Justine was having a great time until she heard the car door outside: on her knees with a cock in her mouth, hands cuffed behind her back, vinyl jumpsuit unzipped to her navel putting her breasts on display. Her partner's hand was wrapped in her hair nice and tight, and she figured she was only a few minutes from making him cum all over her breasts, and then having her suit pulled the rest of the way off so she could be bent over and fucked hard. Mark had proven to be an excellent lover, with lots of stamina and a quick recovery time—and no qualms about throwing her small, curvy body around like a rag doll.
Unfortunately, he was also married, proving to her once again that there were no perfect men.
They'd met a couple weeks ago, during a day hike organized by an outdoors social group, and had had an instant attraction. He was tall and slim, with strong-looking hands and a devilish smile; she was short and fit, with generous hips and breasts apparent even through her practical hiking gear. He didn't make any effort to hide his ring—or his interest—and as the hike progressed, they'd fallen further and further back from the group, talking and laughing. Finally, when the last hiker had disappeared around a bend, he'd asked her if she wanted to see one of his favorite spots, a little off the main trail. Justine hadn't even hesitated to tell him he could show her anything he wanted, and soon they were overlooking a rather picturesque waterfall—which she got to enjoy for exactly ten seconds before he turned her head for a kiss, and she grabbed his ass.
That first encounter was rushed—but hot. He made her cum grinding against his hand down her jeans, and she took his cock deep into her mouth, swallowing every drop when he exploded inside her. Afterwards they agreed the tryst had been too hot to be a one-time thing, and had exchanged contact information. And Justine continued to not ask any questions about his wedding ring—she had a birthday coming up, and had decided she was going to treat herself to a no-strings affair.
They were able to meet up a couple times in the following weeks, always at his initiative. Once he rented a room at a downtown hotel during his lunch hour, and she arrived in heels and a sweater dress that hugged every curve like a second skin—and when he pulled it off her he saw the wicked black lingerie she'd worn underneath. He took great delight in spending the next hour tearing it off a piece at a time, stuffing her panties into her mouth and tying her up with the rest, before taking her again and again.
The next time they met, he texted her late one night, asking if she was free—she'd sent him her address, and he had shown up dressed in a tuxedo that had practically given her an orgasm on the spot. On the other hand, she'd opened the door wearing nothing but a pair of. They spent an enthusiastic couple hours playing secret agent role-playing games before he had to leave.
This most recent encounter was the most elaborate. He'd texted her a link to a local goth club's masquerade event—masks and fetish clothing required for entry. Feeling a thrill at meeting her illicit lover somewhere public, she'd dug out a feather mask and black vinyl catsuit with a shiny silver zipper up the front, completing the look with knee-high spiked heel boots. When they had met up later that night on the club's dancefloor, his jaw had dropped—and that was before she'd started pulling the zipper down. For her part she had enjoyed his tight leather pants and mesh shirt—but her favorite part had been the Zorro mask, which had allowed them to maul each other amongst the other dancers without fear of being recognized. Judging by the wild abandon going on around them, Justine had thought they weren't the only ones feeling so liberated, and had made a note to keep an eye on the club's calendar for future fun themes.
After an hour he'd dragged her out to his car, both so turned on she'd started sucking him as he drove off—he kept one hand on the wheel, and the other on the back of her head. She'd kept it up throughout the trip, varying the depth and speed of her ministrations, bringing him close but then backing off. He had groaned and called her a tease, but she had a plan for how she wanted the evening to go, and it hadn't involve swallowing his cum in such an uncomfortable position.
When he had finally stopped the car and she had raised her head, she'd been caught off-guard: he'd brought her to his place—a nice-looking apartment building overlooking one of the city's lakes. She had turned to him, a question on her face, making him laugh.
"How naughty do you want to be tonight, baby? Because I want to be extra bad tonight," he had said, leering at her breasts spilling out of her half-unzipped top.
Justine had blushed and almost climbed onto his lap right there, but had managed to ask, "Is it...okay? We won't be interrupted or anything, will we?"
Mark had smiled slightly, stroking her face. "Trust me—everything will be okay. No-one will be there but us, I promise."
Twenty minutes later, at the sound of a door closing and a car alarm turning on, Mark swore. "No fucking way—this isn't happening."
Justine pulled her mouth off him. "Tell me that's not who I think it is!" she hissed.
Mark was already pulling her to her feet and hustling her deeper into the apartment. "She's supposed to be with friends all night! I'm sorry—I'll think of something, but she can't find you here."
Justine staggered along in her heels, her hands still cuffed, nervous and confused. "What are you talking about? Where are you taking me—ah!" She was pulled to a sudden stop in front of a sliding glass door. Mark quickly pulled the curtain aside, followed by the door and screen, letting a cool breeze wash over her. He hustled her onto a wide balcony with a couple chairs and a fantastic view of the lake—none of which she was in the mood to enjoy just then.
"What are you doing Mark? How long do you expect me to wait out here?" she asked, tugging on her restraints. "And get these things off me!" But Mark was already gone, darting back into the apartment, only to reappear a moment later, tossing her purse onto the ground and pressing a tiny key into her grasping hands.
"Look, I'm sorry, I'll think of something—just wait out here and keep quiet. Here's the key—you can unlock them yourself. I need to hurry—stay quiet, please!" And with that he was back inside the apartment, sliding the door closed—locking it with a click—and shutting the curtains, leaving her alone in the dark.
Justine stood there in the cool night air, both furious and embarrassed—but mostly furious. "Unbelievable!" she whispered angrily, her fingers trying to maneuver the key into place, but finding it difficult—unlocking cuffs while wearing them wasn't something she'd had a lot of practice doing. From the apartment she could hear voices, including a woman who didn't sound very happy. "Stupid fucking married asshole—"
"Shhh," came a voice from the darkness behind her.
Justine jumped, dropping the key as she spun around, biting down on a shriek. She realized that the patio was a concrete ledge that stretched along the whole length of the building, with a wall of bars separating one unit's space from another. Through the bars to the next apartment's deck she could see a man leaning against the guard wall, his back to the lake, smoking and looking at her, a slight smile visible through the gloom.
Justine suddenly remembered that she was basically topless, and spun back around, flushing, frantically looking along the ground for the key. "Don't 'shh' me," she snapped quietly.
The man chuckled and took a drag off his cigarette. "Suit yourself," he murmured," but the lady of the house is not someone you want to meet in your current condition, so you shouldn't give her any reason to come to the balcony right now."
Justine did her best to ignore him despite the excellent advice and, having spotted the key, carefully knelt down to pick it up. Key once more in hand, she again began fumbling with the cuffs, and was irritated to realize her hands were shaking, both from stress and from the cool breeze that was covering her breasts in goosebumps. She swore under her breath as her fingers fumbled with the lock, almost dropping the key again.
"Need a hand with those?" the man asked lazily behind her. "If you come over here, I can unlock them—at least give you a fighting chance when she comes out here for her post-fight smoke."
Justine froze at his words. "She's going to come out here?" she hissed, looking over her shoulder at him.
She saw him nod. "It sounds like they're having an argument right now, in fact, so you may not have much time. But, you know, it's up to you how you want to meet her. Or if you want to meet her at all."
Gritting her teeth she turned to face him, picking her way carefully around the patio furniture, ignoring the appreciative looks he was giving her—although, she had to admit, under other circumstances she might have appreciated the image she was presenting, her chest thrust forward, her pale skin practically glowing in the weak moonlight, dramatically framed by the black vinyl.
She made it to the bars and turned her back to him, holding out the key behind her. "I would appreciate your help please," she whispered as politely as she could, trying to rein in her temper and embarrassment. "Thank you very mu—oh!" That last was caused by his hands reaching through the bars and grasping her breasts, his hands much warmer than the night air.
"That's. Not. The. Key," she hissed through clenched teeth, shaking the item in question at him. "What do you think you're doing?"
"You looked cold," his voice murmured right by her ear, his words accompanied by a whiff of tobacco. "And I wanted to make sure you knew all your options. I could undo your cuffs, and then watch the resulting screaming match when she comes out here—it would be loud, but it would also be funny. Or..." he paused, his hands filled with her flesh, his fingers finding and pinching her hard nipples. Which were only hard because it was cold, she told herself firmly—nothing more.
"Or?" she whispered, not daring to move—and his warm hands /did/ feel nice after the evening breeze.
"Or, I can help you climb over the top of this barrier, and let you leave from my place," he murmured, one hand leaving her breasts to slide down her body, making her gasp as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric of her suit, knowing that if he went too far down he'd realize she had no underwear on. "Eventually."
Justine tried to maintain her composure as she muttered back, "How /eventually/ are we talking?"
The man chuckled, pulling his hands away, as she heard him take a step back. "Does it really matter? Would you like me to go back inside and give you time to think it over?"
