Bound

I first noticed you several weeks ago at the bookstore. You were browsing around, opening books of your choosing at random pages to see whether they captured your interest. You certainly captured mine. Not so much your appearance -- not that your appearance wasn't striking, because it was -- but so much more than that was the way you carried yourself, the way you seemed so extraordinarily comfortable in your body, so unselfconscious, so graceful. How you seemed to draw pleasure simply from being in your body and from moving it.

I watched with interest, trying not to stare, as you made your selection and paid for it. Forgive me, but I followed from a distance as you went to your car, then followed you in my car until you turned off the main road into a long driveway in the sparsely settled suburbs, presumably your home, which seemed to border on a large and overgrown nature preserve. I had forgotten the episode until the first warm day of spring arrived and I was doing some hiking in the preserve -- I wondered if in fact you did live nearby, and if I might catch a glimpse of you again.

I walked along the edge of the woods so as to be able to see the homes that bordered the wilderness there, until I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart suddenly in my mouth, pounding, as I saw you. You were reclining in a chaise lounge on your back deck, a tall drink by your side, book in hand (the same one, I wondered?), sunglasses on, cutoff denim shorts and a halter top. When you got up to freshen your drink, any doubt I had as to whether it was you disappeared when I saw again how easily you moved, how alive your body seemed to be.

I don't know what happened to me, as I had never done anything like this before, but I was overwhelmed with a desire to see you and be seen by you, and I was propelled forward, out of the woods into your backyard. Without any notion of what I would say or do, seeing your screen door still ajar, I slipped inside, picking up at that instant the sweetness of your perfume still hanging in the air.

I had just crossed the threshold of your bedroom when you emerged from your closet, clad only in a silken red burgundy brassiere and panties. That and, for reasons I have yet to understand, thigh high dark stockings. You gasped and stifled a cry, but then we were both standing there, startled, hearts beating hard, breath coming fast and shallow. I noticed the several beauty marks on your body – the way they marked, at random, your perfect symmetry was mysteriously beautiful to me – strangely, it aroused me significantly more.

"I...I won't hurt you," I thought to myself, but heard my mouth saying something very different -- "Don't say a word." It was as if I had planned this out, but I hadn't, unless it was during my sleep, in my dreams at night, and the next thing I said was, "Take one of your stockings off."

Forgive me. Forgive me for frightening you, even if later you would forget all about having been frightened. And forgive me for the politically incorrect thought that in the middle of these first few moments, in addition to being scared, you also seemed to be more than a little intrigued with the situation. Could it be that you had also noticed me that day in the bookstore or some other time? Could it be that, late at night, alone in your bed, you had fantasized about me, the way I had about you?.

Whatever the reason for my perception (or misperception, you tell me), I took the stocking from you -- i could still feel your warmth on the fabric -- and tied your wrists together with one end. I led you to your bed and tied the other end of the stocking to one of your bedposts. "Please lie down, face down." You complied -- and it was only then that I was able to step back and for the first time up close admire the smooth skin of your back, sloping down to the curve of your hips.

I watched your rib cage expand and contract with each breath, your breasts, sheathed in your bra, also moving slightly. I unbuttoned and slipped off my shirt, and unbuckled my jeans, letting them drop to the floor. Stepping out of them, I slid my boxer shorts off and moved towards the bed. "I won't hurt you," I said. "Quite the contrary, you'll see," and I placed my palms on your back and began to stroke along the sides of your backbone and under your shoulder blades in an effort to relax your muscles. I unhooked your bra to enable me to do this better, and the garment hung loosely on your shoulders, the cups falling away from your breasts. Long strokes of varying pressure seemed to have the desired effect, as I could feel you relax -- and to my surprise and delight I even thought that, as my hands travelled down the sides of your ribcage, I felt your body rise slightly away from the bed and into the pressure of my hands as if you were enjoying my touch.

I stroked you with both hands down the sides of your body and over the curve of your hips, down to the outside of your thighs, repeating this several times before taking my palms down your lower back and over the rise of your buttocks -- they were tense but quickly relaxed under my touch. I climbed on to your bed, straddling your body and sat over you, my hands working your upper back harder. You could feel my bare scrotum and cock against your back as I ran my hands down along the sides of your breasts -- it was then that I felt you quicken, as if a spark of erotic energy had been released -- and my fingers slid down your breasts, stroking the sides gently, then the underside, and finally my fingers finding your nipples, brushing over them once, twice, then taking them more firmly in my fingers and squeezing until you gasped, not, I think, from discomfort, but from pleasure. I kissed your back still holding your breasts in my palms, then slid down you, my face over your bottom, which I began to caress with my hands, the fullness of your buttocks beneath the thin sheath of satin panties. Hungry for the direct touch of your skin, I soon slid my hands beneath the fabric stroking your ass and running my hands up along your sides. I detected the slightest bit of your scent, and I looked closely between your legs, noticing how clearly your pussy was outlined by the satin. Until that moment, I had not been sure whether your reactions reflected fear or arousal, but then I saw that just a bit of moisture had begun to show through your panties. These sensations ran through me like a jolt straight to my cock, which stiffened and my breath came more quickly. I slid the bottoms of your panties up into your butt crack, tugging firmly, even a bit too hard, as I pulled them taut, clasping them in my hands near the elastic top -- this pressured not only your ass, but your pussy as well, and the way your hips tilted into the pressure in both places told me that you wanted more of this.

I continued to tug, rhythmically, and when you gasped softly, I told you to come up on your knees, lifting your ass up into the air. Overcome by my arousal, I yanked your panties down and slipped them off one of your legs -- which left me gazing directly into what I had dreamed of seeing, the pursed lips of your pussy. Your inner lips, pink and delicate as petals of a flower, protruded slightly from between your now swollen outer lips, which were flushed a deeper red. Breathless, I moved closer, inhaling your aroma, its deep notes suggesting the taste that awaited me -- but first I touched the tip of my nose to you there before pushing my nose between your lips, just into your opening, my own lips extending outward to kiss ever so tentatively your lips, the brush of your pubic hair against my lips followed by the taste of you. I backed away for a moment and came towards you again, opening my mouth further this time, taking you in and stroking your lips with mine lower this time, then my tongue seeking and finding the moist hidden nub of your clit. Stroking with my tongue up its side, then the other side, pushing into its base with the tip of my tongue, you moaned and leaned back into me, tiliting your hips to raise your pussy up into my face. I held the sweet globes of your buttocks in my hands as I continued to kiss you, running my hands over the curve of your hips, pulling you into me. Your cries came more quickly now, and if you ever had been in fear you had been taken beyond that by the imperative of your body, which reacted on its own to my touch, your hips humping against my mouth, grinding my face into your pussy, which was sopping with a mixture of your juices and my saliva. I moved my hands up to find your breasts, which were swaying in the rhythm you had established, I stroked them from your body down towards the nipples, milking them, squeezing my fingers up and over your nipples, which multiplied your stimulation and took you to a new peak.

Meanwhile, my cock was aching with both the pleasure of your ecstasy and the lack of attention you were able to give it (one of the downsides of having bound you, I suppose), and though you were close to orgasming on my mouth, I suddenly sat back and came up on my own knees -- your body flushed pink with arousal suddenly out of contact until I quickly placed my cock at your opening and pulled you to me, my loins pressing against the delightful softness of your ass, my arms wrapped around your breasts, my cock at full erection entering you, sliding easily, quickly, comfortably inside you.

We both cried out and nature took over, me humping you hard and you finding our pace and thrusting back into me. I pushed your head and chest down to the mattress and, your ass in the air, watched myself enter your open, welcoming body, then on my withdrawal, my cock slick and slimy with you. I slammed back into you, and we seemed to merge into a single writhing beast, thrusting into each other, clasping, gasping, screaming, fucking until your orgasm -- I could feel it, I could feel your pussy grasping my cock in quick hard spasms, at which point the heat, the liquid pooling beneath my pubic bone began to rise up my cock and I ejaculated hard, shooting what felt like a quart of my semen into your depths, I wondered whether you could feel it splashing against you inside...

We collapsed, breathless, me lying atop your exhausted satiated body.

I reached up and untied your hands and pulled you close to me, your breasts against my chest, and kissed your mouth. You offered no objection and I held you close as a breeze moved gently through your room. I didn't know what to say to you, but it didn't seem to matter to either of us, at least not for the time being.