable looking small double-bed. I wondered how many men before me had slept in it. I was probably going to be one of the first men to sleep in it alone. This wasn't a distinction I was particularly happy about it, but I reminded myself that if things had gone differently I might have been sleeping in the shed.

I don't know if it was the coffee, the painkillers, the adrenalin from my fall or just the fact I was alone in a beautiful girl's room that made me so alert, but I knew I wasn't going to sleep anytime soon. I limped over to the bookcase and looked hopefully for something fairly mindless and preferably violent. But Tess's tastes ran towards the romantic and historical end of the fiction spectrum and nothing really appealed.

Then I noticed a tome called "My Secret Garden" which looked particularly well worn, so I pulled it out and peered at it. "Women's Sexual Fantasies" was the subtitle.

Not exactly commando raids and machine guns but a very acceptable alternative, I thought.

I wriggled into my sleeping bag, managed to find a position that wasn't too uncomfortable, and began to flick through the book.

Within about ninety seconds I think my eyes were as wider as saucers and my cock was like a rod of iron. God, I thought I had dirty fantasies. These were something else. Bondage, bestiality, lesbianism... everything you could think of was there.

I read on, engrossed. It was basically a compilation of women's fantasies, most of them less than a page or so. If I found one I liked, I'd read it right through. If I could tell it wasn't going to work for me, I'd skip onto the next. The trickiest bit was holding the book with just my left hand and turning the pages -- my right hand was firmly glued to my cock. It wasn't just that the stories themselves were exciting. It was the fact this was Tess's book, a book she obviously referred to frequently. Tess enjoyed these fantasies too. Tess had almost certainly done exactly what I was doing, lying in the centre of this same bed playing with herself while she read about blowjobs and threesomes and wife-swapping and dildos and...

"What do you think of it?"

I looked up in horror to see her standing in the doorway.

"I left my charger in here," she said.

She came around to the side of the bed, reached down under the bedside table and pulled out her phone charger. I tried to discreetly slide my hand out from inside the sleeping bad but it was completely obvious what I'd been doing.

"Well," she said, "what do you think?"

"It's very... interesting," I said.

She nodded. "Isn't it? There's lots of stuff I don't like in it, but even that's fascinating. The different things that turn people on. Quite amazing."

"Yes," I said. "Amazing."

Her gaze flickered to my hand creeping out of the sleeping bag and she smiled at me. Not teasing, not mocking, it was more of an understanding smile. I know what you were doing, the smile said, and I'm fine with it.

"Well," she said. "I'll leave you to it. Good night again."

She walked over to the door and was about to close it behind her when something made me call out.

"Don't go."

She came back in and looked at me quizzically.

"Stay here and talk to me." I cast around desperately for a reason. "It's Valentine's Day."

She looked at the clock on the wall. "Actually, it's about two hours past Valentine's Day."

"Stay," I said. "Please."

She sighed. "I don't want any funny business tonight, Seb. I've had my fill of all that."

"No funny business. Just talking."

She considered. "All right. Since you're such a puppy, and it is Valentine's and all that. Budge over."

I moved to the other side of the bed. She got on the bed but at the far end, so her feet were near my shoulders. They were delicate, pretty toes, decorated with dark red nail varnish.

"So, what do you want to talk about?"

I was really throwing caution to the wind now.

"Tell me... what's your favourite story in here." I brandished the book.

"No way," she said. "I'm not helping you get off. I said no funny business."

"I'm interested," I said. "Honestly. I've only had the one proper girlfriend and I was, well, crap with her really, and we didn't talk much and I need to know more about how women think and what they want."

She looked at me dubiously.

"It would be in the spirit of St Valentine," I said, pleadingly.

She scoffed. "It would be in the spirit of you getting your rocks off, more like."

I cast around for inspiration.

"OK... then tell me... which are the kind of stories you like least."

Her eyes narrowed as she thought about this. Then she reached a decision.

"You go first."

"But I've only been reading it for five minutes!"

"It doesn't have to be from the book. Tell me something which really turns you off. Though at your age, I imagine that's quite a short list."

"OK," I said. "Let me think."

She looked at me expectantly, and made a big show of tapping her fingers on the bed to hurry me along.

"Right... well, gay stuff, obviously."

"Why obviously?"

"Because I'm not gay."

"You sure? Interesting you came up with that first. That probably means you're actually gay and just denying it."

I was indignant. "Or... it could just mean I'm not gay!"

"That's a bit boring. I think you should be more open-minded. Maybe go down on a few guys, just to see if you like it."

My erection was almost completely gone now.

"I wouldn't! Just the idea of it... no!"

"Or maybe let them go down on you. One mouth is just the same as another, really."

"No," I said firmly.

"God knows you all expect girls to go for each other at the drop of a hat. But ask a man to touch another man's cock... they run for miles."

Even though I was mid-protest, the casual way she said the word 'cock' was thrilling.

"Do you speak from experience?" I enquired, hopefully. She gave me a withering look.

"Nice try, puppy dog, you're not getting any secrets out of me that easily. Anyway, 'no gay stuff' doesn't really count. We need a common fantasy scenario that doesn't do anything for you."

I thought.

"Um... ok... I've got one."

"Good. Out with it then, Dr Valentine."

"I don't get the whole underwear thing."

"You don't like wearing it?" Her eyes were mocking.

"No, of course not that. I don't get why men get so obsessed with your underwear. Stockings and suspenders and frilly bras and all that. You look nice, but a naked woman is far sexier I think. And...well, and..."

I was too embarrassed to continue, but she wasn't going to let me off the hook.

"And, well, what, exactly?"

I took a deep breath. "Smelling your knickers," I said. "Some men seem really keen on that. Not yours specifically, I mean, but stealing women's knickers and sniffing them and getting off on them... it just doesn't appeal to me."

"Interesting," she said, and she did actually look quite engaged now. "And I have to say, I think I'm with you on that. I'm also a little relieved. I did wonder if I'd need to check my underwear drawer after you left."

"No worries on that score," I said hastily, though actually something of hers -- almost anything -- as a keepsake was an appealing idea.

"What else?" she said.

"Surely it's your turn now?"

She shook her head. "You tried to break into my house, I've cleaned your wounds, bandaged you up and given you a biscuit -- I want more than just you're not gay and you don't want to steal my knickers."

"Women who don't stick to their side of the bargain," I said sulkily. "I find them very unappealing."

She smirked. "What a relief. My virtue is safe for tonight. Come on puppy. Next turn-off please."

I thought some more.

"Anal sex," I said. "Not keen on that, I don't think."

"Done it a lot, have you?"

"Well, no... not at all actually... but it doesn't appeal."

"OK," she said. "We're making progress. My ass and my underwear drawer, both safe tonight."

I was longing to ask her if she'd had anal sex, but I didn't want to push my luck.

"It must be your turn now."

"All right," she said, and pondered.

"Threesomes," she said eventually. "Not interested in those."

"Really? They're probably in my top..." I thought about it. "... five. Maybe top three."

"Let me guess -- you and two girls, right?"

"Well -- yeah."

"You really need to get over your repressed gay sex hang-ups, Seb. Why not two guys and one girl?"

"This is about you," I said firmly. "Stop trying to change the subject. So you don't want an extra male or an extra female along for the, er, ride?"

"Nope. It should be all about me and him. Or..." she shot me a mischievous look. "Me and her."

"That I would like to see," I said.

"I bet you would. And that leads us neatly into... voyeurism. How does that score on the Seb wishlist?"

"Hmm. Dunno actually. Just watching other people have sex, not being able to join in... I think I'd find that really frustrating."

"OK. What about being one of the watched? Exhibitionism do it for you?"

"Depends," I said, "if it was..."

She interrupted. "Don't tell me - if it was a guy you don't want to, but if it was a bunch of cheerleaders you'd probably find it in your heart to let them watch."

"You know me so well," I said solemnly, and she laughed. The atmosphere was fun and light-hearted now. I think she was enjoying teasing me and I didn't really mind. Just having her there, on the bed with me, was a lot more than I'd ever dreamt of.

"Your turn," I said.

"Let me think," she said. She glanced at the book. "Quite a few women in there seem to have rape fantasies," she said. "I'm definitely not interested in that."

She prodded me with her foot, which was delightful.

"Back to you, doc."

"Being tied up," I said. "Can't say I'd go for that."

She pouted. "You're no fun. Soooo uptight."

"What -- you like all that?"

"Sometimes. And tying a guy up -- that's just the best!"

I wasn't sure if she was teasing me, but the slightly enthusiastic expression on her face made me think she probably wasn't.

"Really? I thought women secretly wanted to be dominated by a masterful man with a huge, er, appetite."

She shook her head. "Not me. I love having a man at my mercy."

"Wow," I said. This was certainly quite eye-opening stuff.

"You're missing out," she said. "You should try it. You might be surprised."

I wrinkled my nose. "Maybe. I'd have to really trust the other person. I think I'd be worried they'd just leave me there and go off and watch television."

She giggled. "That's always a risk. But it's the anticipation of wondering when they're going to come back... and what they're going to do when they do."

"Well," I said. "At least I've found out one thing that's definitely in your likes list. Unless you're winding me up."

She shook her head. Then she suddenly reached down and under the bed and started fiddling with something. I admired her backside while she did so. Tess the Bondage Queen, I thought. Wowzer.

"Ta da," she said, and held up two pairs of handcuffs.

"Jesus," I said. "Now I'm the one who's worried."

Our eyes met for a moment. I could almost see the cogs turning in her mind and the idea forming. I knew the moment before she spoke what she was going to say next.

"So... do you trust me?" she said.

**

I hesitated. "Are those real handcuffs?"

She passed a pair over to me to have a look. I wasn't an expert but they looked genuine. Very robust, surprisingly heavy.

"And you have the keys?"

She produced one. She made a show of putting a cuff around one wrist and snapping it shut and showing me it was locked. Then she used the key and unlocked it again.

"See? Nothing to worry about."

I looked at her dubiously. Her eyes sparkled. Mischief -- or something more?

"So what's the deal?" I said. "How long would you want me... locked up for? Do we have a 'safe' word, or something?"

"Nothing like that. You just have to take a chance, and trust me."

"You're not going to tell me anything at all?"

"Not a thing."

"But... you think I'll enjoy it?" I was fishing furiously, hoping for some kind of hint that something at least mildly sexy would happen.

"You might hate it. No promises."

"Fuck!" I said. "Fuck... I don't know."

"If you don't," she said. "You'll always wonder what would have happened, won't you?"

And it was that clinched it. I took a deep breath, nodded, and she whooped. I stretched out my left hand and she quickly cuffed me to the nearest bed post. It was metal, I noted glumly, and looked very solid indeed. I had a brief moment of panic -- what if she was actually a serial killer? -- and then I stretched out my other arm and that was secured too.

She surveyed her captive triumphantly. What now? A strip-tease, perhaps? Something involving feathers? Ice cubes? Yikes, what if she tried to anally rape me with a huge strap-on?

Nope. None of the above.

"Good boy," she said, and patted me on the head. "Sleep well."

Then she turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door as she did so.

"Hey!" I shouted. "Hey! Come back! TESS!"

No answer. Fuck!

I waited. A minute passed. Two. She'd probably just gone to bed. Then she'd take some photos in the morning and send them to my sister and they'd have a good old laugh at my expense. Maybe even stick them on Facebook. Fuck!

Another five minutes passed. I tried to get comfortable. At least the bed wasn't too wide, and I could rest my arms on the bed without the handcuffs digging into me. But it wasn't exactly the position I would have chosen.

I supposed I should try and sleep. But my mind was racing. What if the house caught fire? Would she remember to come and unlock me in the panic to get out? Probably not. That would be a tough one to explain to the fire brigade when they came in to discover my scorched, smouldering corpse.

I glared at the book I'd been reading earlier, now lying on the bed beside me. If only I hadn't picked that up!

There was a faint noise from the corridor.

"Tess?"

No answer.

"Come on, this isn't funny!"

The door slowly opened. I strained to see who it was. I knew it must be Tess, but for one horrid moment I thought it would be Jason in his hockey mask from Friday the 13^th. Or Michael Myers from Halloween. Or somebody in a Scream mask. With a big scary shiny knife.

But it was Tess.

And she was wearing her bikini.

**

"Since you're not keen on sexy underwear," she said in a low, sexy voice. "I thought you might enjoy this. It was in my little suitcase. I'd packed it for the hotel swimming pool -- shame not to wear it, don't you think?"

"You look amazing," I said, still reeling in disbelief. "More than amazing. Super-amazing."

"So articulate," she said. She struck a pose for me, standing sideways on and throwing her shoulders back so her breasts were forced out and up. They looked glorious, succulent and firm and perfectly sized to fit snugly into my hands. If only my hands weren't handcuffed to the bed.

Then she turned to face away from me, leant forward slightly, and wiggled her bottom in my direction. She had the perfect ass. Not too skinny, not too fat, and with a delicious roll as she swayed from side to side. The bikini bottoms had slid slightly into her crack, revealing a drooling amount of cheek that I ached to be able to touch and stroke.

My cock, not surprisingly, leapt into life. It was a strange and unusual feeling, to suddenly have such a large and painful erection appear and not to be able to touch it and tease it as I normally would. All I could do was wriggle uncomfortably from side to side, deriving what little pleasure I could from the friction with the sleeping bag.

She turned around again to face me and slowly ran her hands up herself, from her hips to her chest. Then she cupped a breast in each hand and lifted them slowly, as if offering them to me.

I was transfixed. She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. Wearing the same bikini that I'd seen her wearing in the summer, the image that I'd masturbated over so many, many times since. And I couldn't do a thing to her. It was agony and ecstasy in the same moment.

"Comfortable there?"

"Not really," I said in a slightly strangled voice.

She tutted in mock sympathy. "Let's see if this helps."