Chapter 8 – Celebrity Bang
2011 was a wonderful year for me. After that extraordinary first date, Kevin and I later revealed to each other that it was our first time – something that hardly came as a surprise to either of us. Belinda spent hours trying to debrief me. Ostensibly it was to ascertain the effectiveness of her plan for managing virgins, but I think she really just likes to listen to all of the lurid details. I gave her just enough to shut her up on the subject, but no more. I assured her whole-heartedly that her system works well, a little too well, if anything.

To say that Kevin and I made up for lost time is an understatement. Morning sex, secret daytime sex and sometimes public sex in quiet parts of the university, and long evenings of experimental lovemaking made some weeks seem like that was all we did. Sometimes we had to stop simply because we were too hungry to continue, having skipped one or two previous meals to have sex.

My fetish for light restraints and helplessness caught us both by surprise, but neither of us was complaining. I enjoy regular ‘unrestrained’ sex too, but I have more powerful orgasms when I’m struggling against Kevin’s grasp or when he ties me to the bed. He maintains that he doesn’t get off on overpowering me (though I suspect he does), but that the most exciting thing for him is seeing me crazy with lust and teetering on the edge of the monumental orgasms that he engineers by restraining me and teasing my entrance and clitoris with the tip of his cock. Just when I can’t take any more, he slides into the thousand degree heat he’s built up in my core and finishes us both off in just a few delectable strokes.

The thing I haven’t shared with him, although it wouldn’t surprise me if he had guessed, is the way I fantasise that he’s a stranger when he ties me face down or kneeling on the bed. It’s not that I want to sleep around – I love Kevin and I want to be monogamous. I think about my pussy, open and wet and fully exposed where I can’t see so that anybody (well, anybody walking through our bedroom) could take advantage and I would be helpless to stop them. In my fantasies my assailant is completely silent, so I wouldn’t even know what was going on until he slid his cock into me.

~~~
I finished my Bachelor or Education at the end of the year and Kevin completed his Bachelor of Science in Applied Mathematics, graduating with First Class honours early in 2012. We both got our first post-graduate jobs within a few weeks of each other, me at the high school at which I still teach, and Kevin at the Bureau of Meteorology.

With proper incomes for the first time in our lives, we decided to get a nice apartment closer to my school and move in together. As a last hurrah to the two years I lived with Belinda, we arranged for all four of us to have a boozy night-out; we had drinks, then dinner (with more drinks), then off to a pub with music and a dance floor (for Belinda and Andrew, not for us).

After a wonderful dinner we retired to a nearby pub and Belinda miraculously found us a vacant booth, so we sat down while Andrew fought a path to the bar to buy the first round of drinks.

“Four midis. Pardon me, coming through, four midis,” he called amusingly as he adeptly carried the drinks back through a sea of potentially jogging elbows.

“Kev,” he leaned over Kevin, looking around conspiratorially when he got back. Although having to shout over the music made the conversation somewhat less private and a lot less conspiratorial-looking than he probably hoped. “Do you recognise that woman in the silver dress?”

We all looked around, showing no respect whatsoever for the perceived privacy of the conversation. She was difficult to miss, almost impossibly beautiful and slim, straight brunette hair tied on top of her head to accentuate her long, slim neck; dark eyes and gleaming white teeth completed the package. She was a stunner. I felt a moment of jealousy as Kevin looked at her.

“Didn’t we see her last week?” Kevin replied deadpan, although I could see a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “She was the one who ripped her top open and begged to carry my baby.”

“You’re as funny as a fart in an elevator, Kev,” Andrew rolled his eyes. The live band finished their set and conversation became possible again. “Look again. She’s famous.”

Kevin took a longer look, longer than seemed strictly necessary for the purposes of recognition. “Nope,” he shook his head. “I’ve got nothing. Movie star famous? Or TV-soap famous?”

“It’s Rose Byrne, you tool!” Andrew lamented.

“Oh God,” Belinda groaned. “Here we go.”

“What?” asked Kevin. “The one from …,” he snapped his fingers, trying to recall a name, “… that TV show with the lawyer woman … Meryl Streep?”

“Glenn Close,” Andrew corrected him. “Near enough. It’s Damages. Rose Byrne is the young hottie, Ellen Parsons. And she was in one of the X-Men movies. And Bridesmaids too!”

“Bridesmaids? Really?” Kevin humoured him. “You’ve got the Limited Edition Director’s Cut Blu-Ray of that one, right?”

“Belinda wanted to see it, smart-ass,” he smiled. “But you’re missing the point. It’s her, isn’t it?”

“Tell him it is her, Kev,” Belinda laughed. “I want to see what happens next.”

“It doesn’t seem likely,” Kevin frowned. “She’s American, isn’t she? Go stand close and see if she has an accent.”

“Yeah Andrew,” Belinda giggled. “Go stand close and see if she has an accent. Or an aversion to stalkers.”

“You’re just jealous Daniel Craig’s not here,” he rounded on her, smiling though to show he was being flippant. “No, she’s Australian,” he turned back to Kevin. “She just does the American accent for TV and movies.”

“Are you sure?” Kevin asked, looking over at the woman in the silver dress again while I testily asked myself how such close inspection helped decide an argument about her accent.

“Dead sure,” he said seriously. “That’s what makes her the perfect Celebrity Bang. That and the fact she’s still single.”

I leaned towards Andrew. “Did you say Celebrity …?”

“Celebrity Bang,” Andrew confirmed, keeping an eye on the beautiful woman as he explained. It was Belinda’s idea; she wanted permission to bang Daniel Craig if he ever made a James Bond movie in Australia.” That had a ring of truth; I know Belinda has the serious hots for Daniel Craig in a dinner jacket.

“That seems like a reasonable request,” I smiled.

“Sure!” Andrew laughed. “And I said yes! If Daniel Craig comes to Australia and Belinda just happens to be out and about and sees him on the street, then she has my permission to ask him for a night of hot, meaningless, no-strings-attached sex.”

“You can’t get more reasonable than that,” I giggled, looking at Belinda long-sufferingly rolling her eyes but letting Andrew tell the story his way.

“I thought it was very reasonable of me too,” Andrew agreed with a big grin. “Especially since he’s married to a stone cold fox.”

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“Rachael Weisz!” Belinda threw her hands in the air in frustration. “Bitch!”

“Isn’t she the one from …?” Kevin began.

“Yes!” Andrew interrupted. “From The Mummy!”

“Oh,” Kevin looked sadly at Belinda. “She IS totally hot.” Then he turned back to Andrew. “And Rose Byrne?”

“Well, if Belinda has a Celebrity Bang, then I want one too,” he smiled. “But I did my research! One: she IS Australian, from Sydney, no less.” He ticked off the first point on a finger. “Two: she’s single. That’s how I found her; the split with her last boyfriend was in the women’s mags at about the time this came up.”

“Lucky you have that Cosmo subscription,” Kevin pointed out.

“Shut up, Kev,” Andrew fired back, smiling. “And three: she’s prone to jumping in the sack with strangers!”

“How can you know that?” I laughed. “Cosmo again?”

“Season Two of Damages,” he pointed his finger at me seriously. “She shows up as Wes’s place and hops straight in the cot without so much as a by-your-leave!” Belinda was still just smiling, letting this go on.

“But that’s TV!” I laughed. “Rose Byrne wouldn’t actually do that.” Now he had me looking over at the woman in the silver dress.

“It’s a pattern,” Andrew said confidently. “She looked super into-it and she probably hasn’t stopped thinking about trying it out in real life since filming.”

“And being a beautiful movie star,” I giggled, “she wouldn’t have many opportunities to try out her fantasy seduction on willing young men.”

“You may laugh …” Andrew shook his head, grinning.

“We do!” All three of us sung in chorus.

“… but THAT woman over there is Rose Byrne,” he said, pointing and grinning like a maniac. “And I invoke the Celebrity Bang Act of 2010.” At that moment, a handsome man came back from the bar and handed ‘Rose Byrne’ a glass of champagne, kissing her softly and lovingly on the lips. “Oh, fuck it!” Andrew threw up his hands in frustration and then drowned his disappointment in beer while we laughed at him.

“And so,” I said, turning to Belinda. “Is Daniel Craig still your Celebrity Bang? Or has the whole hot-wife thing turned you off?”

“Are you kidding?” Belinda cried. “A three-way with Daniel Craig and Rachael Weisz? Who’d say no to that?”

“Not me,” Andrew chimed.

“Me neither,” Kevin agreed. I slapped him under the table and then instantly regretted it as I thought about having a three-way with Kevin and Daniel Craig. And Belinda with Rachael Weisz? That wasn’t the first homo-erotic thing she’d ever said. It made me wonder, even though I’d never known her to be anything but straight.

“Don’t you want someone more local?” I smiled at Belinda. “Someone a bit more plausible, like Rose Byrne’s boyfriend?” I asked, gesturing towards the couple.

“Nope,” she shook her head defiantly. “I’m committed to Daniel and Rachael now. If I officially switched, Murphy’s Law would have me a week later dragging him from a burning building and giving him mouth-to-mouth. And then as his eyes would flutter open and he’d dreamily focus on my face and say, “Belinda, thank you! How can I ever repay you? Wait, I feel faint again. Take me and put me to bed. Get Rachael to help!”

“You’re right,” I giggled. “That could totally happen.”

“I know!” she agreed, her eyes flashing happily at the daydream.

“So who’s your Celebrity Bang, Kev?” Andrew asked.

“Oh … uh?” he looked guiltily at me. “We don’t have one.”

“Come on,” he urged. “Jeannie won’t mind, will you Jeans?”

I waved a hand non-committally. “Don’t let me stop you,” I laughed. Our love-making had woken me up to the joy of fantasies and I realised I didn’t really know much about Kevin’s. I hoped this was a good opportunity for some insight.

“Oh, okay,” he smiled, eagerly I thought. “Well, that’s an easy one: Emma Watson.”

Belinda and Andrew groaned in unison.

“You’re already banging Emma Watson,” Andrew complained, gesturing grandly at me. “Pick someone else.”

“No, no!” Kevin waved him down, smiling broadly. “Hear me out! It’s like a twins fantasy!”

“Oh, God yes!” Andrew slapped his head. “An Emma and Jeannie three-way!” I felt my nipples tingle at the sudden attention from two men.

“Hey!” Belinda cried indignantly. “Don’t sound so interested!”

“No, I’m just saying,” Andrew back-pedalled. “I can see the attraction from Kev’s perspective.”

“Sure you can,” Belinda said sarcastically, winking at me, maybe telling me that Andrew had a little crush but that she’s okay with it.

“Right!” smiled Kevin. “And you have to wonder, don’t you?”

“Wonder what?” Andrew asked. Belinda and I were listening intently; this was uncharacteristically revealing for Kevin.

“Well,” he stammered. “You have to wonder just how similar they really are,” he looked shyly at me. I smiled to let him know I wasn’t offended. Actually, it was pretty arousing. “You know,” he started again. “If it was dark, could you really tell which one you were with? Or might you end up having sex with a person you thought was someone else?”

Oh my God! That was so hot! It felt like I was instantly wet. I wasn’t thinking about Emma Watson though; I was thinking about my recurring fantasy of being fucked by a stranger. But in this fantasy, I thought it was Kevin and it was really someone else. I wriggled uncomfortably in my seat as my pussy heated up several degrees.

“Okay, look, I’m going to accept that as your official Celebrity Bang …,” began Andrew.

“How magnanimous!” I interjected.

“… but you’re missing a golden opportunity to pick someone more plausible,” he finished.

“I don’t know about that,” Kevin smiled. “How do you know Emma Watson doesn’t have an auto-erotic twin fantasy? Maybe one well-placed Instagram of Jeannie in that red dress and Emma will come running.”

I had to smile, because it was more funny than offensive. I don’t have any interest in girl-on-girl, but if I did then my look-alike would be at the top of the list. It would be like the world’s hottest, kinkiest masturbation.

“Do I get a say in this?” I laughed.

“No!” they all sang gleefully.

“Your turn Jeans,” Belinda said. “Who’s your Celebrity Bang? “And just remember that Daniel Craig’s going to have nothing left in the tank when I’m finished with him.”

“Oh, I don’t really want one,” I waved it off.

“You know you don’t have to bang them, right?” Andrew argued. “It’s just an option. You know, in case you’re in the mood and they happen to be about. Surely there’s another hot movie star apart from Daniel Craig.”

“No, it’s not that,” I explained. “It’s just that I’ve looked like a celebrity for my entire adult life. And part of my childhood! It’s taken some of the shine off the attraction.”

“Hmmm,” Andrew scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I think I get it. You’re kind of a pseudo-celebrity …”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly,” I frowned.

“Well then, when you’re in that red dress you’re kind of a famous character, if not a famous person,” he said, deftly side-stepping my disagreement.

“O-o-o-kay …,” I said cautiously. I wondered where he was going with this.

“So-o-o, as Hermione Granger, you could BE a Celebrity Bang for someone else, someone with a Hermione fetish who had her as their Celebrity Bang,” he smiled grandly at what he felt was flawless logic. The thought was intriguing though. A reverse Celebrity Bang.

“You just described about half the teenage boys in the country,” Belinda laughed. “You’d better start carrying lube, Jeannie.”

“Ah-ha!” Andrew held up a finger. “But it can only be when you’re in costume!”

“I’m starting to think I should have chosen a situation more plausible than Emma Watson in the dark,” Kevin grumbled.

That gave me an idea.

“Okay!” I said brightly. “Same rules apply! If you’re accidentally banging Emma Watson in the dark, then you’re free to finish her off even if you find out it’s not me half way through.”

“Hmmm,” mused Kevin. “And you?”

“And if I’m being banged by a Hermione-fancier in the dark – in my red dress – and I only work out half way through that it’s not you, then I’m free to continue.”

“Deal!” laughed Kevin, enjoying the absurdity of the arrangement. Not that Belinda banging Daniel Craig was any more plausible.

“Aww,” Andrew groaned. “You’re missing the point. It’s the plausibility that makes it hot.”

“No it’s not!” I defended. “It’s the fantasy that makes it hot. And mistaken identify sex is super-hot. It’s just that in your case the plausibility IS the fantasy.”

“Agreed,” said Kevin, nodding. “Mistaken identity sex is über-hot.”

“Girl’s got a point,” Belinda raised an eyebrow at Andrew. “Daniel and Rachael don’t seem so silly now, do they?”

“That’s it. I give up!” cried Andrew, sitting back and throwing up his arms. “Where’s Rose Byrne? Has she ditched that loser yet?”

We laughed. But I was still thinking about a stranger’s hand sliding up to my bottom beneath my red dress. Good-God I was wet! I hoped Kevin was in an adventurous mood tonight.

Chapter 9 – No Means … I Don’t Know
Adventurous? I had no idea! I could tell he was frisky (we both were!) from his teasing hands in the taxi on the way home. When we got inside I goosed him on the backside and ran giggling for the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way and slamming the door behind me when I got inside.

“Jeannie?” he called after me. “Are you being naughty?” This was a familiar game by now, making him chase me and overpower me.

“No?” I said haltingly, half question and half answer, like maybe he knew better than me whether I was naughty or not. “I’m being good.” More sure this time, but giggling in spite of myself. “I’m tired. I want to go to sleep now.”

“And soon you’ll be able to,” he said sternly, trying to push the door open while I leaned against it in my bra and panties. “As soon as we’re done. You’ve been talking about sex fantasies all night, so I know you want it.” He pushed again on the door and almost opened it up. I had to stop giggling long enough to heave it closed again. That one was a warning and I wouldn’t be so lucky on his next try, so I knew to keep my toes out of the way or they’d get crushed beneath the door.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I called through the door, trying to sound serious. “I don’t want to do it anymore. You can sleep on the sofa.”

“Oh, you don’t mean that,” he said in a low and disbelieving voice. “Let me in and we’ll talk about it.” He pushed powerfully inside, knocking me backwards and sprawling onto the bed. “That’s better! I know exactly what it is you want.” He was trying to look menacing and not to smile, but it wasn’t working; he was having every bit as much fun as I was.

“No! I don’t want to,” I complained meekly, coving my bra and panties with my hands as I scooted back to the head of the bed where we now had soft, nylon nooses tied to the bedframe for my hands. I’m sure other people have far more convincing reluctance role-plays, but for us this seemed more fun. It was like one of those camp TV comedies with farcical over-acting.

Kevin came to me quickly over the bed, walking on his knees and then straddling my hips, holding my wrists tightly while he leaned down to roughly kiss me. I wanted to kiss back, back that wasn’t part of the game, so I tried to twist my face away from him (but I didn’t try very hard).

“But I love you, Jeannie,” he husked in my ear. “Don’t you want to please me?”

“No,” I cried softly as he pinned my wrists behind my head. “Leave me alone. Don’t hurt me.” I was panting in my excitement by this point and incapable of longer sentences. I could feel the hard bar of his cock pressing into my pubis through his jeans and I ineffectually tried to wriggle up so it would press against the aching lips of my pussy.

I struggled weakly as he slipped my hands through the nooses and cinched them tight around my wrists. We discovered long ago how truly difficult it is for a man to immobilise a determined woman’s hands without hurting her. Kevin can do it (by sitting on one arm while he ties the other), but it’s so hard when I’m fighting that he’s almost too exhausted to fuck me properly afterwards, so I wisely opt for token struggling and proper fucking rather than the other way around.

The same principal doesn’t apply once my hands are tied though. It was actually a bit scary how incapacitated I felt the first time he did it; in a real attack and with her hands out of commission, a woman’s only real chance would be a well-placed kick, and even then it’s only going to buy you some time – it won’t get your hands free.

The first few times we did it, we just used slip-loops from which I could free myself by twisting and giving it some slack. But the one time I used our safe-word (he started spanking me, I don’t like it, who knew?), Kevin stopped immediately and earned himself a truck-load of trust. After that, I got him to tie the nooses. The feeling of being brought to orgasm when you’re truly incapacitated is indescribably hot.

With both of my hands tied, Kevin moved down my body a fraction to position the hard bulge in his pants over my pussy and then leaned back down to kiss me. This time I kissed back – it was a reluctance fantasy, not a non-consent fantasy – but then turned my head away whispering “No. I don’t want to,” all the while rubbing my pussy deliciously against that throbbing bulge.

Very quickly, Kevin rocked backwards onto his feet and pulled my panties down to my knees in the same movement.

“No!” I squawked in mock horror, crossing one leg over the other to hide my naked pussy. Kevin was briefly crouched over my knees – which would be catastrophic for him if I was really trying to fight him – but I was taking care not to kick him and thus bring my fantasy to a premature end with him curled up on the floor and me still tied to the bed. Instead he leaped off, peeling off my soaking panties as he went. He grabbed one ankle and slipped another noose around it while I tried to kick out of his grasp, wriggling and opening my legs wide so he could see how wet he was making me. Walking around the foot of the bed, he did the same to the other leg and pulled them tight, stretching me wide open and helpless while I desperately tried not to show how much I was loving it.

“Now …,” he said, standing beside the bed and looking down at me, naked except for my sexy half-cup bra and completely at his mercy. I looked back up at him, wide eyes glinting with excitement, which could maybe be mistaken for apprehension and fear. Or maybe not; I’m no expert. Kevin pulled the slip off a pillow and fitted it quickly over my head.

“What?” I cried, genuinely surprised. “No! No mea…,” in my shock I almost used the safe-word, no-means-no, but stopped myself at the last moment thinking that it might be sexy not to be able to see what he was about to do to me. Besides, the slip was loose over my head and I could breathe easily so it was hardly any less comfortable, and I could always use the safe-word properly if it turned out I didn’t like it.

“Okay?” he asked softly, breaking from the role-play when he heard me almost give up.

“Don’t!” I cried out meekly. “Let me go. I’m frightened. I don’t want to do it anymore!” Which of course meant I wanted to be filled up with as much cock as he had to give me, and please for fuck’s sake hurry because I’m so horny I could burst.

“Good!” he said decisively. I could hear him pulling off his shirt and unzipping his pants; I wished I could see how hard he was and how much he wanted me. I felt the mattress flex as he climbed back onto the bed and then the lightest touch on my ribcage, just below my bra. Finger? Tongue? I could feel a cool trail as it moved lightly down and over my stomach. Tongue, then. His cock might leave a wet trail too, but not one that long. It weaved across the other side of my stomach and over my hip, skirting close to my pubic hair and then down to my inner thigh where it stopped. He kissed me lightly down there, about eight inches below my glistening slit, sucking little circles of skin between his lips and gently tonguing them before releasing and moving to a new location ever closer to my entrance.

My pussy felt like it was on fire. With my legs spread so wide, he could get into every nook and crevice at the junction of my thighs. And he did! The tendons at the tops of my thighs were stretched taut and standing proud, creating erogenous hollows both above and below that Kevin pampered with slow loving kisses and caressed with the hard point of his tongue. I could feel juices trickling from my gaping entrance and running down over my perineum. Kevin’s tongue touched there – tasting me – and I arched my pussy down to try to bring his tongue to my wanton slit but he just teased me and licked lazily around the edges of my opening, occasionally treating me with the lightest of feather touches to pink wings of my inner labia.

“What was that?” Kevin asked urgently? I heard it too, a noise somewhere outside the bedroom. “Don’t go anywhere!” he said with a smile in his voice as I felt him climb off the bed and pad over to the door. “Shit. I left the front door open.”

I heard him leave the room and then the sound of the front door closing a few moments later.

And then silence.

“Kevin?” I didn’t say it very loud. I didn’t need to, there were no other sounds and he could hear me perfectly well from anywhere in the apartment. I listened intently, not sure whether the pillow slip over my head was affecting my hearing. There was nothing. Just pure silence. Was this part of the game? Making me wait? I was so hot and ready for sex that it didn’t seem like a fun game to me; I just wanted him to come back into the bedroom and finish me off. I could almost feel my clitoris thrumming; I’d probably come in about three quick strokes.

I waited another ten-count in the perfect silence, listening to my own heartbeat in my ears. “Kevin?” I tried to put a bit of impatience into my voice. “This isn’t very funny. Come and finish what you started.” I realised that I’d fallen out of my role and began to get annoyed for real, partly with Kevin and partly with myself for being so easily shaken out of the game.

Why would he do it anyway? There’s nothing sexy about leaving me naked and blindfolded and tied to the bed to cool off when he could be filling me with hot cock at this very moment.

Unless he was watching me.

I listened intently again, cocking my head to the side and not breathing. Had he snuck back into the bedroom without me hearing? It was possible. Especially with the slip over my ears, I might not have heard him. It was the only thing that made sense, him watching me, my hands tied helplessly behind my head and my legs stretched across the bed, pulling the lips of my pussy apart. I thought about him standing there, breathing softly through his mouth and holding his rigid cock, a drop of pre-cum beading on the tip as he stared greedily at my open sex and imagined sinking his shaft into its tight, silken sheath in a single thrust.

So it was part of the game! What was my role now? Did he want me to do something? Should I struggle against the bonds? Just to check, I tried touching my hands together to see if I could loosen one noose with the other hand, but it was useless, they were just too far apart. Suppose he wanted me to pretend he was really was gone and I was on my own. How would I get untied? I’d have to scream for help, I guess, and then someone would come to rescue me.

What if a guy came to help?

What if he was on his own?

What if he saw how naked and helpless I was?

Oh my God! What if he saw how wet I was? This fantasy might not be part of the game, but I felt a fresh trickle of pussy juices run from my entrance and down to my anus.

What if a guy came in and just helped himself to what was on offer? And what would it feel like? Blindfolded and helpless with a strange cock sliding into my pussy, thicker than Kevin, pumping me slowly, stretching me until I could take his full girth and then giving me more length, inch by inch until his thick cock was all the way inside and my yawning pussy lips were stretched taut around the base. I felt my heart quicken at the fantasy. I imagined the stranger fucking me deeply, his monster cock buried inside me and pressed against my cervix, rocking back and forth while the tight muscles of my pussy squeezed and polished his shaft until he climaxed, finishing inside me and filling me with his hot cum.

Oh my goodness! My pussy was incandescent; it felt like it was glowing with wet heat. I wanted to squeeze my thighs together to relieve the ache in my throbbing vulva, but the ropes around my ankles had me stretched wide. I clenched the muscles in my pussy to try and quell the fire building there and felt it wink closed, only to peel open again when I released.

Was that a sigh? I thought I heard a soft breath as I clenched my pussy. Kevin must be here, watching me, silently stroking his cock and seeing me get wetter and wetter. I held my breath and listened again, but there was nothing.

What was he doing? Was he just standing there? Maybe he was closer than I thought. Maybe he was leaning over the bed with his lips close to my pussy. Now that I had imagined it, I could feel the radiant warmth of his face close to my thighs and I was sure I was right. I thrust my pussy upwards hoping to surprise him, but nothing happened; it was just my imagination playing tricks.

But I could still feel that warmth on my thighs. Was that the movement of air? Did I just feel his breath on me? Now I was hearing and feeling phantom breaths. What other clues could I use without sight? Smell? Could I even smell him through the pillowcase? I’m so used to his deodorant that I probably wouldn’t smell it anyway. Was he wearing cologne tonight? Concentrating hard, I took a slow, deep breath, flaring my nostrils and searching for a scent that would betray him. I took a second and third breath. Maybe there was something. I could smell my own sex, but maybe there was something else, a softer scent. Vanilla? It didn’t smell familiar. Heck, I’m not even sure I smelled anything at all.

“Kevin?” I said softly. There was no response. It was starting to get weird. “Kevin, just finish me off. I want you.” I waited, breathing through my mouth and listening intently. Still there was nothing. The excitement of my stranger fantasy was wearing off again. This game had gone long enough. I steeled myself to use a sterner voice.

“Kev… ARRRGH!” I felt something and shrieked in surprise. It was a touch, right in the pink inner folds of my pussy. My heart leaped in my chest and I strained uselessly against the bonds. “JESUS, WHAT THE…,” I began, and then “Ohhh!” as whatever had touched me forced rudely inside and began slowly pumping my pussy. Oh my God, what was it? There was no one on the bed other than me. A finger? No, thicker. A thumb? Yes, probably. I felt it fuck deeper into me, my tight entrance stretching and closing around a hard knob of bone. Definitely a thumb.

“Oh my God, Kevin!” I gasped, partly from the surprise and partly from the pleasure of finally having something in my pussy. “You scared the shit out of me!” Still there was no response and no sound, just the wet, hungry sucking of my pussy as that thumb slowly fucked me. What was the game now? I knew he was there so why wasn’t he saying anything? It wasn’t like him.

(What was that again?)

It wasn’t like him… Oh my God. I went cold. The front door was open. What if it’s not him? What if it’s a stranger pretending to be him? But then what happened to Kevin? He didn’t just walk away. He didn’t get bludgeoned and fall unconscious to the floor. I would have heard that. Obviously this was Kevin pretending to be someone else.

Obviously, right? But why didn’t he put on a little pantomime of falling over or yelling “Oh my God” before a big crash? Why just the silence? It didn’t make sense. I’d almost reassured myself that the owner of the thumb gently fucking me was only Kevin. But what if it wasn’t? What if!

I’ll use the safe word, I thought. I actually opened my mouth to do it and then froze. What if it wasn’t Kevin? It was impossible and it was just nerves getting to me, but what if it wasn’t Kevin? A stranger wouldn’t respond to our safe word; he’d keep going and then I’d know for sure that I was here alone and helpless and terrified and being fucked by a stranger. If it was Kevin, he’d stop and the breathless, terrifying, and utterly orgasmic thumb-fucking would stop too.

What if I just let it continue? Because it’s Kevin. Of course it’s Kevin. But I could pretend it wasn’t. I could pretend I was being fucked by a stranger. If he did anything too weird – if he did anything too scary – I could use the safe-word and he would stop. He would stop, right? Because it’s Kevin, and Kevin respects my trust.

And if he didn’t stop? Well, then I’d scream. Sure, I’d scream, and then he’d run – whoever he was – and someone would come and untie me. Someone safe. But only if it gets weird. Or scary. Until then, I could just enjoy the sex because … because after all, it’s Kevin.

That mysterious disembodied thumb in my pussy had been joined by a mysterious disembodied finger – a knuckle, actually – and it was pressed against my clitoris, sliding around in my juices while the hard nub of my love button slipped left and right beneath it.

As delicious as the thumb-fucking was, I had a deeper itch, a furnace heat building in the depths of my pussy that it couldn’t reach. I was pumping my hips in time to his thumb now, rising to meet each stroke, thrusting at the last moment and gasping as he buried it up to the webbing and the thicker meat below the thumb drove into my opening and spread me wide.

“Please,” I gasped, my breath ragged and strained. “Please finish me with your cock. I want to feel you come inside me.”

And with that the thumb stopped. Well, actually it paused. Right at the bottom of the stroke. I had thrust upwards and my bottom dropped back onto the bed as that loving opposable digit slid wetly from my pussy. There was still no other sound apart from my ragged breathing, now hot and moist inside the pillow slip covering my head. The pad of the thumb kept caressing my opening, as if the owner was inspecting my pussy, maybe deciding whether or not I was worth fucking. It wasn’t typical of Kevin and even though I knew it was him, the not knowing was simply breathtaking. I don’t think I’d ever been hornier.

Finally the thumb broke contact and I heard the delightfully welcome sound of a zipper followed by the rustle of pants being removed.

(Zip?)

I smiled beneath my pillow slip. Yep, you’ve still got it Jeannie. Even tied up and helpless, the guys just gotta follow your instruction.

I felt the mattress flex as he climbed onto the bed between the stretched vee of my naked legs and I imagined him kneeling there, cock in hand, stroking it as he contemplated my pink, soaking entrance.

(Zip!)

Something was asserting itself from my subconscious. I was trying to concentrate of the mental image of Kevin (or anyone! Remember, it could be anyone) kneeling between my thighs but something else was clamouring for attention in my brain. A feeling like déjà vu. Kevin moved closer and I lifted my knees up as far as the ropes would allow to give him better access to my pussy, and I shivered with anticipation as I felt him moving into position with his knees touching the backs of my thighs.

(ZIP!)

What am I trying to remember? Was it something I saw? But I haven’t seen anything since the blindfold went on. Something I imagined? Maybe, but being helpless is a common fantasy for me and I’d been thinking about being fucked by a stranger several times tonight, so that didn’t feel right.

I felt another touch at my entrance, softer than before. Not a thumb this time, but the head of his cock. I drew a sharp intake of breath and vocalised my mounting desire and need on the exhale, anticipating the beautiful moment when his hard cock would breach me.

Something I heard? I haven’t heard much of anything. Just the wet sounds of my pussy, my own breathing, Kevin’s zipper …

(ZIP!!!)

Kevin’s zipper. A tidal wave of adrenaline swamped me, sending a chill down my spine and making my heart race. His zipper! I heard it when he undressed right after blindfolding me, and now I heard it again, just a minute ago. He’d been naked when he left the room to close the front door; I was sure of it. And he left so quickly, he didn’t have time to redress.

And now there was a cock tracing the length of my slit, touching my clitoris and firing off cannon-bursts of ecstasy, a cock that until a minute ago had been inside a pair of pants.

A cock that didn’t belong to Kevin!

(no-means-no-means-no-means-no-meansnomeansnomeansNOMEANASNOMEANSNO!)

I opened my mouth to say it, to scream it, but just as I drew in breath to do so, he pushed firmly into my pussy, his cock hard and cool in my furnace core like a bar of iron thrust into a forge. The soft skin of his cock-head parted the hot, velvety walls of my sheath, all the way inside in a single wet stroke until I felt the tip touch down on my cervix and his pubis against the engorged, tender lips of my sex.

“O-h-h-h-h-mmm!” It was supposed to be “No-means-no,” but all that came out was a gasp of pure, undiluted ecstasy, and before I could take another breath to try again he pulled three quarters of the way out and drilled me again, thrusting at the end and bumping my labia in way that could have been painful but just fired off another mortar shell of bliss in my core.

In that extra moment, I was able to think about what the safe-word meant. And the thing is: nothing had changed! If it was Kevin then this wonderful, raw, terrifying sex would stop. If it wasn’t Kevin then I would lie here helpless and petrified while I was raped by a stranger.

But if I didn’t use the safe-word….

If I didn’t use the safe word then I could pretend it was Kevin. Or I could pretend that I was pretending that it wasn’t Kevin; I was too confused and too horny to even think straight. All I knew for sure was that I had never been so frightened in my life, and even so I was about thirty seconds away from an orgasm of such intensity that it might be life-threatening.

“Oh my God! Please don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me!” I could hear the waver in my own voice and it frightened me even more, but now I was lifting into his thrusts, tilting my hips to drive him deeper, his cock-head pounding my cervix and driving each breath from my lungs faster than I could take a new one.

“Yes! Yes!” I cried in time to his pounding cock. I was tipping over the edge. “I’m almost there!” I husked. “Cum in me!” I felt rough hands grab at the curve of my hips and his cock – this powerful, rampant stranger’s cock – swelled and ploughed into my womanhood and held there. Mashed up against my pussy, my swollen labia peeled back in a wet embrace against the base of his cock and balls, I felt the freight-train rumble of cum coursing through his shaft and emptying into the steaming, desperate sheath of my sex. The thought of this stranger’s cum arcing into my innermost core in thick, wet ropes – painting my love canal in his hot, strange spunk – it finished me, and finally I was coming too. The muscles in my thighs contracted but I was tied down and had nothing to squeeze and bear down on except his throbbing cock. Writhing and twisting against my bonds, my pussy muscles crushed down on his cock and sprayed hot cum out over my tingling, singing labia. As my orgasm peaked, every muscle in my body spasmed at once and I shook, moaning and crying out and trying to breathe at the same time, pulling furiously at the ropes on my ankles to force his cock deeper and grind my clitoris against his pubis.

As I finally descended from my climax, the true horror of my situation finally dawned: bound and helpless, raped and in a few moments abandoned in a sticky, steaming pool of a stranger’s cum and the juices of my own incredible orgasm.

“No means no,” I whispered, my eyes pinched shut against the tears that were about to erupt.

I held my breath.

The body above me collapsed heavily onto my chest, crushing my breasts and driving the breath out of me. The pillow slip pulled off my head and I blinked against the sudden brighter light.

“Jeannie! Jeannie! It’s okay. It’s just me.” Kevin’s voice. Oh my God. I blinked again and he came into focus, glancing alternately between my face and my wrists where he was fumbling to release me.

“Oh Kevin,” I breathed, crying in relief. He got my hands free and I threw them around his chest, burying my face in his neck. “Thank God. I was so frightened. I knew it was you … and then I didn’t.”

“Shhh,” he soothed me, stroking my hair. His softening cock was still inside me and with each hitching sob I forced it slowly out. “It’s okay, Jeannie. It’s all over now.”

I took a deep, wavering breath and held his head in my hands so that I could look into his eyes. I saw concern there, love too, but there was also a conflicted delight that he had achieved what he set out to do, but maybe hurt me in the process. He hadn’t. I was just shocked and emotional, stunned from the intensity of my orgasm and the realism of my ‘assault’.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “That was … incredible.” And then I hugged him tight again, taking comfort from the safety of his body pressed into mine.

“So do you want to do it again,” he asked, a smile in his voice.

“Oh, God yes,” I enthused, rubbing my pussy wetly against him. “But not too soon. I won’t fall for it as easily next time.”

“One more thing?” he asked quietly.

“Anything,” I sighed into his neck. My heart had almost returned to its normal rate and I was basking in the afterglow of the most wonderful, wonderful sex.

“Jeannie, will you marry me?” He rolled to the side so that he could watch my expression.

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “With all my heart. Now untie my legs and let me love you properly.”

He did.

And I did.