Weekend at Bettie's

by Kevin Quinn

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© Copyright 2022 - Kevin Quinn - Used by permission

Storycodes: F+/m; bond; chairtie; bedtie; straps; oral; cuffs; collar; leash; gag; susp; rope; tease; playroom; lingerie; cons; XX

Continues from

What has gone before: Bettie is Kevin’s new girlfriend. Kevin has agreed to serve during the weekend as a bound sexual study aid for the 18-year-old daughters of Bettie’s friend, Page, with whom he had had a torrid bondage affair in the past. The first night, Friday, was devoted to learning the arts of foreplay and hand jobs. The second night is being planned.

Part 3: Music of the Night

On Saturday morning, over breakfast, Bettie, Page and I decided to meet that evening at Page’s house for dinner and drinks, home-style karaoke, and maybe another lesson for the twins. Plus stay overnight in a guest suite. (“Bring a swimsuit. We have a pool and jacuzzi,” she said.) The previous night had been a heady plunge into uncharted waters for the teenagers, and Page thought they might be a bit shy in the light of a new day. Being on home turf, they should be more comfortable in exploring their sexuality.

Well, I wouldn’t want to deprive them of that experience.

I went home while Bettie and Page left to do some Saturday afternoon shopping with the twins. (Lingerie, I hoped!) We’d meet at Page’s home later, a large, secluded home outside of the city that I had never seen. After we broke up ten years previously (things had gotten too wild for me), I got a letter from her saying she was sorry for freaking me out, and that she was cleaning up her act and moving to a new place in the area with better schools for the girls. We lost contact after that.

Page’s expensive house was courtesy of substantial funds from the twins’ father, who had been a rich and charming, but shady, foreign national. When the girls were only infants, he was forced to flee the country ahead of charges of international smuggling and fencing. He disappeared somewhere into the eastern European underworld and could never come back to the USA, but provided ample child support for Page and the girls over the following 18 years.

At Page’s house that evening, when we were unpacking our overnight bags in the guest room, Bettie gave a little laugh. “Pajamas? Really? Did we let you wear pajamas at all last night?”

I grinned. “Trying not to assume. Why, what are you wearing later? Let me see.”

“Hell no,” she replied, putting aside an unopened shopping bag. “It’s a surprise.” She gave me a deep kiss to distract me, while stroking my cock through my pants as I held her. “Now, be good this evening, Kevin. If the girls don’t want another lesson tonight, I’ll make it up to you later, right here. I did promise you one night of naughty fun, just the two of us.” Pause. “OK, maybe the three of us. I can’t imagine Page just twiddling her thumbs while you and I go at it under her roof.”

I think I did a decent job of controlling my horniness as we joined Page and the girls for dinner. We were all dressed normally and casually. It was a beautiful warm night with the windows open. I wasn’t sure we were going to have another sex lesson that night, as our conversation (other than me slipping in a couple of oblique references to Friday night’s events) was normal for some old friends getting caught up. The twins did remember me fondly as Page’s boyfriend when they were eight, taking us all to amusement parks and such.

We were all drinking wine at dinner; Page allowed the teens to partake sparingly while in their own house. After the meal, we retired to the living room where they had put together a karaoke system. We did a few rotations of pop songs and oldies, the girls sipping their wine and the adults switching to cocktails. It was fun and relaxing.

As the sun was setting, we took a break, going to our rooms to freshen up. Bettie must have coordinated with Page, because she insisted that I leave my pants behind and come back to the party clad only in shorts and a tee shirt. Bettie took off her linen pants and tied off her blouse under her boobs, wearing only sexy panties from the waist down. When we got back to the living room, Page had closed the curtains and displayed a sturdy wooden chair she had brought for me to sit in. It was designed for bondage, with built-in cuffs. The ladies strapped my wrists to the sides, my ankles to the chair legs, my abdomen and neck to the back of the fixture.

“I borrowed this from India’s dungeon,” Page explained. “It’s custom-made." (India was Page’s professional dominatrix friend.) The chair was firm and stable, but with retractable wheels so the captive could be easily moved from place to place without release. Page had some fun showing me the other features. The chair could be set for various positions – reclining the back, splitting the seat into a “V” for more access to genitals, and such. The ladies lit some candles, lowered the lights and started making out in front of me. My cock took notice.

When the teens returned to the living room, they showed off sexy clubwear they had bought that afternoon. Renee was stunning in a skimpy, silvery two-piece outfit with a side-slit miniskirt and thin halter top. Ashley was hot in a pink open-mesh mini-dress that hugged her body and showed tiny pockets of skin underneath. They were wearing heels and more dramatic makeup. I made the wild deduction that a second night of sex was indeed going to happen.

Someone turned on a disco-ball nightclub lamp and karaoke started up again. The songs got flirtier, dirtier, with definite sexual themes. Some I knew, some I didn’t. Ashley sang a ditty about being a “ragdoll,” a bad little girl for her lover. Renee had one about how “just one dance” from her would make my dreams come true. Meanwhile, they all were getting into the mood, wriggling sensuously and giving me little lap dances. The touches on my cock were light and teasing, seemingly accidental, but the kisses and caresses got bolder as the rotation continued.

When Bettie performed a soulful, slinky version of the old song “Pillow Talk,” that’s when it all jumped into a higher gear. During her song, Bettie approached me in my chair, knelt and caressed my cock through my shorts. Towards the end of it, she pulled it out and started tonguing it, humming along to the music. Page came up and ripped my tee shirt open, and helped Bettie rip my shorts apart as well. The seat I was on was pushed out into a V, my legs were spread apart, and in moments, I had a young lady straddling each of my thighs while my girlfriend licked my cock.

What’s that old Fred Astaire song? “Heaven… I’m in Heaven. “

Being thus distracted, I wasn’t paying attention to the music, but eventually, I became aware that Page was singing a parody version of an old country song called “Somebody’s Knocking.” The lyrics she came up with would never have gotten radio play:

Somebody’s sucking, will I let him cum / Lord, I’m a devil, I’m torturing him some. / Tied up and naked, he’s bound to my bed / And now I’m giving him head.

Somebody’s licking my pussy and ass / His tongue is wicked, it’s really first-class. / I’m sure I’ve cum about five or six times / He’s pleading “Will I get mine?”

After Bettie had started the action during her song, the girls took turns learning how to suck me off. Page instructed the girls to start lightly, teasing with kisses and swirls and flickering tongues before moving on to harder sucking. The blowjob training didn’t interrupt the karaoke singing - the ladies just rotated their activities. There was always one woman fellating me, while the others were either taking mental notes, coaching the action, caressing me, or singing. Page was at the chorus of her song now:

 I went and tapped his FetLife account / And now I know what his fantasy’s all about. / Brought to the edge again and again / I’ll let him cum, but baby, I won’t say when.

And she started another verse:

Somebody’s stroking and licking his cock/ Lord he’s been rigid since seven o’clock. / It’s way past midnight, it’s comin’ on dawn / And still the torment goes on.

Bound and “helpless” as I was (we had agreed on safewords that morning), I reflected that I had climaxed three times back at Bettie’s house. Now I was wondering if the four ladies were going to tease me without relief for hours this time. I wouldn’t put it past Page to orchestrate that just for laughs. After a few minutes, Page suggested we move the party to the “Rec Room.” Bettie and the teens scattered to their rooms, whispering and giggling, to get ready for the next part of the night. Page let me out of the bondage chair, but put me in handcuffs, plus a collar and leash, for the walk down to the basement.

The rec room was comfy and well-appointed; a small wet bar and kitchenette, couches and easy chairs, a large TV, an artificial fireplace. Without it being too obvious, Page had augmented the room for trysts and orgies; a bathroom with a shower built for two or three, benches that were disguised sex furniture, discreet hooks in the ceiling for sex swings and suspension bondage. She opened a locked closet that contained an array of sex toys, bondage accessories and outfits, and set aside some cuffs.

Then she slid a partition aside and revealed the other side of the party room. It was a boudoir, dominated by a custom-made bed I remembered from her old house; an oversized king surrounded on each corner by four enormous wooden posts which had openings carved through them that served as tie-down points. I knew that the canopy of wooden and metal slats over the mattress concealed a hoist that could support slings carrying a person’s weight. A solid headboard had discreet tie-down points as well as drawers for easy access to bondage and sex accessories.

Flashback: I remembered one Friday night swingers party ten years previously with another couple, last name of Prescott. Around 2AM, I was thoroughly strapped up with belts and suspended a few inches over that same bed, horizontal and face down, head toward the foot. Page and Mr. Prescott slipped his busty auburn-hair wife, Whitney, under me and chained her collar to the headboard, her waist to my torso, and her legs to the baseboard. Whitney of course started licking my cock, which was right in her face. Page placed a wedge pillow under Whitney’s pelvis up to the point where my head, when it was hanging down and at rest, put my face right in her pussy. Her hands were free, so she could play with my body, (and lord, did she!) but I was wrapped up tight and we were pretty much locked into that 69 position.

Page spent time lying beside Whitney on that big bed, getting plowed by Mr. Prescott. Eventually, he and Page turned off the lights in the bedroom and went elsewhere. Whitney and I had been drinking, and each had had a busy day and evening. It was dark and late, and after a while we actually fell asleep in that position. During the next few hours, Whitney would periodically wake up enough to begin stimulating my genitals and I would wake up and lick her, or I’d wake up and start in on her. That continued all night long, with a couple more orgasms each by dawn. Sleep, wake, suck, lick, orgasm, sleep. It was a surreal night.

Back to the present day:

Page backed me up against one of the footboard posts and locked my hands behind it with leather cuffs. Straps around my waist and neck kept me standing upright. Ankle cuffs secured behind the bottom of the post kept my legs slightly spread. Nothing was too tight, I was not uncomfortable, but I couldn’t move much and I certainly wasn’t going anywhere soon.

When she was satisfied, Page turned down the lights, lit the fireplace, and made us a couple of drinks at the bar. She took off her sundress to reveal a sheer black patterned bodystocking underneath as she slowly walked over with the glasses, slinking like a cat.

“Thank you for doing all this for my daughters,” she said softly, feeding me my drink. “My girls are smart and strong, but they’re healthy and horny and were going to jump into bed with some of the trashy local boys. I make sure their social media is strictly PG. This weekend was the master plan to satisfy their lustful urges, teach them about sex while keeping their technical virginity intact, and distract them with a grand adventure before going off to college.”

“Well, you know me,” I sighed. “Always the gentleman, always ready to accommodate the ladies.”

She pressed her body against mine, her hand massaging my cock and cooed, “Isn’t it too bad that we can’t fuck, Kevin? I mean, we can do other things, but it’s just not the same.” She trapped my cock between her legs, right at her crotch. Damn, her bodystocking was open at the crotch and I could feel her warm wetness down there as she moved her pelvis against mine.

“So close, Kevin,” she whispered. “Almost inside me. But no fucking for you and me. No pussy. We gave our promise to Bettie and we’ll honor that pledge.” She turned and pushed her bottom against me, rubbing my penis along her crack. “But maybe you could put it in my ass. Not Page’s ass, but Jewell’s ass. I could resurrect my alter-ego Jewell from ten years ago, and tie Bettie up and ‘convince’ her to alter our deal. It would take some doing, but Jewell can be very persuasive. What do you think, baby?”

My mouth literally dropped open at this proposal, but before I could formulate an answer, she slipped a penis gag into it and secured it behind my head. “By the way, lover,” Page whispered, “I put your old favorite aphrodisiac in your drink. A strong dose. I hope after ten years, you can still handle it. I don’t want you disappointing my little girls.”

Just then, with perfect timing, those “little” girls strode into the bedroom. They had spent their time donning scandalous outfits; garter belts with fishnet stockings, G-strings, sheer bras, strappy high heel boots, and choker neck bands. Their upper faces were lightly covered by domino masks. The twins were dressed identically, except that Ashley was all in white, and Renee in red. Visually, they were walking wet dreams.

Coming in behind them, also in a kind of neckband, was Bettie. But hers was a more substantial leather collar that was connected to a long leash that Renee was holding. My girlfriend was decked out like an old-fashioned “damsel in distress” bondage pinup model; high heels, thigh-high stockings, elbow length opera gloves, and a satin corset around her thin waist that did not cover her exposed tits or crotch. It was all in black, beautifully set off against her fair skin. Her hands were shackled in front of her, and a long white cloth tied around her head and between her teeth served as a cleave gag. She had also put on extra makeup, and had never looked sexier.

Page announced that the girls were going to learn the fine points of orally pleasing both men and women tonight. “We’ll practice our blowjobs on Kevins’s lovely cock, of course, and since I’m not ready to have my girls munching their own mother’s carpet, Bettie has graciously agreed to volunteer as the female assistant.”

Fortunately, my girlfriend’s eyes were smiling, so I could see she had indeed signed on. Page and Ashley led her to the foot of the bed, next to me, and placed her on her back. Her left leg was raised up and secured to the side of the post I occupied. Her right leg went straight across the base of the footboard and was tied to the bottom post that was opposite me.

Meanwhile, Renee stretched a rope from Bettie’s wrist cuffs to the headboard. Bettie was now flat on her back, her arms stretched over her head, her naked pussy hanging out over the bottom edge, right next to where I was standing. Our genitals were easily accessible to anyone at the foot of the bed.

The girls brought over two pads and placed them on the floor where they would be kneeling. Page put on a domino mask like her daughters. The trio stood back a moment, Page in the middle, hugging her daughters on each side, as if posing for a photograph. I think they wanted us all to remember this moment. I thought, man, these women could make a fortune selling photos on the internet. Not even porn, just lingerie shots and such.

“Okay, ladies, class is in session,” Page proclaimed. “It’s Oral Sex 101. Time to go Downtown.”

My memories of the next hour or so are a little sporadic, maybe due to a mix of alcohol, aphrodisiacs, and the heady experience of three women doing their best to drive me and my girlfriend crazy.

It started with the girls on their knees, getting advice from Page, rotating between Bettie’s crotch and mine. Ashley eagerly sucked and pumped my cock while gazing up at me adoringly, but she seemed a little reluctant to service a woman. She came around after seeing Renee jump right into dining on Bettie’s kitty. I think the girls were used to pushing each other in friendly competitions.

The rest of my memories are disjointed. At some point, Ashley started calling me “Uncle Kevin,” and my girlfriend “Aunt Bettie” to amuse herself. I remember at another point Renee standing boldly in front of me, stroking my cock with one hand and slapping my face with the other.

I remember Page was sitting on Bettie’s face while the girls were going down on Bettie and me. I remember blowing a massive load on Renee’s neck and chest, at which point Page took me off the post and into the bathroom to clean up and recover. While in there, we made out like teenagers at the prom. Except that at my prom, I wasn’t naked in a shower with my hands tied behind my back.

I remember being led back into the room to see that Bettie was still bound face-up to the bed. squirming and moaning in delight. Ashley was tonguing Bettie’s clit while sticking a thin dildo into her open pussy. Renee was straddling Bettie’s face and pinching her nipples. The girls were learning quickly, casting off inhibitions like trees shedding their leaves on an October day in Vermont. Yet, when Ashley looked up and breathlessly asked a question, my astonishment found a new level.

“Mom, it looks like so much fun, so Renee and I wondered; would it be alright if we got tied up?”

Page said nothing at first. I remember thinking she was crazy to consider the proposal, because the whole idea of my bondage was so that the girls would be in control and never feel forced into sexual activities. So, the head on my shoulders said no, but my other head thought it was a great idea and started rising to attention. Truth be told, I was looking forward to seeing these gorgeous young women in bondage.


NEXT CHAPTER: A little less talk and a LOT more bondage.

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