Jill & Tim's Story

V

Tim

IN READING what we've written to this point, one would get the impression that, as a rule, I come up with all these bright ideas and Jill docilely -- albeit enthusiastically -- goes along with them.

That’s not necessarily so. In fact, if the truth be known, it's usually the other way around.

There are several reasons for this, the biggest one being that my Darling has a much more broad-ranging and prolific erotic imagination than have I. This is one helluva confession from a guy who wrote his first pornographic story at age 15 and has written literally reams of them since -- not to mention sex-fact columns and articles for an impressive number of swingers' publications over the years.

Jill, for her part, had her first fantasy at four or five years of age and started regularly playing with her pre-pubescent pussy about a year later.

To this, add the fact that, over the years, I've had opportunities to bring a surprising number of my fantasies to fruition; until she met me, she had NO outlet for hers whatsoever, so she's got a lot of catching up to do.

I'm perfectly willing to help.

The other reason for her gentle dominance of most of our escapades ... she ENJOYS being in control of a situation (although, in her "public" persona, she's the last person you'd expect to have that streak in her ... and I like putting myself at her (usually-)tender mercies.

We love surprises in general and sexual surprises in particular. More specifically, I enjoy being greeted by the unexpected, especially when it's embarrassing and/or emphasizes my helplessness to control the situation, either because I’ve made an over-all promise of unquestioning compliance to Jill (as she has to me) .. or because she has me fastened up so that I can't do jack-shit about it except watch her do what she will.

That's right: I enjoy being tied-up, handcuffed .. whatever. If you define the borderline between Restraint and Bondage as the difference between, respectively, being fastened up for helplessness and being fastened up for the sheer enjoyment of being fastened up -- usually uncomfortably or even painfully --then what we're into is Restraint ... although there've been some photo sessions that have definitely been borderline, particularly the one night not too long ago when a couple we know helped Jill cuff my wrists behind my back after stripping me naked, then assisted her in hanging me by my leather-cuffed-and-widely-separated ankles from chains hooked to one of the beams in their garage. Jill got photos of me from all angles, then Larry took the pictures while the two girls started playing with my cock and balls, Jill also slowly pressing a well-lubricated (Thank God!) vibrator down (up?) my ass as all this was going on.

Needless to say, they made me come, right down my body. Well, to be quite honest about it, Jill finally knelt and held my head facing upward in her lap while Stacy popped my rocks straight down into my face.

Strange effect scenes like that have: I eagerly, albeit fearfully/reluctantly, look forward to and fanaticize about them. Even though, during their actual execution, I frequently ask myself what the hell I've let myself in for, afterwards I must admit that I enjoyed doing them ... and I'm ready for the next kinky episode my darling comes up with.

My prolifically erotic wife, in concocting these "experiments," works with any one, all, or some combination of these elements:

(1) THE SHOCK OF THE UNEXPECTED. This can be as simple as to be sitting around reading one evening when, with no forewarning, I might suddenly find Jill tying my wrists to the arms of my chair, following which she strips me naked from the waist down and well, you figure out the possibilities: I don't think she's missed any.

(2) THE "FEAR" OF THE UNKNOWN. To be told that, at such-and-such an hour and/or on such-and-such a day I'm going to be put into a kinky situation -- "It's 'experiment time’ at 9:30, darling, be naked by then!" -- without being given the slightest hint of what form it's ultimately going to take ... well..!!

(3) THE ADRENALINE RUSH OF EMBARRASSMENT. This can take any number of forms: being the only person naked in a group of people who are dressed ... being "forced" to perform some sexual act that you ordinarily wouldn't do, at least not under those circumstances (like, with an audience) ... and numerous other things, chief among which is the fact that nothing makes you feel more out-of-control of yourself than having an orgasm .. and having one while a physically-uninvolved group watches can produce some interesting mixed emotions, no matter what triggers the climax.

(4) THE SWEAT-PRODUCING KNOWLEDGE OF HELPLESSNESS. As just one example of the vast possibilities, picture me tied spread-eagled to a bed, with Jill building me repeatedly, exquisitely, to the fine edge of explosion .. and then quitting to have her cunt eaten by me or to sit, while I watch, and finger herself to climax before once more working me up to the borderline and turning loose until I've calmed down again. I guarantee you that it takes UNDER an hour of that to reduce the strongest man in the world to a begging, pleading wimp.

(5) THE EXQUISITE AGONY OF OVER-STIMULATION. I submit to you that a human being has TWO different sexual limits, one mental, one physical. Most people never discover this second limit simply because the sensations encountered along the way can become so exquisite, so excruciatingly good -- to the point that they're almost painful -- that the mind forces the body to avoid them. On a scale of 1-to-100, No Sensation to Blackout, most never get beyond around 40 ... and that only if they’re very, very lucky.

The reason is very simple: someplace around that point, it starts feeling so intensely good that you can’t stand it anymore .. unless, of course, you don't have any choice.

Jill, to my great (if occasionally rueful) delight, has found many ways to use these principles.

For instance, I came home from work one day to find Brenda visiting, a not-unusual occurrence: she's a member of a community group with which we're involved, and she and Jill had become sort-of buddies. A young, dark-skinned, dark-haired gal, she's cute rather than pretty, and fun to be around, with a nice, bubbly personality.

Anyway, I said "Hi!," got a short kiss before going in to change clothes and freshen up; then I went out to fix a drink and join in the conversation, me in "my" chair, the two girls on the facing couch.

About the time my ass hit the chair, Jill said, "Darling, I've been telling Brenda about our agreement, the one where both of us have promised to do ANYTHING the other asks .. and she doesn't believe it."

I confirmed to our visitor that that, indeed, was the case, which caused her to ask, "But what if it’s something you don't WANT to do?"

"Well, Brenda," I told her, "most things you really don’t know whether you'll enjoy or not until you've actually tried them, so the second part of the arrangement is -- whether you think you're going to like it or not before the fact -- DO IT ... then, afterwards, if you STILL don't like it, say so, and the other is honor-bound not to ask you again to do that particular thing -- or not to do it with that particular person, whichever is applicable.

"Has that ever happened?"

"Not yet, although it probably will some day. However, we both have a pretty good reading on the other's tastes and wants, so it will be rare, if at all."

Beginning what I discovered only later was a "put-up job" (I’m just not naturally suspicious by nature), carefully prearranged by the two of them, Brenda said, "No, I just don't think people do things like that."

Jill, playing her self-designed part, asked her chum, "What would it take to make you believe it?"

Brenda "thought about it" for a few moments before answering. "I think I’d have to see one of you tell the other to do something really off-the-wall, embarrassing, something really unusual before I'd accept it as fact."

"Would you like us to prove it to you?” my wife asked.

Brenda pondered that for a second before saying, simply, "Yes.

With no other warning, Jill turned to me and said, "Sweetheart, I’d like you to stand up and strip to your jewelry."

“You’re serious," I said, more as a statement than a question. A nod of her head and a smile confirmed it.

I really don’t know who was blushing more, Brenda or me, as I got slowly out of the chair and, equally slowly, started removing my just-donned clothing, terribly aware of the two sets of inquisitive eyes staring at me from atop fully-dressed female bodies. (The worst part of a situation like this is you never seem to know what to do with your hands).

My darling wife looked over at our visitor and asked, "More?" and got the breathy reply, "Oh, yes!"

"Sit down, darling," was the next instruction; as I complied, Jill added "...and spread your legs up over the arms of the chair.” My blush deepened and spread wider over my body, but it didn’t keep me from carrying out her orders .. or Brenda from eagerly leaning forward to look closer at my wholly-exposed groin. She stared at me discomfortingly for a few moments -- as Jill leaned back, casually smiling -- before she asked my Darling, "Can I give him an order?” Jill's reply. "Be my guest."

To me, Brenda said, "Make it hard."

Oh, my ....

Not able to really look at either of them, I reached down with both hands, the fingertips of one lightly stroking my totally-exposed balls, the other brushing lightly over my cock. Just like pushing a button: my Best Friend started to grow and, within a minute, was swollen to its full, rather nice size (standing proud, though from humble beginnings .. as it were...).

Having gotten over the initial shock, and aware that our friend hadn’t run screaming into the night (on the contrary, she was obviously enjoying herself, as I discovered when I finally looked up), I relaxed and started to enjoy the delicate, lascivious sensations I was creating, my head back, my eyes closing. I began to settle into a very relaxed, almost self-hypnotic state when I heard Jill tell our guest, "Hmm ... Brenda, I think you started something here. You told him to make it hard and it looks like he wants to play with it for awhile."

“I noticed," was the reply.

"I think that, just for that, we should make him take it all the way, don't you?” Oh, shit!

"Oh, yes!" Brenda said, in tones as enthusiastic as they look on paper, "but I’d like a closer look at it."

"Well, we can certainly take care of THAT," was my wife's response. "Tim?” I reluctantly opened my eyes and looked the question at her. Very succinctly, she told me, "Towel, baby oil, then here," as she patted the space between her and Brenda.

My mixed emotions were in full bloom as, very much aware of my nakedness and my full erection preceding me, I heaved myself out of my chair and headed for the bathroom, where I picked up the specified items. I could, at that point, predict the rest of the scenario: as was/is the case with most of them, it'd been a fantasy of mine -- or Jill's -- for years before we finally got together and started making reality out of them. Like so many fantasies, the fulfillment, that conversion to reality, engenders certain feelings and emotions that fanaticizing never takes into account . . .

.. As I explained about five minutes later to our friend. By that time, I was located in the center of the couch, the towel on the cushion beneath me, my ass at the edge, my legs splayed apart. When I’d gotten into my slumped-down position between the two lovely ladies, my Darling had taken the oil and, as Brenda watched closely, she'd poured it generously all over my cock before bluntly telling me, "Now, love, fuck your fist."

About the time I got hard again, Brenda asked, "Does that feel good?” "Um-hmm," said I, my eyes closed as I concentrated on the slowly-warming sensations. "Do you feel embarrassed?"

"Um-HMM.” "Why? Jill tells me you've had sex in front of people before. Why should you feel embarrassed now?"

I thought about that for a few seconds; it was a good question. Finally, I told her, "Both of you are dressed and I'm naked

"I can see that," she archly cooed.

"And that would be .. disarming enough. But I’ve never had sex with you, I’ve never seen YOU naked, and here I’m doing one of the more generally frowned-upon-by-society sexual things you can do. So, even though I'm excited, both by what I'm doing and by the fact that both of you are watching, the fact remains that, in a few minutes, I'm going to go bananas and allow you to share my orgasm, the most intimate thing a person can have, without ever having seen YOU in anything even remotely resembling the same state."

"Do you LIKE feeling embarrassed?"

A lloonnnggg silence, my blush (along with my breath) deepening, as I finally confessed: “Yes (sigh)."

"Oh, good!" she chirruped before asking my wife, "Jill, can I embarrass him some more?!"

"In this house," my Darling told her, "you can do anything you'd like."

“In that case," Brenda said, after a moment’s thought, "I think that, if you and I are going to watch, Tim should watch, too. Open your eyes, Tim, and look at what you're doing.” Reluctantly, I did so. "Now, do it faster and, when you finally explode, do it all over yourself."

I increased the tempo of my hand. Shit, it felt so good that, notwithstanding the validity of what I'd told Brenda just a few minutes before, I wouldn't have cared WHO was observing me by that time. I watched, almost detachedly, as my hand slid tightly up and down my oil-glistening cock ... and enjoyed the hell out of the attendant sensation.

The index and middle fingers of my left hand were delicately tickling the super-sensitive area just below my balls as my rapid up-and-down stroking with my other hand began taking me upward toward my final peak. It didn't even slow me up when Brenda archly asked Jill, "Does he always make strange noises like that when he gets excited?” My darling replied, "Um-he .. and that's nothing compared to the sounds he's going to make when he comes.” Even though that exchange was obviously intended to fuel my feeling of embarrassment, I was so far gone that it was almost like they were talking about someone else.

While I watched -- still almost detached from the scene -- my hand rapidly jerking up and down, I was still in enough control to say, through clenched teeth, "The next time you come over here, I wish to fuck you'd wear something besides those goddamn slacks!"

"Oh? Why?"

"Because your legs drive me fucking crazy and make me want to feel and kiss them all over!"

Brenda condescendingly patted my trembling thigh and said, "Well, if you’re a good boy and come all over yourself for me right now, maybe the next time I’m here, I’ll let you see me with nothing on at all. Think about that."

I DID think about that .. for about three seconds, following which I near-screamed, "OH, JEESUS!!!" and started exploding. My feet came off the floor, my head snapped back, and thick gobs of come cannoned out of the eye of my prick as my balls drew up. I whined and moaned, twisting and turning, my hand jerking spastically on my joint, triggering spurt-after-spurt onto my chest, my neck .. all the while, Jill encouragingly squeezing one of my muscle-clenched thighs while Brenda hissed -- equally encouragingly -- "Yes, YES!"

After one last, huge spasm poured over me (and one last blast poured OUT of me), I slumped back, eyes closed, trembling, my hand still wrapped around my slowly deflating joint, my fingers thick with a mixture of baby oil and come. I felt Jill's arm cradle my head .. and then she lowered her lips to mine for a sweet, lingering "Thank you" kiss.

When that kiss ended, another began! An encouraging nod from Jill was all the incentive Brenda needed to place her lips on mine and give me a hungry-tongued kiss that promised much .. and lasted long. By the time it ended, Jill had gone to the bathroom and brought back a hot, wet cloth and towel. Solicitously, she wiped me off and, equally helpful, Brenda went behind her with the towel, drying.

You can feel quite pampered with this kind of treatment.

There are several footnotes to this episode. For one, later that night, Jill gave me a present: a set of color nudes she'd shot of Brenda the week before when they'd set this little scene up between them. Brenda had been reluctant to peel to nothing. starting from an innocent-looking dress and tights for my petite photographer but, having already established that our friend was hot to watch me do my thing, Jill had made it a condition: no photos, no watching.

Another tidbit: that had been Brenda's first chance ever to be sexually dominant and she discovered she really likes it so, occasionally, I’ve got our friend giving the orders. During most of these sessions, Jill lets Brenda run the show while she takes pictures between bouts of assisting her ... like the night Brenda tied my wrists to each side of my waist and then the two of them took turns bringing me up to the brink, after which I would reward whichever of them had contributed to my frustration by eating her cunt to climax ... and then they’d do it again.

There is another VERY important footnote. At one point in our relationship, Brenda and I did something that, in the Swinging World, is one of the few Cardinal Sins: we got EMOTIONALLY involved with each other.

It could've been disastrous, but was saved from becoming so by two things: one was my insistence that we not "cheat" on Jill, nor keep our feelings from her. The second was my Darling encouraging both of us to SHOW our affection for each other openly, rather than trying to hide it. As a consequence, the heavy stuff quickly ran its course and then mellowed into a warm friendship that encompassed all three of us.

Not that Jill's primacy in my life was ever in doubt: Brenda, darling, I know you're going to be reading this, and I hope you won't feel hurt when I tell you that, hadyou tried insisting that I cut Jill out of our relationship, I would've dropped you like a bad habit.

This, in fact, DID happen with one of our male chums who -- as is easy to do -- fell in love with Jill. She was very fond of him, too, but when he started with the "I want you all to myself" jealous-of-me number, he was unceremoniously bounced out of our lives, permanently.

Sharing and cheating are two entirely different things: we love the former, but the latter has no place in our lives.

* * *

This is getting away from the point: the point is Jill's dominance in our sexual escapades. Sweet -- in the nicest sense of the word -- even demure in the "real" world, she gets off on having me at her mercies, able to do what she wants to do, when she wants to do it, the way she wants and for as long as she wants.

It also gives her an opportunity to exercise her curiosity, imagination, voyeurism and exhibitionism to the hilt.

For my part, I enjoy the sweet surrender of not having to concern myself with "What do I do next?” It's the lazy man's dream. Especially do I enjoy being tied up (or down): the feeling of naked, exposed helplessness is delicious, the knowledge of vulnerability total, the ability to control events zero, the liability for voluptuous sensation beyond your normal capacity to absorb it almost limitless.

Jill uses it all. I never know what in hell's going to happen to me when she fastens me up .. like the night she had ME put on garterbelt, heels and hose, got a few photos (God, how humiliating!), then tied me, legs spread, to an armchair in the bedroom.

Jill pleasantly, but very low-keyed, played with my unprotected cock for a few precious minutes .. and then the doorbell heralded the arrival of a couple we’d met a few weeks before -- to my great embarrassment when my darling led them, clothed, into the bedroom.