The Summerhouse

The smooth asphalt drive, flanked by low level lighting pillars, swept majestically into the trees and out of sight. Geoff swung his van confidently around the bend, revealing a house contemporary in style, yet in keeping with the older properties nearby. Mind you, set in 18 acres, other properties were not that near and with an uninterrupted view of the estuary to the rear of the property it was clearly the home of someone not short of either money or taste. 

My gardener Geoff had been referring to a big landscaping job that he was supposedly in the middle of for so long that it had become something of a joke between us. So when he casually asked if I would like to see the fruits of his labours I naturally thought he was joking.
"No, I'm serious", he had earnestly assured me. "The owners are going away for a few days before they give a big garden party on Saturday, so you can come round with me and see how the other half live. It's magnificent."

And it was. The grounds were a mixture of original woodland, open meadow and, nearer the house, formal gardens. It was here that Geoff had been doing most of his work for the past six months. I'm not a keen gardener, why do you think I employ Geoff? (apart from the wonderfully inventive sex), but the tour he gave was both informative and fascinating. The big disappointment was that I didn't have my gardener to myself as people were swarming around the gigantic glass-enclosed swimming pool and adjacent paved terrace. It seemed there was going to be an impressive party this weekend. Suddenly the penny dropped.
"Is this where you're bringing me to dinner tomorrow night?" I queried. Geoff had been very coy about that date. He smiled enigmatically.
"It might be", he replied, non-committally. "You might find out before then of course," he added, as if that might mean something to me. He strode on ahead and danced lightly down the steps to the garden level below. My high-heeled sandals tapped rapidly after him.

"Hey! You said we would be sticking to proper paths, you meanie" I called as he hurried ahead across the grass. I clung on to the stone banister rail with one hand, following him down the steps as quickly as I dared, whilst desperately trying to prevent my rather too short mini skirt from flying around my waist as it met a stiff breeze coming off the sea. I smiled broadly at the appreciative glances from the catering crew on the steps and finally caught Geoff up as he approached the bottom of the long meadow. The house was now half hidden by trees, which had finally revealed a wooden summerhouse tucked into the bottom corner of the grounds. It was something of a surprise, so homely and rustic after the sophistication of the house and formal gardens.
"What on earth do they want this down here for?" I asked rather breathlessly, "when they have all that"; I waved in the direction of the house, "up there".
"Well, it's just an idea I had" admitted Geoff. "I thought it was a nice touch". He threw open the glazed double doors and waved me inside. 

The walls were hung with rich red carpets and rugs. There was a small bookcase laden with well-thumbed paperbacks, on a low table there was some tea and coffee making paraphernalia along with some miscellaneous bottles and below the table some bats, balls, sticks and netting. In the centre of the summerhouse was a large low heavy looking table about the size of a typical front door, and flanking that two large ancient-looking armchairs. Rustic indeed. I turned to Geoff, "Mmmph…" He threw his arms around me and clamped his lips over mine as we melded into one amorous mass. With mutual and unspoken understanding we edged towards that long low table and sank down, his weight pushing me against the unyielding oak, our hands roaming freely, our breath coming faster. At length Geoff pulled away from me a little and ran his large, but oh so gentle, hands up my body, over my breasts and on above my head carrying my arms with him. He leaned into me again and kissed me firmly. Despite such delicious attention I could sense his hands were busy with something and the cold chink of steel finally told me what. 

"Mpph!" I pushed his lips away with a twist of my head. "What are you doing?"  He pushed himself deftly off me and I realised he had handcuffed my hands to one end of the table. A flash of white rope curled across my stomach and was made fast in a trice. I was now lying on my back on this table with my hands cuffed above my head and unable to roll off the table by virtue of the rope across my middle.
"I think this answers your question" he smiled. "I'm tying you to the table." He calmly produced more rope and started to tie the middle of a seemingly long piece of rope to my right ankle, leaving both ends trailing down to the floor. I tried to wriggle out from under the midriff rope but my hands had been cuffed below tabletop height and the resultant strain on my arms made escape hard, especially as Geoff was attaching ropes to me at the same time. With both ankles yet unbound but trailing ends of rope, Geoff tied a further length of rope to each leg, just above each knee. This time only one end was left trailing. 
"Geoff, is this a good idea? Anyone might come down from the house."
"No, they're far too busy. Anyway no one knows this place is here. Don't worry". He smiled broadly down at me. "Don't worry. This will all go according to plan, I promise. Trust me." 

I smiled a frown at him and surrendered to the delicious feel of the ropes. He picked up my right ankle and I reflexively stiffened the leg. Geoff bent down and applied a gentle prod behind my knee at the same time as he pushed my ankle towards my head. The knee bent and my right thigh was squashed against my right breast, as my leg was doubled up on top of me. Then one of the trailing ankle ropes was quickly led to the table leg near my head and made fast. The procedure was repeated with my left leg. Now neither leg could be straightened, and as Geoff took the second trailing rope from each ankle and secured it to its respective bottom table leg, my legs were drawn further apart and movement up or down the table became impossible. 

Next he took the ropes trailing from above my knees and gently, but very tightly, led them under the edge of the table, pulling my legs even wider apart, and made them fast. Now I was sure the fact I was not wearing panties under my sheer to the waist tights (pantyhose) was very evident. Geoff's gentle fingers highlighted the fact he had noticed as well, and the moistness brought on by our embrace and the rope work started to turn into wetness. The final touches to my bondage were ropes around each arm, just above the elbows, led again under the table edge somewhere. These held my elbows open and as Geoff observed, stopped me from trying to hide my face in my arms.

He stood back and admired his handiwork, walking around me and telling me in some detail how he would love to take advantage of my predicament, but was far too busy. But then he knelt at the bottom of the table and leant forward, until I could feel his breath on my pussy lips. His tongue teased me to a pleading moan, at which point he jumped up and said he had some work to do at the house. With a quick "see you later, don't go away", he disappeared, throwing me a fleeting farewell smile, but at least having the decency to close the door behind him.

My cries of disapproval went unheeded and I was left to squirm against my inventive, effective and revealing bondage, but to no avail of course. I just hoped that none of the staff up at the house wandered in this direction for a sly smoke.
I'm not sure how much time passed before shadows fell across the rugged wall and two male silhouettes appeared, peering in from the brightness outside through the glass door. My heart pounded as I felt a mixture of excitement and fear.
"Go away. This is private property!" I called, with more confidence than I felt. With my legs tied open to reveal my nylon-sheathed pussy and bum the last thing I felt was confident and I really didn't want two strangers walking in and taking advantage of the situation. But the door opened and two men in their early twenties walked confidently into the summerhouse. Smiling faces full of approval greeted me as the men walked around my table and addressed each other as though I were a statue.

"Very nice eh Simon?" said the taller, rhetorically, as they circled me. 
"Yeah. And so bloody well tied up as well." The younger looking one sat down at the end of the table and leaned forward to run his fingers up the inside of my parted thighs, pausing just before he reached the cleft of my shaven pussy. I didn't know if I should scream with indignation at the assault, or moan with frustration at a job half done; after all he was very good looking.
"Who the hell do you think you are and what are you doing here" I finally managed to blurt out. The taller one paused in his circuits and faced me.
"Well now Auntie Jan, that's not very friendly, is it?" he stood wagging his finger at me as I stared back in astonishment. It couldn't be…It was!
"You're erm…." My mind groped for a name from the past. "Tim Caldecott" was all I could finally croak in astonishment "and you're…"
"Simon", his younger brother helpfully finished for me.

"So what are you doing here?" I ventured, wondering how these two lads that I'd last known as neighbours' children when they still in their prams came to be surveying, with such obvious enthusiasm, my private parts.
"We live here" they chorused, "or at least our parents do", corrected Tim, "and we're home for their big bash tomorrow night". He smiled as he leaned forward and caressed my other thigh; "You are coming, I believe?" he queried with a smile.
"Yes", I replied, as my eyes screwed around watching him stand up and walk to where my head protruded over the top edge of the table. He stood with the front of his thighs touching the top of my head and I saw him casually unzip his flies, allowing his slim but long semi-erect prick to spring out, about a foot above my face. Then without any preamble he knelt on the corners of the table, straddling my face and lowered himself into my mouth. With my arms bound at the elbows I could shake my head from side to side but I couldn't evade the stiffening invader. My cry of protest only opened my lips to allow him entry, whereupon he started a gentle rhythmic pumping that rapidly lengthened his tool.

"Mmmmphh!" was my contribution to the conversation, as I watched Simon give up pawing at my pussy, only to take from his pocket a Leatherman™ tool, with which he snipped a neat and strategically placed hole in my expensive hosiery.
I gasped around Tim's throbbing member as his brother's tongue set to work on my nether lips, flooding my pussy and forcing me writhe in frustration against my restraints.
"She's a grand little fuck, isn't she?" Tim asked of his brother, between rapid gasps. 
"Mmmmppphhh! Mmmmmmmph!" I tried to add indignantly that it was rude to talk as if I was not there, but I was ignored.
"Mmm" Simon slurped noisily at my juices. "Very tasty", he agreed, as he diverted some of those juices down his fingers, for those same fingers, thus suitably lubricated, to start an assault on my bum hole.

I could feel a massive orgasm building up inside me, heightened as Tim erupted into my mouth, pulling out as he did, so half his cum went into my mouth and half splattered my face and hair. Simon's fingers did the rest for me, and I found myself watched at the moment of ecstasy by two lads I'd not seen for twenty years, and unable to cover myself, or indeed move in any way at all. 

The brothers casually changed places and my demands for respite were cut short by Simon's thicker, shorter and already bone hard, manhood. Whilst I gagged on the stronger taste I felt Tim's slim, but long and also rock hard prick, slide into my wide open, defenceless and dripping pussy. Hmmm. That felt good. But my bondage prevented me from moving to take full advantage of the pair, and the frustration built to fuel another orgasm for me. Simon said later that the sight of me roped down to the table with my legs up and skirt around my waist, crotch totally exposed for Tim's tool, did it for him and he duly exploded into my mouth with a satisfied groan.

I lay on the table, feeling wet at both ends, watching the boys rearrange their trousers.
"You couldn't just wipe my…"
"No!" Interrupted Tim, "We won't. You look fine, sperm suits you". He nodded at Simon and turned back to me. 
"As you want cleaning up, I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll give you an enema."
"You'll what?" I gasped.
"Well you were a little belligerent when we came in, it's only fair you should be punished for speaking to us like that, after all it is our house, so to speak."

"It's your parents' house and anyway don't you think…" my voice tailed away as Simon hung a bucket up above the table on a convenient hook. That and the professional looking hose with a tap made me realise this had been planned and I was going to get an enema and that was that. My legs tried to squeeze close and Simon grinned as he watched me struggle. 
"You are beautifully placed and there's nothing at all you can do to stop us shoving this tube up your bum", he deftly inserted the end of the hose into my still moist rosebud, "and opening the floodgates". His actions continued to suit the words and the tube kicked as water flooded inside me while my two tormentors smiled.

"There!" Simon declared, as the flood ceased. "Hold that until Geoff gets back and all will fine. Make a mess and we're all promised some entertainment tomorrow night." The pair beamed at me as they placed the empty bucket on the floor and headed for the door.
"Hold on in there", they chorused as they too closed the door behind them.

By the time my saviour returned I was trembling on the verge of defeat, with my face contorted with effort and concentration and gentle moaning filling the summerhouse. Or so Geoff reported. I was just relieved he didn't beat about the bush, but promptly released me in time for me to stumble to the back of the summerhouse and yank my skirt up and tights down before the inevitable cascade burst forth. Voyeur that he is Geoff stood and calmly watched me, calmly handing me some towelling to clean myself up with.
"I still haven't got my own back on you for that last stunt you pulled on me at dinner a few weeks ago. Well this does it. You'd better watch out, because I'm plotting." 
Geoff grinned as he offered me his hand for the walk back up the meadow.
"Oh good" he replied, "that's something to look forward to isn't it".

14/04/01