The lights in the room were dimmed and I could hear the buzz-crackle of a bulb about to go. Overall the quality of this hotel room wasn't stellar, but then, I wasn't here for the whole night. Mostly I was frantic about whether Trista had remembered to put up the "Do Not Disturb" sign after tying me to the bed. Oh, right... I guess it helps if I start from the beginning, it may shed some light on why I was naked and bound in a hotel room all by myself.
It started a few weeks back when my husband hesitantly asked if we could have a serious discussion, of course I said yes. Turns out he'd always had a fantasy about "swinging" and while out with the guys one night he'd met another man who had a similar fantasy. I don't know how it came up in conversation, I had no idea guys talked about such things, maybe it was the booze talking. Either way, here I was talking to my husband, seriously, about having sex with another couple!
At first I was completely against it, I mean there are safety concerns and it was just plain weird. But after a few days we talked about it again and I realized that I was warming to the idea. My husband assured me that all avenues had been considered, he said if we went ahead with it then both couples would rent a hotel room and the husbands would just trade keys in the hallway. Seemed reasonable enough at the time!
I finally agreed, much to my husband's delight, and the date was set. That's why I was there. I met Trista, the other wife, in my hotel room and she shyly explained that part of her husband's fantasy was to happen upon the woman bound to the bed. I'd already committed this far, so why not, right? Trista had come prepared with some soft satin bindings that she looped around the legs of the bed, binding my wrists and ankles, leaving little room to move. She also slid one between the mattresses and wrapped it around my knees, pulling them apart.
Never in my life, even before a doctor, had I been so utterly exposed and yet Trista chatted with me like we were having coffee at a diner. When she was done she dimmed the lights and headed off to spend a few hours with my husband down the hall. Now all I had to do was wait.
It was hard to think long on any one subject. At first I thought about the laundry I hadn't done that day and the planned renovation to the master bedroom. The buzz-crackle of the dying light bulb was too distracting to focus for long though. I tried to think about what my husband might do to Trista and only managed to embarrass myself when I found myself getting aroused.
So I tried thinking about nothing. If I thought about Trista's husband, I started to get worried, almost fearful, wondering what to expect. But try as I might, thinking about "nothing" wasn't going to happen. Would he blindfold me? Gag me? Would the people in the rooms around us hear what we were doing? Was he handsome? Why did he want me bound anyway? What the hell had I gotten myself into?
The minutes stretched into an hour and I started to think maybe he wasn't going to show up after all when I heard the key-card in the door. Part of me figured it was my husband there to give me the news that the whole thing had been called off. I started to call out when he came into view and my heart lept into my throat. This was not someone I'd ever seen before. Instinctively I moved to stand up, completely forgetting for a moment that I was restrained.
The man smiled at me while unbuttoning his shirt, he certainly wasn't wasting any time. I could feel how hot my cheeks were burning, but maybe he didn't see in the dim light. I remember that I whimpered when I wasn't able to close my legs together. Dim light or not I was completely exposed, my labia was parted, I could feel a breeze on the damp skin as he sat on the bed.
He reached out with one hand to lay a finger across my lips when I opened my mouth to speak to him, I'm not sure what I would have said, asking his name seemed a bit out place considering the circumstances. Now that he was closer I could see he was clean shaven, his mouth full and smiling, a strong nose dominating his face. It all really didn't matter, I was completely at his mercy and I had no idea what he planned.
For a while he just looked at me, lingering on my breasts and belly, while I trembled. Then tension in my body slowly lessened as he watched me, not touching, I figured maybe he just liked to look. As the moment wore on I found my body growing warmer, somehow being under his scrutiny was arousing me. Finally he reached out a hand to touch me, stopping short of caressing my breast, looking at me sharply as I cringed away from him.
How odd I must have looked to him, arms and legs spread wide, knees held apart, trembling with anticipation, dread and excitement all at once. I held my breath and waited, finally feeling the back of his fingers slide down the top of my breast to my nipple. I couldn't help it, I moaned at the touch. All that anticipation, the waiting, the excitement of the unknown. Then there was the shame, how could I enjoy this? I had no idea who this guy was!
He cupped my breast, caressing my nipple with his thumb, watching me with a small smile. I had to look away, I'd agreed to this, I was enjoying it, but it was embarrassing just the same. I moaned again when he started to pinch my nipple, my body on edge, my mind racing ahead to all the possible scenarios that may await me.
Despite my efforts to hide my embarrassment and arousal, I'm sure he could see it. He chuckled quietly, not saying anything, and stood again to strip off his pants and underwear. I didn't look, not sure if I was too scared or too embarrassed, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. He moved to the foot of the bed and rested a hand on my foot, which twitched in reaction.
Slowly his hand slid up my shin to my knee, the bed moved as he climbed up between my knees. I couldn't help it, I groaned loudly, trying once again to close my legs together, straining against the satin bindings around my knees. He let out a long "shhhh" and slid his hand higher, over my thigh. I could feel his warmth on my inner thighs even though he only touched me with his hand. Panic started to well inside me but I fought for control.
He stopped, resting his hand on my thigh, "relax," he said, his voice barely a whisper. It was warm and deep and made my heart race, but finally hearing him speak was enough to help me fight back the panic. I took a deep breath and tried to set aside my embarrassment.
Leaving his hand on my thigh he reached out with his right hand to run the back of his finger across the trimmed hair of my mound. I whimpered again, this was getting very personal, and a that gentle touch resulted in a shot of desire from my nipples down to my clit. From where he kneeled between my legs I doubt he missed the reaction. I tilted my head back and tried to stare at the poorly painted landscape above the bed.
I heard a soft chuckle from him but didn't stop looking at that painting, trying to remember to breathe. He shifted and I wasn't sure what he was doing when I felt both his hands leave my body, only to feel them again pulling my labia farther apart. I cried out and pulled on my wrist bindings to move away from him without success. I felt his breath, hot against my exposed sex, and without warning a surge of arousal shooting through me when he reached out with his tongue to roughly lick my clit.
Once again I was near panic, my husband had never done anything like this, it was... it felt so... I had a man licking my most intimate parts and felt a mix of overwhelming shame and at the same time tantalizing arousal. I was at his mercy, wanting him to do more, and yet so close to begging him to stop. I bit my lip, not ready to throw in the towel yet.
Somehow I managed to get my hands behind the satin binding so I could grip it, pulling hard despite the sharp pull on my wrists. He nuzzled his face into my sex and then did something to my clit that caused me to yelp and moan, suck on it perhaps? It almost hurt the sensation was so sudden and so strong. My body responded to him regardless of my continued embarrassment, before I knew it I was longing to feel him inside of me.
He focused on my clit, holding my labia so far apart that the flesh was stretched taut. He never let up, flicking; sucking; licking; all different sensations but still a constant stream of attention. I gave up on looking at the painting and tried to look down at him, seeing only the top of his head and his back. I let my head fall to the pillow, crying out again. I couldn't pull away, but I sure tried, he was rough enough to make it hurt a bit, but it was so... it was so strong, the sensation.
Incredibly I felt like I could orgasm already if he just pushed a little farther. I felt a flood of disappointment when he pulled back from my sex, wiping his face on my inner thigh and releasing my labia. I looked up sharply, worried something was wrong and a little apprehensive about what what might happen next. He rested on his knees, his thighs pressing against mine, I could see his cock as he stroked himself over me.
I stared. He was cut, his head large and dark above his hand, a drop of precum beading there already. I didn't care about my shame anymore, I just wanted to feel him inside me. My hips rocked and my head fell back on the pillow again. I opened my mouth to beg him to take me but cried out instead, he'd crouched when I looked away and the head of his cock slapped my clit each time he stroked himself.
The tap tap of his cock on my clit drove me back up again, I was driven to distraction by my own desire, moaning with abandon now. He let out a soft moan of his own and pulled back to stroke the head of his cock down over my wet folds. I squirmed, how could I not? Instead of trying to pull away I was pushing on the headboard to thrust myself toward him, I had enough of his teasing, I wanted to feel him inside me.
A wash of heat flooded over me as I felt the head of his cock push inside me, just a bit. I groaned and tried to shove off the headboard again, but I was at the end of my rope, literally. I could feel him laugh, it was hard not to, each chuckle vibrated through his cock, pushing him just a little farther inside. He leaned, reaching for my breasts, his cock sliding in even further. I arched my back to meet him halfway, this agonizingly slow pace driving me to madness.
He rested there inside me while fondling my breasts, one hand pinching and twisting my nipple while the other hand caressed my other breast gently. Tugging slowly on my pinched nipple, farther and farther until it slipped from his finger sharply, I yelped but oh god it felt so good. I rocked my hips against him and he nearly lost his balance, dropping his hands to the tops of my hips to steady himself.
Finally he started moving in and out of me, holding my hips to push himself deep, pulling so far back that now and then his cock would slip out and slide up against my clit. I couldn't move more than a few inches in any direction, his pace so maddening to me but he only smiled down at him, probably enjoying my writhing as much as actually penetrating me. Once I tried to say something to him, urge him to pick up the pace, but he lifted a finger to his lips to quiet me. It worked, I wanted to please him, I wanted him to enjoy this experience.
I threw back my head in frustration, the tension in my body building slowly like a boiler that could burst at any moment, but maddeningly he slowed, and finally stopped. Lifting my head I stared at him incredulously, certainly he wasn't done... right? Slowly he climbed over my leg, his wet penis grazing my thigh, my sex pulsing at the brief touch. When he swung his leg over my midsection I realized what he must be intending to do and started to protest. As I opened my mouth I felt the head of his cock rest against my lips and I couldn't bring myself to speak.
The moment dragged on, I inhaled sharply and smelled my own fluids on him, he stared down at me, waiting with a patience I certainly didn't feel. Finally there built a tightness in my chest that had nothing to do with him straddling me and I half closed my eyes and kissed the head of his cock, moaning with renewed desire. He groaned and leaned over to brace himself on the headboard, but he didn't thrust. Perhaps waiting to see what I would do.
So I licked too, probing his urethra with my tongue, dragging my lower lip along the underside of his shaft to the edge of his head. I tried to grip him with my hands, startled to realize I was still bound to the bed. I took his head into my mouth and sucked sharply, writhing under him as I imagined him thrusting into me. I craned my neck trying to pull more of him inside me and nearly growled to see I was thwarted by his patience again.
Finally he pushed with his hips, gently, his cock sliding between my lips until I could feel my nose press against him. At first I gagged, my shoulders heaving, my body instinctively trying to expel the intruding penis from my throat. I fought it, working to swallow my own saliva, impeded somewhat by his swollen head so deep within me. I blinked, my eyes watering and he pulled back, his cock still inside my mouth but resting, letting me breathe. I looked up at him, his knuckles white on the headboard, a look of intense concentration on his face. I moaned to see him like that.
He toyed with me like that for a few more minutes, though it might as well have been hours, back and forth, letting me breathe and then filling my throat. I rocked my hips, grinding against nothing, the air cool against my wet labia. I could feel him tremble and he hesitated, not pushing back into my throat. I looked up at him, and could see him biting his lip, I had a moment to try and take control. Quickly I sucked hard on the head of his cock, moaning loudly and licking the spot where his shaft and head met. He cried out and reached down with one hand, gripping my hair tightly. I thought I had him and moaned again, only to feel him pull my head back, taking his cock from my mouth.
Even in the dim light I could see the flush in his face. His breathing was as ragged as mine and he swung his leg off of me, lunging suddenly to kiss me hard. I cried out and kissed him back, writhing under him, pressing my breasts up toward him with a noise between a whimper and a growl. Moving lower he placed his thigh between my legs and thrust up against me, his lips never leaving mine. I could feel his cock, hot and wet, against my thigh.
I knew at that moment that I would do anything to feel him inside me again, I was so close to the edge of an orgasm, I wanted to feel him inside me when I finally lost control of my desire. He must have felt the same way because while he still moved with slow determination there was a bit more of a hurried presence to him. Keeping his lips on mine he lay on me and slowly guided himself in. I broke our kiss and threw back my head, nearly screaming.
He thrust hard then, and fast, pumping into me while I lay bound and helpless beneath him. With my knees spread so wide my clit was exposed to his thrusting, his body slapping against it with each thrust. Slowly my eyes closed, my head still pressed back against the pillow, and finally it hit me. The explosion started at my clit, almost painful. Part of me wanted to pull away while the rest of me, the stronger part, wanted nothing more than for him to push harder and faster into me.
At his point I didn't care if he was enjoying himself or not, I knew only my own pleasure and that involved his cock inside me and his body brushing against my clit. I rocked and bucked beneath him, pulling hard on the restraints, simultaneously trying to shout and clamp down. I could feel myself spasming around his cock, gripping him tightly with each stroke.
Suddenly he stopped thrusting, lifting one hand to brace himself on the headboard, holding himself deep inside me. Somewhere in my mind I registered the sensation of his cock pulsing, his hips pushing him deeper. He grimaced and cried out, a vein in his neck bulging, he looked like he was in pain as he shuddered over me. I writhed, still sensitive but starting to calm enough to tease back, clenching my muscles around his cock with a malicious grin.
Finally he grunted and began to slowly slide out and in, not entirely leaving me now that he'd softened somewhat. I watched his face, amused at the expression and trembling that told me he was still very sensitive. I felt a sense of superiority, smug despite being tied, that I had somehow weathered this better than he had. He opened his eyes, looked down at me, and stopped. I think he figured out what I was thinking because he looked back at me, between a grimace and a shudder, with an expression that said clearly, "oh really?"
Carefully he sat back and I felt the blood drain out of my face, that sense of fearful anticipation returning in a wave like the flood gates had been opened. He sat back between my legs and pulled his wet penis from me, sliding it up over my exposed clit. It was too much, I cried out and strained to move away from him, that tiny bit of flesh on fire. He put one hand on my belly and pushed, stroking the head of his cock over me again and again.
I think he laughed again, it was hard to tell with the roaring in my ears. I cried out, I whimpered, I begged inarticulately, oh how I wanted him to stop and oh how I wanted him not to stop. It didn't take long for me to be on edge again, writhing in a strange mix of pain and pleasure, orgasming again for his pleasure. I was at his mercy again, or rather I'd never not been at his mercy but now I remembered that.
He carried on for a few more strokes even after I stopped writhing, my body jolting each time the edge of his head caught my clit. I could tell my body was soaked in sweat, I could feel his cum and mine dripping from me. He sat back and wiped the head of his cock along my inner thigh and then climbed off the bed. I lay there, spent, barely registering him getting dressed.
By the time I realized he intended on leaving he was already half out the door. I opened my mouth to call out and closed it when I heard the door latch. I lay back against the bed and moaned, wondering if he'd remembered the Do Not Disturb sign up.