When You Were Bad

The Saturday sunshine is directly overhead as I pull in the driveway, tired and hungry from my long trip. I'm an annoyingly upstanding guy, so when you texted me in the car I never responded. But I did read your message: "Surprise waiting for you. Hurry up!"

As I drove I suspected the surprise would be romantic, but I was so hungry that my sex fantasy kept morphing into a hot bratwurst in a soft bun.

And now as I trudge through the door I see that I was right. You stand in profile with your bare shoulder toward me, your dazzling shape transforming a black satin corset into a sculpted masterpiece. You've accentuated the image perfectly by hanging a white curtain behind you in the living room archway. "Welcome home," you purr. "Oh God, how I missed you!"

I drop my bags and admire the view. "Mmm. Nice surprise. How were you while I was gone?"

You run your hands down your sides, emphasizing your curves. "Oh, this isn't your surprise." You bat your eyelashes coyly, saying, "And while you were gone I was bad. I was very, very bad."

With that you throw open the curtain to reveal the living room. Only it's not the living room any more; you have transformed it into some kind of dungeon playroom of steel and leather. In flickering light that seems to come from medieval torches I see whips, chains, shackles, and a pillory. "That bad?" I ask, stepping to peek into your vault of decadence.

"Very, very, very bad" you flash a wicked smile.

"In that case . . ." my hand reaches toward you. Your close your eyes in anticipation, but after a few seconds my fingertips still haven't touched you. You hear the refrigerator open. I say: "In that case, it's time for lunch."

I grab a slice of cold pizza and sit at the table. I offer you a slice, saying: "Please join me. Or aren't you hungry?"

"I'm hungry, but that's not enough pepperoni to satisfy me." You slide into the seat beside me, your mostly bare ass cheeks squeaking on the leather chair. You pout.

Without looking away from my pizza, I reach my left hand toward you and stroke your hair, then gently touch your soft face. When I feel the dimple in your cheek I know I've made you smile. My hand glides down your neck and reaches inside the corset to cup your breast. Still looking away from you, I start playing with your areola.

You sigh and reach to loosen the corset but I stop you. "Keep 'yer shirt on. I'm enjoying my lunch." Now I gently pinch that luscious rosebud, savoring its texture on my fingertips.

Your nipple reacts to my touch, first becoming firm then swelling into a little bullet of pleasure. "More, please," your rising voice almost sings the words. Still munching the cold pizza, I quicken the pace of my tit fondling. You think I'm not looking as you slowly set your own hand on your thigh and begin moving toward your vulva, but then I pop the last bite of pizza in my mouth and grab your naughty hand. "Tell me again, how bad were you?"

"I was very, very, very, very bad" your breath is quickening. "Shall I tell you what I did while you were gone?"

By now I am using my whole hand to stoke the fires in your heaving breast. "No. You are an excellent judge of your own guilt. But I will choose your punishment." At the mention of punishment your eyes dart toward your new thrill dungeon. "Oh? Please?" you say.

Still fondling, I study your toys and realize that you've stocked the pleasure room mostly with feathers, blindfolds and riding crops. Your playthings aren't intended for real pain. "Fine. Stand up. It's punishment time." As we rise together I slide my other hand inside your corset and begin enjoying the exquisite pleasures of both breasts at once. Walking behind you I maneuver us into the dungeon. You survey the toys excitedly, tilting your head toward a new vibrator, still in its plastic package. The mechanical shaft looks fat and lifelike, except for the little clit stimulator on one end.

"Not the vibrator. Today, my dear, you get the stocks!" I slip my hands from your corset and open the pillory. Its hinge squeaks as I check the wooden cutouts intended to hold your head and hands in place. Good, it's very smooth. No splinters. You intended this to be a decorative piece of furniture but I will use it for real.

You bat your eyes again and look longingly at the vibrator. "But I thought we might take Goliath for a spin."

"Maybe later. For now it's the stocks. But not in here . . ." With a powerful heave I lift the entire pillory from the floor and carry it out of your dark dungeon and into our sunny kitchen. I open the small window that faces the side street and set the pillory to face it. Outside we clearly hear chirping birds. In the distance someone is riding a motorcycle. "Get in," I command.

"But my head will be facing the side street!"

"Yes, but that's all anyone will see." I beckon with my finger.

You bend over slowly and place your neck and wrists in the proper openings. "What if someone walks by? What will I tell them?"

"You'll think of something," I say, snapping the lock closed. The window is small so your hands are safely hidden, but your face is outside in broad daylight while the rest of your body is inside with me.

You feel me loosen the corset's straps but I don't remove it. I just cup your breasts in my hands to make sure your nipples are still aroused. I feel your tender morsels aching to be tasted. Now my hands move down your sides and indulge in touching your curvaceous hips. I'm not sure if this arouses you, but your legs are stunning and everything about them stimulates me. I explore your smooth thighs with my fingers, my palms, the backs of my hands, and even my lips. Deep inside me, the sensations of your body are stirring my blood. You can't see me, but I wonder if you can sense the carnal need that you are causing.

Soon you are feeling my busy hands removing the corset when your first challenge appears: a neighborhood girl is walking her dog right past your window. "Hey lady," she says, "why is your head hanging out the window like that?"

You don't have a response so you flash her your dazzling smile and take a moment to think. You decide to invent a form of sunbathing, but just then your over-stimulated nipple finds itself sucked into my mouth. My tongue laps at its delicious flesh with quick, passionate flicks. You find yourself telling the girl, "This is how they sunbathe in - - - OH MAN!"

The girl tilts her head and asks, "Where?"

Lightning bolts are shooting through your core, unleashing a deluge in your pussy. You feel my hand gliding up your thigh, preparing to check your moisture level as you respond to the girl. "I mean Oman. It's a country in the Middle - - - EEEEast!"

The girl scampers away.

My fingers are playing inside you now. I probe and pump, twist and twaddle, looking for your elusive G-spot. But this afternoon the search is unnecessary, your body is so aroused that your whole pussy has gone G-spot. Your body is a powder keg and I'm playing with matches.

There is no turning back now so I commit myself to the cause. My mouth switches from one steaming nipple to the other, my fingers pump hard against your inner walls, and now my thumb is bathed in enough of your juice that I can work your clit at full speed. Soon you are moaning with clenched teeth and closed eyes. A shattering orgasm washes over you with the passion sounds I love so much: "Nnnnng! Nnnnng! Ah! (gasp) Uhh-uhh-uhh!"

Your climax is still gaining strength when a man speaks to you from outside the house. "Young lady, what the hell are you doing?" he asks. Your tidal wave still on the upswell, you open your eyes to see an old man . . . no, two old men . . . are walking past your window.

No force in the universe could stop this orgasm. You must ride it out right in front of them. "Nnnnng! Nnnnng! (gasp) I'm meditating! Gah-ah-ah-ahhhh! It's my mantra-a-a! (gasp) Uh-uh-uhhh!"

They stare for a moment, then one of them raises two fingers to you, "Peace out, mother moon."

The other just shakes his head as they walk away. "That ain't how we did it back in Haight-Ashbury . . ."

You float gently to Earth and gather your senses. You're still locked in the pillory with no way to see what I'm doing. I haven't spoken a word, the sensations of your body are our only communication. Mercifully enough, right now I am only stimulating one part of you back there. You feel me gently kissing the tender outer folds of your pussy. You make a satisfied smile that I can't see as you enjoy the supple ministrations of my lips. It's just what you need to keep your motor running, and I'll keep kissing for as long as it takes for your depleted body to recover.

Your face is basking in the midday sun and your body is basking in the afterglow of an epic orgasm. Even though you are locked in a pillory, you whisper loud enough for me to hear: "You know, it doesn't get much better than this."

"What was that, deary? I couldn't hear you!" says the voice of our nosey next door neighbor. You see her coming around the corner wearing the hat and gloves of a gardener, though they are much too clean to have done any gardening. She gasps when she sees your head protruding from the window. "What on Earth are you doing?"

You feel my hands grasp your hips as I prepare to mount you. "It's called Omani sunbathing," you tell her. "You see, women in Oman like to cover their . . . Oh!"

I penetrate you slowly. Now your pussy is so sensitive that you can feel my cock's every furrow and contour moving inside you. You are juicy and relaxed so I slide in easily with one savory thrust. Then I begin making love to you at a pleasant, leisurely tempo.

"Cover their what?" she asks.

Even with your notorious gift for conversation you aren't sure you'll be able to keep talking to . . . what's her name? Oh god! This pleasure rippling through you is so delicious that you can't think of your neighbor's name!

"They cover their bodies," you say, putting a little too much 'ah' in the word 'bodies' as you sway your hips to meet me.

But what's-her-name is just getting started. "Really? I thought they covered their faces. Don't they wear headscarves in Oman?"

I hope you will end your conversation somehow, so I send subtle messages through your body. I plunge just a little faster, just a little deeper, my grasp on your flesh just a little stronger. Then my fingertips stroke the small of your back causing the first few goosebumps on your tingling skin. You know that eventually my hands will make their way to your breasts. They will wander past several erogenous zones along the way, but when they reach those tender nipples all hell will break loose.

Your face shows only a hint of the blazing union that is rocking both of us. You turn to what's-her-name and say, "This is a special sunbathing ritual. And it requires privacy."

"Oh, I see," she studies the way your unreasonably happy smile reacts to my thrusts. "Looks like you're really enjoying your, um, ritual."

She backs away politely but lingers a little, watching you. Of course I think she has already left so I choose this moment to put more zeal into our joyride. My vigorous pounding sends a thrill through you triggering an involuntary gasp. What's-her-name raises a suspicious eyebrow. To preserve the illusion of a ritual you focus on your breathing, matching the sway of our bodies with each deep breath. You discover that this respiration regime adds to your pleasure. These great gulps of sultry summer air fuel your fire, but deep breaths must be boring to what's-her-name because she disappears around the corner.

The next few minutes are uninterrupted, blissful love making. As we build toward climax I caress that special place below your breastbone, then the other just below your arm, visiting all your favorite hot spots, at least the ones below your neck. When at last my hands grasp your nipples your breath dissolves into those primal sounds I love so much. This time no one is around to hear you, so you sing out the sweetest moan I've ever heard. At that moment I erupt inside you with warm surges of my essence. Then my strokes gradually mellow to a gentle gait. You savor the soft tingle of my cock churning our juices. At last I pause deep inside you. For a moment of magical intimacy we experience each other's heartbeats.

I press my lips to your back and slowly pull out of you. Your gaping pussy feels the cool sensation of air conditioning swirl inside you, and you find yourself slightly disappointed. My cock may be drained but you still have a little fun left in you.

You give your hips a playful sway. "Mmmm. That punishment was fabulous. Now let me out."

"No, not yet," I say. You can't see what I'm doing, but you hear a plastic package being ripped open.

You feign surprise. "What? More punishment?"

You hear the snap! snap! snap! as I insert a ridiculous number of batteries. "Not punishment. This is reward. I think you've earned a visit from Goliath. Don't you?"

You steel yourself for the coming onslaught. As the powerful thrum of a massive electric motor reaches your ears your first thought is, "Oh yes!" Then your second thought is, "Please, God, have the Girl Scouts selling cookies in some other neighborhood today!"

THE END