"Crap! Nuthin' to do 'round here."
He got up off the couch and walked into the kitchen. "Nothing to eat in here, nuthin' in the fridge." he muttered as he slammed the door, causing some eggs to fly out of the egg rack inside the door. Opening the door to inspect the mess, he saw three broken yolks slowly dripping from the top rack. "Damn it, fuck, shit" he screamed as he repeatedly slammed the door again and again. Kicking the clothes on the floor as he tromped toward the living room, he continued cursing under his breath. "What the fuck?" he yelled as he plopped himself onto the couch. The T.V. remote was within reach of his hand. He grabbed it and started surfing the channels for something interesting to watch. Flipping past some cooking shows and Fishing with Bill Dance, he came across an old episode of Charlies' Angels. "All right, Farrah Fawcett, I'd do her in a second."
Sitting back to enjoy the view, his hand slowly found its way under the waistband of his pants. There she was, right there on the screen, running after the bad guy, wearing a bikini, hair whipping in the wind, breasts bouncing up and down. Ah the memories of the adolescent fantasies this show conjured up.
It was starting to get dark outside and becoming dimmer in the room. The figure on the couch had dozed off. The T.V. screen had turned to the snow of a station that had concluded its broadcast day.
The knob on the door began to rotate slowly. The barrier creaked quietly as it cautiously swung open. A black leather clad foot carefully stepped onto the carpet. Pausing for a moment, the other foot followed. A hand, engulfed in a membrane of similar form, cautiously shut the door behind. The feet, at a leisurely pace, moved toward the couch and the body which lay upon it. The hand clutched some leather thongs from the black rawhide belt cinched around the waist of this mysterious trespasser. The sable integument gingerly wrapped the leather restraints around the wrists of the napping man, being careful not to waken him. Reaching for another thong, the hands quietly bound the ankles of the man. The incomprehensible silhouette backed away from the couch and waited.
The sleeping man awoke to a feeling of confinement. "What the fuck? What's got... Shit!"
"Quiet." Said a throaty voice calmly
"Who's there?" he said as he tried to make out the outline of the character from which the voice came.
"I said quiet." the voice replied sternly.
"Who are you?" He asked.
"If you continue to talk, I will quiet you."
"Wha'?"
The figure jumped up and stood still for a moment. The bound man became startled at the intruders action. The figure walked slowly toward the man. "What are you going to..."
The sound of ripping duct tape stopped him in mid sentence. A foot landed squarely on his chest, forcing him to lie flat on his back. Struggling to sit up, he was met with more force on his chest. He felt the gluey adhesive fasten over his mouth. "I told you I would quiet you."
The foot was removed from his chest and he sat up. "I want to remove the tape, but you will remain quiet. Do you understand?"
He thought for a moment.
"Do you understand?"
He sheepishly nodded his head. An ebony gloved hand came toward his cheek and ripped the tape from his mouth. "I will tell you what I want you to do. You will remain quiet. You will do as I command. You will not resist in any way. You will obey me. You will enjoy."
"Enjoy?" He thought as he tried to get a better look at his captor. For some reason, it seemed to be getting lighter and he was able to make out the shape of the intruder.
Roughly six feet tall and encased a in coal black leather costume. The face was also covered with leather except for two small eye holes and a small hole for the mouth. The figure seemed to be that of a woman, thin waist, but small breast and hips.
"I'll have you lie on the floor on your back... now."
He complied. Bandage scissors emerged from behind the intruder. The blades opened. Slowly the scissors began to cut up his pant leg, working towards his crotch in a rhythmic opening and closing, cutting the faded denim across the zipper, working slowly down the other leg. The cutting edge came up to his t-shirt sleeve and began its dissection. He felt the cutter glide across his chest, snagging a hair or two.
The sun made the living room curtain glow with a radiant warmth. He watched the stranger burrow into a bag. Out of it came a large bottle of what looked like cooking oil. "Oh boy, oil!" He thought, as he watched the lid being unscrewed from the container. The bottle hovered over his naked body and slowly tilted, the oil drenching his chest and legs and face. A gloved hand reached for his penis and began to massage it, slowly rubbing up and down. He began to moan. The hand grabbed his cock and balls with a firm grip and twisted. Suddenly, he yelled out in pain. "You bitch!".
The hand twisted even more. "Aaaaaaahhhhhh" he screamed.
"I told you to stay quiet. Stay quiet!". He nodded his head in compliance. The grip loosened.
The other hand grasped a zipper between the shiny leather legs and pulled it open, unzipping the crotch all the way to the back, exposing her cunt. She stood up and straddled him and slowly descended onto his face. "Stick out your tongue."
He stuck out his tongue and flicked it back and forth.
She began to moan and wriggle. He sucked hard and shook his head. She started to grind her pelvis, throwing her head back, breathing heavy and groaning. She ground harder and he sucked vigorously, lapping up the sweet nectar that was coming from this joining of the souls. Harder and harder, faster and faster. She arched her back, ready to release the energy that was building inside, ready to rupture the barrier that held back the force of climatic emission. So close...So close...Sooo...ooo...ooo CCClloooosssee... . She falls backwards, unable to breath, muscles contracting throughout her body, tingling, spasming, seemingly unable to control anything in her soul, enduring the squeezing ecstasy she so relishes. Soon she curls up like a newborn, luxuriating in a fervent luminescence.
A short time goes by before he dares speak. "Uh, excuse me, miss?".
She slowly stirs and sits up. She stretches, her leather ensemble crackles as she zips up the crotch.
Puzzled, he wonders when he will get to get off. "Uh, what about me?"
"What about you?"
"Don't I get to come?"
"Nope."
With that, She reaches for the door and opens it.
"Wait, come back!" he yelled. "Don't leave me here!".
The door closes behind her.
"... and the weather forecast for this morning calls for sunny skies this afternoon with highs in the seventies. Right now it's sixty five degrees downtown."
A hand reached over to hit the snooze. As she sat up and tossed the covers away, she stretched and ran her hands over her breasts, lazily vaulting out of bed, she saunters to the bathroom... unaware of the wet spot on her sheets.
20.12.11