Hot Cougars World Cup Revenge

Once upon a time, there was a bespectacled, intelligent, interesting and good looking young man. He happened to find a piece of erotica one night as he was prowling around the internet looking for some easy fun. He was mesmerized by the writing and pursued the story teller.

In text he wooed her. Oh how he promised her delights would abound as he "kissed every inch of her body" that he would "treat her the way a true queen should be treated" and that he was going to be "the best player of the Turn On Game ever."

Until he didn't. He made a rather unfortunate choice on a weekend when she was free and available, something rare. He chose to go to a baseball game with his friends. After that choice, it took time to mount her revenge but when she did, he truly met his match.

[Bonus Turn On Tip: Be sure to promise your lady ONLY what you intend to fulfill. Many women over 50 have been sorely disappointed in dating and men. Many, like I used to be, are pleasure dormant or actually Turned Off and broken promises are always a turn off.]

Angel's World Cup Revenge

I lay there still as a statue not sure where she was or what she was doing.

Finally her stilettos clicked across the oak parkay floor in my direction. My heart rate went up and so did my dick, damn it.

"I thought I told you not to move." A fierce whisper penetrated the stillness.

Willing myself into silence and body stillness, my breath was ragged. I didn't want her leaving me alone again. The footsteps stopped at the side of the bed. I breathed as slowly as I could knowing full well that my swollen member would betray me again.

Suddenly something hard and cold touched my right heel. I was sure of it. The tip of something? I couldn't tell. Tensed in perfect attention my voice strangulated in my throat as I felt that something trace its way up the side of my calf.

I was frankly grateful that she had trussed me securely to the bedposts. "I hope I do ok, I am a rookie," she said. Rookie my ass. I have never been more roundly entertained and aroused. The toy she was using suddenly lifted and the whisper said, "What am I using to tease you, my pet?"

Not want to fuck up at any cost, I waited.

"Well done, you have permission to speak."

"Thank you, MIstress." I croaked out over impossibly dry lips and tongue.

"Oh, my poor darling, thirsty?"

I nodded.

She lifted my blindfold to my perspiration soaked forehead so I could watch her walk across the room to get me some water. Oh what a sight. Dressed in black fishnet stockings and a black leather bustier with red laces pulling her tiny waist into shape, Her sweet, round ass swinging just right, side to side as she sashayed across the room in her shiny red stilettos.

She bent over to reach into the mini-frig and I could just make out the curve of her treasures peeking out at me. Trying to swallow and licking my lips so I wouldn't sound like an idiot by time she got back, I must have looked like a giant beached walrus.

Before she brought me my water, she opened the dresser drawer and brought out something. She laid it on the dresser, or rather draped it on the dresser. I could see the leather strips. I began to shiver involuntarily.

"Now, Now," she clucked, "What did I say about moving around. You know how that distracts me from my pleasure."

I bowed my head in an expression of apology. She had forbidden me from ever saying the word sorry. A Turn Off word she called it. "Some words make a girl feel 'ew.' You never want to make a girl say ew." It was her first Turn On lesson and I would not soon forget it. Angel had no tolerance for ew. "Once there is an ew, there will not be a we. Period." She told me clearly.

Instead of 'sorry' she wanted to hear "Duly Noted." "That way," she explained, "I know you are serious because action follows Duly Noted and it is the action of eliminating sorry that is the turn on for me."

Once she allowed me to actually give her a pedicure, just like Gino did in her fantasy, I knew that was the only position I wanted to be in, at her feet. This goddess, this woman of pleasure and pain. I would do anything to be near her.

Proof? Here it was fucking World Cup Finals and I gave up my gang for this one. Lied to them. Told them I was too hungover and had a model over that didn't want to go home. They believed that well enough. It was something that happened a lot.

Knowing that they were all over at Mario's getting blasted and poking fun at my penchant for Le Pussé and I was the one getting ready to punctuate that very pussé made it hotter than it already was.

Picking up the crystal wine glass now damp on the outside because of the coldness of the water, she took a tiny sip for herself and then strolled back across the room looking me right in the eye. Wearing the Marilyn Monroe blonde wig was a stroke of genius. She couldn't have known my fetish for pin up girls.

Bright red lipstick and nails to match, I couldn't have found a better match for myself. It took weeks to get a date with this girl and now I am so hooked I was passing on the fucking World Cup Finals to be with her.

She reached the glass over to me and tipped it so I could sip. Running her cool fingers across my forehead and ruffling my hair she cooed, "Good boy. Such a good boy, doing exactly what you are told. I have decided to let you move so that you can show me how I am turning you on."

My eyebrows raised and I arched my back. The relief was tremendous. My aching dick wagged from side to side with desire and the natural rhythm of my hips starting to move in sync with the heat glistening in her eyes.

"Oh Angel," I whispered, "Oh my sweet, sweet Angel."

"Oh my," she said suddenly standing and taking the glass from my reach. "I don't remember giving you permission to speak."

Fuck. I steamed silently. I hated her. I craved her. I had to have her. Fuck.

"Dirty rotten shame that is." She whispered as she put my blindfold back into place. Slowly I heard the stilettos walking out of the room. What happened next took S and M to an entirely new level.

The next thing I heard was unmistakable. It was a sound I have heard hundreds of times, maybe thousands of times. It was the clear katush of a beer bottle being opened, followed by the scraping of the knife on the cutting board cutting the lime.

That little bitch was having a Corona and according to my now sex crazed mind kick off was no more than...she wouldn't. She couldn't. Would she keep me bound up here during the game? I thought, now wait just a minute.

The volume on the TV was just enough for me to hear, was that the Croatian National Anthem? Fuck, she wouldn't, would she? Suddenly giggling rang out over the hardwood floors of the apartment. Her laughter made him strain against the cuffs.

The sounds of the cheering crowd echoed in the room but over the din, I heard the stilettos tap, tap, tapping my way. Holding my body still as commanded, I couldn't wait for what was next. "So, my boy, an interesting predicament you find yourself in."

Once again, I could feel her riding crop barely touching the side of my calf. Then she lifted it and touched right under my left nipple. Next spot, right at the edge of my trimmed pubic hair. She insisted on hair. Bare is not there for Turn On.

Brushing, barely skimming those tender hairy places is beyond delicious, she had whispered to him one night.

Lifting the crop again, she just touched my lower lip. It was everything in me not to open my mouth in response. "You are doing beautifully, my boy." She purred into my ear. Finally I could feel her cool fingers brushing down the center of my chest. "You may speak."

"Thank you, Mistress. Let me out of these cuffs so I can show you..."

"You mean so you can get to the game, don't you?" She whispered back at me, tapping under my chin with the end of the crop. "Don't underestimate my game." Giggling she flounced out of the room leaving me with an open gaze at her delicious ass bouncing along with her. God, I wanted this girl.

"As I recall, it was your first weekend of opportunity that set the bar. I believe I asked you, what are you doing this weekend and you answered incorrectly."

"Oh?" I said with mock ignorance? Who me?

"Uh huh, I believe the statement was, "I am going to the opening day baseball game and I like to get drunk with my buddies, you know how it is."

"Oh my pet, yes, I DO know how it is, but not for me anymore. I am in charge of the game now and if you would like to see the kick off, I propose you get busy."

"Busy?" What was she up to? What can she mean? What can I do?

Taking off the blindfold, she whispered into my ear. "What is it worth to you, to be unshackled in time for kick off, which by my calculations would be in approximately three and a half minutes."

My mind was scrambled. Of course she picked that moment to pick up the damn feather. Fuck. Maybe it was easier with the blindfold on. Don't you touch me with that thing, I thought manically, kick-off tick tick tick. Don't you dare.

"Maybe this will inspire you." I felt the edge of that feather touch my raging hardness and instantly electricity ran down my legs and across my hips. More is all I could think, more. Then she lifted it away, of course she did, the little wench. Some Angel. Some naughty Angel, MY naughty Angel for the night.

I loved this. Now, how much do I want to see that game anyway? So my team has never been there. That's what they have VCR recorders for. No! Fuck Me! It's the fucking game. The French National Anthem echoed in the other room. Fuck.

"OK, what do you want?"

"Ah, that's better, much more reasonable." She purred.

I could hear the crowd and the announcers ramping up in the next room as she circled the bed with that mesmerizing click, click, click of her damn stiletto heels on the honey colored hardwood floor. Each step making my wood harder and harder. Fuck.

"How about dinner at the Mr. A's?"

"Interesting." She tapped the crop on the palm of her hand. "That's a good start."

"We go shopping first to get you something new to wear, jewelry to shoes."

She reached into her bosom and drew out a key. I ached for her but my team was starting in literally seconds. I could never live down missing the kick off of the World Cup for pussé, no matter how fine the pussé. I hoped to God she couldn't read my mind.

"I'll throw in a limo to and from the restaurant."

She giggled out loud and quickly unlocked the cuffs. "You don't mind waiting til half time for more fun, do you? Let's get in there and watch some football."

*************

This world of Vanilla Vengeance, innocent naughty bondage is brand new for me. I had SO much fun writing this because a man did this exact thing to me in real time. Picking sports over sex gives your girl a crystal clear message that she is not your priority. Think carefully. Is that what you want her to think? Please comment and let me know, hot or not? Can't wait to hear your reactions!