James Clayton heard the front door open, followed by the sound of footsteps on the hard wood floor. He listened intently to the voices of some women discussing whether they should open a bottle of wine or just have coffees, and took a deep breath while frantically praying to a god he didn't remotely believe in that they wouldn't find him.
He'd spent about ten minutes blindfolded, tied spread-eagled to the headrest and corner posts of a large bed, gagged with a silk scarf holding a scrunched up ball of material in place, and wondering how long it be would before his girlfriend returned without even considering the possibility that her mother might some home before she did. But now that she had, and wasn't alone, James felt more scared of discovery than he'd ever been of anything else at any point in his life.
He breathed as deeply as the gag would let him, hoped that his racing heart would slow before it burst under the pressure, and uttered another desperate silent prayer to a non-existent god that Emma would come back before her mother came up the stairs. He tried to calm himself down by straining to hear why Mrs Patterson had returned early, not that it really mattered, and instantly regretted not doing what he and Emma had been asked: carry a dozen cardboard boxes of "old things" from the main bedroom into the garage while she spent the afternoon at some sort of support group for divorcees from which she wanted collecting after about four hours. That had given James and Emma what they thought would be a whole afternoon together, and they had fully intended not to waste any of their precious "alone time" looking inside any of the packages. However, while eleven of them were only loosely interleaved and easy to see that they contained nothing of interest, the last of them was taped across the flaps with "CAS" written on it in large black letters. They were both intrigued as to why that box was different, and thinking that Mrs Patterson would never know if they'd peeked inside, had agreed almost instantly to open it and find out what "CAS" meant.
Emma had carefully peeled back the brown parcel tape so that it could be easily re-applied, and had almost collapsed in fit of giggles at finding a jumble of ropes, scarves and what James had thought were luggage straps with clasps at each end. "Bondage restraints" she'd said to him sniggering at his naivety, "so try to look innocent when you next see mum." "Why?" he'd laughed, "Do you think the conversation about her being some sort of deviant would be too embarrassing?"
Emma had tried hard not to giggle, but had failed miserably. "No, and we don't know that. She might never have used any of it, but us going through her things is a betrayal of trust. She obviously didn't want us looking in the box or she wouldn't have taped it up, but we've invaded her privacy. I don't know why mum's got all this, and I don't want to know, but as she won't be home for about four hours...." Emma had left the sentence unfinished, grinned at him in such a way that he fully understood exactly what she'd been suggesting, and within a minute he was lying naked on her mother's bed with his arms outstretched. "Go on then," he'd smirked as Emma pulled four straps out of the box, willingly let her fasten them to his wrists, ankles and the four corners of the bed, grinned as she'd wrapped a blindfold over his eyes, and had been about to ask if she'd "ever done anything this before" when she'd stuffed a scrunched up ball of material into his open mouth and tied it in place with a scarf.
It was possibly the most excited he'd ever felt in his life as Emma playfully stroked his naked body while "umming" and "ahhing" about what to do next, but then her phone had rung. He desperately wanted to tell her not to answer it, and had shaken frantically hoping Emma would get the message, but she'd replied to whatever questions the caller asked with a lot single word replies, and eventually whispered in his ear, "Sorry, got to go. Won't be long." His girlfriend had then kissed him on the forehead, thrown a sheet over his naked body and left him unable to move, see or speak.
That had been ten long minutes before he'd heard the front door open, but now, as he listened to the chink of some glasses, he could also hear the soft sound of a single pair of shoeless feet walking on the stair carpet.
James Clayton took a deep breath as he heard someone enter the bedroom, and then what sounded like a gasp followed by stifled giggles. "Well I never thought I'd find you like this James, but then again I suppose you and Emma didn't expect the social club to be closed for the afternoon either? Was it your idea to betray my trust that you wouldn't go through my private things or Emma's?" James wasn't certain, but he somehow thought that his girlfriend's mother was only pretending to be annoyed. "And then just using some of my personal possessions for some perverted games without even asking. How insulting is that?"
It was obvious that he couldn't reply, so he knew that the questions had to be rhetorical, but he fully expected Mrs Patterson to at least untie one of his wrists as she revelled in his embarrassment. But she didn't even move from the doorway, just sniggered, and then shouted, "Ladies! Get yourself up here! There's something you'll want you to see!"
He heard three more pairs of shoeless feet on the stairs, more gasps, the sound of middle-aged women giggling like teenagers, and then a voice he didn't recognise, "Emma's? Very Nice. Is he naked under there?" Mrs Patterson's amused reply, "Don't know. Probably," was followed seconds later by the covering sheet getting dragged off him. "Nice", remarked another of the women who had just entered the room, "Cute, with just the right amount of muscle tone". "Yes," sniggered the fourth woman, "Those male stripper types are just a little too much. What woman would want to find one of them tied to her bed?"
The women laughed hysterically as James Clayton said another silent prayer to a god he didn't believe in that they wouldn't notice he'd suddenly started to develop the beginnings of a hard-on. His embarrassment at being naked in front of four women he assumed were twice his age, increased instantly as one of them said, "It's getting difficult to tell who's the most excited here, him or us?" He knew instinctively that they were looking at his rapidly growing erection, sensed one of the women kneel down beside him, and as he felt a hand rub down his abdomen heard her say: "And opportunities like this don't happen every day."
"Opportunities for what?" asked Mrs Patterson, "He's my daughter's boyfriend, and if she knows that we were ever here, the two of us would need to have a very embarrassing conversation about breach of trust, invasion of privacy and using my stuff for bondage games that I'd really rather avoid if at possible, so we're going to have to leave him exactly as he was five minutes ago."
"Well we can do that and teach him a lesson for using your stuff without asking," said the woman knelt by his hips, "And have a little fun at the same time." She started tugging gently at his rapidly growing erection and added, "So we can enjoy the feel of his lovely firm body, and get a kick out of getting an attractive young man half our age harder than he's ever been in his life without fucking anyone."
Mrs Patterson sniggered in reply, "Fine. If you three want to amuse yourselves while I go get my phone and find out where Emma is, please try to do it in such a way that he can't identify any of you." The woman knelt on the floor carried on tugging and jerking as she replied, "So what if he could? Who would he tell? And even if he did, who would believe him? He'd just sound like some sort of silly fantasist."
"Yes, I agree," said his girlfriend's mother, "But I'd prefer it he didn't know which of my friends had molested him so that there's less chance of awkward encounters when one of you sees him and Emma together." Mrs Patterson left the room, and within seconds five hands were exploring his naked body while another gently tugged at his now-painful erection.
James Clayton squirmed with pleasure, excitement, and arousal as two of the women exchanged whispers of satisfaction while the other muttered graphic descriptions in his ear of what she'd do with and to him if the others weren't there.
Emma's mother returned about five minutes later, laughed, "Have you been doing that all the time I've been gone?" at what James knew was probably a reference to the jerking of his hard-on, and continued while sniggering, "Emma was called into the salon about fifteen minutes ago. She'd forgotten agreeing an appointment with one of their very best clients who won't have her hair done by anybody else, so got told to either rush round or find another job."
"So how long until she gets back?" replied the woman still tugging gently away. "At least four hours," laughed Mrs Patterson in reply, "They've got a couple of other hairdressers off sick and a full day, so Emma's having to stay and cover and asked if I could wait at your place until her shift had finished. Of course, I said yes, so she's picking me up at your gallery about six." The women stopped playing with him, and stood up sniggering as the one who had been keeping him harder than he'd ever been before in his life said: "Presumably after she's come back here and untied him?"
His girlfriend's mother laughed again. "Presumably. So throw the sheet back over him, and she'll never know any of us were ever here." "Not just yet," said the only woman whose voice he'd heard clearly, "I'd like another ten minutes with him. It's been a very long time since I got to handle a body as nice as his. Are you sure you don't want to join in?"
"I'm very tempted, but he's my daughter's boyfriend, so it would be wrong on so many levels if I did anything," laughed Mrs Patterson, "But as long as he looks like he does now when you've finished, you can do whatever you want. How could I possibly stop you when I'm not here, and won't be at any point this afternoon!"
James Clayton heard all four women laughing, and then the other two women whisper something unintelligible to his girlfriend's mother before the three of them left him alone with the women who'd spent what had felt like an eternity keeping so close to an orgasm that it hurt.
The woman then closed the bedroom door, and stood by the side of the bed. He couldn't see, but he thought that she was staring down at him trying to decide what to do. He was half right. She knew exactly what she was going to do, and with seconds so did he. The helpless young man listened to the sounds of a skirt clasp being flicked open, a zipper moving, and then two footsteps as she lifted one foot and then the other, leaving James Clayton in no doubt that she'd removed her clothing from the waist down long before he felt her naked inner thighs press against his ribcage as she straddled him.
"Let's get this out of the way shall we," she whispered hooking a finger into his gag, "It's time to feel your tongue inside me". She pulled the scarf below his chin, grabbed hold of what was in his mouth between her finger and thumb, and pulled it out. "What have we here?" she sniggered sliding the scrunched up ball of material from his open mouth, "panties?". He knew that the question wasn't intended for him to answer, and he wouldn't have tried had he known, and nor would he have responded to the woman's obviously rhetorical, "Quite a little pervert your girlfriend, isn't she?" even if she hadn't stopped him from speaking by sitting on his face.
