when's the last time you were completely entranced by a woman who could lay you down—blind fold you, then trace you with her fingers, carrrssing slowly while she dances to all the sensitive areas that lit you on fire
Anyway, you end up caught in her spell, all that glowing stuff and images in your denied vision, nails barely gliding over your skin. Something soft closes around your wrists, then your ankles, and you can’t help but smile because she bound you to the bed—your pleasure is only by her will, when you’ve convinced her you deserve it
And you inhale deeply, excited to enjoy this new twist she’s brought to your bedroom. You feel her weight shift, she gets comfortable, then… silence. No sound. No movement. You can’t even hear her breathing—so you strain your ears trying to pinpoint where she is in the room, but the only sense of presence that comes back is yours. Which, okay, that hits anxiety fast, because you imagine being found tied and naked in the bed—just not by them.
You start shifting your weight, trying to free yourself slightly from the knots that refuse you leverage, and something small and flat slaps your outer thigh, smartly—“you are not allowed to move. stay still.” You feel her circling you like a panther, eyes on its next meal. Her gloved hand starts that little circle dance again, up your skin, then to you-know-where, and she grabs it and you flinch. It’s so engorged from the desire she aroused—“that’s my good boi.”
Then something warm and very wet lands on the tip and slowly drips down, and you feel the unmistakable feel of the back of her throat on the tip. She closes her lips around the base and steadily pushes all of you in and down and in slow until she can’t fight her own reflexs and gags loudly around the obstruction, wedges deep in her vocal cords. Wait—yes, you smile, but you try to grab her hair to push her back down, then you realize you’re still tied. dammit. The bed gives way on each side of your hips—hot and wet touches your tip again, and you hold your breath while you feel your cock part her warm moist folds, sinking into her rose as she positions herself on top of you, then stops midway and you almost lose your composure.
“W-w-wh-whats wrong—why you stop?” Her hair brushes your cheek, lips tickle your ear, and she whispers, “i don’t think you want it bad enough. your gonna have to prove you want this pussy.” Her tongue flicks your ear. “break free and take it.” You strain against the restraints, and you feel the cuff break—hands come free. Leaving the blindfold in place, you smile almost evilly: “careful what you wish for…….”
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