Unwrapping Candy

I've asked, pleaded, even begged, to no avail. "I could never do anything like that. It violates everything I believe about marriage and love and everything. So stop asking, I'm not going to do it!"

She had absolutely no interest in experimenting - no interest in threesomes, swapping, or anything other than one on one, and even that was just pretty straightforward intercourse. Oh, once in a while she'd mount me. Once in a while her legs would part for my mouth, rather than just for my fingers and prick. Mostly, pure vanilla. Don't get me wrong, though, I mean I like vanilla and all, but there are a lot of other flavors out there I'd like to try, too.

Oh well. I was happily married, and really didn't need to squeeze the last bit of eroticism out of my marriage to be a complete man. A good wife, good friends - that's being adult, and it was OK with me.

Candice was a wonderful wife. She was from a small town in backwater Alabama, about as southern as could be. As smart as could be, too - scholarships to good schools got her out of that small town. I met her in college, and courted her, and married her. She was still southern, though, full of grace and friendliness.

All the good things you've read and heard of southern women are, in Candy's case anyway, all true.

Although I knew I shouldn't, in the heat of passion, I couldn't help asking, again, "aren't you even curious about what it would be like to have sex with someone else again. . ." only to hear her say, again, ". . .no. . .this is enough for me. . ."

Back last November we were in the middle of sex, and once again, my mind took me to places that she didn't want to go.

I looked at her hair on the pillow, framing her head.

At her face, with her eyes closed.

At her body, alight with the glow of perspiration, and her mouth a little open, all attesting to her arousal.

Her neck.

Her breasts, moving now in response to my moving inside her.

Her belly.

Lower, at her hands on my hips, guiding me.

And at me, my shaft, my rod, wet, exposing itself a little, then burying itself in her, again and again.

I saw how she looked under me and thought about how she would look if she was in the same position, pressed into the same bed, but with a different body pushing on her, and into her, instead of mine.

Stupid? Maybe, but what can I say? It's my favorite fantasy.

I had been supporting myself with my arms beside her head.

I reached down with one arm, and took her wrist, and moved her hand to above her head, and held it

there, tightly.

She responded! Oh, yeah! Her own motions against me became stronger, and she moved her other arm above her head. I took that wrist, too, and held her there, even more helpless, and felt myself grow even bigger, and felt her move even more against me, excited, almost panting.

Her legs had been bent at the knees, providing a cradle for my body. They went straight now, stretching out on the bed, open, extended wide - she was helpless!

And a lot more turned on than at anytime lately!

Me too.

Afterwards, as we lay there, she muttered "That was fantastic. You're a terrific lover."

"You too." I returned the complement. And, she was!

The next night, a Friday night, she initiated the sex. Early on, though, even in foreplay, she had extended her arms and legs, encouraging me to take control, to hold her helpless under me again. It didn't take me much encouragement, and it lead to a very short, strenuous and *very* exciting evening for both of us.

Exhausted, we fell asleep in each other's arms.

Saturday morning we were reluctant to get out of bed. We didn't start out looking for an encore, but rather just as two people enjoying cuddling, touching, being together.

"You know, you're quite a lover these days", she said, snuggling close. "I really like what you've been doing."

"Me too," I really liked it, too.

"I like when you hold me helpless like that. . ."

Well, it didn't start out as an encore, but that comment sure diverted some blood. "Like this?" I asked, moving over her, and pinning her to the bed.

No foreplay this time - it wasn't needed for either of us. "When I'm like this," she muttered, once she was like that, "you could do anything to me. . . anything. I'm totally at your mercy"

Mercy? Yeah, right.

Well, I did what I was equipped to do at that moment.

But I wasn't thinking about any mercy right then.

Later, cuddling again, she reaffirmed what she said: "I love being helpless, totally under your control, when we make love like that."

"Baby, when I hold you like that, I'm not making love. That's just straight fucking, pure lust," I told her.

"Well, OK, maybe it is," she agreed, "but whatever it is, I love it. I feel like you could do anything to me, and I couldn't do anything about it. It's exciting. It's wonderful."

I didn't respond except to agree that it was wonderful. I was thinking, though, thinking a lot.

We had fallen into a three times a week sex schedule, usually Tuesdays and Thursdays, then again on the weekend. What had happened Friday was out of the ordinary, and so was the extended session on Saturday morning.

I decided I wanted more. So, I did some prep work. "What are you up to?" she wanted to know, seeing me busy.

"I'll show you later."

That night, after the usual kissing and hugging and touching, I tugged at her nightgown, and she helped, lifting her legs and hips so I could pull at it, until finally, it was off.

"Ooooh. You're really excited," she commented, noting that I was faster than usual in

'unwrapping my candy' - our phrase for getting her nude.

"You better believe I am," I agreed, moving her toward the middle of the bed, and moving onto her, kneeling, my knees at her hips.

"Mmmmm. Me too," she said, and I felt her trying to move me so she could spread her legs.

Instead, I leaned over her, and took both her hands, and held them over her head.

"Oh, I like this part" she said, trying harder to open her legs, trying to push my knees aside, trying to make me move.

"Not time for that yet" - I wasn't giving her that freedom.

Instead, holding her wrists with one hand, I reached toward the head of the bed, and found the Velcro strip I had put there earlier, fastened with a ribbon to the corner of the bed frame.

Would she object?

I leaned down to kiss her, and while doing that I released one of her wrists, and pushed the other, finally wrapping it with the Velcro.

Still covering her mouth with mine, I repeated my actions, capturing her other wrist.

Then I lifted my head, examining my handiwork. My wife,her arms extended toward the corners of the head of the bed, was held there, gently, but firmly.

"What. . .?" she started to say.

"Sshhh!" I interrupted her, lifting myself in a push-up position, moving my legs, she opened hers,allowing me between them.

I leaned down, freeing one of my arms and used it to position myself and my cock, and I repeated my "Sshhh" as I pressed forward, against her, pushing, feeling resistance, "Don't resist, lady, and you won't get hurt", then that wonderful opening, and no resistance, just well lubricated sliding, and then her pelvis, pressing against mine, me in her, her around me, arms spread, legs spread, open, available, an eager sex receptacle and I was the plug. The electricity started flowing, let me tell you.

There was percussion now, slapping, urgent slapping of our pelvises, our hips. We were like teenagers, kids, like a first sexual encounter - fast, rushing to completion.

It wasn't like Candy to be noisy, but her grunts and moans were almost shouts tonight, matching mine in intensity, not keeping our ecstasy secret.

After, laying there, panting, I looked at her. "Just a quickie, huh?"

"Quick, (gasp) yes, (gasp) but long enough, and not 'just' anything," she said, wrapping me in her arms after I released the Velcro ties.

"I love it. Can I have an encore later?"

Could she ever! The question was, "Could I give her one"?

I had a lot to do the next day, but found enough time to do some more work in the bedroom, too.

We went out to dinner that evening, and started toward home about nine. "Encore time?" Candy asked me as we drove into the driveway.

"Oh, absolutely!"

She came out of the bathroom wearing a robe.

"Take that off, and get on the bed" I commanded, indicating the bed, stripped of its covers.

She did.

This time I arranged fasteners on all four corners, and she watched as this arm and then that one, and this leg and then that one, were secured.

And she watched as I took off my robe, too. "Oh, I see you're glad to see me," she noted.

I looked at her, spread out, and changed my plan. No quickie tonight. Not this time.

I straddled her, tilted her head to the side, let my tongue touch her ear.

"That's exciting," she whispered.

Neck.

Throat.

Breast, nibbling at nipples.

Her body was twitching now.

Navel.

I slid lower, used my hands to spread her, saw her clit, blew on it. Hard/soft, hard/soft.

She was making little noises now.

When my tongue brushed it, the noises suddenly stopped, her body went rigid.

Access was a little difficult from this direction, with my body between her legs.

I changed direction, so I was facing her feet, making it so much easier for my mouth and tongue to work on her, and while I did that I felt her twist, her head reaching toward me. I made another move, so I was straddling her again, and I felt her mouth take me, while mine took her.

It's hard - I guess "difficult" is a better word - to not ram deep into her mouth, since her hands couldn't control me. Still, I succeeded,

being gentle enough, while feeling her push up against my mouth, and suck against my cock.

There was no real intercourse that night, at least not technically. There were several orgasms, though, for both of us.

"I loved that", Candy said, as we cuddled together under the covers, afterwards. "I love you being in control."

I had, I thought, an unrestricted license. Then, when she asked "So. What are you going to do for an encore?" I knew I did.

Candy was a lot freer now, with sex. We played with the restraints, but she liked being active, too.

"You put them on" she suggested, "and let me lust all over you!"

Did she ever! Baby oil, clothespins (ouch) and ice cubes, and sucking on my toes while riding my cock, offering me a view I had never seen before, of her ass and buttocks rising and falling, of my cock, stationary, being fucked, of the sensation of her mouth on my toes. . .

Our sexual schedule was changing. No, we didn't use Velcro restraints all of the time - in fact most times we made love, as opposed to making lust. You people who have had committed relationships all know the difference, don't you?

But nights for lust making were so exciting! I daydreamed about what I might do to her. Some of those dreams weren't very nice. Exciting, yes, but not nice!

I wondered if I dared. Well, we already were doing things we'd certainly never considered before. I decided I'd keep moving along my depraved path until I met resistance.

"Lust night tonight?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah. I'd like that"

I meet her as she left the bathroom, dressed for bed. I had removed the bed covers, that was how we started these lust nights now. They just got in the way.

I helped her get her robe and nightgown off. She actually helped with the foot restraints, and then I did her arms.

I introduced the next step. "Lift up your head." She did. I reached under the pillow, and brought out a sleep mask, and slipped it over her eyes.

"Oh!"

I teased her body, all over, unmercifully. There were touches here and there. She'd feel something touch her cheek. One time it would be a finger, another, my tongue, then my penis. She loved it all.

"What's that noise?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

Then she felt a vibration on her belly, her legs.

Her vulva.

Her clitoris. . . . . . . . . .POW!!!!!!

I don't think she ever had a more massive orgasm. It was wonderful to see and do.

Fucking, strictly for my own pleasure now, was almost anticlimactic for her - she was spent!

"You_are_an_*incredible*_lover," she said afterwards. "Talk about old dogs and new tricks - Wow!"

"You ain't see nothing yet, baby," I told her. "When you're like that, you don't know what's happening. You don't even know if it's me doing it to you."

That wasn't a question, it was more of a challenge, and I got the response I expected.

"I'd always know it was you."

The next lust night was the very next night.

After the restraints were in place, and the blindfold, I took the next step. I put the radio on, to create background sounds. "Be right back," I said, and went to the bathroom. I opened a new aftershave, a different scent than what I usually wore.

I came into the room again.

"Fred, where were you? What are you doing?"

I didn't answer. I did move onto the bed, between her legs, and did everything I could to be a different lover than the one she knew. A little bit rougher, a very different pace, different timing - everything I could think of.

"Fred?"

"Fred!"

She was actually frightened - and much tighter than usual, but the pressure of a penis, and I guess her trust, and excitement, all worked together and she began to respond, her excitement eventually gave way to that characteristic shudder that announced her climax.

"I knew it was you," she said when we recovered, "but the aftershave smell really confused me. I didn't think you'd actually do that, you know,. . . what you used to ask me to do,. . . with someone else,. . . but it was really something, laying there, wondering. . . You're a great lover, and an even better "luster", and a really, *really* bad man!"

"You're right," I agreed, "especially about my being bad."

"I can't wait until our next lust night. Maybe tonight?"

"Maybe later tonight, I'm going to the basketball game with Henry."

A frown - "Oh yeah. I forgot."

"Oh, come on," I reminded her. Henry was a sensitive subject for some reason. "I know he tried to date you before you met me, and he's black, and your parents managed to instill prejudice into you, and all of that. But he's still my friend - our friend." A thought crossed my mind, not the first time.

"You never DID go out with him, did you, back then?"

"No, of course not, and I wish you wouldn't keep asking me that," she assured me. "I might have, eventually, but then you came along about the same time, and it was only you, Fred, after that, only you."

At the game Henry responded to the same question the same way. "Hey, you beat me to her, Fred. I maynever forgive you for that, you know. She's one beautiful woman."

"You dated lots of women, Henry. Do you run into problems being so dangerous looking, so dark?"

"Nope. Not then, and not now. Look, Fred, people aren't kidding when they talk about 'tall, dark, and handsome'. I do pretty well, I'm a Alabama Law graduate, I'm fun to be around, you know that, too. Oh, right,and I'm modest, too! All the right stuff. If some woman can't get past me being black, hey, that's her loss, not mine.

"You know," he continued, offering assurance, "Candy never accepted dates from other guys once you began dating her, that was that. A match made in heaven, for both of you I guess. I wonder, though, if she had ever had dated me, how she could ever have been satisfied with you. You know, if I ever got her into bed one time, you wouldn't have had a chance, buddy!"

"Oh, I don't know, I think it worked out just right" I told him. "Besides, the Henry I knew back then wasn't looking for any kind of serious

relationship. You were out for just one thing."

"Yeah, those were in my trophy hunting days. I was looking for, uh. . ."

"Go ahead, say it: you were hunting for new pieces of ass, weren't you?"

"Yeah. Don't get mad now, Fred. She is a beautiful woman, and until you began dating her I wanted a taste of that honey pot real bad."

"It never happened, though, huh?" I asked, again.

"No, never did. . . .dammit."

This conversation had gone exactly where I had hoped it would.

I took a deep breath. "Uh, Henry, what if I told you. . ." And I told him a little about the games we were playing.

And then I told him where I wanted them to go.

"You must be out of your everlovin' mind, Fred! I'm serious! You've really lost it, man!"

"Well, just think about it."

"I repeat, you are out of your fucking mind!"

"Go ahead, say what you want. But you still like screwing new women, you sure tell me enough about it. Hell, thinking about that is probably what started me thinking about all of this. Tell you what, though,if you're a real man, you'll be at Angels' Landing when I tell you to be, with your cell phone on." Angels' Landing is an upscale bar less than a mile from our house.

"You are crazy!" was the last thing I heard, then he closed his car's door, and was gone.

I had a thoughtful drive home. Thoughtful, lustful, looking for a rationalization, a justification, for what I wanted to do.

I got home, still puzzling over the idea I was considering, only to find Candy waiting.

"Come to bed, honey. I missed you, and want to make love to you tonight."

Well,that was easy enough to agree to.

Afterwards, holding each other, her head on my shoulder, she whispered "I like making love, and

making lust, too. I really like the things you do to me. Want to make a lust date for tomorrow?"

"Oh, you want more, do you?"

"You know it. I like, no I love, or even lust after those things you've been doing to me. Is it a date?"

"It's a date. I'll think of something really special."

"Good."

The first thing I did when I got to my office was to leave a message for Henry.

"Tonight, be at the Landing around 9. Or miss out on the chance of a lifetime!"

Make no mistake here. There was absolutely no justification for what I wanted to do - except that I wanted to do it!

I wondered if he'd get the message. I wondered if he'd show up. I wondered if I'd have the nerve to do what I was considering.

I wondered if I really WAS "out of my fucking mind".