OK. Another quick slutty one here. Yes, I've been doing several of these lately, but I have a couple other types in the works. If my big-titted submissive MILF stories aren't your thing, stop reading now.
Yes, it is improbable, and the plot is unrealistic. Yes, I need an editor. Yes, it's stupid. This is a stroke story. If that's what you want to comment on, then stop watching porn to see how the plumber actually fixes the sink. This is fiction, people. Reality ends where the truly warped area of my mind begins.
All characters are over the age of 18, over-sexed, and can have a super-humanly amount of orgasms.
"Please! Please! Anything you want. I'm begging you. I'll lick your pussies. I'll lick your ass. I'll let you fuck my ass, then lick the dildos clean for you. Anything at all. Just, please let me cum!" Yeah, I said that.
Pathetic, isn't it? The truth was that I would have done anything to cum at that point. The real pathetic part of it was that I am totally straight! I never even had the slightest desire to get down with another woman. That thought actually sickened me a little. Don't judge me. You spend the last six hours naked and being kept at the very edge of orgasm, then tell me that you wouldn't be begging too.
I was strung up with my hands tied stretched out above me to a tree limb, and my ankles were strapped to stakes in the ground spread apart. Well, I wasn't actually completely naked. I was wearing my 5-inch stiletto CFM pumps, nipple and clit rings, a butt plug, and a thin gold chain around my waist that continued down between my ass cheeks and back up through my pussy lips to connect to the waist chain in the front. There was also a thin gold chain connected between my nipple rings. I was also wearing a lot of red stripes all over my body from the whipping I had received six hours ago.
OK. So, I should probably back up a bit here. I wasn't tied to that damned tree begging to have lesbian sex because I wanted to. Sure, I made some bad decisions that led to it, but it wasn't anything that I sought out to do. I really had no clue that I would piss off all my female neighbors that bad. It wasn't like I set out to cause any problems. I mean, I wasn't purposely flashing their husbands. Seriously, It's my house and my backyard. Granted, I really didn't care too much if anyone saw me, but I wasn't deliberately trying to flaunt myself to anyone. I was just being myself and being comfortable on my own property. How the hell is that my fault?
OK. Maybe a little farther back. My name is Pamela Adams. I'm a 40-year-old woman with shoulder length red hair, green eyes, pretty face, and shapely body. I keep fit by spending an hour or two in the gym several days a week. Svelte, unfortunately, is not in my DNA. Nature blessed me with a rather large bust (40DD) and generous hips. Hours on the Stairmaster and stationary bike keeps me fit. I no longer use a treadmill or run. The last time I did that, it caused a riot in the gym because my ginormous titties were bouncing all over the place as I was running. Instead, about a gazillion crunches and lunges have my waist trim and flat while my ass causes multiple car crashes when I walk down the street in tight leggings. Not that it really had a whole lot to do with anything, but I am 5'6" tall. Some people just want to know things like that.
About my background. I am a widowed mother of a 20-year-old daughter. No, we never get mistaken for being sisters. Come on, people. I'm 20 fricken years older than her. Sure, this is a stroke story, but let's try to have a modicum of reality here. She really does look like a younger version of me. Perhaps slightly smaller in the bust and hips, but she will get there. She's in college now, but her college is somewhat close. She usually comes home for the weekends.
My husband was killed in an accident about six months ago. Between his insurance and the settlement from the at-fault driver, I have a pretty nice annuity to draw from. Aside from all that, I have a nice little software development business that I do from my home office. I started it after Sierra was born. That was what my degree is in, Computer Science. I had to take a year off from college when I was pregnant but finished up a after she was born. Mainly it was a way to keep busy while being home and taking care of Sierra. Now it was to keep me from going insane in an empty house. I loved it because I could keep my own schedule and work from the privacy of my own home. The reason that is important will become obvious later.
We moved into this neighborhood a few months ago. There were several reasons for the move. First off, I wanted to downsize. Our other house was a lot larger than we really needed. We had originally bought it in the anticipation of having more children. Unfortunately, that never happened. Still, it was nice for entertaining and having relatives stay for a few days. Second, I really got tired of all the time it took to keep it clean. Third, with Jay's death and loss of income, the mortgage was more than I wanted to have to pay every month. Last, but by no means least, it was full of memories of my husband who was no longer there. With these reasons in mind, I sold the house and moved into a three-bedroom house in a nice neighborhood to begin my new life.
Originally, I got along well with all the neighbors. I have a pretty outgoing personality, and I think that I am a nice person. Sure, some of the women were a little nervous about a pretty single woman around their husbands, but after assuring them that I had absolutely no desire to get into a relationship with a married man, things settled down. I explained to them my beliefs in fidelity and the sanctity of marriage. They also saw me shut down any attempts at flirting between their husbands and me. The little neighborhood group of about 10 wives would get together once a week for coffee. I began joining them and hosting a few as well. I never really noticed that the other women were pulling back from me over the previous month. Looking back now, I could see how they began to act a little cooler and slightly less friendly. As far as I knew, I hadn't done anything wrong. It never even occurred to me that they were angry at me. I found out that morning when I was hosting the little coffee club at my house. That's when I was informed that one of my little quirks had deeply offended them and royally pissed them all off.
OK. So, what's my little quirk that can piss off ten women enough to tie me to a tree in my own back yard, whip me, then toy with me until I was begging them to give me an orgasm? Well, that's just a bit complicated. I never hurt anyone, and it was only in my own home and backyard. I didn't flaunt it. I didn't advertise it. It was just a part of who I was, and I kept it to myself. I never even considered it overtly sexual, either. OK, sure. I didn't hide it and didn't care if someone saw me. Big deal. I would never use it to sleep with anyone's husband, fiancé, or boyfriend. IT WAS FRICKING HARMLESS! Unfortunately, they didn't see it that way.
I like to be naked in my own house and backyard. I only wear clothes in my house when I have company over. I do keep a robe on a hook by the front door in case there is an unexpected visitor, and I have a couple of sets of nice clothes in my office for when I need to video-conference with a client, but that's about it. When there is no one else there, I am stark naked. Sometimes, I will wear a pair of heels or some sandals, but that's it. Other than my body jewelry -- and possibly a butt plug if I'm feeling a bit adventurous -- the only thing touching my skin is air. Hell, I usually don't even bother with the robe if it's a delivery person at the door. I'm comfortable with my body. Someone wants to look? Who cares? They are just tits, a pussy, and an ass. Big whoop! Go online and you can see literally a million of them. News flash! Every woman has them. Look all you want, but touching is by invitation only. I'm just more comfortable without clothes on, and it does cut down significantly on the laundry.
I have been kind of an exhibitionist pretty much most of my life. No, I didn't walk around naked at home when I was growing up, but I was naked most of the time in my own bedroom -- door shut, of course. Also, whenever I had the house to myself, I would not hesitate to wander around nude. It was the same in college when my roommate was out, and after I graduated and got my own apartment. I did get caught a few times, but I just brushed it off as if I were in the middle of changing clothes or getting ready to shower. I always covered up quickly and everyone bought my story.
So, about the body piercings. I had that done several years ago. I was totally upfront with Robert when we began to get serious. He didn't think that it was that big of a deal; after all, it was in my own apartment -- and his when I was over there. He didn't go as far as I did, but he would still walk around in his boxers. When we started living together, nothing changed. He really liked looking at me. After getting married and buying a house, he was a bit concerned about the nude sunbathing in the backyard, but he got over it pretty quickly. It was after the birth of our daughter and I stopped breast-feeding that Robert made the suggestion. He thought that a few decorations on me would be really cool. We discussed it, researched, looked at photos, then decided to have my nipples and clit hood pierced.
I started off with simple barbells, but soon switched to 1-inch hoops. I found that I really loved it when Robert played with them while we were having sex. They made my nipples and clit a lot more sensitive. He would come up behind me while I was doing the dishes and begin flicking and pulling on my piercings. Moments later, he was lying on the floor while I rode him to several very satisfying orgasms. After a few burned dinners, he learned to wait until I was cleaning up afterwards.
It was one evening after we had put Sierra down for the night that we discovered my submissive streak. I was bent over the couch while Robert was pounding me from behind. He had my wrists held tightly behind my back with one hand as he toyed with my nipple rings with the other. I have no idea where the thought came from that flashed through my head, but I suddenly saw a picture of myself bound over the couch, wrists cuffed behind my back as my master was spanking me as he fucked me.
"Spank me, Master" Came out of my mouth.
His right hand released my tit, moved back and smacked my ass. I exploded like a nuclear bomb. A few more firm smacks and I actually squirted. That drove him over the edge. Holy shit! Where did that come from? He collapsed over my back, and we just laid there for a while recovering. We had quite the discussion after that. The next day I got a bigger toybox and we ordered several new items online. Wrist and ankle cuffs, an assortment of gags, collar and leash, a few lengths of strong, smooth ropes, a paddle, butt-plugs, and an anal hook. I wasn't sure about the anal stuff since I had never done that before. I thought that I might as well try it and see. Spoiler alert! I loved it!
It completely shocked the hell out of both of us, but we found that I took off like a rocket when he used the paddle on me. That led to experimenting with one of his belts. After that, we graduated to riding crops and whips. It turns out, I'm a bit of a pain slut. Who knew? One night I was bound with my wrists connected to my ankles. I was face down with my ass in the air. Robert had put in a medium vibrating butt plug and was pounding my pussy with his 8-inch cock while whipping my ass with a leather strap. I came so hard that I passed out for 10-minutes. I woke up unbound and laying on the bed in the spare bedroom. Robert explained that we would have to wash all the bedding the next day before we could sleep in our bed again.
It was Valentine's Day. I had seen something on the internet that I decided to get for Robert. Sure, technically I would be wearing it, but it was all for him. Robert's mom was keeping Sierra overnight so we could have a romantic night. After dinner and dancing, we got back home where I was going to surprise Robert with his gift. He hadn't noticed that I had been wearing it all evening. I had him sit on the couch with a glass of wine. I stood in front of him, unzipped my dress, and let it fall to the floor. I had purposely not worn underwear that night. He just stared at me standing in front of him in my 6-inch stiletto CFMs, body jewelry, and the new accessories.
