Tie Me Up & Make Me Blow You - Chapter 1

Chapter 1
 
Kathy had a perfect little life. She had plenty of money. She had no worries and no cares. Everything in her life was going along perfectly.

To look at all that she had materialistically, anyone would envy her lifestyle. The house, the cars, the trips, the clothes, and the jewelry, she had it all. Fortune without fame and flying beneath the radar is always better in life. It's best not to draw attention to yourself, especially when you've had a colorful past. Let's just say, should her husband decide to run for political office one day, he wouldn't have a prayer of being elected with her by his side. The tabloid press would dig up enough information and photos about her during her wild and crazy college days that their lives would be ruined.

Fortunately, for her, her husband harbored no such political aspirations. The only aspirations he harbored were collecting as many of those small, green pieces of paper that had Benjamin Franklin's photo on them. His God was money and he worshiped it. He worked as an investment banker and recently, a few years ago, had become a partner in the firm. They lived in a perfect house right on the 9th hole of the golf course of an exclusive country club.

A bad day for Kathy was when she forgot to wear her pearls to lunch with the girls. Big, expensive, and just perfect, she loved her exquisite pearls. They were her gift from her husband when he made partner.

Married for twenty-three years last June, she had a 21-year-old daughter, named Mandy, and a 19-year-old son, named Randy. Kathy just turned 45-years-old and was at the pivotal point in her life where she was considering having some cosmetic surgery to freshen her look and give her a more youthful appearance.

Accustomed to her beauty preceding herself to help open doors and to make her the center of attention, with her imagined sudden lack of interest from the opposite sex, especially from those men younger than her, she was just beginning to feel her age. In her uncharacteristic lowered self-esteem, even though she thought differently about herself, whenever men young and old saw her, she was thought of differently by others. Whenever she walked in a room, she was still a head turner and a conversation interrupter. 

Only, when she looked in the mirror now, she could imagine what she'd look like in ten years or in twenty years. She was beginning to look how she remembered her mother looked when her mother was her age now. It was a frightful horror because at the same time she remembered what she looked like ten and twenty years ago. As was everyone else on Earth, she was getting older and every time she peered in the mirror, she imagined she saw new wrinkles or new sags.

Even though aging was inevitable, she needed time for her mind to catch up with her body. Even though she looked middle aged, she still felt young. She felt no different now that she was in her forties than she did when she was in her twenties. Certainly, she didn't feel 45-years-old and she still possessed much of the vibrant energy that she had in her twenties. She had yet to slow down. She needed a minor adjustment in her perception of her age and how others perceived her. She needed a reality check.

Her only consolation was that she was aging with the rest of her peer group. Only, sometimes, whenever she was down on herself and in a funk, unbeknownst to her, she was aging better than the rest of them. Certainly, even without having plastic surgery, a non-smoker who exercised regularly and who watched her diet, and taking care to wear sunscreen when out in the sun, she looked ten years younger than her age and much younger than all of her friends her age and younger even.

Where did the time go? Twenty years rushed by with the blink of an eye. As if it were yesterday, she still remembered being newly married. It wasn't that long ago that she was taking her children back and forth to grade school. It wasn't that long ago that her husband made his first million dollars, moved them from upstate New York, where she was from and where she met him, to this lovely closed community and exclusive gated estate in northeastern Massachusetts. She couldn't believe that was more than a dozen years ago.

She remembered that she looked good, real good, ten years ago. She wished she could have always stayed thirty-five forever. She loved that age. She was old enough not to be bothered with all the immature bullshit, but not too old that she still couldn't enjoy all the immature bullshit.

Some of her friends have already been under the knife and she envied the results, but cringed at the pain, the bruising, the swelling, the forced isolation while they heeled, and all they had to do to look how they do now. Was it all worth it? Not for her, it wasn't.. Blessed with good genes, she was glad that she didn't have to do all that to still look young and attractive. For the time being, she was content with her skills at applying her makeup.

She felt that plastic surgery was a vicious cycle that had to be repeated in five to ten years, too. Always, there was the risk that something could tragically go wrong. Reluctantly, she decided, she'd rather age gracefully without having a surgeon pull, nip, and tuck her skin beneath her hairline and back behind her ears. How dreadful to have her face pulled so tight that it hurt to smile. 

Still, she had to give her brave, albeit vain friends credit. They looked ten years younger. They looked rested. They looked happy. Only, she was nervous.. She had heard some of the horror stories of botched surgeries and she was vain, but not vain enough to put herself in the hands of a surgeon's knife. Still, her friends pressured her to go ahead and, at least, have a consultation. She promised she would, but didn't.

She was friends with Christine, Ellen, Audrey, and Brenda. They were all members in good standing of their little gang of women who looked like one another, dressed like one another, thought like one another, and talked like one another. They even had a gang name, The Rich Bitches, and a gang sign when out on the town shopping, the flash of a platinum card with an unlimited credit line.

They lunched together, shopped together, and talked about their perfect little lives to one another. It was a glorious existence being rich and not having to work at a mundane job all day, while their husbands made money. Able to hire people to clean their perfect homes, care for their lush lawns, filter their posh pools, cook their delicious meals, pamper their precious pets, and drive them wherever they needed to go, they were free to indulge themselves at the spa for hair, makeup, massage, and skincare treatments. 

Except for the young men she dated in college, Kathy never had sex with anyone other man than her 52-year-old husband, Robert. Although, define sex, that is. As was Bill Clinton's definition of sex, she never had penetration from any man other than her husband, since she's been married. In Clinton's case, even though he didn't believe that an exchange of fluids constituted sex, Kathy did and in all the years of her marriage she has never exchanged fluids with anyone other than her husband. Certainly, there have been episodes of touchy feely, especially when alcohol was involved, but she was careful not to ruin her reputation for the foolishness of a flirtatious fling.

She was a good wife and a good mother.. She was Robert's trophy wife and he was her security blanket. Robert liked how they looked together. An average looking man, short and stout, and looking much like the stereotypical banker and a bit like the man that appears on the cover of the Monopoly game, he was happy that his money could buy him the affections and loyalty of such a woman who looked as good as did Kathy. She appreciated how he kept her in the lifestyle that she had grown to love. In the way that there is someone for everyone, they not only deserved one another but also they were made for one another, the bitch woman with the rich man, which made her the rich bitch.

Often, her husband commented that they looked much better together than did Senator McCain and his wife, Cindy. McCain was his idol and that fact gives you a bit more insight into Robert's political preference. She, on the other hand, certainly hoped they looked much better together than Senator McCain and his wife, Cindy, as Senator McCain was twenty years older than Robert and Cindy McCain was nearly ten years older than she was. Moreover, she preferred Obama over McCain. Still, she understood his reference of an older man with a younger woman, albeit Robert was almost eight years older than she was, whereas John McCain was eighteen years older than his wife. 

She never cheated on him. She never even thought about cheating on him. Although, there was that young tennis pro at the club that she was so smitten with and a new, handsome golf pro, too, who she found interesting enough to flirt with while having him give her some pointers with her game. Still, she'd never do anything more than masturbate in the bathtub while imagining them tying her up, spanking her ass, and forcing her to have sex with them. Oh, how this little vixen loved to vex men while playing the virginal victim.

Butter would melt in her mouth, and her smile, when cast in your direction, would make you do anything she asked. Educated, articulate, intelligent, witty, and funny, she had the charm, the confident poise, and the practiced personality to make any guest feel at home and at ease while entertaining them with interesting conversation.

When talking to you, she made you feel as if you were the only one in the room. She made you feel important and special. She had a knack for getting the best out of people. She made you feel that you had a chance with her should Robert suddenly have a heart attack and die or should they divorce.

Little did they know that while she knowledgeably talked to her guests about current events or passionately discussed art or expressed her taste in music or recommended a good book or a fine wine, she was undressing their husbands with her eyes. Imagining them naked, imagining making love to them, and imagining sucking their cocks before and afterward, she hungered for the lustful attention of a man, any man who would show her the forceful sexual affection and domination that she yearned to have again. 

The husbands were unaware of her dual personality. If only they knew she was always so horny, they may have taken her up on her secret desire of needing to be tied up and slapped. If only they knew she was everything and so much more than what they imagined she'd be in bed, they may have been more forceful with her and gotten from her what they so wanted. If only they knew that she desperately wanted them, as much as they desperately wanted her, they definitely would have risked the scandal of a romantic affair to be intimate with her. 

Robert, on his best days and when in an amorous mood, was only an adequate lover. Nothing adventurous or spontaneous, as soon as she gave him a blowjob, he'd be off to sleep. Occasionally, he'd return the favor but, as he grew older, those days were getting fewer and further in between. Except for ones given her from her own hand and by one of her many sexual toys, it had been a while since she had an orgasm. Certainly, he had never given her one. He was always at the office and sometimes there on weekends, especially whenever there was a special deal going on or a special client who they were trying to romance to have them commit their assets or please to have them invest their investment portfolio with their firm.

After having experienced every sexual position in her college days, after having a life filled with sexual activity, she had grown content just to tease men and show a bit of skin, while imagining them wanting her, undressing her, and making love to her. Recently becoming a bit of an exhibitionist, she enjoyed the attention she received when the guys stole a look up her short skirt or a nonchalant glance down her low cut blouse.

She loved pretending that she didn't know she was showing. Whenever she saw a handsome man with a cute dog, she was never shy about squatting down to make a fuss over his dog while giving him plenty to see with a down blouse view of her breasts and an up skirt view of her panty.

Athletic after years of dance classes and gymnastics as a child, but probably from playing a lot of tennis during the past twenty-four years, she always had shapely legs, a flat stomach, and an overall toned body. Without having celluloid saddlebags on her thighs or flabby wings on her triceps, she was proud of her firm, round ass and her permanently, perfectly perky, B cup tits were the envy of all her friends. She looked marvelous in a bikini and having seen her topless sunning by their backyard pools, her gang of rich, bitch friends were all surprised that her tits were natural and not surgically enhanced silicon creations.

Flashing an attractive man accidentally on purpose was all just innocent fun and part of being a woman who still wanted to feel that she was attractive and desirable. Certainly, she didn't look her age and at 45-years-old, she was still young enough and looked good enough to command the attention of a roomful of horny and sexually unsatisfied men, especially those who were all her husbands age or a bit younger or a bit older. Now, instead of giving her body to whatever man who forcefully took it, she had grown content to just want to be noticed, wantonly wanted, and secretly desired. Now, instead of acting out her every horny thought, it was all left to her imagination while she masturbated.

Besides, it was all just a game to her that made her wonder if she was going through the change of life. Suddenly, with the hot flashes she's been experiencing, she was horny all the time. As the way she was when she was in her late teens and early twenties, she was always thinking about sex now. If anyone could read her mind, they would see that it was filled with dirty thoughts of being bound while forced to suck cocks and fuck doggy style. For someone who looked so classy and who appeared to be an unapproachable, rich bitch, she was such a down to Earth, roll in the mud, fuck her in a haystack type of girl who loved to talk dirty while giving her lover everything he sexually wanted and lustfully desired.

Her favorite fantasy was for two men to attack her. She imagined them tearing off her clothes. She got wet when she thought about them not unbuttoning her blouse, but ripping it open and exposing her bra clad breasts. She imagined them pulling off her skirt and breaking the zipper in the process. She imagined them slapping her across the face when she mildly resisted and cutting her bra off with scissors and doing the same with her panty.

Now, stripped naked, she imagined the men touching her everywhere and forcing her to kiss them, first one and then the other while they caressed and fondled her tits and pulled and twisted her nipples. She imagined one man fucking her doggy style while slapping her ass and she imagined the other man forcing her to suck his big, hairy prick while pulling her hair and slapping her face. She loved thinking about that fantasy while touching herself at night.

She liked being forced. So long as they didn't hurt her, she liked it rough. So long as they forced her, she'd do anything. Even though she didn't look the part, she enjoyed being treated like a dirty slut and an insatiable whore.

Only, the difference is that, being married and playing the faithful wife to such a rich and successful man whose ability to get clients depended upon him having a sparking clean reputation, she couldn't get what she needed from Robert. He was a dud in bed. If only he would push her back on the bed and tear off her clothes, she'd never think of wanting sex from another man again. If only he would slap her around, she'd be satisfied to be his woman. If only he would tie her to the bed and demand that she do whatever was his desire, she would.

He worked too many hours and went on too many business trips. Gone two and three days at a time, he was never home. Once in a while, on those trips where he was gone for a week at a time, he took her, especially if he was going to Europe, especially Paris or Geneva. Yet, having been there several times, she was bored to go again. It wasn't any fun to shop alone. She invited her friends, but they always had other commitments. 

She wondered if he was having another secret, sordid affair with another one of his secretaries or endless interns. He did have an admitted penchant for young and beautiful women, as she once was when he chased after her with gifts and promises of a good life. Besides, he was so polite, too polite for her liking. She loved talking dirty, but he didn't like it when she said anything vulgar or inappropriate, as he called it, during sex.

She craved real sex and couldn't get any from him and being married and not wanting to ruin her financial arrangement with her husband as the faithful wife, she couldn't get real sex from anyone else for that matter. The only time her husband had been her lover was when they were dating and that quickly waned once they were married and even more so after the birth of the children. What is it with guys and children? Just because she's a mother now, doesn't mean that she's not the same woman with the same sexual needs. Now, thinking of her as the mother of his children, he doesn't even like cumming in her mouth.

The last time he gave her a good fucking was when he made partner, but that only lasted as long as his Viagra pill. It was the same, dull Robert immediately thereafter. He was content to receive his weekly blowjob while fondling her tits and making a feeble attempt at rubbing her clit. She never had an orgasm with him. 

Sure, there were those times when she entertained and some of her friend's husbands had a little too much to drink and were too free with their hands. She'd be drinking too and it took her a few seconds for her to realize that there was someone's hand feeling her tit and fingering her nipple or someone peeking up her dress to get a look at her panties or lifting up the back of her skirt to get a feel of her firm, round ass. So long as no one else noticed, so long as she could laugh about it while playing the innocent virginal victim and maintain her respectable reputation, she loved the attention she received from men and had fun feigning her displeasure by slapping their hand away.

She loved it when men were free with their hands and inappropriate with their suggestions. She loved the dirty talk and the innuendoes. She loved a good conversation filled with flirting, teasing, and touching. She loved feeling wanted and desired.

Sometimes it was just a look that would make her know they were interested and make her want to flash them. Sometimes it was just a light touch of her arm or the small of her back just above her buttocks that sent chills down her spine, lust in her heart, and the feel of horniness in her pussy. Sometimes, it was just a cerebral connection that she had with someone on so many different levels and who she looked forward to seeing again.

Yet, the ones who were rewarded with more were the ones who wouldn't take no for an answer. They were the ones who saw through her little game of teasing and mocked shock. They were the ones who grabbed her by the hair and forced their tongues in her mouth while they stuck their meaty mitt between her legs. They were the ones who she wanted and needed so as to feel that she was still a sexual and desirable woman again.

In the next chapter Kathy reflects back on her past.

Tie Me Up & Make Me Blow You - Chapter 2

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Tie Me Up & Make Me Blow You - Chapter 3

Chapter 3
 
She thought of all the young men who she played the farmer's daughter being taken in the barn and on the haystack game, the store clerk being robbed and made to strip game, the bank teller held hostage and made to fuck and suck the bank robber game, the home invasion tie up and strip naked the housewife game, the sister, mother, aunt or sister-in-law incestuous sex game, and the hitchhiker being forced to flash truckers and suck off the driver, as he drove game. There were so many erotic games and so many sexual scenarios. The more she played, the more she wanted to play and the more she needed to create a new game. Every day was a different game with a different young man.

She loved playing all those sexual games. She loved being the poor helpless pray begging them to stop and hoping that they wouldn't. She loved taking on different personalities, wearing wigs, and changing into different outfits. She loved pretending that she was someone else. She loved being so vulnerable while looking so sexy and wearing her special underwear and favorite red, blow me lip gloss. She imagined she could have been a call girl or a Broadway actress in an X-rated play. Her favorite game, by far, was playing the innocent virginal victim before being taken forcefully by two or three men.

Had someone from her past found out about her now, no longer could she play the virginal victim. Yet, she was safe in her luxurious lifestyle of riches and sheltered in her pampered world of excesses. No longer did she have the identity of a slut or whore. Everyone knew her and respected her as Robert's wife. Her slate was clean for the past twenty-four years, since the day she graduated college and put all of that behind her for her new husband.

Truly, in was such a waste and she was so wasted in a sexless marriage. Had she married another man for sex rather than for money or if she could have found someone with money who appreciated her sexual sense of adventure, how perfect her life could have been.

Back then, unsupervised by her strict Catholic parents and away from home for the first time in her life, she gave young men plenty of what they wanted when she was a college coed. Repressed by the Nuns in an all girl Catholic high school, she went wild once she enrolled in college and found herself in a different part of the country. Then, once she discovered alcohol and tried drugs for the first time, she was wild.

Now, suddenly free to come and go and to do whatever she wanted and when she wanted, she was unleashed in her freedom and naked in her desire. Now, she was free to get laid and give blowjobs. Now, instead of being another trapped girl in a small town, she was a popular, sexy woman in a big city.

Back then, before being married with children, she enjoyed being felt up, having her nipples sucked, her clit rubbed and licked, and her pussy fucked really hard, as much as her dates loved receiving a hand job and/or a blowjob from her. She was insatiable. She was the closest thing to a nymphomaniac, if there was such a thing.

Her favorite thing was kissing and she prided herself on being a very good kisser. She had fun at every spring break event she attended and she attended all of them every year she was away at college. Topless or naked, it didn't matter, she entered every contest, excited to show all her body to whoever wanted to look.

Back then, she had an amazing body. Genetically blessed, her 5'7" form was as good and as curvaceous as any beauty queen winner. With a beautiful face to match her gorgeous body, every testosterone filled man was on a mission to bed her and she did as many of them as she possibly could. 

Yet, when drunk and/or doped out of her mind, being bound, gagged, spanked, and blindfolded while offered to the roomful of horny men to be used, abused, and degraded was part of growing up or so she thought. Experimenting and experiencing young men and a few young women was her right of passage, as a sexual woman growing up in the age of free sex during the sexual revolution. Besides, she was over and done with that sort of lewd, lascivious, and lustful behavior. Now, she was the respectable wife of a rich, stuffy, successful investment banker. No longer could she afford to harbor those erotic thoughts of sweaty, naked bodies, big dicks, cum baths, raw sex, and her Devil-may-care attitude toward debauchery. 

Unfortunately, twenty-four years later, she remained true to herself and could only hide who she was for so long and those dirty thoughts resurfaced again, after one of her drunken houseguests removed her bikini top a few years ago. Celebrating her husband being made partner, the alcohol flowed as free as the hands of the horny husbands who cornered her behind the tall hedges in the dark garden. They removed her bikini top in the dark, deep end of the pool and played keep away with it with some of the other men at the party.

When she stepped from the pool to retrieve her thrown top while modestly covering her breasts with her hands and feebly protesting their outrageous behavior, one of the men playfully, but forcefully grabbed her by her wrists and held her arms behind her back. From the chill of the night air after the warmth of the tepid pool water and from the sexual heat of having her tits exposed to seven horny men, that was all it took to start her erotic engine revving to the redline. Already she could feel herself getting wet and it wasn't from being in the pool. 

He exposed her beautiful B cup breasts to the drunken group of middle-aged men in attendance, while the others unsuccessfully tried to pull down her bikini bottom. Had she not had strong, developed legs and was able to keep her knees together, they would have stripped her naked. Still, touching her everywhere, feeling her ass and fingering her pussy, they were rewarded with numerous exposures of her firm, round ass and the dark hair of her trimmed pussy.

No doubt wishing that their fat, genderless wives were as hot as Kathy and possessed such a genetically blessed body, they all took the opportunity to take their turns fondling her firm, beautiful breasts and fingering her erect nipples. She meekly struggled and modestly protested their assault of her body. Her feigned cries of protests were just a way for her to receive more admiring attention from the men. Flattery, attention, and groping would get you everywhere with Kathy, as long as you were a bit rough about it and as long as they forced her to do what their sexless wives wouldn't.

It was a shocking game played on the hostess by horny husbands who always wanted to hump her in a hidden haystack somewhere. A couple of them were even bold enough to lean down and take her erect nipple in their mouth while swirling their tongue around it and feeling, fondling, and caressing her other breast. She thought she would cum in her bikini bottom when the man who held her arms behind her back also stuck both her hands down his bathing trunks. Certainly, this was the perfect scenario for her to explore without ruining her precious reputation.

Her excitement was obvious and taking the cue from her reaction, one by one, they took turns holding her arms behind her back and sticking her hands down their bathing trunks for her to feel their erections. Hidden from view from the others, not letting the other know that they were all playing the same game, she didn't resist their outrageous behavior. Little did they know that by holding her arms behind her back and forcing her hands down their bathing suit to touch and fondle their cocks, they accidentally hit upon the secret formula that unleashed the sexual beast in her. 

As soon as her fingertips touched their erect cocks, it set her aflame with lustful desire. Fondling their cocks without their wives knowing and without her husband suspecting, she wrapped her fingers around their pricks and stroked them. It was a familiar game that she played so long ago when in college with most of the members of the varsity football team, basketball team, baseball team, soccer team, track team, and lacrosse team.

Serendipitously jerking off the horny husbands of her invited guests, neighbors, friends, and co-workers of her husband, whenever she could get away with it and while preserving her respectable reputation by playing the innocent victim, was her secret fantasy literally handed to her by each man sticking her hands down their bathing trunks.

It had been more than two decades since she felt so many cocks at once. She was out of her mind with lust. She was so very wet. She was so very excited. The only way the evening could be any better would have been if the men dragged her to the guesthouse and gangbanged her. She would have loved being fucked by seven horny men who wanted her as much as she wanted them.

She imagined them standing around her in a circle while holding their stiff cocks in their hands. She would have loved sucking all their cocks, once they were done fucking her. As a physical show of their sexual appreciation, she would have enjoyed receiving a cum bath from each and every one of them. She imagined cum splashing across her eyes, nose, and mouth. She imagined her hair filled with cum and cum dripping from her tits. She imagined basking and bathing in their cum while still protesting them to please stop.

Fortunately, her husband, the host, was in the house with the wives helping to make another round of drinks. Not so innocent himself, he was doing his share of flirting, touching, and feeling the bikini clad wives who were in attendance to celebrate his well deserved promotion. No doubt, they were exploring his cock, too.

Certainly, she was grateful her husband and the wives of all those men who groped her and who made her grope them weren't witness to her public, albeit forced display of exhibitionism. She was happy that they didn't see her slut like behavior with her hands buried in the bathing trunks of their husbands. She was glad that she was able to play her favorite game of being the virginal victim while she received all that she wanted, being exposed, being felt up, and forced to touch the cocks of so many men who wanted her.

Now, since that time, precipitating the sudden sensuality and sexuality in her behavior, she changed and reverted back to how she was, so long ago. The metamorphosis was complete. Changed from a college coed slut to a faithful, albeit rich, bitch wife that butter would melt in her mouth, she was now a cum slut again that cum would drip from her mouth, should she reach the point of passing fluids with any or all of these men.

After that embarrassing, albeit exciting experience, she learned to stay away from the high hedges in the darkened corner of the garden and the dark, deep end of the pool, when having drunken pool parties, that is, until her husband and the other wives were preoccupied with one another and couldn't see what went on with her and their husbands. It was their little secret game they played when no one was watching and it was okay to play, so long as no one spoke of it later in the light of day.

Later, she heard from one of the wives, who didn't participate in groping Kathy's husband, but who was contend and sexually interested and excited enough to watch the wives of many of the men who groped Kathy out back, grope her husband in the house. While he released their surgically enhanced, fake tits from their bikini tops, several of the wives took turns stroking his cock while mouthing it, as their personal present for his promotion. It was a secret game they all played. Yet, respectful of their marriages, mindful of his reputation and the unwanted scandal that surely would happen, he was careful not to cum and not to exchange fluids with anyone else but his wife, as were the other wives not wanting to exchange fluids with anyone other than their husbands. 

Still, she, the ever so virginal victim, had never been as violated. Her best friend's husband practically raped her in the pool and she may have allowed him to fuck her had she had just one more drink and had she not be so careful with her reputation. Certainly it was better to tease than to finish the act and suffer the consequences from the harm caused to her reputation by having adulterous sex. Truly, literally and figuratively, she couldn't afford to cheat on her husband. She had much more to lose by cheating than she had to gain by fucking the husband of a friend during the flight of her fantasy.

Only, she so desperately wanted to experience his stiff cock inside of her. It had been a while since she felt a cock as hard and she would have blown him if given the chance. Her husband's medication has softened his libido as much as it has hardened his resistance to heart disease, high cholesterol, and high blood pressure.

Only, hearing her neighbor talk about the incident, his cock wasn't so soft when he was feeling the tits of the wives of his friends and co-workers. He must have taken a Viagra, which would explain why he wasn't bothering for a blowjob after the party ended. 

The hands of her guests were everywhere. They forced her hand down by her wrists and into their bathing trunks forcing her to touch their erect cocks while they groped her tits and fingered her nipples. She was frightened and excited at the same time. She made a joke of it.

"My, my, is all this for me," she said wrapping her fingers around their cocks and giving them a stroke or two. 

Blaming it on drinking too much alcohol, she touched several cocks of her guests that night. Able to somehow summon enough self-control to resist their forcefully aggressive behavior, she was only able to get away from them when they started kissing her and stripping off her bikini bottom, but not until they all had taken a turn at sticking their hand down her bikini bottom and fingering her pussy.

"You're dripping. Did I make you all wet?"

She was more embarrassed that they discovered, when they fingered her pussy, that they had made her so terribly wet than she was that they had made her feel their cocks or that they took liberties with her body.. She felt as if she was a wicked coed slut again after that incident and after getting wet for men who weren't her husband. It had been so long since she had felt sexual passion for someone else and she didn't know what to do with those feelings other than to use them to masturbate with whenever she was horny later. 

There was nothing else she could do with those sexual feelings. She wished she could have fallen to her knees and taken one cock after another cock and allowed them to cum in her mouth, all over her face, and across her tits. Yet, she couldn't afford to cheat on her husband. She couldn't afford to ruin the lifestyle that she loved and had grown so accustomed.

In hindsight, even back then, there was a glimmer of something there that she had learned to repress, once she was respectfully married. Unable to admit it to herself until now, she enjoyed 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 and without being forced and at the peril of her reputation, she enjoyed being forced to touch them. 

She enjoyed being taken and it was a total turn on when they exposed her body to others, as her pool guest had done by holding her arms behind her back to expose her tits when she was topless. Further, the outrageous sexual bonus was then 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 the 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. 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 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.

In the next chapter, Kathy experiences more sexual situations.

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.

Tie Me Up & Make Me Blow You - Chapter 5

Chapter 5
 
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 her sexual desires and put the need for bondage and discipline behind her, they somehow recognized that fetish about her and knew she liked it rough. 

Only, how did they know? It was a question she asked over again and the answer baffled her. How did they know she was a slut for cock? Again, how did they know? They knew she liked having her ass slapped or her hair pulled while being forced to give them what they wanted. They knew she liked being forced when making her blow them. They knew she loved cock. It made her wild when they held her arms behind her back and touched her while forcing her to touch them. 

It was because he slapped her ass with the hairbrush, forced her to her knees, slapped her across her face, pulled her hair, and then pulled her head forward to take his cock in her mouth that she blew him. She needed that aggression to excite her and it was his violent behavior that excited her enough to suck his cock and she would have finished him off, had someone not come to the bathroom door looking for her.

Contrary to the gentleness and gentlemanly behavior of her husband, she more enjoyed the behavior of a brute. She enjoyed being used and abused. Slap me silly and tie me up, there was something so sexually exciting about a man who knew what he wanted and who took it from her. That's what revved her engines to overdrive. Just like it was back in her college days, more than once she imagined being tied up, slapped around a little, and gangbanged by a group of men, so long as they didn't hurt her and so long as they let her go after they were done with her.

Everything was so perfect in Kathy's life. She had the big house, the expensive cars, the luxury trips, the extended shopping excursions, the endless supply of money, the one-of-a-kind jewels, and she had her precious pearls. She possessed many items that were more valuable than her pearls and except for her flawless, five karat, princess cut diamond ring, there was no other piece of jewelry that she cherished and wore as much, as she did her pearls. She loved her pearls and she loved wearing them. 

She was so very happy, that is, until the day that a burglar changed her perfect little life forever.

When she left, she thought her house was secured and it was, but not from a professional burglar intent on robbing her. He knew where all the security cameras were on the golf course and once past her backdoor gate with his passkey and now hidden from view from the other golfers on the course by her privacy fence that ran along her backyard and that protected her windows from errant golf balls, the burglar came in through the sliding glass door.

Maintaining a low profile and carrying a golf bag, he pretended to be another golfer on the course. It was an exclusive club with members only and with all guests signing in; guests who must be accompanied by a member at all times. Then, after he finished robbing the place, he'd stash his bag of loot in his golf bag, continue his game of golf, and head home to the other side of the 3rd green where he lived. It was a perfect crime that he had perfected over several years and dozens of burglaries.

He had spent considerable time planning and casing her house. He knew that both her son Randy and daughter Mandy were away at college. He knew that Kathy's husband, Robert, had already left for work. He knew they didn't have a dog. He even knew that the house cleaner didn't come until tomorrow, the pool man wasn't due until Monday, the gardener had already come and gone, and the rest of the staff, the maid, the butler, and the chef were dismissed from duty today, as the madam of the house would not be at home.

The only fly in the ointment was the chauffeur who usually doubled as an armed bodyguard, but they didn't have one. Feeling safe and secure in the private confines of their exclusive residence, even though it had undergone some recent house break-ins, they thought it would never happen to them. Besides they had a state of the art alarm system and a secure safe where they kept all their valuables. Moreover, Robert loved driving his baby blue Bentley GT and Kathy enjoyed the private comfort her AMG SL63 Mercedes gave her when she drove her car alone. Further, it was difficult flashing truckers her tits or toll booth attendants her pussy when driven by a chauffeured automobile that had dark privacy glass.

He even knew that Kathy was leaving the house early to meet her friends in New York for a day of gossip, laughing, and shopping. They had already left the day before and she was to catch up with them later today for lunch. Her super fast luxury automobile made short work of the long drive from her Lennox residence that was hidden away in the mountains of the Berkshires of Massachusetts to the crowded downtown streets of Manhattan Island in New York. He surmised that he sometimes knew more about the people he robbed then they did. Yet, that was his job and that was the reason why he had never been caught.

It was his business to know all this and he knew all this because he belonged to the same country club and was privy to much of the same conversations that the members had with one another. Nothing was ever forced. He never asked a question that would make someone suspicious or jolt a memory from someone to remember that he was the one seeking the information that was required to rob someone's house. He just listened and watched and waited.

He was in no hurry after all. He lived here. He was already home. His victims would tell him everything he needed to know, which is why they were his victims. He didn't have to go looking for them because they came to him.

So long as he listened, so long as he watched, and so long as he waited, the perfect opportunity would present itself to him. It always had before. He was in no hurry. He had plenty of money to wait it out until the right job came along. 

Greed is what put a lot of smart guys in jail. He wasn't greedy. He didn't have a wife to satisfy or children to feed. He lived alone and all he needed to keep him in the lifestyle that he had become accustomed was to hit four houses a year, any more than that and it was as much of a bonus as it was risky. He only took what he needed, never burglarized in the nighttime, never carried a weapon, and he always worked alone. No one knew he was a burglar, not his friends or family, and surely not the police. He had no record, not even a parking ticket. He was safe in being anonymous. 

Always, he kept a low profile. Always, he remained in the background. Generally, he was invisible learning early to never flash cash around because that would surely call attention to him. He didn't even wear jewelry, only a watch, an old Rolex that he inherited from his grandfather. He never became attached to what he stole.. The platinum, the gold, and the precious gem stones never attracted his interest, as they did those who paid a small fortune to buy them and to those who ended up hoarding them. He was satisfied just to steal them to sell them.

The thing he loved was money. Money would buy him his freedom one day. Money would allow him to disappear somewhere in the South Pacific to live out the rest of his life in luxury with a woman half his age. As once did Hemingway, he imagined her having nipples that pointed to the sun, a face that he never tired staring at, and a tan that contrasted with the white sands of the private beach he owned. He imagined a place that had no cars and no roads. Wherever he wanted to go to the mainland, he traveled by boat. 

He knew to never lose control of his emotions by drinking too much or talking too much nor did he want to appear odd by talking too little. It was a balance to maintain his anonymous lifestyle and to avoid suspicion. Always, he remained in control and he trusted no one but himself. Some of the conversation he overheard and other conversations he listened to were innocently imparted to him over drinks at the bar. They didn't know he was listening nor did they know he was a burglar. They thought he was a retired businessman and a man of the world who grew tired of work and traveling and just wanted to play golf all day. They thought he was one of them.

It was a small community of wealthy people. Certainly, it was worth the five figure membership fee for the burglar to join the club. This is where he found all his victims, after all. After shooting a round of golf and buying them a few rounds of drinks in the clubhouse, they told him all he needed to know. They told him who had what and where they kept it. People liked to brag, especially once the alcohol loosened their tongues and especially when they thought they were in the company of someone they felt they could impress and/or trust. 

He preferred hitting a house every season. That way, by the time he was ready to hit his next house, the police investigation had cooled and the heat was off. Except for those that it happened to, once the insurance paid the claim for their losses, the community of perfect people forgot that it ever happened. People of wealth had a short memory of being robbed of so little. The money he stole was incidental and the jewelry he took was mere bobbles. They hoarded their real money in investments and kept the good jewelry in safety deposit boxes. Once in a while he'd get lucky and catch them with their pants down, usually after they've been to an important dinner or function and didn't have the time or forgot to return their jewels to the bank for safe keeping.. 

There were enough rich people who lived here that he could burglarize four homes a year for the next ten years and retire rich. Unless the house changed owners, never did he hit the same house twice. So as to not make him suspect, he even pretended that he was robbed. He even collected from his insurance company on the bogus claim that was supported by the routine investigation done by the local police. Plenty of the members were there ready to commiserate with him and to further take him in their trust. After all, he was just burglarized, too. They'd never suspect him now. 

He thought there was no one home and at the time he had entered the house, there was no one home. It was empty. He had seen Kathy leave for New York in her car. He even knew how to bypass her alarm. He had the same alarm in his house. Only, Kathy returned home for her forgotten pearls.

Even with this sudden turn of events, so long as he remained motionless to not to set off the motion detectors, he would have turned back on the alarm and remained hidden in the house and unnoticed by Kathy until she took her pearls and left again, except he had already bagged her precious pearls. He wished he hadn't been so quick to hit the jewelry box that was in plain sight on her bedroom dresser. He should have stuck to the contents of the safe and left. He would have already been gone had he not strayed from his motus of operandi by taking anything that was not in the safe. He would have been in and out before anyone had known. He would have been long gone before she returned home for her pearls.

Kathy opened the front door and immediately she panicked when she went to turn off the alarm and it was off already.

"Damn! Did I forget to turn on the alarm again? No, I distinctly remember setting the alarm, hearing the beep, and locking the door."

She knew she had been robbed. She hadn't been gone that long, only about twenty minutes. Maybe they were still in the house. Get out! Get out now and call the police! Just as she turned and headed for the front door, she saw him.

"Who are you?"

"Relax."

"What do you want?"

"I'm just here to rob you."

"My husband will be home any minute."

"I'll be gone in just a few minutes."

Details she said to herself, remember to get details of what he looks like so that you can report him to the police. Only, he looked like any other middle aged golfer to her with his Scottish cap and brightly colored golfing attire. There was nothing special about him or his clothes. She was inching her way towards the alarm to hit the panic button but, from where she was, she could see that he had already disabled it.

"Please don't hurt me."

"I'm not here to hurt you, but I will if you don't cooperate with me. Now, get in the bedroom, please," he said.

"Take what you want, just don't hurt me."

"I've already taken all that I want and all that you have," he said holding up a small, leather valise that was the perfect size to fit at the bottom of his golf bag.

"My pearls? You took my pearls," she said with her eyes welling up and her voice cracking. "They were a gift. They are special to me. Please don't take my pearls."

"Yeah, well, your insurance can buy you new pearls." He gave her a push. "Now, move your sweet ass in the bedroom."

Afraid and fearing for her life, she did what he told her to do.

"What are you going to do with me? Can't you just leave? I promise I won't call the police. You can take all that you have. Just go," she said. "You can even take my car. It's parked in the driveway and the keys are in my purse. There's money there, too, a few thousand dollars, I think."

"Yeah, sure, lady, I'll never make it off the golf course before the place is surrounded and swarming with cops. Do I look like I was born yesterday?"

"No."

"Do I have sucker written on my forehead?"

"No."

"Then, get in the bedroom like I told you to do."

"Okay, okay, I'm going. Just don't hurt me."

"I'm not going to hurt you."

Kathy walked down the hall with the burglar behind her. She entered her bedroom.

"Get on the bed."

"Please don't rape me," she said suddenly excited by the thoughts of him pushing her down on the bed, stripping her naked, and forcing himself on her.

She imagined him forcing her to kiss him and slapping her face, pulling her hair, and spanking her ass when she refused. She imagined him tearing open her blouse and fondling her tits through her bra. She imagined him tearing off her skirt and touching her pussy through her panty before moving the material aside to violate her with his fingers. She imagined him cutting off her bra and panty with a pair of scissors and being naked while he got naked, too. She imagined him touching her everywhere before fucking her really hard and then pulling her hair, slapping her face and ass again while forcing her to blow him.

"Lady, I don't want your body. I just want your money and jewels and I already have those. Now, do what I say and just get on the bed, please."

Deflated that he didn't want her, she sat on the bed thinking that he was very polite. He sounded educated, too, college educated. She wondered where he went to school. She wondered why someone so educated would turn to a life of crime. She wondered what his first name was. She thought about the cat burglars in the movies. Then, she thought about the Pink Panther. He did look a little like David Niven.

"What are you going to do?"

"Lie down please."

"Tell me first, please" she said looking up at him and making eye contact. "What are you going to do? I need to know."

"I'm going to tie you up, but I'll make the ties loose enough that if you struggle enough, they'll loosen. Okay?"

"I have people, friends, expecting me in New York. If I don't show, they'll worry and call the police."

"Like I said, Lady, if you wiggle around a bit, you'll free yourself."

She felt a twinge of warm wetness between her legs as soon as he said that he was going to tie her up.

"Okay," she said reclining back.

"Are you comfortable? "

"Yes."

"What do you have that I can use to tie you up?"

"I have some scarves."

"Where?"

"In the top drawer of the dresser. Use the silk ones please. They won't leave a mark."

He looked at her before opening the drawer. 

"You've been tied up before?"

"No, uhm, I read a lot of crime novels."

"That's funny. I didn't see any crime novels when I was looking around your house."

"I get them from the library and return them," she said suddenly feeling awkward by the conversation. She didn't want him to know that she was enjoying this. For her to continue her sexual excitement, she needed him to think she was a victim.

He opened the drawer and looked through her things.

"There are only panties in here," he said holding up a handful of her most delicate delicates. "C'mon, lady, I'm not here to play games."

"Sorry, they are in drawer beside that one."

He opened it and pulled out four scarves.

He tied one wrist to the bed post. Then, he tied her other wrist. 

"Spread your legs."

"If I do, I'll be totally exposed," she said biting her lip with the thought of it. "You'll see my panty."

"I promise not to look."

Kathy spread her legs and when she did her skirt rose up to the middle of her thigh. If he was looking he could clearly see between her legs. If he was looking, he could clearly see her sheer panty. He was looking and it excited her to see him look. She watched him look and then look away, as if he was embarrassed. She watched his eyes dart back and away again. It was apparent to her that he was interested but didn't want her to catch him looking. It excited her to catch him looking. She was especially fond of the game of exhibitionism and voyeurism. She had played this game many times before with many different men.

"Wait."

"Now what?"

"I have to pee. Whenever I'm frightened, I need to go."

He untied her wrists.

"I told you already, I'm not going to hurt you. There's no reason for you to be frightened. Okay, get up and go pee."

"Thank you."

Kathy walked to the bathroom.

"Leave the door open."

"Do you want to watch me pee?"

"Not unless you want me to watch," he said with a smirk.

She raised her skirt to her waist, pulled down her panty, and sat on the toilet while staring at him. He averted his eyes. She wiped herself and when she stood and pulled her panties up, he looked before looking away. It was a brief look but it was enough of a look that he caught a glimpse of her pussy and the side of her ass. Now that she knew he was interested, she knew she had him and could use that weakness against him for her sexual benefit.

She walked back to the bed and casually lifted her skirt higher before reclining back down and spreading her legs. Now, her skirt was even higher than it was before. It made her wet being so exposed to him. 

He tied one ankle.

"Wait."

"What now, lady?"

"I have a cramp."

She raised her leg, bent it, and flexed it. She didn't have a cramp. She just wanted to move her leg around to raise her skirt up even higher. She just wanted to tease him. She just wanted to watch him pretend not to look. She just wanted her pearls back. Now, her skirt was at the top of her thighs and her puffy mound and camel toe beneath her sheer panty was clearly visible to wherever he stood.

He tied her other ankle.

"Please, that's much too tight," she said.

"How's that?"

"Better."

"There, I made them loose enough that if you squirm and wiggle around for ten or fifteen minutes, you'll be free."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He headed for the bedroom door.

"Wait," she said."

"What?"

"Thank you for not taking my wedding ring, but I'd trade you that for my pearls."

"I don't want your ring."

"Why? It's worth much more than my—"

"It's not real?"

"What?" She struggle to try and look at her ring, but her wrists were tied. "Surely, you jest."

"You're ring is a fake. It's a good copy, though and worth a few thousand dollars, but it's not a real diamond."

"How do you know?"

"Lady, if I can't spot a fake diamond with the light on, I'd never make it as a jewel thief in the dark with only my little flashlight."
 
She was crushed. She thought it was real. Surely, her husband could afford ten rings, a hundred rings. Why would he give her a fake?"

He turned to look at her and when he did, clearly he could see all that she had to offer him between her legs. Clearly, he was looking and clearly he could see her panty.

"My pearls."

"I told you lady that your insurance—"

"You can touch me if you leave my pearls."

"Pardon?"

"I said, if you leave me my pearls, you can touch me."

She was as excited for him to touch her as she was desperate for him to leave her pearls behind.

"Lady, if I wanted to touch you, I could. You're tied up. Remember. And I could still keep your pearls."

"Even though you're a burglar, I can see that you're an honorable man."

"How do you know I just won't take advantage of you and still keep your pearls?"

"Because I can read people and I know that there's honor among thieves."

"But you're not a thief, are you?"

"No, not in the way you think, but I have prostituted myself to my husband for the pleasure of his money and in that regard, I'm as much of a criminal as you are. I'm not a thief, but you are and I can see that you are an honorable one."

"Look, lady, you're very beautiful and if I saw you under different circumstances, I'd be interested in starting a relationship. Without doubt, I'd be attracted to you, but I don't mix business with pleasure."

"Kathy."

"Pardon?" He already knew her name. He knew more about her than she thought.

"My name is not lady. It's Kathy."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Kathy. Please forgive my rudeness in my not introducing myself to you. I'm sorry but I'm not interested in a love relationship or a sexual affair. I'm just interested in your money and your jewels."

He turned for the door, again.

"I'll suck you off if you leave me my pearls."

"Pardon?" He turned and looked at her.

She was truly beautiful. She was one in a million. A bit older than he liked them, she was still beautiful enough to fulfill anyone's fantasy of having her as their only other resident on a Pacific Ocean tropical island of paradise.

"I said I'll suck your cock if you leave me my pearls."

He gave her a hard look while taking her all in with a lustful stare.

"Really? You'll suck my cock?"

"Yes."

He gave her another long, lustful stare.

"Have you ever given a real head banging moaning out loud blowjob or is that just something else you read about in one of your crime novels?"

"Yes, I've given a few men the pleasure of oral sex."

"I didn't know you rich bitches got down and dirty and sucked cock. I thought you all just pretended to enjoy screwing your rich husbands once a quarter out of financial duty, when the dividend checks were paid, while he spent his quality time with his mistress."

"We're not all as detached and delusional as you think we are. We know what men want. How do you think we get what we want?"

He gave her another long look that made her think that he was considering the proposition. What did it matter to him, they were just a strand of pearls. Obviously, they meant more than that to her. To her, they were twenty-four years of being faithfully married to a boring man she didn't love and who loved money more than he did her. Still, it bothered her about her ring and she would surely address that with Robert, once this was over.

"Touché," he said looking at her again as if he was considering her proposition. "Nah, you just want me to cum so you can get my DNA. Is that it?"

"No, no, really, I just want my pearls. You can take everything else. The pearls have special meaning to me."

"Why?"

"It's personal."

"I can touch you?"

He looked from her pretty face to her breasts to her panties and to her shapely legs.

"Yes."

"I can undress you?"

"Yes."

"I can fuck and suck you."

"If you'd like and if that's what you want."

"And you'll blow me?"

"Yes."

"I can cum in your mouth?"

"Yes."

"And you'll swallow it all? You won't play any games and drip some of my cum on your clothes for the police to analyze later."

"My clothes? What clothes? You're no Bill Clinton and I'm not Monica Lewinski. You can strip me naked, tear them off my body, and cut off my bra and panty, if you'd like."

"I'd like that."

"Me, too," she said under her breath and too low for him to hear.

"What about your husband? Where is he? I thought you said he'd be here any minute."

"I lied."

"How do I know you're not lying now?"

"How do I know you'll leave me my pearls after you've had your way with me? We just have to trust one another."

"I don't trust anyone, Kathy, especially not you. You'd tell me anything to save your precious pearls."

"He's on his way to the airport for a business trip. I don't remember where this time. He doesn't always tell me since..."

"Since what?"

"Since he cheated on me and since we signed an agreement not to exchange fluids."

"Fluids? You mean cum?"

"Yes."

"Then, what about this? What about me cumming in your mouth? What about you swallowing my cum? Isn't that exchanging fluids?"

"This is different. You're forcing me to do that. You've already tied me up to my bed. Remember? So long as you leave me like this when you go, there's no problem."

"For some reason, I believe you."

In the next chapter Kathy gets her pearls back.