My 50th birthday was coming at me like a locomotive. I felt like a damsel in distress tied to the tracks. I think the best way to describe what I felt was an unnatural reaction is to tell you that I wasn't just tied to the tracks but in my mind I was also naked and my ankles were tied to opposite sides of the tracks and my arms were cinched tightly behind me. The image was one of many that slipped into my brain at odd times making it difficult to do my job as a receptionist at the high school. It made it hard to go out to dinner with friends. I would sit across the table from my best friend and her husband and as we talked about our kids or our grandbaby on the way I would imagine handcuffs and blindfolds and the two people I had known since our grown kids were in diapers joining my husband to take turns pleasing, teasing, torturing, and loving me.
I didn't sleep much anymore. I would lay awake at night reading on my kindle as Tom laid next to me snoring. I read on the kindle and would tell Tom I was reading Rebecca or A Tale of Two Cities. The truth was I had started with romance novels and now read erotica so filthy I figured it was probably illegal in west Texas. The book I was reading now was about half man half beast Satyrs who roamed the streets of San Francisco. In the night they would take innocent women and hide them away in secret old caverns where they did things to them. The things they did were ghastly and wonderful.
I found myself surfing the Internet in the late morning while Tom worked. I watched video clips and read stories of real life adventures. I learned there were names for all the things I was imagining. I was submissive. I craved domination and bondage. I yearned to serve a master and please him by allowing him to use me. I shopped "toys" and "gear" and "Fetish ware" too embarrassed to click the button that continues to check out.
I would touch myself.
In the morning before the sun was up I would sit across the dinette from my husband with my pussy still tingling from what I had done to it before waking him up. I had run the conversation through my head a thousand times. Tom was a good and caring man but he had his limits. This would be too much for him.
And then I got the virus. "My computer is frozen." I told him.
"I will look at it tonight." He told me. He worked with computers. I didn't think it would be a big deal. That night I sat watching TV while he sat at my little desk. He told me we would have to do a complete recovery but he had me backed up so it would be okay. I did my best to hide my anxiety hoping he didn't notice the way my foot was twitching. He told me it was probably my arts and crafts website. He told me all about how bad they were and how I needed to watch for pop-ups that wanted to install software.
He sat and watched TV with me for a while before my computer made a beep and he went back to working on it. When my show ended I told him I was going to take a shower. I'd always showered at night.
When I was clean and dry I wrapped myself in my favorite robe and wandered out of the bathroom. I found him lying on the bed. He had begun to undress but had stopped I guess because he lay there in his jeans shirtless. I probably wouldn't have noticed anything out of the ordinary if he'd turned on the TV. He hadn't though. He was just laying there looking at me. I poked through my dresser looking for one of my nightshirts.
"Princess... Is there anything we should talk about?"
"What do you mean?" I asked back hoping I had hidden the tremble in my voice. I was about to cry.
"Come here." He said quietly. I half ignored him. "Marie." I had one of my shirts. It wasn't my favorite but it would work.
"Just a second."
"No second. Come here." He said again. It was stupid that with everything I had been reading, watching, and fantasizing the only thing in my mind was that he had seen what I was doing and was disgusted and disappointed with me and I was about to be scolded for being a dirty pervert. I went over to my side of the bed. "No. Over here." He said and sat up.
"What?" I asked yet again. I had raised my defenses. I prepared myself to pout, cry, argue, and deny but he needed to accuse me first so that I knew exactly what to deny. I stood in front of him. He is a big man. I felt small. I gripped my sleep shirt in my two hands so tightly my fingers began to burn. "What?" I asked again.
He took the shirt from me. I crossed my arms tightly across my chest.
He pulled them apart and I put them back.
He tugged loose the knot in the belt of my robe. It was held closed by my arms.
He pulled the belt. It began to work loose from the little hoops that hold it in place but caught. He pulled harder pushing on my crossed forearms for leverage and it tugged free.
"Let me put on my shirt." I said. I was scared and I didn't know why.
"No."
He uncrossed my arms again and when I went to cross them again he held them by the wrists firmly at him hips.
"Thomas."
"Shhh."
He let go of my hands. I moved to cross them again. He gripped my wrists again straightening my arms. I sighed, shifted my weight to on hip striking a pose of protest. I left my arms down though and he moved his hands inside of my robe. He moved his fingers over my hips, up to my ribs, and then onto my breasts.
"Thomas?" I asked less indignantly. Somewhere deep in the back of my little brain I wondered where this was going and if it was headed where I thought it might. He moved his hands from my breasts to my shoulders and in a long fluid motion down my arms he caused my robe to slip off of me. I was nude.
"It's cold." I protested.
"Shh. Turn around."
I did as he said. He took my wrists again. The rope from my robe was made out of the same light purple terry cloth as the robe was. He wrapped and tugged and then wrapped again and tugged some more.
I got it.
When he was done he turned me back around again.
"We should talk I guess." I murmured
"later." He said. He took my breast in his hand again but only for a second. When he let go he moved both of his hands to both of my nipples and pinched. He pinched harder than he ever had.
"Ouch!" I squealed stepping back a little.
He reached around my waist and pulled me back to him. He did it again. Not quite as hard but close. I felt it in my knees. I closed my eyes.
He alternated between stroking my body in long slow motions and pinching my nipples. "Ow." I would say lightly.
I had read enough how to books to know I was supposed to say Ow. I was supposed to say ouch. If it was done right, the way they did in the dirty stories I read I could even squeal at him to stop so long as I didn't say the safe word but we didn't have a safe word so I just struggled not to say anything. I bit my lip when it began to hurt.
"Kneel down." He told me. I couldn't help it. I smiled a little. On my knees with my hands behind him I rested on my heels. He stood up in front of me and undid his jeans. He tugged them down to his knees and then did the same with his briefs. His cock, nestled in its little nest of curly fur bobbed in front of me.
I couldn't help but smile. He moved his hips running it across my lips.
I'm always surprised by how many of my friends have issues with giving a blowjob. Allison won't give them at all. She claims she never has and never will. Laura wont swallow, she has to have a towel handy. Andy doesn't even go that far. She wont let her husband come in her mouth. He has to give her a signal and then she finishes by hand. It all seems a little silly. Just swallow it. It goes away and doesn't get all over the place.
That doesn't mean I don't have rules. He has to shower first. Honestly, I prefer he is straight out of the shower. I don't deep throat. I keep my hand wrapped around his shaft. He is not allowed to grip my head - that pisses me off. He shouldn't thrust. He really shouldn't thrust.
His cock was at about ¾'s staff. He dragged it back and forth across my closed lips.
