With each step, it got harder to see Tom's nude body through the trees. I loved that even at a distance it was obvious that he was nude. That black patch of pubes right in the middle of his body! It was so perfect.
There was a spot about ten yards up the trail from the cabin where I would lose sight of him if I went any further. Feeling protective, I thought about dashing in to get what I needed from the cabin and rushing back out to that spot so he'd only be out of my sight for a minute at most.
"Fuck that," I growled taking slow steps forward. Leaving him completely at the mercy of the forest. It felt preposterously naughty, like a cross between walking out onto thin ice and drinking my first bootleg wine. I knew if I looked back I couldn't see him. Then it hit me. I was hopelessly aroused and each step made it worse. It was like the first time someone sucked on my nipples. (That young man knew what he was doing.)
I tried to act perfectly casual as I tossed Tom's clothes in the trunk of my car and went inside the cabin. (I had no idea that the clunk of closing trunk could be so satisfying. I've never thought of that locking sound the same way.) I decided that I should try to look at least a little sexier, so I switched from the sports bra to the other bra I had, a black lacy number, and replaced the hoodie with a t-shirt that shrunk in the wash each time I cleaned it and which now showed serious midriff. When I went to unzip the hoodie, I released the smell of sex. I hadn't noticed how much I had been sweating. It wasn't ordinary fresh sweat but "breed with me this instant" sweat. I considered taking a shower and then telling Tom about what he had missed out on, but if I got into the shower (which I had a lovely showerhead that came off the wall and could be strategically positioned), I would be there a long time and as thrilling as it was, I didn't want to leave Tom alone for too long.
I grabbed my laptop and my dad's binoculars and went back outside. About twenty yards back up the trail, I found two stumps side by side that could double as a desk. I checked Tom through binoculars while waiting for my laptop to boot. Honestly, his facial expression made him looked stoned and he was still at half mast. He didn't look completely comfortable and somehow having to brace himself a little made him tense his abdominal muscles. Which was perfectly lovely.
It was hard to see the screen with the glare on the laptop (and why are there no fucking mousepads in the middle of the forest? Back at the office they're everywhere, like mushrooms), but it was clear that most of the pictures I took of my captive, especially the first ones, were awful. The camera was shaking too much or his eyes were closed or something else went wrong. Sadly I deleted and deleted and deleted some more.
I also realized, even more sadly, that I would ultimately have to ask Tom for permission to keep the remaining pictures. At the moment, he was so turned on he'd probably say yes. To be fair, I would have to ask him sometime when he wasn't turned on and could think rationally about his future. If he was thinking clearly, he probably would ask that I delete them.
Welp. I guess I would have to keep him permanently aroused.
Hehehehehe.
If you could see the last dozen pictures, the ones that I did not delete, you would forgive me for being so desperate to keep them that I could entertain being underhanded. They were magnificent. One in particular was a side view with him looking forward. It had so many amazing curves. His calf muscles, his taunt thighs, his ass, his spine, his erection, his neck. It belonged in a museum if I don't say so myself.
This was too much. I needed relief. I walked to a bend in the trail where a car coming up the driveway wouldn't see me. I leaned against a tree that had a leaning tower of Pisa angle to it and checked through the binoculars. Tom must have caught some motion out of the corner of his eye as he was looking in my general direction and his penis was twitching. He eventually went back to looking stoned and hazy eyed.
I slipped fingers into my panties. It's hard, even with a tree for support, to keep binoculars focused on someone while jilling yourself silly. Try it yourself if you don't believe me. He kept bouncing out of the circle of zoomed vision and into the blackness. Even though I can be loud and I didn't have to worry about anyone hearing, I was ultra quiet. My first outdoor orgasm.
Actually, my knees gave out and I fell over. Very dignified. I have such a future in the porn industry.
When I was done and dusted off, I checked the time on the laptop. Almost 12:30. I had no idea so much time had past. I looked at the gorgeous dozen photos, whistled in continued disbelief, and powered off. I hurried to put the laptop back in my car and the binoculars back in the cabin. I scampered up the trail.
Soon I could see he was watching me. Relief was written all over his face.
I stopped ten feet from him and soaked up the view. He was drenched in sweat. I should have brought him a bottle of water. Neither one of us knew what to say. He was flaccid but his veins were bulging and he looked like he would burst at the slightest touch.
Finally, we both managed a shy "Hi" at the same time and laughed simultaneously at our saying "Hi" simultaneously.
"How was it?" I asked. I bashfully approached.
"The muscles in my legs are sore as hell but that was awesome."
I nodded affirmatively. "Can't disagree with you on that one." I added in a soft whisper. "Thank you."
"You are most welcome. And thank *you*. I still can't believe you actually..." He shook the cuffs. He looked like he was about to cry.
"Aww. Of course." I approached. He got harder and harder with each step I took. I slowed down once I understood what was happening. I stopped a foot in front of him. It took so much effort to resist the flashing "Caress me" signs on his nipples. "I guess this concludes the end of part 1 of my fantasy."
He looked puzzled. "What do you mean 'Part 1'?"
"And unfortunately given how many nights a week I have my daughter — her dad only has her every other weekend which is just as well and then she's really cared for by his mom, which is a relief because she's a wonderful person and now one of my closest friends and I don't remember the beginning of this sentence." I took a deep breath. "Where was I?" He looked soooo puzzled.
"When we worked together, I didn't realize how much you talked," he said.
I ignored him. "Where was I?" I repeated. "Right. I won't have free time for two weeks. So part 2 must wait two weekends." I looked down at his balls and added, "Sorry fellas. You're gonna get miserably achy full." Then I added, "And the weather might not be as nice as now. Or my parents might be using the cabin."
His penis was throbbing but his voice was quivering with nerves. "What are you talking about? I thought I would get a blow job and then we called it a day." He saw the look on my face and quickly changed to "...a hand job. A hand job and we call it a day?" Such forced hopefulness in his voice.
"This job, that job. All these demands for *employment*! We call it a day now. Then you can't touch *this*..." Funny, I only pointed at his penis because I couldn't bring myself to ask for permission to touch it, "until we do part 2. In two weeks. Or when the cabin is free on a nice day after two weeks. Which I'm guessing for you will be really... dare I say it, hard?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You're not to touch yourself until part two. Not a single stroke. Do you understand?"
"What is part 2? And what makes you think I need your permission to touch myself?" Tom demanded, fear and arousal chasing themselves around his shuddering body.
"Dude, seriously! That tone! Need I remind you that you are still cuffed to a tree naked and your clothes are..." I covered my mouth and giggled. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry. I totally spaced. I was going to bring them back with me when I came to unlock you. Your clothes are back in my car. Locked in the trunk. Can you tell I've never done this before?" This was too rich. "Tom, I'm sorry but you are so absolutely ridiculously
*cute* when you are alarmed. So I will explain things," I said. "Part 2 is when we do this again — in two weeks — with slightly higher stakes and you two weeks hornier. No masturbation between now and then. And you hope the weather cooperates. And my ex doesn't bail on taking our daughter. Capiche?"
Tom looked like he was practically having an epileptic seizure of arousal while simultaneously acting out a scene from a horror movie. "I can't wait two weeks! And I'm lucky no one saw me as it is! I can't do this again!"
"My dear boy," I said with my attempt at a patronizing fake English accent. "Aren't you forgetting something?" I held up my phone and wiggled it with playful menace. "About a dozen of those photos are amazing. You wouldn't want anyone to see them now would you?"
Gasping for breath he protested, "That wasn't part of the fantasy you described!"
"Really?" I said abruptly becoming serious. It was my turn to look puzzled. "But Tom..." I was too confused to finish my sentence. "Okay I admit I don't remember what I said at the bar so I have to take your word that I left out this part. But Tom, Tom, Tom, the whole idea is that I have a *ridiculous* amount of power of a guy and get to have fun embarrassing him."
"I know but..." Tom said almost wheezing.
I scrunched up my face in confusion and held my hands up in bewilderment. "Tom! If it wasn't the blackmail part of this fantasy, why do you think at the coffeehouse immediately after agreeing to this I was asking about Facebook and whether you were still in contact with Emma and Jane?!"
The world went down a rabbithole as I was hit with two thoughts. He was sucking air so hard the first thought was, "What could possibly be choking him?" Then the second even more surreal thought was, "Why is someone flinging alfredo sauce at me?!"
I howled with delight and laughter as I grasped what was happening. Without any physical stimulation he was ejaculating onto my shirt. I hastily dropped my phone and pulled down on the bottom of my shirt to make it like a semen-catching net. The last two flings were erratic so I had to move around to catch them.
Then he leaned back against the tree, exhausted and defeated.
"I... I have never... Well, damn. Guys can do that??" I exclaimed. With a lot of pointing for emphasis, I burst, "But neither you nor me was touching him! Daaaaamn. You know how to make someone feel like a sexy motherfucker. Here I was nervous about showing off my midriff because of all the stretch marks and I haven't been with anyone since my daughter was born unless you count her asshole father which I don't because he's half blind." I went on. Sometimes I get loquacious when I get excited.
Tom was in no condition to respond. That was obvious. There was still a drip dangling from his penis so I moved one hand to the inside of the shirt so it was covered by fabric and then I stepped forward to give him one sensuous wipe. He moaned. His eyes were closed.
I giggled. "Are you going to fall asleep on me? I can always come back. Later?" I pointed in the direction of my car. "Maybe then I'll remember at least your shoes. Maybe?"
He opened his eyes and moaned. I looked down at my shirt. The semen was a series of splotches. Pollack Jacksony. Or was his name Jackson Pollack? Never mind. I had to move quickly before the fabric absorbed the semen.
"Last night I read some really nasty stories. I read about this one thing that is so gross but maybe you'll like it." I carefully pulled my shirt off so I didn't fold it against itself and then crouched down to use his bottom lip to scrape the semen off my shirt and into his mouth. "Suck and swallow," I ordered as manipulated the fabric from the inside. My first thought was that it was a pity that it was Tom and not any of the guys who insisted I swallow their loads, but the way he moaned in horror but still obeyed! Shudder. It was suddenly the most intimate thing ever.
