Bound for Trouble

She could not believe that he’d left her here.

Like this.

Strung out on the bed, arms and legs splayed wide, securely tied to each post of their heavy oak bed, open, vulnerable.  What had started as a fun game had slowly devolved into a little argument.

And became a big fight.

Whereupon her husband had walked out of the room. Not only had he left her here, uncomfortable, and angry, but moments after he’d slammed the door, she heard the motor of his truck roar to life, and peal down the road.

He hadn’t been kidding when he said he would go down to Hooliguns and have a few brewskies.

“Fucking, fucking asshat,” she spoke, breaking the silence that had fallen over their bedroom.  She was pissed. She was horny. She’d been sure that they’d have a wonderful time once he got over the shock of her suggestion. She’d read about it in that Ladies Magazine.  “Spice up the bedroom with silk scarves” the article had begun.

“Fat fucking lot of good that did me,” she thought.

She must have dozed a bit. The shadows in the room had gone, and it was full dark, and something had woken her. She tried to sit up, forgetting for a moment. The pull at wrists and ankles brought it all back.

There! Again she heard it, the knocking on the back door. She wanted to call out but she didn’t really want to invite anyone in. Not like this.

She heard footsteps. The door opened, and the light came on, followed by a moment of sheer humiliation, and dead silence.

She stared at Tom. Tom stared at her.

And smiled.

It was slow, growing across his face like a sunrise. By the time it reached his eyes, she knew she was totally screwed.

She watched, silently, as he slowly unbuckled his belt, dropped his fly, and pulled down his pants.  Silent as she saw the rising of what looked like an impressive chunk of change in his boxers, if the tent currently under construction was anything to go by. And remained silent when he crossed his arms, reaching down and pulling his polo shirt up and over his head.

The boxers were dropped on the floor, and he stepped towards the bed.

“What a pretty picture you make, Janie girl,” he purred at her. She felt goosebumps rise at the implications there. And she wasn’t pretty. She wanted to close her eyes in embarrassment when his eyes roamed her body.

Belly soft with middle age, crisscrossed with the reminders of childbearing. Tits sagging fatly to each side of her chest, currently bright red with her shame.  Her pussy was plump and shaved bald, they way she read about in that Ladies …okay in those sex blogs.

His eyes swept over her, his smile growing to a happy, boyish grin. Their neighbor, who helped shovel snow, who led the neighborhood barbecue, who played cards with her husband every Friday night, was ooogling her. She was so mortified.

Her eyes flew open as the bed shifted under his weight. His hands cupped up under her ass.

“A feast awaits me,” he murmured, as his mouth lowered to her bald and aching pussy. Oh. Oh my, she thought, as the heat of him burned through her. The heat of his body between her thighs, the heat of his mouth on her center.

His tongue sluiced through the long slit. His face rose, smile intact.

“Mmmm, sweet and wet with your honey….” And he returned to the opening between her thighs. He licked, he nibbled, he twirled his tongue.

She bucked, and writhed, and moaned. Her husband never gave her oral. This was….incredible. In-fucking-credible. Her lower lips plumped as he sucked one, then the other into his mouth, and chewed lightly.

“Oooooohhh,” she cried out.

He chuckled against her, and the sound passed through her as sensation. His thumbs slid up and pulled her open, allowing his mouth and teeth and that devious delightful tongue to work on her most sensitive inner parts.

When he sucked her clit into his mouth through his slightly parted teeth, she would have come off the bed had she not been tied there.  The sounds should have been protests, should have been warnings to release her.

But she was seeking a different form of release now. In her head she was chanting “please don’t stop, please don’t stop..” Outside, all that came out was an ululating moan.

When she would have cum, he lifted up from her pussy, and slid on top of her. His cock speared her wet slit neatly, sliding deep inside on the first stroke.

“Such a fucking hot cunt you are, Janie. A hot little slut I’ve wanted just this way. Spread and open and available. I could do anything to you. Anything.”

“I could take my cock out of your delightful fuckhole and slide it up your asshole instead. You can’t stop that. I could put it between your tits, squeeze them tightly and fuck your titties while I squish your nipples between my fingers.”

His words were dark and naughty and threw her over the edge of control. She exploded around his cock, and he laughed as he felt her cunt fist tight around him like a hot velvet glove.

He kept fucking her.

She moaned, ‘no, no…can’t” but he simply pumped steadily onward, and wracked her up again. Once more she felt herself thrown up the mountain of lust, and sex and need. Her pussy was trembling from his relentless pounding.

She’d forgotten how much stamina youth has.

“Your pussy is burning my cock it’s so fucking hot. Can you hear it? That wet sound? That’s you, little fuckdoll. Your cunt, wet because you like this. Love this. Want this. Need this.  Take it. Take every inch of me, fuckslut.”

He picked up the pace, pushing her through another cum, not slowing, but pounding now, hard and brutal jabs into her core. She made little grunts each time his pubic bone ground into hers, his cock fully engulfed in her hot hole.

His fists grabbed at her tits, anchoring himself as he began humping for that final stretch.

“Yes,” he ground out from gritted teeth, ‘YES, you fucking whore, take it take it take it…” the guttural cry burst from his lips as he began flooding her with his semen. He pinched down on her nipples, hard and painfully, thrusting her through the fire of yet another orgasm.

Gasping, he collapsed on her.


She woke when her wrist hit the mattress. Pins and needles and oh ouchie.. Awareness flooded through her. Her right hand fell with a soft thump. More pins, more needles. OH damn.

Her ankles were released, his hands gentle as he placed each foot on the bed.

“There you go, Janie-girl.” He rubbed her ankles briskly, ignoring her little whimpers.

He bent over her, kissing her gently.

“I’m really glad I ran into Marc at the bar tonight.” He winked at her. “He mentioned leaving you in a bind….guess he wasn’t joking. But next time I fuck you, I’ll  be the one tying you up.”

She blinked up at him.

“See you ’round, Janie.”

She opened her mouth to say something, anything–nothing but breath came out.

He flicked off the light as he left, whistling.