It was Sunday, and I was still feeling tired from my exertions the previous afternoon, when Jessica had made me spend two hours moving logs, an utterly futile activity imposed as a punishment. But, afterwards, she had allowed me to worship her toes, while also awarding me the privilege of looking up her skirt as I did so.

I'd not expected to see her again until Monday, so it was a surprise to receive a message from her on Sunday afternoon asking me to go around for a drink.

Soon, we were sitting in her garden, side-by-side on a bench, holding beers. As was her way, she had her free hand on my knee—nothing more sensual than that, yet my penis was throbbing inside its tiny cage. I was desperate for relief, and even more desperate simply to experience an erection.

In our strange setup, she and I had become firm friends. Sure, she was using me as a paypig, either me giving her money or me providing my labour for free, but it was worth it just to spend time with her. It pained me when I didn't get to see her every day, and I longed for our meetings.

We exchanged pleasantries and then, to get a conversation going, I said, “Thank you for allowing me to worship your toes yesterday, Miss.”

She smiled. “It was a reward for obedience and not making a fuss, darling. I thought you would enjoy it.”

“Yes, yes, I did. And thank you for letting me... er... look up your skirt while I sucked your toes.”

“Crumbs... the less said about that, the better. I don't know what I was thinking, allowing you to do that. I must have got carried away because that's not the behaviour I should be encouraging.” Her face was a little flushed, confirming that she had some regrets. Of course, they were not regrets I shared, so I kept quiet, as I did about my unsuccessful attempts to escape from my cage when I'd got back home.

“Can I ask you something, Miss Fuller?” She nodded, so I continued, a little nervously. “The... the toe worshipping turned you on, didn't it?” I knew it had, but I wanted to hear her say it had.

Her hand moved to the inside of my thigh, creeping closer to my groin. “Hmm... what do you think, Frank?”

“Er... yes, I think it did...” I cautiously replied.

She gave a faint smile. “Most of what we do together turns me on, Frank.”

I could have said it turned me on as well, but she knew that already. However, I found it reassuring to have confirmation that she was finding our encounters arousing. It was a sign that she wished to continue and wasn't getting bored.

“I so wish you were a younger man, Frank... Young men have such sexual stamina, which sadly diminishes with age...” She paused deep in thought for a few seconds. “Let's have another beer,” she went on to say, changing the subject.

She went into the kitchen, reappearing with two more bottles. “Why can't I get a boyfriend my own age, Frank, darling?” she lamented.

That was definitely not a question I relished answering. Fortunately, it had been rhetorical, and she continued, “I just don't come across men of a similar age. I work long hours, for miserable pay, and I must put up with listening to female colleagues telling me about their latest conquests. How do they find a bloke, when I can't, Frank?”

“Aren't there any male teachers at your school, Miss?”

She snorted, derisively. “A few, but they're in their forties and fifties—positively ancient... Oh, God, sorry, Frank, no offence.” I was fifty-five but took no umbrage.

“I long to have sex with a young man, to feel him penetrating me, pounding me, and releasing his load inside me. Not every day, obviously—he'd still be locked up like you are, to keep him wanting and attentive. But occasionally he'd be released to meet my biological needs.” It was all very matter of fact to her, but what I wouldn't give to be that hypothetical young man.

She stopped to swig her beer. “I'm not a virgin, you know?” she continued.

I had never thought for a single moment that she was, but I remained silent, waiting for her to carry on. “I've experienced wild sex with young men, but since moving to this part of the country there's been a famine. A rabbit is no substitute for a virile young man, Frank.”

“A rabbit?” I replied, furrowing my brow.

“Yeah! Don't tell me you don't know what a rabbit is, darling?”

“Er...”

“No, it's not a furry bunny... it's a vibrator!” She lowered her voice on saying that last word, as if someone might overhear us, which was impossible. Then she laughed.

“Oh... I see, Miss” I replied, unsure what the correct etiquette was in this situation.

“Are you any good with your tongue, darling?”

“What? Sorry?”

“Could you be a human rabbit for me, darling?”

“Yes, yes, I'm sure I could!” I replied, struggling to hide my enthusiasm. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

“Don't get carried away, Frank. You claimed to be able to fix leaking taps, but you couldn't. And I've made it clear you're too old for me... but I can still see that you might have your uses, and being a human bunny is one of them.”

By now, my penis was throbbing, and I was aware of my knickers becoming damp from leaking pre-cum.

“Let's give you a try,” she said. “Here and now, in the garden! It's a warm afternoon. And no one can possibly see us. Okay, darling?”

It was more than okay! “Yes, anything I can do for you, Miss.”

“Stay here while I pop into the house. Take all your clothes off.”

Without waiting for a reply, she walked into the house while I tore off everything I was wearing.

She returned, carrying a thick black scarf and a pair of tights. “No way am I going to let you see my private parts, darling, so you need to be blindfolded. And I'm also going to tie your wrists together because I don't want you to be groping me.”

“I won't, Miss, I promise.”

“No, you won't because you'll be trussed up, darling.” She tied the scarf around my head, cutting off all light.

“Lie down on your back and put your arms above your head.” I did so, and using the tights she secured my wrists to a leg of the heavy bench we'd been sitting on.

“I'm going to take your cage off, Frank, but that's just so you can enjoy an erection. I'm not going to let you cum. Understood?”

“Er... yes, Miss,” I replied, trying to conceal my disappointment, while also being grateful that at least I could become fully stiff.

I heard the padlock open. Then Jessica yanked the cage off me, my partially erect penis resisting her efforts. “My God, Frank. I didn't think you were going to let go of the damn thing!” Free of its restraints, my penis rapidly engorged to full size.

I was unable to see, but I heard quiet noises that I took to be her getting undressed. Seconds later, she lowered herself over my face, with her head pointing towards my feet. I instantly caught her fragrant scent, a combination of her natural essences and some perfume she had applied. Her soft bush brushed against my chin as she manoeuvred into position.

Soon, I was tasting her divine love juices. I thought I had been fully erect before, but now I felt as if my penis had been replaced by a steel rod.

Involuntarily, I lifted my hips, trying to stimulate my erection in the afternoon air. It was in vain, of course, but it irritated her. “Stop that, Frank. You're pleasuring me, not yourself. Stop waving your thingy around and get to work.”

Using my lips and tongue, I started exploring her most intimate anatomy, kissing her labia, searching for her clitoris, and pushing my tongue into her vagina. She was wet but not particularly responsive.

“You do know what a clit is, don't you, Frank? Or, more to the point, where it is? You can do better than this, I'm sure. Work harder, my little bunny!”

I had performed oral sex with my wife many, many times, but she had died five years previously, and I'd had no practice since—moreover, my late wife had never straddled me in the dominant way that Jessica was. If I was to satisfy Jessica, then I had to up my game. I focussed my efforts on what she was seeking, discovering the topography of her sexual organ, and putting more emphasis on her clit.

“Oh, God, that's so much better,” she murmured. “That's it—keep doing what you're doing. You're hitting the right spot.”

As I worked, I could tell that she was becoming highly aroused. Her juices were flowing more copiously, and her clit had become engorged. Soon, she lost the ability to converse and instead started moaning and squirming. She was getting louder and then, almost without notice, she climaxed, nearly suffocating me in a frenzy of activity.

It seemed to take ages for her to come down from her high, but, considerately, she lifted herself up a little, perhaps aware that I was struggling to breathe.

“Thank you... bunny!” she gasped. “That was... fantastic.”

She remained kneeling an inch or so over me for several minutes, her love juices dripping onto my face and some into my mouth. Despite the gap, I endeavoured, as much as I could, to continue to stimulate her with my tongue. Her over-sensitised organ was still pulsing, and she was wriggling as I continued my ministrations.

Then she pushed herself fully down on me for a second time and, very soon, orgasmed again.

“Gosh! You... are a big... improvement on my rabbit. We'll... be doing this again, darling,” she panted. “Who... who would have thought an... an oldie like you would have... been capable of that! Sorry... no offence, darling. I'm... I'm just surprised.”

She paused for a minute before continuing. “You know, you were... so good I'm... going to reward you!”

With her still on top of me, I couldn't ask her what she meant, but I didn't need to as I felt her fingers fondling my erection. She was playing with me. Was she going to allow me to cum?

I started work with my tongue again, hoping that further stimulus would encourage her to continue with her actions. It was working. She was gently—and expertly—running her fingers up and down my shaft, stopping each cycle at the top to evocatively stroke my glans.

I started wriggling, as did she. Never did I expect her to masturbate me in this way, not after making it clear I was too old for her and there was to be no sexual relations between us. Yet she was playing with me, and I could tell this was something she had done before, with other men—much younger men, presumably. She knew when to increase the pressure and when to back off. I was desperate to cum, but she was in control, and she would choose the moment.

Her juices were again draining into my mouth, but I kept working, savouring their sweet flavour. She had already had two orgasms—a third was on the cards, but it would require persistent efforts on my part to push her over the edge a third time.

I continued to stimulate her. She started murmuring, whilst at the same time, increasing her grip on my penis. Her vocalisations rose in intensity, as did the pressure she was exerting on my manhood. Suddenly, she let out a scream, arched her back, while forcefully manipulating my dick. Barely a second or so after she had climaxed, I followed suite, my jism spurting into the air and coming down over my chest and thighs.

I continued my ministrations with my mouth and tongue, while she continued to work my penis, draining me of every last drop of seminal fluid.

She collapsed on top of me. Breathing was difficult, but I was in seventh heaven. It seemed ages before she spoke again, and she was still clutching my now semi-flaccid member, squeezing it between her fingers.

“Gosh!” she commented, by way of understatement. “Who... who the fuck would have... thought you and I would... ever do that together?” She was gasping for breath, and I had never heard her swear before.

“That... that was a cathartic moment,” she added, swinging herself off me and allowing me to breathe normally.

I was still blindfolded so unable to see her. And, like her, I was also struggling to speak. “It... it was wonderful,” I muttered. “Thank you, Miss.”

“Thank you!” she replied. “Wow, that was quite something, wasn't it?”

I nodded and she continued, “I'll be honest, Frank, after your slow start, that was the best oral sex I've ever, ever enjoyed. Perhaps older men have something the younger ones don't?”

“Er... we've lived longer, so I suppose we've had more practice, Miss,” I replied.

She laughed. “Well... I think I've misjudged what older men have to offer, Frank—or, at least, one older man.”

If I thought that marked a change in direction in our relationship, her next words disillusioned me. “I need to get you locked up again, so you remain keen and earnest. Stay there, Frank.”

As I was tied to the leg of the bench, this instruction was unnecessary. She went into the house and was gone for quite a while. When she returned, she undid my blindfold. I could see she was now fully dressed and holding a roll of toilet tissue, tearing off pieces that she used to clean me up. “What a mess you made, darling,” she commented, unnecessarily.

Also, she had brought out a bag of frozen vegetables, which she pressed against my penis to make it fully deflated before slipping it back into its cage. I heard the padlock snap shut with an air of finality. “Sorry, Frank, but you're still in a submissive relationship. Just because I've discovered you have a special talent does not change that fact.”

With some difficulty, she undid the knots in the tights that secured me to the bench. “We need to get you some handcuffs, Frank, these knots are impossible.”

Eventually, I was free. “Get dressed because you need to go home, darling,” she informed me. “I've got lessons to prepare for tomorrow.”

“I understand,” I replied. “Er... how much do I owe—”

“Frank!” she shrieked, in feigned annoyance, her eyes wide open. “I'm not a prostitute! How dare you suggest paying me. What are you thinking? Go home, my little bunny.” I counted my blessings that she was giggling and hadn't taken offence.

I put my clothes back on and she gave me a peck on the cheek. Back home, I had to pinch myself, to check I'd not dreamt about what had happened.