The first part of this story was posted in the interracial section. Possibly not correct as that might not be the story's focus, but it was its inspiration. It might be worth checking out before you start this one.
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How did I get here? A pretty useful question to be asked at any stage in life, but particularly when young, before the sedate stagnation of middle age gets to you. Actually that's unfair. Before the unforgiving triple whammy of career, family and responsibility makes those halcyon years between school and true adulthood look like an endless summer of discovery and carefree, character-building foolishness.
How did I get here? Like: with my head down the toilet bowl, puking up my guts. Or down a dark, dank alleyway in a strange town in a distant land with a disturbingly high murder rate. Or lost in a wilderness, with no clue from the map and no mobile phone signal. Or agreeing to join the father of the girl you only met a week ago for a "spin" in his glider - when you can tell he doesn't like you.
So how did I get here? It was my friends' fault, setting me up on a date with that strange but beautiful lawyer they knew. The one with the almond eyes, long black hair and a rack - sorry not a bust, or bosom or chest - a rack, with a magnetic pull on my eyes which was embarrassing for she was a woman with obsessive interests and an overly earnest habit of looking you in the eye and seeing that your eyes were not looking back, but wandering. Downwards. Repeatedly. Well one thing had led to another. An invitation and an afternoon spent with role play, expensive lingerie, paddles, restraints, slaps, bondage, choking, deep throat, doggy style and anal. So how did I get here? I might now be in the shower, wet and handcuffed, but I thought I was doing pretty well. Ahead of the game. She's amazing. I have to shiver every time I look at her. Indulge her.
With a gentle jerk on my cuffed wrists behind my back, she led me out of the shower and took one of the endless supply of white, soft, fluffy towels that she had and dried me off. Then she dried herself, grinning at me while showing off her body. As she toweled her hair, arms up to her head, pushing her perky, full breasts out for my eyes to feast on. She rubbed up and down her legs, and then slowly, gently, long and languidly between them while studying my eyes to see if I was following her movements. I was. The evidence was undeniable, as her eyes spotted.
"I want you to bend over the counter," she said, pointing to the space next to the washbasin, and turning me gently in that direction. Her hand was on my back, guiding my torso down. Her feet went between my legs to move them further apart. My chest rested upon the cold counter, making me shiver. If I cricked my neck back, I could see my face in the mirror and Carol behind me. My legs were apart and my arse exposed. Her hand stroked down my back with a light touch, (a quick shake of the cuffs - as a reminder - on the way) until it reached my backside where her nails drifted with the slightest friction further down and into the crack between my buttocks.
"You like that, don't you?" Carol whispered.
All I managed was a small grunt of consent. And she slapped my arse. It stung. I jerked. Her other hand went to my back and pushed me down again. There was a loud crack on the other buttock and a shot of pain.
"Stay down," she said. "You won't regret it." Her nails gently scraped up my inner thigh. First one side, then the other. With one hand still resting on my back to push me down, Carol crouched and blew softly on my anus and exposed balls. Her fingers came tantalizingly closer, scraping past one side and around to the other of my hole. Then her fingers went between my legs and started to massage both sides of my balls and the magic spot just behind. My breath jerked inwards every time she touched.
"Mmmmh," Carol said, "I think we might need a little help here." Her hand came off my back and I could see her squirt some liquid from a bottle onto her hands. Her slick oiled fingers returned to my balls, slipping each side and far enough forward to give the base of my rigid cock a squeeze.
"Oh, you are an excitable little boy, aren't you?". I heard her grab the bottle and squeeze another few drops between my are cheeks and her finger returned to rub it around the rose of my anus.
"Oh my God, you are enjoying this!" she exclaimed. I tried to raise my voice to protest, but Carol pushed my head down to the bathroom counter.
"I don't need this," she said, and grabbed her thong from the bathroom floor and pushed it into my mouth.
Standing behind me, she grabbed the hair on the back of my head and pulled it back so I could see her standing behind me. Her other hand was on the small of my back, her thumb heading downwards between my ass cheeks. Slowly, very slowly, her hips pressed against my buttocks, pushing me towards the mirror. Then released, and pushed again. More insistently. Forcefully. Faster and harder each time. Like she was fucking me. Her thumb wandered down, circled my rose twice and then began to press against the hole. Oiled and slick as it was, the was hardly any resistance. Another squirt from the lube bottle and the excess was worked into my butthole as her thumb went in. Up to the first joint. Her thrusts were pushing me forwards, my stiff dick banging painfully against the bathroom drawer. With one final jolt, she banged me forwards and stopped. Her thumb up to the hilt in my arse.
"Quite a sight, baby," she said, as her other hand reached between my legs and grabbed my cock. "You haven't cum yet, have you? Because it's my turn next."
Quickly she removed her thumb and I felt empty. She washed her hands in the basin next to me. I didn't dare to move.
Carol leaned down and whispered in my ear. "We are equal, aren't we?" I tried to assent but I could hardly speak. "I didn't hear you," she said and took her knickers out of my mouth.
"Yes, of course."
"Now what did you do to me?," she asked. "Let me think..." There were a few moments of silence. I was too confused to find any words. "Okay, I think I have a few ideas. You'll enjoy this as much as I enjoyed it before. Giving is sharing, or whatever," she said. "I'm going to need you to wait in the bedroom."
Carol led me to the bedroom and made me kneel in the middle of her bed. She pushed my head down to the mattress and tied a rope to the handcuffs behind my back. The rope led upwards over the frame of her modern, minimalist four poster bed and to the handle of the window where she pulled it tight. Possibly I could have stood on the bed to have more freedom of movement. But I didn't have enough leeway to stand or sit beside the bed. It was either stand on it (wobbly), or kneel on it, with my arms pulled up slightly behind me. The rope wasn't long enough to lie on it.