If you asked our friends and neighbors, "Hey, what kind of couple are Ingrid and Ben?", I'm sure they'd all say, "Oh, they're very nice, very quiet." Just another dull suburbanite couple, laid-back and conservative.
Appearances, as they say, can be deceiving.
Maybe my friends would mention the fact that I'm a very attractive woman, the archetypical Scandinavian beauty, with pale, ice-blonde hair, china blue eyes, and flawless alabaster skin. But I wonder what they would think if they happened upon me sunbathing nude in my back yard-which I do all summer-and saw the rings that I wear in my pierced nipples, navel, and labia. Not the sort of thing a respectable housewife in her thirties is supposed to indulge in.
And if they knew how I celebrated my last birthday, with my husband and two other men taking turns at my mouth, pussy and asshole, fucking me for hours until I'd exhausted them all, they might think twice before inviting us to their next cook-out.
Ben and I don't advertise our swinging lifestyle, and we're very discreet around those who might feel uncomfortable knowing that Ben and I have had scores of sexual partners since our marriage. It might make for a bit more tension during those morning chats around the mailbox if you're wondering if I fucked your husband while you were grocery shopping.
And so, if you saw me through the kitchen window on that cool April morning, whistling a merry tune and washing dishes, you'd think me just another boring housewife. Unless you watched for a few more seconds, and saw Ben sneak up behind me, and saw him pull up my T-shirt and fondle my be-ringed nipples. Then you might realize that Ozzie and Harriet we ain't.
He toyed with me until my nipples were erect and aching. I thought eventually he'd yank down my sweats and we'd enjoy a nice, leisurely early-morning fuck on the kitchen counter. He pressed his erection against my ass and I waited for his hands to move from my breasts to my hips, waited for him to strip me and then plunge that hard cock inside me.
I thought that until I turned my head and saw Ben's face over my shoulder looming over me, a devilish grin on his face and a pair of handcuffs dangling from an extended finger.
"Wanna have some fun?" he asked.
"Oh, yes."
He held out his other hand. "Let's go for a walk."
"Where to?"
"It's a surprise."
Ben told me what to wear, just sweats and hiking boots. I put on pink lipstick and got dressed, wearing just shirt, shorts, and boots, no bra and no panties, nothing complicated to slow him down. We walked out our back door and Ben took me by the hand and led me into the woods that border our back yard. It was very cool out, but I'm 100% Swedish and a little spring chill doesn't bother me.
"Come on," he said, taking my hand and leading me into the woods. There are miles and miles of trails through these woods, and Ben and I enjoy hiking and exploring. I adore making love outdoors, and we've found several spots that provide just the right mix of privacy, comfort and beauty to make our coupling extra-special. I hoped Ben was leading me to one of those magical places right now.
But he didn't. After walking for about thirty minutes, Ben ignoring my demands to know where we were going, we trudged down a long, steep slope that opened up to a clearing. There was one tall, slender tree in the middle of the clearing, it's bare branches rustling in the breeze. Sunlight broke clear and warm through it's sparse canopy.
"It's beautiful here," I said.
"Beautiful, and very, very private," Ben said. "You could scream and scream and no one would hear you."
"Really?" I said, the excitement creeping into my voice.
He didn't answer. He grabbed my wrist and half-dragged me to the tree. He yanked off my sweatshirt and tossed it aside. One of the cuffs came down and closed with a loud snap around my wrist. He pulled me hard until my tits were pressed tight against the smooth bark of the tree, and cuffed my other wrist around the trunk. I was trapped, my arms looped around the tree, my hands cuffed on the other side.
I was on fire. I was soaking wet between my legs. I love fucking outdoors. I love it when I'm tied up. I love it when Ben fucks me like a whore. He yanked down my shorts and tossed them over with my shirt. I spread my legs, waiting for the penetration I so desperately craved. My nipples were pink and stiff, from lust more than the cold. I turned my head and saw Ben pulling off his own clothes, his eyes burning into mine. I saw his huge cock bobbing in front of him and I bit my lip, knowing how good this was going to be.
Ben pressed himself against me like he had in the kitchen, his cock a spike pressing against my ass. He kissed my neck savagely, his hands pulling at the rings looped in my nipples. I was panting now, waiting for that delicious moment when he entered me. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," I chanted.
He didn't fuck me. He stepped back. I snapped my head around to see Ben stagger back, his face grey, his erection going soft before my eyes. "Honey, what is it?" I said, hysteria creeping into my voice. He looked like he was having a heart attack.
"Oh, shit," he said. He managed a weak smile. "I just thought of something."
"What?"
"The keys. To the handcuffs. They're, um, they're sitting on the kitchen table."
I gave him a look that probably should have given him a heart attack. "You're kidding."
"Um."
"Tell me you're kidding me."
"Ingrid, honey..."
"You idiot!" I yelled. I thought about my predicament. We were 30 minutes from home. An hour round trip. An hour I'd have to spend chained to this goddam tree.
"I'll run back to the house, I'll get the keys, I'll be back before you know it."
"Sure, the next hour will pass lickety-split."
Ben managed a weak smile. "We could, you know, do it before I go."
"Honey, unless you get back here in record time, we're not going to, you know, do it, for a year."
"I'll fly."
"Wait! Give me my clothes!"
He picked them up from where he'd tossed them. And where he tossed them was a foot-deep mud hole. My clothes were smeared brown with cold dirty water.
"Um," he said.
"Go! And bring me back something to wear! You idiot!"
He left, at a sprint. I watched him go up the hill, around the corner, and then he was gone.
It was actually a beautiful morning, cool and crisp, and the sun felt especially good on my face and my nipples. Even though I was nervous about my predicament I was still very turned on. I was afraid someone might come by and see me, but that idea actually revved me up even more. I was totally helpless, and while that wasn't a good thing if a bear wandered by, the idea of some hunky woodsman sauntering past and seeing me nude and shackled made me spread my legs wider. I wanted to touch myself, and I couldn't. "Goddam you Ben," I said bitterly.
I was still picturing my fantasy flannel-clad lumberjack coming to ravish me when I heard it, the "clat, clat, clatter" of metal-on-metal. I whirled around, trying to determine where the sound was coming from. I squatted down as best I could, even though in the clearing I was as conspicuous as a bear walking on the freeway.
