We had been married for about five years. My wife, Julie, was a small, lively brunette, with a body that, whilst cuddly, was still very shapely. It wasn't just her body that men found attractive, I knew. It was something about her personality. She was one of those women who could walk into a room and all the men would notice her – and wonder why, and all the women would see the men looking – and wonder why. She was attractive and sexy, but no-one could ever quite explain it. I knew why I found her sexy, it was those occasional glimpses of what was going on in her mind that turned me on. Other men? – they just knew that they wanted to fuck her!
Not that I didn't, of course and, over the years, sex had just got better and better for us. That was probably because it wasn't just sex – we had a genuine affinity, almost to the point of reading each others' minds. Sexually, we had similar tastes, and had experimented along the way, so we had a fair range of things that we knew we both liked. Nothing extreme, I hasten to add! Just the use of various oils and fluids for sensual massage, oral foreplay – some exhibitionism, and mild bondage (restraint and submission, rather than pain, that is). We also liked making up role play stories, which we would whisper to each other as we made love.
In short, things were pretty good between us. Not that there weren't things we didn't share, of course. One of Julie's fantasies was to be spanked before being thoroughly fucked and, although I had done this for her, I wasn't into it as much as she was. Similarly, one of my fantasies was to watch her being taken by another man. Her response to this had always been "No way."
For my part, I wasn't at all worried by her refusal. After all, it was only a fantasy and, to be quite honest, not one which I was entirely sure that I could handle in any case. Call it insecurity if you will, but knowing how attractive she was to men both thrilled me and made me extremely defensive, so I found it safer to dream the dream. Not that I couldn't trust her! She had always been absolutely honest with me, and that had always commanded reciprocal candour on my part. One example of this involved our next door neighbour, Steve. He was a little younger than us, in his early twenties, and had split from his partner some months previously. He was a pleasant, educated and polite man – friendly, but not pushy, and we both liked him.
We had got to know him quite well since the split, probably because he was around much more than before. Julie had felt sorry for him, and had persuaded me that we should invite him round for dinner one evening. We had, and had all been friends ever since. In fact, he and I actually got on like a house on fire, particularly when we had both had a few drinks, and were reverting into childhood!
I knew Steve was trustworthy, so I had no problem with those few occasions when Julie had invited him in to our apartment in my absence. It hadn't been often – he'd fixed a leaking tap, collected a delivery left with us – that sort of thing. I knew he fancied her (they all did), but I knew from what Julie had mentioned about those occasions that even though he'd been mildly flirtatious, it had always been well within the bounds of politeness and friendliness. For Julie's part, it seemed that she'd just accepted that as her due, and then got on with her life.
Although he never intruded, Steve often joined us, at our request, on an evening when we weren't doing anything special, and when there was a match on TV or we had hired the latest video from the store around the corner. We lived in a warehouse conversion, so our living room had plenty of space but, in fact, the focal point was the TV in the centre, with a small settee facing it. The three of us would watch TV together – our settee had enough room for all of us to sit comfortably – and Steve and I normally took each side, with Julie in the middle.
I suppose the room was badly designed. Just a little too large, it presented the appearance of a small livable area (in the centre) surrounded by vast empty space. This was largely due to the fact that we couldn't afford enough furniture to fill it – the apartment was in a well sought after area, next to a canal, and the bulk of our money had gone on securing it! One other problem caused by the space was that the designers had been forced to leave in the cast iron pillars, supporting the warehouse floors, and although these added to the atmosphere of the apartments, they created problems when it came to placing furniture, as they hadn't been placed for ergonomic considerations. Along the eastern side of the room was a corridor, which incorporated the entrance to the apartment. At one end of this were the bedrooms and a bathroom and, at the other, a small kitchen.
Sorry, I'm digressing! Anyway, that particular evening, we had all been watching a video. Julie had stacked up several bottles of wine from the kitchen, and we just kept helping ourselves. We had probably each had a bottle and a half over the course of the evening! None of us were normally heavy drinkers so, as you might guess, we were all slightly the worse for wear by the time the video ended. As usual, after a little more small talk, Steve got up to go, and I saw him out.
The video had been slightly arousing. It had been a thriller, rather than anything more titillating, but there had been one scene where the heroine got tied up and evilly threatened etc. by the villain, before the hero managed to save her. It was a stock storyline, I knew, but the heroine had managed to look extremely vulnerable and helpless, and innocently attractive at the same time – a combination guaranteed to raise my blood pressure!
Consequently, within an hour of Steve leaving, I had drawn Julie into one of our favourite role plays. We had done it once or twice before, to good effect! Basically, I stripped her (with slight struggling on her part), tied her hands and blindfolded and gagged her. For this, we had found that one of the metal pillars came in handy, and Julie had told me that being bound to that, waiting in anticipation for what I would do next, was one of the best turn-ons ever!
What I normally did next usually involved some messing with her senses – touch, texture, smell, heat or cold, for instance. Time, too – she could never tell when something would occur, it might happen very quickly, or it might take ages. The anticipation, and surprise, was what I knew she liked. On this occasion, I had her kneeling. Her hands were tied behind her, and behind the post, so that she was effectively sitting back on her haunches, with her back upright against the pillar. She was blindfolded and gagged, as usual but, tonight, I had added something new! This was something that had occurred to me a week or so earlier, and I'd brought home a set of industrial earplugs – the small, soft things that you push inside your ear, and which then expand to cut out any noise. Julie was now deaf, dumb and blind – her only operative senses were touch and smell!
I'd left her, tied like that, and wandered into the kitchen (I wanted some ice from the refrigerator), when there was a tap on the apartment door. I opened it, and Steve was stood there, smiling. I suppose my surprise must have shown, because he said, quickly, "Sorry to bother you, but I'm afraid I might have left my mobile in your kitchen. I remember using it earlier, but I think I may have put it down to open that last bottle of wine."
"Oh .... Right! I said, disconcerted, and turned to lead the way to the kitchen.
"How's Julie's head?" I heard Steve say over my shoulder.
"Not too bad," I replied, laughing, "But I bet it'll be worse tomorrow!"
