tagFetishYour Girl's Night Out

Your Girl's Night Out


The night has well and truly fallen, but it's only just begun. You've been waiting in anticipation all day, part anxious and part (okay, a substantial part) turned on thinking about the events about to unfold. You watch as your girlfriend goes to the bedroom, and then as she emerges in the living room again, wearing only her skimpiest black g-string and a sexy black lace bra.

She walks toward you carrying two dresses, and even just this sight of her looking so good is enough to make your balls rush with cum, your temperature rise... you feel yourself start to breathe a bit quicker, your heart beat a little faster. The sight of her lithe, hourglass figure in those little black lace pieces makes you want to walk closer, grab her with one arm and kiss her as you use the other to rip her panties off right then and there.

As she talks about the two dress options (both black, both skimpy, short, with cleavage and one even has holes cut out in the sides if it weren't already suggestive enough), all you can see is them on her as she walks into a bar, or dances with her girlfriends, and you can already see the room full of other men's eyes on her tight little body. The competitive thoughts, and the confronting reality that this is happening, makes your cock throb against the chastity device as it begs to be freed, to grow, to touch.

You pick the sluttier dress.

You watch as she walks to the bathroom. You wait impatiently but hide it well. You see her smile slyly as she steps back into the living room, showing off her made-up face. It's tasteful, but obviously she has gone all out. Your eyes are immediately drawn to her lipstick. Oh, god, the lipstick. Rouge red, and her lips look like sex. You groan a little. What have you done allowing her out like this.

But as soon as that thought arises, it is extinguished. You know that you have no choice. She holds the key. She has one around her neck on a silver chain, the tip of the key resting at the entrance of her abundant cleavage. The other copy she has hidden, somewhere around here, and you're yet to find it.

She has control now.

The clock ticks. It's time for her to leave; the taxi is probably here by now. She kisses you goodbye, once, slowly, lingering on your lips for a moment longer than a quick goodbye kiss should be. She looks at you with a cheeky glint in her eye. You watch her leave. Your stomach drops a little thinking of all the ways she will be objectified tonight. But you love the feeling of being her caged pet at home, waiting for her to grace you with her presence when she returns.

Half a painful hour later, your phone beeps. It's a message from her. "Guess who's already been asked for her number twice since she got into town?" it reads. You hear it in her playful, teasing tone. You ache to have her back, to fuck her, to own her, to mark her as yours. Fuck those two guys. You want to be there so you can hit them.

But you're at home, waiting for her and that sexy outfit, and those high heels, to come back through the door and maybe, just maybe, you can convince her to let you out and suck yourself off for her. Only time will tell. Slow, painful time, strapped into this god-forsaken device that makes you hate the strain, and love the dirty feeling of being horny without getting hard at the same time.

You never knew you could feel this much of a desire for pleasure. You can't even touch yourself a little through bars, because it's constructed to allow you no respite from this torture.

What seems like an age later, you finally get another text. It reads, "Been hit on more times than I can count. Mostly by rich, late 20's aged guys funnily enough, obviously I look a little classy even in this get-up. Love being the ice queen turning them down even though I know how hot they are for me, eyeing me off from across the room. Are you hot for me?"

There's another message coming. Oh god it's a picture. She's taken it in the toilets at what looks like a seedy club. She's pulled the dress down so you can see her bra, and her hand is in the shot... she's bragging at all the stamps on it. God she's got around. It's 1 o'clock. She should be home soon.

You try to distract yourself but all you want is her home so she can tell you all the ways she was approached. So she can tell you all the ways she turned them down. So she will let you out and let you prove to her how your cock is the only one she needs.

Your phone beeps and you grab it straight away, you didn't realize until now how tense you had been, waiting for another message. "So fucking wasted," it says.

"Be careful, okay," you reply.

"Gotta go, this one looks yummy!" is her only attempt at reassuring you that she'll be fine. She has her sights set on someone. You know she will hook him, lead him to her like a moth to a flame like she does with all men when she wants to.

You sit for what seems like eternity, thinking of what she could be doing right now. It's like a puzzle with so many equally possible answers that none seem to be the definitive one. You want to touch yourself so badly to the thoughts of a more explicit nature, but every time your hand gravitates to your cock you remember that she has you locked up, tortured, dependent on her will to free you.

She is in total control, of her body and how she uses it to arouse all those men tonight, of them as she manipulates them for drinks and attention, and of you. Mind, body and soul, she has you ensnared in her web and though it aches so much you almost hate it, you love it, you love it so much it nearly burns.

Finally, at 3AM, she is home. You go to the door in a tired-but-wired state, adrenaline pumping through your veins. A thousand thoughts race through your head, of what she could have done, who she could have done.

You see her standing before you and she looks a mess, her hair is ruffled and she's carrying her stilettos in her hand. She smells of sweat, booze and something else that makes your stomach drop and your balls flood with even more cum. Her eyes have that familiar cheeky glint as she sashays her way into the house after giving you a quick peck on the lips in greeting.

"No time for chatting, get on the bed now," she demands, and you have started toward the bedroom before she even finished the sentence. She follows you, orders you to strip, and gathers the ties.

"Lay on your back," she whispers in your ear with a slight hint of desperation in her voice. You gladly comply and enjoy her vivaciousness as she pulls her black lace thong out from under her dress. You don't get to peek at it because in seemingly the same second, she blindfolds you. You know this next part all too well. She straddles you, and you feel your head become shrouded in the amazing scent of her pussy. She lowers herself onto your awaiting mouth as the scent of her obviously freshly fucked pussy wafts into your nose.

You begin lapping at her cunt with vigor, your tongue exploring each dip and cavern, spinning in circles and catching each drop of cum that trickles from it. As you do this, she tells you all about the four-way she had in a private VIP lounge at what is notoriously the most sexed-up, scummiest club in the city. She describes sitting on the couch, her head spinning from the alcohol, and being mouth-fucked by one guy, having her pussy licked out by the other, and giving the third guy a hand-job.

With every word that falls from her mouth in-between her soft moans, you feel your heart race in preparation to thoroughly fuck her senseless. You feel a sickening jealousy deep in your chest, a rage that is like no other fury you have ever felt before.

You want to do unspeakably violent things to these men who dared use your woman, when you were stuck at home, caged and under lock and key in chastity. You feel a pang of hurt that she would do this to you.

But at the same time, you feel a need to prove to her how much greater you are than them. Your body is thinking the same thing, and your cock is glistening wet with pre-cum from the dramatic overproduction of cum that's occurring in your balls. You want to fuck her more than you ever have, to claim her, to mark her as your own in every way you can.

You look up at her and see her perfect body, her full breasts and soft stomach. You think of what she did with those men, you can see it all clearly as she describes it. It's like imagining her in a porn film, but it's real, she did these things tonight.

You run your hands over her back, sides and hips. As you feel her body desperately with your mouth and fingertips, you picture everything she was doing these past couple of hours. You can taste it, and though it angers you, it turns you on like nothing else.

She proceeds to tell you all about how they explored her body for a long while, each taking a turn fucking her mouth, then her pussy, then eating her out as the other guys jacked off over it.

She paints a picture in your mind of the feeling she had of being entirely taken by these strangers. Her eyes sparkle with delight as she describes the thrill of it, the dirty satisfaction of being so submissive to three men at the same time.

She grinds her clit faster against your awaiting tongue as she recalls how their cocks were so hard and desperate to derive pleasure from her body, and how she loved being nothing but an anonymous object for them to fuck.

She says that when the guy whose cum you are tasting was blowing in her, she had one of the other one's cum freshly laid out on her tits, and the last guy's cock pumping in and out of her mouth as he blew down her throat.

You feel her gush with wetness as she tells you each dirty detail of the night's events, and you groan from the immense pressure as your cock yearns to get hard and just fuck her. You knead her tits with one hand and grab her ass with the other as she rides your tongue.

"Yes, like that, more," she moans repeatedly, moaning, and you fasten the pace of your tongue to match the desperate tones of her voice. You feel her shudder as she quakes into you, squealing expletives. Your lips are slightly numb when she climbs off, and scoops the drips of her and that other guy's combined cum that fell onto your chin, and feeds it into your mouth with her fingers.

"How did that feel, eating out the cum of a guy who could and did fuck me real good tonight, while you were home here unable to fuck me no matter how much you wanted to?" she asks teasingly. You tell her exactly how it felt, fucking torturous, and you want to fuck her right now. She smiles with a suggestive, teasing look in her eyes and tells you, "Not tonight!"

Somehow you fall asleep, and when you wake up the next morning, you turn over and see her lying next to you, looking like she'd awoken only just before you had. She raises her arm from beneath the blanket and dangles the key in her hand, smiling mischievously. "I think it's your turn to show me if you're any better than those guys last night..."

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