Tie Me Up & Make Me Blow You - Chapter 4

Chapter 4
 
In hindsight, even back then, there was a glimmer of something there that she had learned to repress, once she was respectfully married. She thought she had put it all behind her. She thought it was a part of her life that was over and done.

She thought being a wife married to a rich man who loved her and being a mother to children who needed her would not make her have those wanton and lustful thoughts any more. She figured that she'd never again think about men tying her up, slapping her ass and face, and forcing her to do whatever they wanted. She figured that she'd never want to fuck another man or suck another cock, other than that of her husband. Only, she was wrong.

Unable to admit it to herself until now, she not only enjoyed but also missed the sexual confrontation of men forcing themselves upon her, so long, that is, they didn't hurt her. Unable to do it otherwise on her own without being forced and at the peril of her reputation, she enjoyed being forced to touch them. Even though she was a respectable wife and mother, it was all just game that she needed to continue to play. 

She enjoyed being taken and it was a total turn on when they exposed her body to others, as well, as her pool guest had done by holding her arms behind her back to expose her tits when she was topless, while the men in attendance took turns feeling her breasts and fingering her nipples. Further, the outrageous sexual bonus was when they stuffed her hands down their bathing suits and forced her to feel their swollen cocks. Even now, years later, she still masturbated to her remembrance of being so exposed and vulnerable.

The fervor of the sexual fever only worked if she appeared to be the victim. Whenever she was made the victim, it was only then that she could let loose and lose control without fear of repercussions. Surely, a woman of standing in her community, she didn't want her reputation sullied. She couldn't afford to be deemed the cum slut that she once was and had always been and was able to successfully suppress, until now. Calling negative attention to herself would ruin her husband's career and destroy her perfect little life. Surely, she wouldn't risk all that for some hot sex, would she?

She remembered back so long ago when Mandy and Randy were so very young. Her husband was having an affair with his secretary. She inadvertently discovered the affair when she found a sexy card that her husband had stashed away in his sock drawer, along with a naked photo of his secretary, when she was packing his bag for another business trip he was taking to Bonn or Hong Kong, she couldn't remember which, it was so long ago.

She remembered being so hurt. She remembered always thinking about having an affair and always wanting to have an affair with someone who she met or was attracted to, but she always controlled her desire to have sex out of her marriage for the sake of scandal and for the sake of her children. She couldn't believe it when she discovered that he was cheating on her, the bastard, the dirty bastard.

How dare he do that to her, his trophy wife? How dare he disrespect her after all the sacrifice she had done to be a good wife and a good mother? How dare he cheat on her when she hadn't cheated on him? Now, with her self-esteem tarnished from him cheating on her and her tough, sexy veneer cracked from him wanting someone else other than her, she snapped.

She threatened him with divorce. She threatened to take custody of the children. She, his perfect wife, threatened to take his perfect house and ruin his perfect life. She threatened to take half of what he had amassed during their marriage. Only, as the good businessman he was, he had his lawyer negotiate a settlement to sooth her hurt feelings, assuage her self-esteem, and appease her.

He set her up with a generous expense account of her own and with money to do whatever she wanted, money that was in addition to what she needed to run the house and what was required to pay the monthly expenses. Further, he gave her a platinum credit card with an unlimited credit limit with no questions asked. He just directed his accountant to pay the bill every month. He didn't even want to know what or how much she charged.

He gave her more freedom to do whatever and go wherever and whenever. In doing so, that gave him more freed, too, to do whatever, wherever, and whenever. The only stipulation was that neither was allowed to pass fluids with another person.

It sounded simple enough, but after the years passed with different people coming in and out of their lives, it wasn't always so easy to stick to the signed agreement. Oh, and she had one stipulation herself for him, too. She had him fire his sexy secretary and hire one who was not as young, not as attractive, and one who was more mature in her emotional makeup and more professional in her secretarial skills. 

Here she was the desirable one, the hot woman and her short, overweight husband was having an extra marital affair. He was cheating on her. No doubt, he was rich, powerful, influential, and could not only get whomever he wanted by throwing money at them but also he could get away with it. No doubt, he, too, needed to feel that he was as powerful and as influential as he was rich by having a beautiful, young thing fawn over him for some trinkets that arrived in blue boxes from Tiffany & Co. It was difficult getting older, and now that he was a partner, she understood that he was feeling the pressure of competing against men who were half his age. Just as she needed to feel young, vibrant, and needed, he did too.

Nonetheless, different always for the man, the double standard reared its ugly head, yet, again. It was okay for her husband to fuck someone else and to have his cock sucked; he wasn't worried about his reputation in the way that she was. It was okay for him not to be concerned with her image should her friends and family find out about his affair. It was okay for him to exchange his fluid with another, but had she done the same, she would have been bounced out of the marriage on her ass and he had the money, the power, and the influence to do it and to take the children with him, too. She would have lost everything, whereas, he would have lost a few clients.

Sure, he could lose a client or two, if word got out that he behaved immorally. Direct descendents of the puritanical Pilgrims and the idealistic founders of America, the Cabots, the Forbes, Hunnewells, and the Lodges, he was entrusted with the old Boston aristocracy Brahmin money from Back Bay and Beacon Hill. Born to a long line of Brahmins, he was one of them, which is why they trusted him with their money. There was real wealth from all those proper Bostonian families who, back in the late nineteenth early twentieth centuries, used to parade down Commonwealth Avenue every Sunday in full pastel regalia with all their children in tow, while wearing their best bonnets, long dresses, sun umbrellas, and suits.

Making up the lion share of his client base, he was responsible for the financial direction of a hefty portion of Harvard University, MIT, Boston University, Northeastern University, and Boston College's vast endowment funds. Because his best friend was chancellor of the university, once, he got Harvard, he got MIT and then the other colleges followed behind them, guaranteeing his company overwhelming and unprecedented success and him a full partnership in the firm.

If they wanted to continue to rake in monies from their wealthy alumni, none of the institutions of higher learning would tolerate any resemblance of impropriety or scandal. Entrusted with their money, his socially inappropriate and recklessly irresponsible behavior would lead his powerful, albeit paranoid and puritanical financial clients to speculate that he would behave the same with their funds.

Yet, she stood to lose more than he did. She could lose her Sugar Daddy of an arrangement. She could lose her luxurious lifestyle. Now, after being married to him for twenty-four years, there was no way that she was stepping aside for some bimbo who was younger and prettier than her. Moreover, there was no way that she was throwing it all away for some hot, sweaty sex with a young stud or a horny buck.

Yet, God forbid she had an impure thought. God forbid she acted upon her lustful desires to recapture the sexual fun she had so long ago. God forbid she wanted to experience some hot sex from a young, hard body, she'd be deem a slut when he was deemed the man.

She needed someone to fawn over her, too. She needed the attention of someone who wanted her in the way that her husband once had. She missed the romance. She missed the spontaneous love making in every room of the house. She missed receiving surprise flowers, thoughtful notes, romantic cards, and the extravagant contents of blue boxes from Tiffany & Co., too.

Taking her for granted, he hadn't been paying her much attention and she suddenly felt unattractive, especially when she saw how young and how good looking his secretary was. It was a time when she had been drinking more than she should have and popping valium to sleep at night. Between her up and down mood swings and her lackadaisical lethargy from feeling the effects of her drugs, sometimes it was difficult to stand upright never mind being able to function. Meanwhile, her hormones were raging and her constant horniness controlled her daily sexual thoughts and randy behavior.

Feeling depressed, lonely, and more vulnerable, it happened during one of her dinner parties and it was totally innocent on her part. Had she planned this, it never would have happened as well as it had. She was upstairs in the powder room when, again, one of her younger friend's husbands entered as she was powdering her nose.

"I'll just be a moment," she said with a nervous laugh when he opened the door enough to see her reflection, as she stood brushing her hair at the mirror.

She was glad that she was fully dressed. Only, as soon as she thought that, she wished she had been in her sexiest of lingerie while striking a seductive pose. She thought of Mrs. Robinson seducing Benjamin in the movie, The Graduate. She thought of being as coy as Lauren Bacall or Bette Davis in their roles as a seductress. She wished she had a cigarette with a cigarette holder for a prop only she didn't smoke and couldn't come up with a repartee for this particular situation fast enough to suit her.

She wished she had been naked. How perfect that would have been to accidentally on purpose expose her body to him? No way would that be construed as her fault. He was the one who disrespected her privacy by opening the bathroom door. He was the one who was so forward hoping, no doubt, to see something that he shouldn't. Had she been standing there in her lingerie or totally naked, she could still maintain her reputation of virginal victim and no one would be the wiser. She would have loved to show him her permanently perfect perky breasts, her round, firm ass, and her trimmed pussy.

It surprised her when he entered the bathroom with her in it and closed the door behind him. Her heart was pounding, her pulse was racing, and immediately she felt a familiar wetness between her thighs. Brash and unabashed, this thirty-something- year old walked to her, took her in his arms, and kissed her hard while reaching down and behind her to cup her exquisite ass through her skirt. When she pushed her hands hard against his chest and tried pushing away from him with all her strength, in her feeble attempt to resist his charms and to resist his passion, he didn't take no for an answer.

He pulled the hairbrush from her hand, lifted her skirt all the way up to her back and exposed her creamy beige, silk panty clad ass in the reflection of the mirror. She watched him look at her ass in the mirror before their eyes met. She turned to watch in the mirror his hand fondle the firm, roundness of her cheeks. She knew what was about to happen. She suspected that he was going to passionately kiss her again while fondling her ass. She imagined him trying to part her lips with his tongue; only, she would deny him that pleasure, that is, until he forced himself upon her more vehemently. Yet, he surprised her.

She struggled against his will, but he was too strong for her. Then, he whacked her ass with the hairbrush really hard, not once, but twice, once on each cheek. She was shocked. She was surprised. Her mouth fell open. How did he know she was into spanking? How did he know that she would favorably react to that type of violent treatment? How did he know that he'd melt her with each quick, hard wallop of her hairbrush? She wanted to check in the mirror to see if there was writing on her forehead that read, spank me.

His forcefulness and the sting to her reddening buttocks set her ablaze with passion and desire for him. Being so forcefully violated made her so vulnerable and she loved it. The warm sting to her ass brought back so many delightful memories of being stripped naked, tied, and spanked before being allowed to have explosive sex with several men. Again, she felt the warm wetness between her thighs. She imagined him taking her right there and making love to her on the bathroom carpet. 

She surprised herself again when she returned his kiss but only more passionately. Immediately, they were making out like horny teenagers in the backseat of a car after the Senior Prom, while her hand reached down to feel and to rub the bulge that his erect prick made in his pants. As soon as she surrendered her tongue to him, as soon as she wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands were all over her body feeling her tits through her dress, fingering the impressions that her nipples made, and lifting her dress to cup her ass through her panty while devouring her lips.

He moved his hand to the front of her panty and with the deft touch of his fingertips; he pushed her panty aside, moved his fingers past her trimmed patch of pubic hair, and slowly started to rub her moist clit with his fingers. Just as she was getting aroused and just as she was getting wet, he firmly but forcefully pushed down on her shoulders forcing her to fall to her knees.

Down upon her knees with her mouth only inches away from his bulging cock, she knew what was coming. She knew he wanted her to suck his cock. She knew that the extent of his passion culminated in dominating her and receiving a blowjob from her. Really, she didn't mind. She's been in this situation many times before..

Besides he was so young and he was so good looking. The fact that he wanted her, a woman old enough to be his aunt or his older sister, was flattering, to say the least. Even though she was down upon her knees, even though she was acting subservient to him, he made her feel all that she so desperately missed. He made her feel all that she needed. He made her feel like a woman. 

Yet, fearing that someone may come, when she resisted and tried to stand, he became more aggressive and slapped her across the face. It wasn't a hard slap. Certainly, it wasn't hard enough to leave a visual mark and nothing that she couldn't cover and conceal with a bit of blush if it had left more of an impression.

Yet, the mark that it left her with was more of an emotional scar than it was a physical one. His slap was a sexual release; it was as if he had pushed her sexual on button. The slap unleashed what she had been successfully able to suppress for so long, until now. Now, she was a sex slave for cock, any cock, where the man took away her control and replaced it with his will. Young, old, fat or thin, it didn't matter what he looked like; it only mattered how he acted and how badly he treated her. 

She was shocked but excited when he unzipped himself and pulled out his prick. The rich, bitch wife of a successful, powerful, and influential investment banker was about to suck off a junior member of her husband's firm and the husband of a friend who she had grown to love. Before looking up at him with her big, bright, green eyes, she stared at his engorged member. The ever faithful wife she had been for so long, it had been a long time since she had a cock in her mouth that wasn't her husband's.

Immediately, she reached out and took it in her hand and teasingly stroked it while her fingertips toyed with the head of his penis. Immediately, it sprung to life and grew bigger and harder with her gentle but experienced touch. She wrapped her fingers around it tighter and gave it a few slow strokes while making eye contact with him..

"Do you want me to blow you," she said looking up at him with her big, green eyes and in her best sexy voice. "Do you want me to suck your cock?"

"Suck it, slut," he said in a stern voice, as he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head and her lips closer to his cock. "Suck my big prick, bitch, while I hump your face and fuck your mouth."

He was a man who knew what he wanted and what he wanted was her and her mouth. He was so very hard from the lust that he had for her, harder than her husband had been in such a very long time and she was so very excited by his determined passion. The focus of energy that had heated her husband's financially success had cooled his passion for her and now she was vulnerable to a man who not only wanted her but also was willing to take her by force. 

Here was such a man with his prick at the ready and his passion poised and pointed at her mouth for her to take advantage of this sexual situation and she did. Here was such a man who wouldn't take no for answer. Here was the kind of man that drove her wild with desire enough to abandon her agreement not to exchange fluids with anyone else.

With a hand to the back of her head, he pushed her forward. Unable to resist him, unable to control her passion for being forced, she didn't know why she did, but she opened her mouth and accepted his cock inside. She wrapped her hand tighter around his fat, stiff prick and began slowly stroking him while sucking him. Skillfully, she moved her tongue around the head of his prick, as she had done so many times in the backseat of a car or at the men's dorm room, frat houses or during spring break. Faster and faster she stroked her prick while she sucked and licked him.

Immediately, he started fucking her face with his humping hips and torso. Immediately, he started fucking her mouth with his big prick. Now with two hands pushing on the back of her head, she could feel his cock traveling deeper down her throat while his big balls slapped her chin. She could feel his pulsating prick getting ready to explode his slimy and salty semen in her mouth and down her throat. She was taking all of him. Engulfing his cock with her hungry lips, as if she hadn't eaten food in a week, she was starving for his sexual excitement.

She was blowing him. She was actually blowing him. She couldn't believe that she was blowing her friend's husband.

His thighs were quivering and she knew he was getting ready to lose control. She looked up and his head was back and his eyes were closed. No doubt, she was giving him the best blowjob of his young life, much better than the dabbling blowjobs that he receives from his wife.

Unable to control herself, no longer did she give a care about her reputation, about her sham of a marriage, and about the repercussions of possibly losing her luxurious lifestyle, she continued sucking his cock. She wanted to blow him. She wanted him to cum in her mouth. She wanted to feel the familiar taste of his cum hitting the sides and back of her mouth, as it oozed down her throat.

She would have finished him off too, she would have broken her rule of not exchanging fluids, and she would have had him cum in her mouth and she would have swallowed and licked off every drop of him, had it not been for another guest knocking at the bathroom door.
 
"Kathy? Are you in there? Everyone is ready to begin playing Charades."

Charades? She was playing her own little game. Only, her game had nothing to do with make believe. Her game was sexual and her game was for real.

"I'll be right down," she said removing his cock from her mouth to answer.

"Okay," she said stepping away from the bathroom door and then stepping back again. "Have you seen Brad?"

"No," she said standing just as Brad expelled a load of warm, gooey semen on her white carpet.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry," he said again immediately leaving the bathroom, as soon as the coast was clear. "Please don't tell my wife."

It always amazed her that these men knew what she liked and what she was like. How did they know? Intuitively, they just did. Even though she tried to suppress it and put it all behind her, they somehow knew she liked it rough. They knew she was a slut. They knew she liked having her ass slapped or her hair pulled. They knew she liked being forced. They knew she loved cock. It made her wild when they held her arms behind her back and touched her. 

It was because he slapped her ass with the hairbrush, forced her to her knees, pulled her hair, and pulled her head forward to take his cock in her mouth that she blew him. His violent behavior excited her. Contrary to the gentleness and gentlemanly behavior of her husband, she more enjoyed the behavior of a brute. Just like it was back in her college days, more than once she imagined being tied up and gangbanged by a group of men, so long as they didn't hurt her and let her go after they were done with her.

Everything was so perfect and Kathy was so very happy, that is, until the day that a burglar changed her perfect life forever.

In the next chapter, a burglar ties up Kathy.