Dazed and somewhat confused, Samantha looked about her room. She felt the tightness of the ropes holding her to the bed. Dressed in a black satin bra and underwear set, she plays over the events of the previous night in her mind. Who was that man? Was I drunk? What did we do?
Suddenly her thoughts are interrupted by a small knock on the door.
"Awake, Sam?" It was Alan.
"What the hell ..." Samantha mumbled as Alan entered the room with 2 glasses of champagne. He set them down on the bedside table and turned to her. "Feeling alright? After all the screaming you did last night, I'd think you couldn't talk this morning," he said with a cocky smirk on his face.
Samantha just looked at him. "I don't remember last night. How did I get here. Al, what the fuck is going on?" She was pissed now.
Alan was a very handsome man. Dressed in his silk black dress shirt and black leather pants, even Samantha had to admit he looked gorgeous. But she would never say anything about it. But now, staring at him as he removed his shirt and pants, staring at the rock-hard body, she couldn't help but want him. To feel him, to taste him, to fuck him, ...
"Sam, last night you were so drunk. It was amusing. We left the party last night and you wanted to come back here because you said your apartment is so lonely these days. We came in here and one thing kinda led to another and now ..." He trailed off. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her voluptuous body. Those breasts, those nice, firm breasts, ...
Without another word, Alan, completely naked now, climbed onto the bed and knelt between her spread legs. All Samantha could do was look at him. She was so angry, but at the same time she wanted him inside her. So badly ...
"Why am I tied to the bed?" she asked him as he stared down at her.