A Fantasy Fulfilled

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I must have zoned out because next thing I saw was her face, inches away from mine, her emerald eyes blazing into mine, her voice hoarse, demanding “Did you hear any words I just said?”

I looked away, because if I looked at those eyes another second, I would have done something I would regret. I mumbled, “No.”

She reached for my hand, and her touch caused me to tremble for a second, not because of the horror, or the sensation of her hand, but what that hand demanded of me.

I knew her for years, since high school. She was the bubbly brunette with short hair, while I was this broody nerd in the back. She was the only one that reached out to me. I know we’re not in the same league, but I enjoyed the friendship. We flirted with each other, knowing nothing would come of it. She had a steady boyfriend, who took one look at me and decided I was of no threat to his manliness.

Which was probably why she leaned over me in my bedroom, wanting something from me I should never give her.

Not in a million years.

“I want you to help me fulfill my sexual fantasy.” She repeated.

I refused to look at her. The demand was simply outrageous. Her regular boyfriend was a jock, star running back in high school and college. He was fiercely protective of her outside, but a kitten toward her. According to her, he would never DARE to use anything more than kid gloves to her. And she wanted… something more forceful.

“I am NOT going to fuck you.” I mumbled.

“I don’t want your dick,” she replied, “I just want you to hogtie me, then finger fuck me until I come,” she continued.

Something… manlier.

Her touch had stirred something within me. I can feel myself getting harder. I can sense the flush on her face, her warmth next to me. I can smell her perfume, a bit of lavender and citrus. I want her, but I know I cannot have her…

I stood up, forcing her back but only half a step.

Then she slapped me. Not that beylikdüzü escort hard, as I didn’t stagger, but the surprise did cause me to look into those eyes again.

I sensed her need, and her lust. My control crumbled.

She tried to slap me again. Without breaking eye contact, my left hand reached out and snagged her wrist (Thanks, martial art training). She looked toward the wrist in shock, which is when I caught other wrist, whirled her 180, and pulled her onto me, falling back onto my bed, entrapping her with her own arms. My legs came up and scissored her hips onto my hard-on. Her head is next to my chin.

We were both breathing heavily. I could feel her heart beating right against my chest, as I was sure she could feel mine as well.

“You really want to do this?” I whispered in her ear, in as menacing tone as I could muster, “Last chance to say uncle.”

“Just do it,” She growled.

I flipped to force her face down onto the mattress, keeping her arms trapped. I released one hand to loosen my tie, my full weight on her back. She tried to back kick me in my nuts, but I had bent one leg to block her. With some difficulty I forced her arms back and bound her arms together at both the elbow and the wrist on her back.

She started calling me names, so I pulled a pillow case off the bed and pulled it over her head. The pillowcase was way too large to suffocate her, but it did muffle her curses somewhat. I managed to reach into my drawer for another couple ties, to bind her ankles, her legs, and finally, to link her ankles to her wrists, completing the hogtie.

My breathing was ragged, and so was hers. She’s on her side, hogtied, and she squirmed until she’s prone, panting against the sheets. I removed my clothing until I was down to my underwear, then I pulled my multitool off my belt holster (now on the floor with my pants) and flipped open the utility blade.

I climbed onto bed, made bolu escort myself comfortable with pillows behind me on the headboard, then turned her over, then pulled her so her hogtied form was between my open legs. I pulled her up to my chest, so she was resting on me face up, her hands at my crotch her head next to my cheek. I removed the pillowcase over her head, and showed her the blade. I knew she saw it, as her body stiffened. I didn’t need to see into her eyes to know she sensed fear.

I flipped the knife so the blade faced outward, and inserted it between her skin and her dress. I whispered in her ear, “Ready to say uncle?”

She said nothing, though I can sense her body tremble slightly. Her breathing accelerated.

I cut her dress open from the front, all the way down to her crotch. I let the back of the blade touch her skin, felt her tremble even more.

I ordered her, “Say uncle, and this stops.”

She stayed silent, even as her body shook some more.

I ripped her dress all the way, then cut off her bra as well. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Say uncle” I ordered her, as I cupped her breast. “Say it.”

She trembled some more, but made no sound.

I tossed the multitool to the floor, and I gently rubbed the sensitive undersides of her breasts, with a little attention to her nipples.

She chortled.

I stroked harder, firmer, pinched her nipples, manhandled her boobs, then twisted her nipples.

A grunt made it past her lips.

I ordered again, “Say uncle,” even though I knew she would not say a word. And she didn’t.

My hand reached down toward her sex. She was already wet. I soaked my hand generously and bought it to her mouth, smearing it over her upper lip. Then I bought it to my nose inhaling her scent.

Her bound hands reached for my cock, but I moved her up away from it. Both of my hands reached for her sex this time, with the improved access. one hand bursa escort played with her inner thighs, while the other hand played with her labia.

She moaned in pleasure, and squirmed.

I ordered her again, “Say uncle,” even as I continued to stroke her sex. She went silent, but continued to squirm.

I inserted two fingers into her and started stroking her that way, as my other hand came up and cupped her cheek, still smeared in her wetness, then her breast. I felt her gasp, and her hips started to sway with my fingers stroking.

I switched hands, one hand on her other nipple, the other hand next to her clit. I held still, as I ordered her again, “Say uncle.”

She tried to buck, to force contact, but I held firm, withholding her the pleasure she sought.

She choked out the words between her teeth, “You bastard… You can’t leave… me like this…”

My lower hand flicked her clit, while my upper hand twisted her nipple.

She bucked wildly, and a moan escaped her throat.

I did it again. This time I had to clamp my thigh on her thighs to hold her still.

I swapped hands and gave her other nipple a twist as my other hand pinched her clit, then stroke it rapid-fire.

She screamed and came apart in my hands. I had to release my hand on her nipple to cover her mouth, as she bucked, and convulsed, went rigid as if electrocuted, before finally relaxing onto me like a limp doll. Her eyes closed. I stroked her a couple more times to let her down gently, then I quickly untied her and moved her onto a more natural sleeping position, and pulled the blanket over her and put a pillow under her head.

I was about to head into the restroom to address my raging hard-on when I heard her say tiredly, “Uncle.”

I turned around. She had turned to her side, facing me, and her eyelids are half-closed. I raised an eyebrow as I addressed her, “A little late, don’t you think?”

“Are you available next week?” she purred.

“What?” I half-shouted, as I took a step back.

“I have a lot of fantasies.” She pouted.

“Later!” I fled for the restroom where I stripped, showered and masturbated, all the while wondering how many fantasies can she really have.

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