"Ouch!"
Someone had pinched him. He was groggy, but awake.
"Hey, what the fuck is going on? Let me go! Who are you? Hey!"
All Steve could do was lie there. A cloth bag, or something, covered his head. He couldn't see a thing. His arms and legs were tied, and he was spread-eagled on what felt like a bed. He could bounce his hips up and down, and move his head, but that was all.
"Who the fuck are you? How did you get me here? When I get loose, I'm gonna kill you!"
He rolled and pulled as best he could, but although his bonds were soft they were too strong for him to pull free.
"Snort—"
"Shh!"
It sounded like somebody was trying not to laugh, and somebody else was trying to keep them quiet. So, he wasn't alone; and someone thought this was very funny.
Realizing that pulling and tugging wasn't accomplishing anything, Steve tried to think. They had all been staying at his mom's house, enjoying the pool over the weekend. The last thing he remembered was watching a DVD in the family room, cuddled up on the couch with his wife, Nancy. Leslie, his older sister, was sitting in a nearby recliner. Mom had brought in drinks for them.
Had he fallen asleep? Maybe—but he'd never slept so soundly that he could be carried around and tied up without knowing it. He'd only had one beer, if he'd even finished that; so he hadn't been drunk.
"Hey, did you shitheads drug me?" Even as he yelled it out, he realized how ridiculous that was. It would have had to be his mom who did it, put something in his beer, and why the hell would she? Oh....
"Okay, I get it, April Fool. Now untie me!"
He'd been the king of April Fool pranksters, back when he was a teenager, and even in his 20s he still dabbled; but this was way over the line. Not that he hadn't pulled some doozies, but still....
"All right, whatever it is I did I apologize. Now, please...."
Silence—but he could almost hear his captors smirking. Blustering and whining weren't going work.
The room smelled like a dozen room fresheners. It was flowery and musky and harsh, all at the same time, like someone had spilled a gallon of cheap perfumes. It might be a woman's room, but not one he'd want to live in. Maybe they wanted to make sure he couldn't tell where he was by the smell. If that was the case, he might be somewhere familiar; or it could be part of some torture they had planned.
An icy finger teased his right nipple, then pressed hard on his left. Steve shivered. He was naked: blindfolded, tied to a bed, and naked in a room that smelled like all of his grandmother's friends put together.
The icy finger disappeared, and came back even colder. It traced down his belly and came to a stop on the head of his penis. His dick tried to retract.
"Ow!"
Frigid fingers pinched the end of his dick and pulled on it, stretching it to its limit. The cold and the pinching and the pulling were painful. Were they really trying to hurt him? Had he ever fucked things up with a girl so bad that she'd want to pull his dick off? He didn't think so. Sure, he was a jerk sometimes; but he tried not to hurt anyone.
The cold fingers went away, and his penis sprang back and pulled in on itself. Steve sighed with relief.
Suddenly two very warm fingers started massaging his nipples, one finger on each side. Then a third warm finger inched down his belly and gently caressed his prick. After the cold, they felt almost fiery; but once the shock wore off, it felt nice. The finger touching his dick went slowly around its head, around and around. Like a turtle checking for danger, his prick gradually extended from its folds. It didn't take long before it was back to its normal flaccid shape, maybe a little more.
All of the fingers withdrew.
From somewhere in the room he heard a soft giggle. Women's voices whispered. Disoriented by the hood, he couldn't tell where they were coming from; but they were definitely women.
The whispering stopped, and he felt the unique pleasure of a tongue running up and down his cock. That's more like it, Steve thought. Sure enough, he started to get an erection; as he did, the tongue gliding the length of his cock was joined by another that was flicking the tip. Two tongues! That was a new experience.
"Zzzip."
What the hell? There was a zipper in the hood. He couldn't see out, but someone could see in, because the opening moved so that it was right over his mouth. Lips met his in a soft kiss. The second kiss was harder, more aggressive, and then a third tongue jammed past his lips, searching for his own.
Steve was getting aroused: confused, but aroused. The first tongue was still licking along the length of his penis; the second tongue had been joined by a pair of lips that were sucking him; and the third tongue was playing a serious game of tonsil hockey with his. His dick wasn't at all concerned with conspiracy theories, it just wanted up; and up it went.
One tongue vanished, and he was now getting a full-on blowjob—and it was a great one. Whoever this was, they had a lot of talent and experience.
The kissing stopped, and the mattress bounced as someone (or more than one someone) shifted around. The kissing lips were replaced by the other kind of lips, which ground against his face. Steve knew what was expected. He extended his tongue and began lapping away. Good old 69.
Wait a minute! The clit was near his nose. The angles were all wrong. The pussy lips and the blowjob lips had to belong to two different people! But what had happened to the third woman?