Blind Leading the Blind

Chapter Two

Fantasies

George and Charlene didn't talk much about when or what the next time would be. Both were struggling in their minds with the idea of sharing fantasies that each believed the other would find repulsive. While the husband and wife had learned to communicate well in their marriage, they had a blind spot when it came to sex. Ever since Charlene had become obsessed with giving George a blowjob as a result of his asking for one of their honeymoon, they had talked very little about their sex lives. This is not to say that their sex life was not good, it was. Both enjoyed sex tremendously. But, George never asked for anything in particular after the first oral sex disaster. Charlene had been focused on success at oral that she had not even thought of other variations.

Truth be told, George and Charlene were very conservative in outlook, both in their public beliefs and their private lives. Their only two adult videos were present only because Charlene had thought that seeing it done would help her overcome her panic attacks. It was shear desperation that had pushed Charlene into becoming George's slave. Now the two were trying to think about subjects that many would seem to find tame, but that they considered to be outlandish acts, bordering on extreme perversion.

A week passed with neither bringing the subject up. They had sex twice during the week, enjoying it as they always had. There seemed to be a missing element, though, that both were aware of, but was not mentioned right away. It was the next Friday evening, returning from a dinner with some friends, that the subject of Cherry and when she would next make an appearance, came up.

"George?" The couple was sitting in the living room, watching "Whose Line is it Anyway?"

"Yes, dear."

"Have you given any though as to what you would like from Cherry the next time I let her out?"

"Kind of. I'm finding it a little difficult. How about you?"

Charlene looked sheepish. "I've actually been avoiding it. All of my fantasies seem so far out. You know, weird and perverted. I'm embarrassed about them."

"That's exactly what I have been feeling. I guess we need to ask ourselves if we really want to do something that radical again."

"I think I do. George, I know this sounds so strange, maybe even crazy, but being your slave girl was one of the most satisfying experiences I have even had. I want to know if that is possible again. It's just so hard to think about my fantasies. They seem so depraved."

"Are they any more depraved than being my slave and spanked for being less than pleasing?"

"When you put it that way, I guess not. It doesn't make it any easier though."

"Would it be easier if you wrote them out on your own before telling me about them?"

"Maybe. You should too. Remember, Cherry is your slave girl. She should fulfill your fantasies."

"You're right. Why don't we spend tomorrow apart and write at least one of our fantasies down and Sunday, we'll read them and talk about which, if any, we want to try out."

"I think that will work. Till Sunday night. Oh, they're going to do a hoe down." The couple turned back to the TV to watch Drew, Collin and the others sing the mailman hoe down.

Once the program was over, the television was turned off and George place his arm around Charlene, holding her close. Her hand dropped onto his leg, resting there, squeezing gently. His hand caressed her shoulder and arm in response. Charlene purred a, "Mmmmm" at his touch and snuggled in closer. George snuck his hand down her side, slipping under the edge of her blouse to reach the skin on her hips, a sensitive spot for Charlene. She jumped a little as tingles of pleasure sparked out from her side. Her hand on that side covered his, not to stop or interfere, but merely to increase the contact between them.

Her other hand slipped around him, reaching under his shirt so she could reach his chest. They traded caresses, slowly working themselves up. George's cock started to harden and he could feel moisture leaking from it. His breathing was becoming more audible as his desire increased. Charlene's breathing was also becoming faster and deeper, matching the depth of the sensations that were flowing through her body. Her nipples had hardened and that ache in her pussy was making itself felt, the one that could only be satisfied by her husband screwing her.

George stood, and, taking Charlene by the hand, led her into the bedroom. Embracing her, he kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring the familiar depths of her mouth. While he did, one hand slipped beneath the waste band of her skirt and slid it over her hips to fall to the floor. Charlene's hands busied themselves with the buttons of his shirt, unlocking the first gate to his chest. They broke off their kiss to increase their access to their clothes, allowing for quicker removal. Once they were naked, the embraced and kissed again.

One of Charlene's hands reached down to fondle George's cock, sliding in the precum that was leaking from the tip and bringing it to full erectness. George slid one of his hands down her back to reach past her ass (which clenched during the hand's brief passage), to tickle the very bottom of her cunt and coat itself in her juices.

He broke off the kiss and lay her down on the bed. Lying beside her, he played with her breasts while kissing her neck. His lips trailed slowly down until they reached her cleavage. There, he lavished attention on her breasts, kissing and licking little circles around the outside that gradually shrunk until he was licking her nipples. Her back arched and she grabbed his head, holding it to her chest, pleading without words for him to not stop. He obliged, taking her entire areola into his mouth and playing his tongue across it.

While his mouth was occupied with one breasts, his hand dipped down to her pussy and coated itself thoroughly with her lubricant, bringing it up to her other breast and sliding across the nipple. His rigid member throbbed against her leg, leaving dollops of precum on her and getting even harder. When his hand found that her clit had peeked out, he extracted himself from her hands and pulled her back up against his chest, one arm under her, fondling her breasts.

His other hand rubber her tummy while he slid his cock between her legs and into her pussy. They both gasped as the pleasure was ratcheted up several notches. Once in, he held her immobile against him and started to slowly push himself in and out of her. Her breath became ragged as she lay their unable to affect her own sensations. The slow steady motion was agonizingly slow, leaving her body at a low boil. Her ache was filled, yet it wasn't enough now. Her body was demanding more, more sensation, more speed, more filling. It could not have it, however. Slowly, incrementally, her arousal grew. Her pussy was getting wetter and wetter while the walls of her vagina tried to tighten on the intruder to capture it, for it to do more. Her nipples, still being caressed by the fingers of one of the hands holding her still, were rock hard and hyper-sensitive. Her clit was fully erect and had poked out from underneath its hood, looking for its own pleasure.

Charlene moaned, a deep, low moan of tension and pleasure. Her upper hand grasped his and inched it towards her pussy where, together, they gave her desperate clit the attention it craved. At the first touch, she cried out, waves of sensation bursting forth from her sex and washing up against the far flung parts of her. Try as she might, she could not make the hand caress her pussy and clit any faster than George's cock was fucking her. Slowly, at a frustratingly glacial pace, she inched closer to her orgasm. Several times, she thought she could climb no higher, only reach levels of arousal that were almost painful. He did this every so often, and each time, she seemed to go beyond the limits she though she had reached before (or had she simply not remembered where they were?).

George's own arousal was climbing as well. He felt like his cock had doubled in size and was about to burst. In this position, lying as he was, he simply could not move much faster and was incapable to racing to his climax. He throbbed with every thrust, feeling minute amounts of fluid seeping into his wife's cunt. Yet, no release was to be had until... Charlene's climax finally hit her. She screamed as her body began to shake and her pussy quivered against his cock. This added sensation was all he needed and with a loud groan, he pulsed into her body several times. He gripped her tighter as both their bodies spasmed in their respective orgasms.

As they came down from their high, he caressed the side of her face and her legs, while kissing the back of her neck and her cheek as her head turned. Her hands returned the caresses to his legs and rested on one of his arms, soaking up the presence. They fell sleep like this, her embraced in his arms.

In the morning, they dealt with the usual household things that needed to be taken care of. By noon, they were ready to start on the fantasy project. They only had one computer to type at, so George went to his office to use the one there. They agreed to write more than a brief description, almost a short story about the fantasy.

After he left, Charlene tried to think of which fantasy or fantasies she wanted to put down on paper, so to speak. It was not as easy a task as she had thought it would be. The biggest obstacle was the reason for writing them down. They were intending to possibly act them out, make them come true. What did she want to experience from the, in her mind, perverted things her imagination thought up?

Unable to decide, she wrote a brief description of each on a slip of paper and put them all in an empty coffee tin. She imagined that she was Cherry and that she had been ordered to write these fantasies out. She drew the first one out and groaned. Why that one? Forcing herself to not put it back, she began to type.

I want to be tied up and rendered unable to react to anything you do to me. I imagine that I am tied to the bed, my arms and legs stretched tightly away from my body. Ropes are tied around my wrists and the ends are tied to the headboard of the bed. My ankles also have a rope tied to them. This rope passes under the bed, around each leg of the bed, so that my feet are stretched and connected. If I move one leg, the other is forced to move with it, making it impossible for me to close myself.

From here, my fantasy goes in several directions at different times. In many of them, you blindfold me so I cannot see what you are going to do. I feel your hands caress me all over my body, but not my pussy or tits. You spend a lot of time doing this, sending me to levels of arousal that make your spoon love making seem unaroused in comparison. In my fantasy, I beg you over and over for release, for touch to my pussy. Sometimes I am so desperate and frustrated that I am sobbing while I am begging.

You always take your own pleasure first, not letting me climax until you have once already. Frequently you take my mouth, forcing yourself into it. It's not so much me giving you a blowjob as you masturbating in my mouth. Usually you cum both in my mouth and on my face. I swallow what I can and the rest is left on my face to dry. The most frightening part of this fantasy is how often it ends with me not being allowed to have an orgasm. You tease me over and over, stopping when I'm about to cum, letting me cool off before the torture starts up again.

I'm a pitiful site, aroused, writhing in misery, unable to cum. It's these versions, when I'm left helpless and in misery, that I cum the hardest when I masturbate. I'm terrified of being left unsatisfied like that, a weeping bundle of unrealized pleasure. I feel like I would do anything to avoid such a fate.

Charlene finished the typing and realized that she was aroused. She could feel the wet stain between her legs and her nipples are incredibly tender in her bra. She feels warm and her pussy is aching. She slides a hand down her pants and diddles with her pussy and clit. The fantasy she has typed has left her so aroused that it is a matter of minutes before she is crying out in an orgasm. Even after her climax, she is still aroused and her pussy is in even more need of being filled. She knows that if this keeps up, she will attack George the moment he comes through the door.

While Charlene was trying to decide which fantasies to put down one paper, George was having similar difficulties, but for different reasons. He had no problem with the idea that they would act out some of the fantasies. His problem was just admitting to Charlene that he had them. For reasons he had never explored before, all of his fantasies were ones that a woman might very well find degrading. He was afraid that he would drive Charlene away with the thought that these were how he saw her for real.

After wrestling with himself for a while, he decided that being honest was more important than protecting his own feelings. He was sure that Charlene had fantasies that she was reluctant to share as well. That seemed to be the nature of fantasy, dreams that you had no intention of sharing. He started to type.

I fantasize about sodomizing you. In the fantasy, we engage in our usual foreplay, caressing each other until both of us are feeling desperate to start intercourse. It's then when I flip you onto your stomach, with your hips at the edge of the bed and your legs dangling towards the floor. I take your hands and hold them behind your back in one of my hands, preventing you from moving away from me. With my other hand, I sop of some of your lubrication and begin to rub it into your anus.

You are whimpering and begging me not to take you there. My fingers return to your pussy again and again, bringing even more juice to your hole. I force one finger, coated with your sexual fluids into your anal opening. It is tight and you are forcing against me. After several probings, you can accommodate one finger, so I start using two fingers together. You are beginning to breath heavily now, and the quantity of lube your are producing is actually getting larger. You still plead for me not to do this, but the cries are weaker, more subdued.

Once you can take two fingers somewhat easily, I take my cock and enter your pussy. Stroking in you for several minutes, I thoroughly coat myself with yet more of your slick fluids. Satisfied I am wet enough, I pull out and press against your anal opening, causing you to start crying. My free hand pries your cheeks apart until I feel my tip against your hole. I begin to press myself into you. You are crying out in pain as my cock forces you open even more than my fingers did.

I enter slowly, as much from need as from a desire to not hurt you. You are struggling against me, but with my hand holding you immobile, there is nothing you can do to get away or stop it. The feelings in my cock are tremendous. Every push you make to expel me actually clenches you around me, squeezing my member. The pressure is much greater than it ever was in your pussy.

After several minutes, I have finally penetrated you fully, my balls resting against you cheeks. I rest there, letting you get used to the presence of such a large object in you. Your clenches are slowly easing up and diminishing in force. When you are no longer trying to push me out, I begin to thrust in and out. The out strokes are easy, since that is what your body wants me to do. Each thrust takes effort to return to where I was, but it is an effort that brings pleasurable feelings to me. You have begun to clench against me again, and the combination of feelings sends me into an orgasm, pumping cum deep inside your bowels.

I stay inside you until going flaccid forces me out. Once out, I let go of your hands and step back. You don't get up, but put your hands underneath you and thrust into your pussy, bringing yourself to an orgasm of your own in a matter of minutes. As your body trembles in climax, cum seeping out of your butt, you seem even more beautiful than normal.

George looked at what he had written. He was hard, the fantasy having aroused him like it always does. He could feel a damp spot on his briefs from where precum had leaked while he was writing. In spite of his excitement, it bothered him still, that he dreamed of treating the woman he loved with such callousness, as if she were a sex toy to get his pleasure from. Yet, he could not deny that these thoughts were incredibly erotic. He only hoped that the woman who thought of becoming his sex slave would also find these erotic. He went on to he second fantasy.

This fantasy starts with my mouth worshiping your breasts. I kiss and lick them until they are covered in saliva and very slick to the touch. Then I get up on top of you, straddling your body. I pin your arms to your side with my knees and place my dick between your breasts, right in the cleavage. My hands press your breasts in, wrapping them around my cock.

I begin to thrust between your breasts, using the tight passage I have created like it was a pussy. While I do that, you tilt your head forward and blow gently on my tip each time it pokes out from between your squashed globes. My thumbs and index fingers pinch your nipples while I hold your cleavage tightly closed, causing you to gasp a little with each pinch.

When I cum, semen covers your face and neck. Some land in your mouth for you to swallow. The last few dribbles empty onto your chest. I release your breasts, but keep your hands pinned to your side. I scoop up the cum that did not land in or near your mouth and feed it too you. You are smiling at me as I do.

Back at the house, Charlene was choosing her second fantasy to write about. Reaching into her coffee tin, she selected the next piece of paper. A frown came on her face as she read it. "Is someone out there trying to tell me something? The two I least want to talk about are the first two I choose." She was on the verge of putting it back when she stopped. "But, this is the one that makes me the hottest when I masturbate to it. Maybe I really want this? I need to be honest with him and myself." She started typing.

It's night time and I'm in the back yard. I have no clothes on and the doors to the house are locked. I don't know how I got there. I can hear people in the nearby yards enjoying themselves. Somehow I know that you're not coming home soon and I'm going to have to wait for several hours. I try to hide, but there is very little to hide in. I end up settling for under the picnic table, crouched on the grass.

Some time passes and I see a light moving in the house. It's not a room light, but something that moves, like a flashlight. Are you home? Is the power out? No, I see power is there for the houses around ours. There's someone moving around our house, in the dark, not turning on the lights. I'm becoming scared. I realize it can't be you. It's a burglar!

I stay hidden, hoping that he will leave the way he came in. He doesn't, though. He comes into the back yard and begins to search through things out here. I know if I move, he'll see me, but he's being very thorough. The light sweeps past me, illuminating me for an instant. Then it sweeps back and stops on me. My hand to my mouth, I stifle a scream. Whoever he is, he is wearing a ski mask. He walks towards me. When I try to back out of under the table, he rushes up and grabs me, pulling me out and putting a hand over my mouth.

"If you make a noise, I'll kill you!" His light is gone and he has a knife in his hand, held close to my throat. I nod fearfully, submitting to his will, resigned to whatever he was intending. He took a cloth from his pocket and stuffed it in my mouth, tying it in place with another cloth. Now it was too late to cry for help. He bent me over the table, my butt pointing towards him, prominently displayed.