by Jenny Bonici

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© Copyright 2006 - Jenny Bonici - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF; date; sex; multi-climax; M/f; wager; bond; bedtie; ropes; gag; tape; spreadeagle; tease; tickle; sex; climax; cons; X

Or - Sometimes You Can Get Too Much Of A Good Thing

Darren was the best-looking hunk in the same year as me at college. Standing six foot two with a great body and blond wavy hair - he also captained the college football team - what more could a girl ask for? One day I was chatting to him in a break between lectures and admitted that I knew absolutely nothing about football. He said the team was playing at home on Saturday so why didn’t I come and find out what it was all about?

So Saturday afternoon saw me standing on the sideline cheering on our team and slowly getting to understand some of the mysteries of the game. When the final whistle blew I was about to head home when Darren spotted me as. He ran over, “Don’t go, come and join us for a couple of drinks in the clubhouse.”

It was too good an invitation to miss. But first he had to shower and change into some clothes less caked in mud. The after-game get-together was quite a party and seemed set to continue late into the night. It was still going strong when a group of us left and headed for a disco in the city. It was the early hours of the morning when we left and Darren hailed a cab to take the pair of us home.

“You want to come in?” I asked when we got to my apartment.

He didn’t need asking twice. Needless to say we had soon hopped into the sack and I found out first hand that footballers are fit and seem to have boundless stamina. I was already hot and wet when his fingers first probed my sex piece. I took as much of his dick into my mouth as I could manage and made sure that it too was well lubricated before it slid into my eagerly awaiting hole.

My first orgasm was in the missionary position, then another and then one more - I had never had multiple orgasms before. His lips clamped over mine and his tongue filled my mouth probably to stop me waking the neighbourhood with my moans and squeals of delight. His thrusting showed no sign of slowing up, but I was getting cramp. So we rolled over and I rode him. God, I was coming again. Both our bodies were covered in sweat and by now there was a big wet patch on the sheets. So we rolled over again and he took me doggy style.

At last, when he had pumped me full of all of his semen and I had just about run out of any more juice, we both collapsed exhausted in each others arms a fell into a deep sleep on the only dry part of the bed. The sun was streaming through the window when we awoke. I think he was ready to start all over again but I insisted that a shower was the top of my priorities. No sooner had I started running the water than he joined me.

Perhaps I should not have squirted soap on his dick and started washing his balls with a sponge. Perhaps he should not have insisted on making sure that my tits were clean. But whatever the reason his dick was soon inside me once more. Surely we could not cum again with all that water cascading over us - but we both did. We towelled one another dry and I slipped on a wrap then fixed my hair. The wrap did not hide much as it was very see-through and was intended to be worn over a matching nightie.

Darren’s comment when he saw me was, ”Wow! Are you trying to get us started all over again?”

He held me in his arms and said that we had got to do this all over again when he got back from his trip to the islands - he was catching a plane later that afternoon to fly off to some island or other where he was studying the local economy for his thesis. After we had fixed coffee and had breakfast he had to leave to go back to his place to collect all the stuff he needed for his trip. As I said goodbye I thought, “If sex is always as good as that, he can come again anytime!”

When he had gone I stripped the bed and dumped the still damp sheets and pillowcases in the washing machine. I had hardly started doing the weekly chores around the apartment when there was a knock at the door. When I opened it there was Brendan one of the regulars members of Unities, the college Bondage Club. I half-opened the door using it to hide my barely covered body.

“Oh, it’s you!” I stammered.

“Well, that’s not much of a welcome. Who were you expecting? Aren’t you pleased to see me?” he asked.

“Oh, of course, you know I’m always pleased to see you - it’s just I forgot that you were coming. Come on in.“

Judging by the bulge in his jeans it was obvious that he was very pleased to see me - especially as the only thing between his eyes and my body was a see-through wrap. The more he looked, the bigger that bulge became. Brendan might not have had the pecs and body of Darren, but he more that made up for that deficiency with the size of his sex piece - he had the biggest dick that I had ever seen.

What bothered me was not that he was dropping round to lend me some the bondage mags but that he was also coming round to collect on a bet. The other day over lunch we had got round to talking about Africa and he had said that the Nile was the longest river in the World. I disagreed and insisted that the Amazon was. In the end we agreed that the one who was wrong was to let the other one tie him or her up for as long as it took for the winner to make the loser cum three times. I had lost - the Nile is 4160 miles long whereas the Amazon is only about 4000 miles long.

I doubted whether today I could cum again three times after the sexual romp of the last 8 hours. Of course I could always try to fake an orgasm but, as Brendan was a fourth-year medical student, he would probably see through that. Brendan’s rucksack was filled with all the ropes, straps and other gear he had brought along to make me completely helpless. I tried stalling and making excuses that I wasn’t really in the mood for bondage at the moment. But it was not long before I found myself once again naked and laying flat on my back on the bed.

This time, however, I was being tied spreadeagled. He buckled leather cuffs around my wrists and ankles and then used lengths of rope to tie them to the four bedposts. But why hadn’t he stretched me out tight? I soon found out when he buckled more leather cuffs round each arm above the elbow and each leg above the knee. He then passed a length of rope though the D-rings on the cuffs on the right arm and right leg and pulled it tight before tying it off. He repeated the dose with the left arm and left leg.

My arms and legs were now bent and all the slack in the ropes attaching my wrists and ankles to the bedposts was taken up. It also had the effect of raising my knees and spreading my thighs so as to more expose my pussy. Just to make doubly sure that I wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry he tied lengths of rope to the centre of each knee-to-thigh rope and tied the other ends off to the bed frame at the sides of the bed. This also tightened the spreadeagle ropes even more. All the time I kept glancing at that ever-increasing bulge in his jeans. I know it looked huge, now I was going to find out just how huge.

He stood back to admire his work. I was protesting that the ropes were pulled too tight to which I got the obvious response, “Now, now, we can’t have you making a lot of noise, can we?”

I really must remember to keep my mouth shut in these situations in the future. He reached into his rucksack and came out with a huge pear-shaped gag. “Come on, open up.”

I clenched my teeth but to no avail, he squeezed my nose until I had to breathe through my mouth. Even then I tried to suck in air by just parting my lips whilst keeping my teeth firmly clenched, but he pressed his thumb and forefinger into my cheeks and forced my mouth wide open. He pushed the fat pear past my teeth. It filled my mouth and with the broad strap buckled tightly behind my head there was no way that I was going to push it out. Next he got a roll of 2 inch-wide surgical tape out of his rucksack - doctors never seem to be short of surgical tape - and proceeded to wrap it round my head several times to seal the gag in my mouth.

“Now I’ll have to start faking orgasms,” I thought. But I was wrong. He just left me tied to the bed.

“Excuse me for a while,” he said in his best bedside manner, “I’ve got an assignment I have to finish. Struggle a bit if it turns you on, but you won’t escape.”

With that he got his laptop out of his rucksack and started typing. All the wriggling and mmmmphing through the gag I did was to no avail, I got no nearer to getting loose and he just kept on typing. After an hour, or maybe longer, he closed the laptop and said, “I suppose we’d better do something with you - after all, a bet is a bet.”

He started stroking my body, his hands and fingers following every curve and contour - first my tits, then my nipples, my stomach, the insides of my thighs and just about every other sensitive area of my skin. Finally his fingers started to play with my pussy - first the outer lips, then the clit, then deep inside searching out my G-spot. I think that part of his medical course must have been the identification of every sensitive area on a woman’s body. Just when I thought that he was taking me over the edge and a faked orgasm would be out of the question, he stopped.

“I’d better let you cool off a little,” he said, “or else the excitement may be too much for you.”

My whole body was screaming out for him to carry on, but gradually I came down off my high. He made sure I cooled right off by tickling the soles of my feet, my toes and then my under armpits. He continued to tickle me in places that I never knew I was ticklish. I just had to suffer the torment. After a short break he started to again play my body like a musical instrument, this time bringing me even near to cumming before he stopped.

“Ah, my girl,” he muttered, “we’d better finish you off this time of else you might just have a nervous breakdown.”

With that he started to strip off his clothes. When he was completely naked he rolled a ribbed condom with a clit tickler on to his enormous dick. “You can’t be too safe these days, can you? And I always think that all these dimples and bumps give the lady far more enjoyment, don’t you?”

By now his dick had assumed frightening proportions. But before I was to find out how enormous, he again used his hands to make sure that I was still on the boil. At last he climbed on the bed and, opening my lips with his fingers, he slid the tip of his dick into me. Just a little way at first, then further, then more until the whole length of the shaft was inside me. I have never felt so filled and until I have a baby I doubt that I’ll ever feel so stretched. Then, slowly at first, then a little faster - I could certainly feel the ‘dimples and bumps’ as the monster rhythmically drove in and out.

Oh God, I was going to cum. I just could not stop the thrusting of my hips. I bit down hard of the pear that filled my mouth. My fingers were clutching at the air. My toes were wriggling and there was nothing I could do to stop them. I had a shattering orgasm - nothing fake about that one! Inside my head I was screaming for him to stop and for him to keep going - both at the same time. But I was not in control and the great shaft just kept of grinding in and out. I came again and again and again. For someone who had never had multiple orgasms, I had now had them twice in the same day.

When was he going to stop? I was glad he had put on a condom, if not I was afraid that when that monster did cum the force of the jet would have sent semen squirting out of my mouth, ears and nose! I came again - that’s five times and the bet was only for three.

At last I felt his thrusting quicken and the shaft being pushed ever deeper into me. I knew he was about to cum. Then with one last thrust followed by a series of smaller ones he shot his load. After a short rest to regain his strength I felt the now softer piece of meat being withdrawn. He got off the bed and went into the bathroom to have a shower.

When he returned some while later he was fully dressed and, standing at the side of the bed in his best doctor’s fashion, he said, “I suppose I’d better keep to my part of the bet and release you now that you’ve cum at least three times. It seems a pity really as I think you thoroughly enjoyed that while it lasted.”

With that he started to undo the ropes. I was free at last - except for the gag. My drool and sweat had helped loosen the surgical tape around my mouth and cheeks but it still stuck fast to my hair. After several painful tugs it was off. Now it was only a matter of unbuckling the strap and pushing that fat pear out of my aching mouth.

I looked at the clock on the bedside table; it was just after 3 in the afternoon. Jeepers, I’d been screwed almost non-stop for twelve hours. No wonder my pussy felt that it would never return to normal and my thighs just did not seem to want to come together. Now I think I know how prostitutes must feel after a hard night’s work.


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