She was spread out on the cool sheets, wrists and ankles bound to the four distant corners of the bed. Blindfolded, she felt the silence as much as heard it, she wondered if her partner was even in the room, heard his footsteps by the door a moment ago.
The waiting made her suck in her bottom lip and clench in excited anticipation; she was certain she was already damp. She heard soft treading on the carpet and the bed dipped a little.
Her body tensed at the thought of where he would touch her. Her nipples puckered and hardened, apparently offering a temptation too great to deny as a warm hand cupped her breast, fingertips grazed her nipple.
She froze rather than arched, though the action felt good. Her partner didn’t touch her like that. Something was off. The hand squeezed, joined by a second on her other breast, and fingers continued to encourage her harden peaks. Why did it feel so different?
A hand surprised her around her throat, shocked her so much that she squeaked a bit in surprise. “Relax,” her partner’s voice commanded in a tone she knew all too well. Her body began to relax at just the command, despite the confusion in her head. There were three hands on her now…she wasn’t mistaken…the person fondling her breasts was not her partner. She didn’t know who it was. They had discussed months ago bringing in some anonymous person under these circumstances, but her partner had not informed her that they were going to do it now. He squeezed a bit in further warning and she felt herself letting go of the thoughts and concerns.
She focused on the stranger’s hands soft upon her soft breasts, felt the little electric currents of pleasure beginning to build and slide between her legs. She moaned a bit at the diminutive sensations building and despite her tight binds, arched slightly. The hand was removed from her throat, and while she was more clear thinking after that action and aware of foot falls to the corner of the room and the squeak of a chair in the corner, her body was already beginning to tense and crave more. From a stranger.
She smelled his cologne as one hand began to pinch a nipple and the other was replaced with his mouth. Foreign lips opened and sucked in her nipple; a new tongue darted against the sensitive tip and swirled around. She gasped, surprised how this man could make her feel with the smallest of touches.
She wanted more…how much more was going to happen? The unknown of that should have been far more concerning that it was, at the moment she could just tighten with sensations.
The bed dipped as he lay next to her, already naked – just the thought of that turned her on so much; a mysterious naked man, one she couldn’t see, one her partner had invited in, was here touching her. She felt the warmth of his body, the weight a bit more prominent on the mattress next to her than she was used to, his curious scent, his arousal barely touched her thigh but still so evident to her overworked senses. He leaned over and his mouth crashed down on the side of her neck, she turned her head away and invited a more thorough invasion. Her ears tuned into his breathing, trying to distinguish a sound she may recognize, her skin tuned into the hot sensations of his mouth, sent shivers down the side of her body. His hand on her breast caressed down her rib cage and the curve of her waist, stroked the side of her hip and thigh. His hand wasn’t tentative like first on her breast, the sensation of his palm was prominent and the fingers alternated as they traveled with light rubbing or gripping – the gripping becoming pressured at the pauses on her hip and outside of her thigh. The hand traveled back up to her hip and he pulled her more fully against him, just merest spaces, the rope dug into one ankle and wrist from the shift, made her all too aware of her helplessness in bondage, his erection so solid against her hip. His lips separated from her pulse and his breath washed over kissed skin as he slid his body down, the rigid cock slid down to her mid thigh.
Her nipple was assaulted again, this time the mouth much more dominating, and the exploring hand and fingers softly stroked down to her outside thigh, slowly-maddeningly slowly – crossed to the inside of her thigh. Gossamer fingertips traced up her inner thigh, almost touched her damp lips, skipped across in the cool air to the other thigh. She whimpered in disappointment, her cunt clenched at the thought of him touching in her most personal places.
No sound came from him other than his steady breathing. It was a bit unnerving. Would he touch her there, would he fuck her, she pondered as gentle fingertips traveled up the inside thigh closest to him.
He was at the junction where lips meet thigh and stopped (hesitated?) and she felt herself throbbing. Please touch me, she silently begged. Please sink your fingers into my plump folds; please show me how you manipulate a body that you do not know and how you want to fuck my body with your fingers. She felt so wet, so tense, the silence deafening. Her clit felt swollen with need, begged to be touched or kissed. Her thighs strained from tension, wanted to part further to welcome his hips between them, wanted to feel a cock that was she was unacquainted with to part her folds and slide deep to the hilt, stroke in and out of her body in an unfamiliar pattern.
She realized she was holding her breath and slowly let it out. The waiting was killing her, and while it probably wasn’t long, she felt like she was exhausting herself in the anticipation. The fingers rested hot and promising against her crease. Cautiously, straining against the bondage, she arched her hips in an invite.