Speaker 1: The laptop screen glowed in the darkness of my son,
Jake's bedroom, and I should have looked away. I should
have closed it the second I realized what was playing.
But my feet stayed rooted to the carpet, my eyes
fixed on the writhing figures. A woman lay spread eagled
on a bed, black silk scarves binding her wrists and
ankles to the four posts. A blindfold covered her eyes.
She was completely exposed, utterly vulnerable, and a man I
couldn't see clearly moved over her, his hands roaming wherever
they pleased. Oh God, I whispered, my hand flying to
my chest. The woman moaned, arching her back as the
stranger's mouth found her breast. Her nipples hardened under his tongue.
I watched, transfixed, as he kissed his way down her stomach.
My son had been watching this, Jake, my twenty year
old son, home from his junior year of college, have
been masturbating to this exact video. The thought sent an
unexpected throb between my legs. What the hell was wrong
with me? I backed out of the room, leaving the
laptop exactly as I'd found it. My heart hammered against
my ribs. I needed to forget what I'd seen. I
needed to pretend I'd never walked in there looking for
his dirty laundry. But that night, in bed beside my
husband Mark, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Mark, I said,
my voice barely above a whisper. He rolled toward me,
his eyes heavy with sleep. What's wrong, nothing, I just
I swallowed hard. I found something on Jake's computer today.
His eyebrows rose. Porn, kinky stuff, a woman tied up, blindfolded,
being used by a stranger. Mark was quiet for a moment.
Then his hand found my hip under the sheets, his
fingers tracing the curve of my waist, and and I
can't stop thinking about it. His touch grew more deliberate,
sliding over my hip bone toward the heat gathering between
my thighs. Does it turn you on? Yes? I breathed,
that our son is into that, that he likes watching
women's surrender control. Mark's fingers dipped lower, stroking me through
the thin cotton of my panties. I was already soaked.
You're wet, he observed, his voice, dropping an octave. You
want to be heard, don't you? The woman in the video.
I whimper as he pushed my panties aside, his fingertips
sliding through my slick folds. Maybe we could make that happen.
My eyes flew open in the darkness. I could find someone,
set it up. You'd never see his face, never know
who he was. A full body shiver ran through me.
You'd let another man fuck me. I'd watch another man
fuck you. I'd be right there the whole time to
make sure it went well. I came on his hand,
my orgasm crashing through me without warning. Mark swallowed my
cries with his mouth, kissing me deeply as I shook.
An hour later, he had me on my back in
Jake's empty bed, my legs wrapped around his waist while
he thrust into me. The room smelled like our sun,
his cologne, his laundry, detergent, something unmistakably masculine and young.
Tell me what you're thinking about, Mark demanded, driving deeper.
I gripped his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin.
Jake watching that video getting himself off. You're a dirty
fucking bitch, aren't you, Yes, I gasped, God, Yes, the
things our son must think about. The fantasies he must have.
I clenched around Mark's cock, imagining Jake in this very bed,
stroking himself while watching that bound woman take a stranger's cock.
My husband fucked me harder, and I met each thrust
with a desperate hunger I hadn't felt in years. When
Mark came inside me, I was right there with him,
my second orgasm, leaving me trembling and breathless beneath his weight.
Two weeks later, I stood in a hotel room forty
minutes from our house, my heart threatening to beat out
of my chest. A black silk blindfold covered my eyes.
I wore nothing else. Mark was waiting in the car outside.
The bedspread was soft against the backs of my thighs.
I'd positioned myself exactly as the woman in the video
had been, lying on my back, legs slightly parted, arms
at my sides, waiting. The door clicked open. Footsteps approached.
I smelled something woodsy, sandalwood, maybe mixed with young sweat,
and something familiar I couldn't quite place. Beautiful. A voice
said it was young, smooth, deliberately pitched low to avoid recognition.
The mattress dipped between my ankles. Strong hands gripped my calves,
pushing my knees apart. I let out a shaky breath.
Don't move unless I tell you to, I nodded. He
started with my feet, pressing his thumbs into my arches,
his fingers circling my ankles. Slowly, methodically, he worked his
way up my body, calves, knees, thighs. His touch was
confident and demanding, claiming every inch of me. By the
time his mouth found my cunt, I was dripping wet.
He licked me with expert precision, long slow strokes that
had me squirming against the sheets. I said, don't move.
His hands pinned my hips to the mattress. Then his
tongue found my clit, and I forgot everything. My name,
the hotel room. Please, I moaned. He pulled back, Please what, Please,
let me come. His laugh was low and dark. Not yet,
he flipped me over onto my stomach, his hands spreading
my ass cheeks wide. When his tongue found my asshole,
I nearly sobbed. No one had ever touched me there.
But he didn't hesitate. He licked and probed until I
was pushing back against his face, desperate for more. You
like that don't you being used like a fucking toy? Yes,
I gasped into the pillow. He pulled me up onto
my knees, forcing my head down and my ass up.
A moment later, his cock pressed against my entrance. He
didn't go slow. He buried himself to the hilt in
one hard thrust, and I screamed into the mattress. He
felt huge, thick and long, stretching me more than I'd
ever been stretched. That's it, Take every fucking inch. He
fucked me like he owned me. Each thrust drove me forward,
his hip slamming against my ass. I could feel his
balls swinging against my clit, and the obscenity of it
pushed me closer to the edge. Flip over, I rolled
onto my back. He entered me again, his hands pushing
my knees to my chest. In this position, he went
even deeper, so deep I could feel him in my stomach.
Look at me, he commanded. I couldn't. The blindfold still
covered my eyes, but I opened my mouth beneath it, gasping,
and his mouth found mine. We kissed sloppily, desperately, our
tongues tangling while he fucked me harder. I came first,
my third orgasm of the night, detonating through my body.
He followed seconds later, groaning into my mouth as he
pumped himself empty. I reached up with a hand that
had come free and felt his face was covered in
a mask covered in sequins. When he finally pulled out,
I lay there shaking. I heard him dress, heard the
door open and close. Then Mark was there, untying my wrists,
kissing my forehead, telling me how beautiful I looked. But
as I peeled the blindfold from my eyes, my mind
kept returning to that kiss, the taste of him, the urgency,
the strange familiarity I couldn't place. A week later, I
was in Jake's bedroom to take out his laundry when
something fell from the hamper, A sequined black mask, slender
and elegant, with tiny beads that caught the light. Oh shit.
I hoped you enjoyed today's sexy story. If you love
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you want to hear. Maybe we can make your dirty
dreams come true. See you soon.