There is a line between pleasantly warm and uncomfortably sweltering, and the weather that day had barrelled straight across it into downright unbearable. Windows had been flung open in an attempt to tempt a breath of air into the house, which was whirring with the slightly desperate noise of electric fans. The sky was too low, oppressive, and I felt as though I were caged. My whole body felt heavy and slow, the heat dulling my mind and reflexes, so all I could do was sit down with a glass of cold water and a fan right next to me.
I winced as I heaved myself off the leather couch, the material peeling off the back of my clammy thighs, leaving red marks. My skin was sticky with sweat and I made the decision to take yet another shower, for a few brief moments of relief from this seemingly endless humidity.
I walked over to the mirror, looking at my reflection, studying my hair which had frizzed to extraordinary rates, at my skin which was red and sweaty. I started a little when my eyes roamed from my reflection to you watching me in the doorway, that familiar lopsided smirk on your lips. I turned around, stepping towards you, and you drew me into your body, so our bodies were flush together. The intimacy of the moment intensified as I tilted my chin upwards, my lips searching for yours.
Your lips pressed against mine. There were no fireworks, just a slow, steady warmth spreading throughout my body. Not a flash of white hot heat, a relaxing, serene kind of comfort. Your fingers danced down the groove of my spine, so light that if it were anyone else touching me, I wouldn't be able to feel it. With you, the touch sent little shockwaves of pleasure pulsating through my bloodstream, making me gasp against your lips and press myself more tightly against your lean frame.
I tried to soak in every detail of the moment- your chapped lips, your soft hair beneath my fingers, the dull, fuzzy ache between both of my thighs. Your hands moved down my back until they were cupping my butt. You pressed me closer towards you, my hips against yours, your hands kneading the peachy flesh of my buttocks as you nibbled against my lips. I rolled my hips lightly and felt you starting to harden against my stomach.
We pulled away from each other, you grabbing me lightly by my wrist, and I let you take me through the house. You led me to the kitchen, a dark room I'd always hated, but now I welcomed the lack of light as it made the place a little cooler. The tiled floor was a shock against the soles of my bare feet. I watched you bend down, rifling through the freezer, before producing a pack of something and shutting the door.
"What are you going to do to me?" I murmured. You smiled gently.
"Trust me," you said softly. "Come on." You took me by my hand, and I was again led out of the kitchen, and up the stairs to our shared bedroom. It was light and airy, the sun pouring in through the open window and scattering across the pale carpet. I was pushed onto the plush white coverings of our double bed and you reached under, taking something. I saw what you had in your hands, a piece of black material, a blindfold. A slow prickle of something I had never felt before coursed through my body, blazing against my nerves, setting them alight.
"Is this okay?" you asked me. The vulnerability of my position struck me as I nodded. You wrapped the blindfold around my head and the room, with the white walls and the blue throw pillows, disappeared. It was pitch black and I could see nothing. Then I felt my hands and feet being bound.
"Are you there?" I asked foolishly, half ashamed at my fear, the irrational idea that you would leave me there, unable to wrench the blindfold from my face. I felt your hands stroking my hair and let out a slow breath. It was okay.
"I'm here," you said. I felt the buttons at the front of my dress being undone. You made quick work of them, and before long the front of my body was exposed to the air of the room and your eyes. The buttons only went down to below my bellybutton so you held the thin straps of my dress and took them off, so you could easily grab the hem of the skirt of my dress and pull the whole thing down my legs and over my feet.
I wanted to say something, to ask what he intended to do to my helpless, half naked body, but the words stuck in my suddenly dry throat and I bit them back, not wanting to shatter the silence that enveloped us, throbbing with tension. I felt the softness of your lips plant a kiss on my collarbone and heard a low clink of metal, from what I guessed was your belt buckle. My senses were heightened, my ears straining, and I heard every hiss of material and a low thump as your belt hit the carpet by the bed.
For some reason, being tied up there made me feel incredibly horny. I had been horny on and off throughout the day and now it had intensified. I could feel the moisture from my vagina seep through the pale pink material of my somewhat modest panties. I wanted to rub my thighs together, to relieve the sweet ache with the tiniest bit of pressure and friction, no matter how unsatisfying that was. But the way my feet were bound denied me of this relief, a fact that made me frustrated.
"Fuck me," I whimpered, hating myself for sounding to pathetic, raising my hips up off the bed like I was trying to hump the air.
"Not yet," you said lightly. "I'm taking it slow today."
Your lips landed on my neck. I leaned my head back, exposing the soft skin of my jugular to you. You didn't linger there for long, moving to my collarbone. You pressed little kisses along my collarbone to my shoulder, the place above my breasts, areas of my body that had been neglected from anyone's lips. Your touches felt so good, they were driving me insane. I wished that they could have been enough, but they were nothing but an appetiser, however delicious that appetiser was... it was still nothing but a prelude to the main course. I had never been very patient, and at the moment, I was ready to explode.
"Come on," I said after what felt like hours. "This is ridiculous." My nipples were hard, rubbing against the fabric of my bra, and I wanted you to take it off and touch me in places where I could feel a direct shock of pleasure rather than this infuriatingly sneaky, multiple minor flashes of arousal.
I nearly screamed when I felt something ice cold leak against my nipple, through my bra, something that was so cold it sent a thrill straight down south. My back actually arched off the bed and a keening moan escaped my lips. The shock of the coldness was almost painful, even through the protection of my bra, and my nipples were more swollen than they had ever been. I could feel more juice seep out of my vagina and dampen my underwear.
"Oh, fuck," I said. "Fuck, that felt good." I could almost hear you smile. My nipples were practically itching to be stroked and pulled and rubbed and sucked. I was relieved when I felt you gently pulling me up into a sitting position, reaching round and unclasping my bra, pulling it away from my body. I sank back down and waited eagerly for the pleasure. Your lip curved into a circle just underneath my breast, and then you kissed everywhere around my breasts, kneading and squeezing and all the while somehow managing to avoid touching the most sensitive part- my aching, straining, nipples.
"Do it again," I said breathlessly. "With the ice, or whatever the hell that was. Please."
I sharply inhaled as the numbingly cold ice was pressed against my nipple. It was so cold, it almost hurt, the cold cutting and raw.
"Oh, shit," I breathed. "Fuck." I didn't even know if it felt good or not. It hurt, but in a way that was almost enjoyable. It felt so good, so cold against my overly-sensitive nipples, it made me ache.
"Your nipples could cut glass," you said, almost in wonder, the ice gone and replaced by your cool finger, chilled from the ice, doing nothing but resting directly on the nub. I moaned loudly, not caring what noises would drift out of the open window onto the street below.
"More," I mumbled. You seemed to be impatient too by this point, kissing in an almost frenzied manner down my stomach, which was heaving with my short, tight breaths. Your hands lightly gripped both of my thighs, and I felt a kiss being placed on my soaked through underwear. I pulled against my hand restraints, my whole body moving in continual motion on the bed, wanting to grab you by your hair and pull on it and force you to kiss me. I wanted to be fucked, I wanted to be pummelled harshly to relieve all this pent-up arousal. Fuck slow, teasing kisses and foreplay and everything that girls were meant to cream over. I was almost mindless with how frustrated and horny I was.
But you didn't listen. You kissed and rubbed and stroked my most sensitive body part through a layer of material that rubbed against my vagina. I longed to push my hips forward into your face, but I couldn't, due to the way I was bound. I was forced to lie there and endure this sweet, sweet torture.
"You're so hot," you said to me. "So sexy." My breath caught in my throat. Your hands were grabbing the waistband of my panties and pulling them down, halfway down my legs, before I heard a rip and knew they have been ripped into two. I couldn't even bring myself to care- why should I? It was as sexy as hell.
My pussy was finally in the open air. But it was still not enough for the insatiable lust making me so uncharacteristically aggressive. Your hand touched my clitoris, a light fleeting touch that soon disappeared. It offered no relief, just teased me more.
Then your tongue lightly probed against my flesh. Your nose rubbed against my clit and your tongue explored the inner regions of my vagina, poking into my wet, tight hole and exploring thoroughly, teasing around the edges of my vagina until I was reduced to a writhing, lip-biting, molten mess.
Then I felt the familiar throb inside of me, starting in my core, between my legs, and it pulsated out throughout my body and carried me on a blissful wave, and I could think of nothing but the pleasure that wracked throughout my body and spread into every limb, every pore, every crevice. My already over-heated mind was transformed into a mushy puddle and I could hear myself moaning and crying out in a voice that sounded almost like a sob:
"So good. So good."
After it was over and I was back in my own mind and body, I opened my tightly squeezed shut eyes to face nothing but black again, and I almost panicked before remembering the blindfold.
Then I felt you whisper into my ear; "You weren't meant to come then."
"Sorry," I said, not feeling sorry at all. I felt you touch my lower lip lightly.
"Can you make it up to me?" you asked. I nodded and felt you adjust your position. "Suck my cock," you said.
I willingly opened my mouth and felt you push in. I gagged, struggling to take in all your length, and you grabbed hold of my hair and pushed into my mouth again and again. I coughed and spluttered, my eyes filling with angry tears behind the blindfold. I tried to prepare myself for when you would come, for the flood of semen that threatened to choke me.
Thankfully, you pulled out, and I heard nothing but the soft sound of your hand on your dick and then your breathy groans and then piping hot warmth spreading over my navel. The bed creaked and you landed beside me, and I sighed in contentment.
"I meant to fuck you," you said regretfully. I laughed.
"Later. Now, can you untie me?"
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