The Seduction 31

She was on her knees infront of me facing the wall with a brown paper bag forcibly and unexpectantly draped over her head. Her wrists were secured with duct tape that I had wound around the pipe of an old-style upright radiator that would supply heat for the apartment in winter. She was bare-legged and in the struggle, both of her wedge-heeled cloth sandals had been kicked off, so that the bottoms of her feet were getting dust covered and her pink-painted toenails scraped at the rough floor. And in the resulting turmoil, her bright-colored sundress was torn and battered.

The unfortunate subject of this obscene exercise understood instantly that she was in dire circumstances. After an initially fruitless confrontation she realized that any further resistance would be futile, so she tried to settle her frazzled nerves and complied with my non-verbal commands. Her heart thumped audibly, causing her outfit to vibrate and she shook with desperation, but managed to constrain herself and prepare to follow orders. Hoping that this would lighten the ordeal and bring it to a fast close. I admired the mature attitude that she exhibited and felt all the worse for taking advantage of her like this.

She remained riveted to her spot, trembling in her make-shift hood in relative silence though I could detect a slight whimpering and her stubby frame shook with nervous tremors while she tried to put some meaning to this sudden abduction. Every few seconds she erupted with nervous reserves in an attempt at escape, then she would slump in defeat and gradually accepted her submissive position. She was trussed-up and essentially blindfolded, all in the supposed safety of her own apartment, while a strange presence held her captive and completely at his mercy. Her mind worked frantically to resolve this dilemma while hoping to come out relatively unscathed. She quickly determined that humoring her captor and carrying-out orders might help to protect her. She was hoping to retain virtue over vanity. A grown-up's way of thinking. Unfortunately, I was not on that level.

The struggle was decided quickly, before she even knew there was an opponent. Because I had caught her by surprise and from behind. It was late afternoon and the middle of summer, when she should have been free to do her shopping and enjoy the pleasant weather in peace. A grown woman with no attachments and not putting on airs about who she was. How could this have happened?

The groceries that had filled her arms and hindered her mobility were now scattered on the floor; oranges rolled under furniture, cans lay dented against the wall, milk spilled in a growing puddle and the second paper bag was ripped and soaked through.

Small, crying sobs escaped from beneath the hood as she tried to remain quiet, fearing that any outburst might lead to more danger. In a pleading tone, she tried to control her emotions and ask who I was and what I wanted from her. My only acknowledgement was to close the door and set the locks. She stiffened in chilling trepidation and I could hear a hesitant, stuttering shudder to her hoarse voice as she endeavored to control her frantic breathing and listen to the cold silence in her suddenly foreign surroundings. I just stood behind her and surveyed her curvaceous body. I was frozen with indecision. Not understanding the psychological torment that I was putting her through. The sore knees shifted from one to the other to relieve stress and her arms tensed from the efforts of testing her restraints. A weary depression overtook her. She let out a heavy sigh and seemed resigned to her fate.

The silence must have been disorienting because she grew intensely still. The door slamming shut sent a visible shiver down her back. Obviously, this was no silly prank. She was slumped backward, her meaty thighs resting nervously on her lower legs, now she straightened her back and rose slightly, as if praying in a church pew. Her senses must have been heightened because I saw her jump when an errant can of cold Pepsi bumped her calf, and more of her neck was revealed as her head warily lifted, seemingly sniffing for clues or straining to catch the sound of any stray footfalls.

I could see a sheen of perspiration forming at the nape of her neck and silky tendrils of the dark brown hair that she wore in a loose bun, were growing damp and laying plastered to her round shoulders. The bag covering her head seemed itself to be alive, the rough brown paper was expanding and contracting with each halting intake of air. And a darker, wet patch was forming where her desperate lips pressed the soggy paper.

She swallowed audibly hard and probably moistened her dry lips with her tongue, preparing to speak. She was frightened and confused, wondering if anyone was still in the room and not knowing what to expect. Her timid voice softly asked, "Is anybody there? Can you help me?" I had never thought to only stand and watch, but the overwhelming sexual intensity of the situation and the fear of the unknown that was crippling her, sent an excited jolt through my body and served to engorge my hungry cock. This deviant activity is both taboo and criminal, yet my head was reeling and my mind was working overtime. This was destined to come to a crude, physical conclusion.

Thinking on it, I never intended to confront her or even follow her inside. There wasn't even a real plan. Out on the sidewalk just moments before, I stole behind her as I often do just to admire her feminine form as she walked down the street. The gentle swaying of those wide hips and the muscles flexing from her thick legs triggered an irresistible impulse in me that compelled me to act.

On the street, her light-colored sundress became translucent as the rays from the fading sun shone through it, so that her sashaying figure appeared like a walking x-ray. Her slightly heavy form was uniquely revealed. The hazy outline of her generous curves was on vivid display as the dress seemed to disappear, with the straps of her bra and a surprisingly small, tight pair of undies came into my view. I fell in a few strides to the rear and trailed her the two blocks to her building. It was (to my mind) as if she was teasing me on.

I had noticed her compact, curvy form many times. Usually in business attire as she exited the bus from work. Her name was Geraldine, I discovered that once on her mailbox. My name is Mark. The two of us were never formally introduced. She probably never even noticed me. I've been out of work recently and spend time sitting on the wall just outside the corner market. That's where I caught sight of her today in such casual clothing.

I don't know or understand what it was with her that initially drew my attention. She's not young- probably between forty and fifty. She always wears her dark hair up, must be something with her job. I'd say she weighed about 135 pounds and I had no idea what her figure looked like since she generally wore pantsuits or a sweater/skirt combination. I do know that she was not skinny. There were definite curves that no amount or layers of clothing could conceal. I just didn't know what the package would look like if the clothing was actually removed. Most fantasies regarding MILFs conveniently or forgetfully miss the effect of years and gravity. At a glance, the big, bouncing tits and the hypnotic motion of her swaying hips were attractive, but on closer inspection would the gift justify the wrapping?

She never wore a lot of makeup. Atleast there wasn't much left at the end of the day. When she got off of the bus, I would first see those attractive liquid-chocolate eyes. Even with a few age lines creasing the edges and a half-moon of darker skin beneath each one, they sparkled clear and bright as she took in the world around her.

And her full, pouty lips had the remnants of pink polish, the same shade that matched her finger and toenails. It was darker red in winter. Her hundred-watt smile was evident from the moment that she stepped from the bus and never seemed forced. She smiled at the little kids and always made small talk with the merchants. She would even smile my way when she saw me in the crowd, but I was too shy to wave a hand back at her. I was gradually smitten with her eloquence, but a dark cloud was forming. A lusty, ravenous hunger began to come over me.

That was the underlying compulsion that first forced me to tail her to her apartment. Because if things fell into an appropriate place, I might ask her out on a date. Even though she was probably twenty years older than me, I felt that it was worth taking a chance to atleast let her know how much I liked her. So, when I discovered that she lived nearby and lived alone, I prepared my move. That's how I found myself sneaking up the stairs one floor below her door as I watched her juggle with her groceries and the door key. It was supposed to be just innocent reconnaissance.

As she balanced one awkward bag on her knee and wrangled the two locks, finally wedging open the door, an intense, crudely gnawing urge took hold of me. I no longer would be satisfied merely asking for a date. I felt the need to possess her body and I really wanted to fuck her.

The metaphorical angel and devil on my shoulders engaged in their debate. Was it divine fate that two lonely souls might find companionship together, while the opposing argument vehemently pronounced that this could be your best chance to have her just the way you really want her. The angel's saintly halo was no match for the demon's raging hard-on. I was on the prowl before I could think.

The door swinging open was a strange, ominous sign. She left the door wide after she entered, the keys still jingling from the latch. I spotted the roll of duct tape sitting temptingly on the kitchen table. Things happened so fast after that. My only intention had been to someday knock on the door with a fistful of roses in hand and make the introduction, but I can't explain what occurred next. I found that I was intruding in her private space with evil intent. Crossing the doorway caused only a brief pause, then I just reacted. When it concluded in mere seconds with a restrained hostage I was in a daze.

It's odd and a bit eerie, the numerous thoughts that flash through your mind in only a few seconds when you're forced to make a quick decision. There I was lasciviously ogling a nearly naked older woman, bound and struggling, with a hood over her eyes. How could I have let things reach this point? Was I an unrepentant Dom or a violent rapist? That wasn't me (I hoped.) I thought at first as my knees wobbled, that I could quickly dash out the door and nothing more would happen. No harm, no foul. She couldn't identify me- she never saw me, hell-she doesn't even know me. Then I thought that maybe I could help her up and pretend that I had just chased away her attacker, I would become her hero. Fight or flight.

I was brought back to earth by her almost-whispering, tearful tone urging anyone who might hear her plea. "Please help me. Take anything you want, just don't hurt me. I won't say anything. I won't call the police, I'll do whatever you say." Something freaky about this situation made my cock stand to attention. I'd gone this far, she was tied and scared. A lascivious thrill energized my system. The next step (if I deemed to take it,) would change both of our lives.

I thought that I was being quiet, but in the shocking stillness of that tiny room, she certainly sensed my presence. Maybe it was my heavy breathing or the raw scent of animal hunger seeping out of me. She stiffened noticeably and her head tilted slightly toward my direction. The only movement was her stubby fingers tracing the line of tape around her wrists and to the cold, hard pipe. Her forearms trembled with the straining tendons as she continually tested the fastness of her bindings. Her body rocked back and forth trying to dislodge the tape that held her captive.

My final decision, though as yet not fully formed, was that this poor woman was at my mercy and that her squirming, sensuous figure was on brazen display, signaling to my perverted mind that she was submissive but not helpless. This was an incredible turn-on. She wanted it like this; seemingly reluctant, a fondness for restraints, and made to beg for her sexual release. Maybe she was a willing conspirator. That was another thought that crossed my mind, and only made the bulge in my pants seem more urgent. It must have felt like hours to her, these lonely minutes, to be tied, blindfolded and on her knees with a stranger in her home, who didn't answer her questions or come to her defense.

I marveled as the paper bag appeared to deflate as her head drooped down to her chest. Every solitary second drained her nerves. I wondered why she hadn't screamed or let out a stream of hateful invectives to release her painful anxiety. ( I would almost certainly have run if she had, hoping to have left no clues in my wake.) She probably fostered an image in her darkened, enforced solitude of a crazed, lecherous pervert liable to slit her throat at the slightest cry, or attempt to resist. And she may have been correct. My conscience mind couldn't have been working right. I never wanted anything like that but now the course was set for us both.

Her back gradually started to sag under the awful pressure, dragging her further down. Even from behind and above, I could see the sides of her ponderous tits hanging heavily as gravity fought against her sweat-soaked bra. The twin globes swayed invitingly as the thin gauzy material fought to hold them. A light layer of perspiration broke-out on her milky skin and a trickle was visible seeping down her inner thighs. The sudden dampening of her warm flesh caused the skin on her upper legs to tingle and her panties rode indelicately into the deep crack of her ass. Stray curly brown hairs could be seen from either edge of her sodden undies. It must have embarrassed her tremendously to be so blatantly exposed like that.

Changing positions like she did, left her meaty rump in the air as the highest point of her body, the clingy fabric of her lacy panties stretched taut across the jiggly mounds of her abundant rear end. Even at this precarious moment, a mature woman realizes that she is nearly totally exposed and in an extremely un-ladylike pose. I noticed that she tried delicately to stretch her dirty, bruised knees and lower her broad hips until she was almost in a prone position with just her bound arms stretched to the pipes and her bagged face resting uneasily on her left side. The anxious energy quickly draining away from her frightened frame. She sensed the hopelessness of her predicament.

Flopping on the hard floor like this caused the dusty film on her exposed flesh to blend with the covering layer of moisture seeping from her pores, leaving a moist shadow beneath her on the wood while turning her smooth, pale skin a dirty, mottled gray. It also served to cause the flimsy fabric of her dress to stick to the wet floor as she squirmed to find any aspect that would relieve the pressure on her aching body. Her body writhed on the damp floor but the dress clung to the wet spots bringing more and more of her mottled skin in to view. Despite her desperate, silent attempts to maintain composure, the dress continued its inevitable climb up and over her wriggling hips and gathered around her thick waist; bringing more of her ample butt into view, constrained only by a thin sheet of filthy cloth stretched tight, and the soggy linen at this point was almost see-through. And to add insult to her horrible situation, it was now inconveniently lodged into the tight crevice of her moist, meaty ass. It appeared that she was actually wearing only a thong.

My eyes were intently drawn to that damp, tiny crotch-piece that was being slowly enveloped by the twin, clammy globes of her supple rear end. I was never much of an ass-man until earlier today, when I first caught an eyeful of that swishing derriere in the nearly invisible outfit. Now, I determined that further exploration would be necessary. To my mind that delightful ass was being offered to me on a silver platter. What more would it take to grab the damp gusset of her panties and yank them aside? She already knew that her squirming ass was destined to be my playground. I'll bet that she actually wanted me to take her.

With my veiny tool already in hand, I would part her bare thighs and wedge myself against her soft buns. My cock would tap on each rounded melon like testing a ripe cantaloupe, and with the palm of my hand, I would cup her mound and spread her pussy juices across the fiery entrance to her hot hole. Two fingers would dip into the honey-pot and prime the pump a little, even though it was hardly necessary because her quivering quim was wet as a sponge. The motion and deep penetration thawed her out. Her own hand could soon be seen between her thick thighs, replacing mine, as she fingered the enlarged lump of flesh that signified her pleasure zone. She would be pleading with me to carry her over the breaking point. Her moans were music to my ears.

Her warm cunt acted as a funnel, guiding my erection towards the target. My grip on her hips was firm and I would pull her sweaty frame back into me. The rubbery, domed tip easily spread her moist outer lips and her warm suction drew me in further. My swollen cock was soon buried in her hungry pussy and the gentle in-and-out was getting started. Her frantic strumming on her reddened clit and the low moaning sound from deep in her diaphragm, alerted us both that a monstrous orgasm was roiling in her loins and needed just a tiny push to set it off. My aching cock was on overdrive, a "tiny" push wouldn't do. The intensity of my throbbing piston increased greatly. I grabbed hold of her and shoved my rigid pole up to the hilt, her grunts of delight told me that I'd hit the right spot, and from there I proceeded to pump away at her tight, warm cunt.

The bucking and shoving would soon bring the giant climax we both craved. We fucked like wild animals, clawing and grunting in our desire. Our sweaty, slippery bodies molded as one. I held on to her flabby, slick ass and she pressed her hot, comfy backside against me. The motion was fast and out of control. I felt the pressure rising in my shaft and her body twitched and trembled in my grasp. The freight train rumbled through the tunnel. I flooded her with my warmth and she rewarded me with her ecstasy. That's how I imagined it would be. But that would have to wait.

Still to this point, I hadn't moved or even uttered a noise. I knew that I had one last chance to make a dash for the door. Freedom for us both. With a forlorn exhalation from under the soggy bag her doughy body slumped wearily to the floor, as if resigning herself to an ignominious fate. But I was gripped with indecision. Was I the Don Juan figure that I romanticized or a Jack the Ripper that all women feared and hated? And what if I froze? What if she was flirting with me and I didn't measure-up? I would be humiliated trying to impress this mature woman. Even as I belittled her body and treated her with contempt, I'm not sure that I could satisfy her. I really found her to be extremely sexy.

She was fast becoming the MILF of my fantasies, and I wanted her to feel the same about me. I did not want to be a rapist. This situation was revealing to me, my desire to engage with her in an S/M relationship. But there were still some serious difficulties to be worked-out. The most striking so far, was her co-operation! The crude notion that she was surrendering her precious body to my lewd desires piloted my next step. My little head began to do the thinking for the big head.

I spied the stereo unit on the counter, not far from where I had first grabbed the tape. It appeared destined to take place. I clicked on the music and raised the volume to muffle any other sounds that her neighbors might hear. She startled, and despite her sore legs and tired arms, the pink toenails scratched the slippery floor for traction and those firm calf muscles flexed, driving her thick thighs forward. She scrambled into the original position of kneeling wariness, almost clinging to the cold pipes for warmth and protection. Her body was tortured with the suspicions of sexual depravity that might await her and I had very little way to calm her. She was sweating profusely now but shivering with cold fear. I found this chance at sexual dominance to be highly erotic. I was driven with lust to rip the tattered shreds of her stained dress from her agitated, terrified body. I wanted to squeeze those big tits and finally see that tight pussy. She would be mine.