Part 1
I don’t believe what I’m seeing. OK, so I do believe it, I just didn’t expect it. My daughter just made my boyfriend scream. Well, it was rather more of a wail I suppose. And while I know exactly what she can be like with her boyfriends, I just didn’t think I’d ever see her practising her skills on my boyfriend. Especially with my blessing.
You see, she wandered in when I was least expecting her, and she found my boyfriend and I engaged in our usual fun and games. I am what you might politely call a well endowed lady. But I’m not as young as I was and now there are a few curves in places no longer considered fashionable. But my boyfriend worships those curves, and I know how to dress to make the best of them. Like the well boned basque I am wearing right now. All black satin and tight suspenders over high heels that make me look like a goddess. Or rather, my boyfriend thinks I look like a goddess.
Which is one reason why when Emma walked in she found him strung up by his wrists from some tightly tied ribbons cunningly looped over the closed loft window. Ribbons that looked so softly applied, Yet ones that I have tied tightly and that he can’t get out of until I undo them. As he has found out on one or two occasions when he felt that I was taking our games just that little bit too far for his tastes. Not that he wasn’t enjoying himself you understand. He just lost it for a moment or two and fought them like a tiger. Which was when he found all those years I’d spent in the Brownies and Guides learning to tie knots had been worthwhile.
Anyway, I was just getting into my stride when Emma walked in. I was tapping his chest with the tip of my riding crop when I saw his eyes go wide over the top of the rather large plug that fronts his head harness, and he was looking over my shoulder rather than at me.
“Mum” The single word was laced with shock, horror, and some small measure of admiration. Now, I’ve been technically single for more years than I care to recall, so she can hardly complain when I go looking for my physical pleasures, but I just think it came as a shock to her. On a sex-driven high I turned from my boyfriend and said. “Hi Emma, can I help you ?”
“What are you doing ?” she asked, her eyes drawn to his rather generously endowed manhood, already standing firmly proud of his body. “I mean, I mean….” Her voice trailed away as she knew full well what I was doing, and for the first time in years I watched her pale skin cover with a deep, all-consuming blush. Redheads always look great when they blush. It makes the freckles stand out.
“Why don’t you slip into something more comfortable and give me a hand ?” I asked, thinking she would damn near run away at the prospect of sharing her man with her mother. We may both be adults, but there are some things I just wouldn’t have even considered when I was her age. But youth has changed, and she rose to the occasion beautifully.
She was back in a few minutes, long red hair pulled back into a pony tail, heavy makeup applied, and her slender body tightly clasped by a black basque very like mine. Complete with the stockings, and a pair of spindly heeled boots that gave her a hip-swaying walk guaranteed to turn every mans head, especially one already aroused and quite unable to help himself. While Emma had been gone he had done his best to twist his way out of those soft but oh so unforgiving knots, and the sounds from behind his gag had become ever more urgent and desperate. Me, I just reclined on the futon and smiled at him, part of me enjoying his apparent but clearly feigned discomfort, the other part wondering what Emma would have in mind for him. His madly straining manhood told me he was wondering as well. And looking forwards to every moment of it. If only he knew.
My red hair may have since faded to a salt and pepper blonde, but Emma and I still have similar figures, with generous breasts and curvy hips, and from where my boyfriend was standing he must have thought all his birthdays had come at once. Until that is, Emma started. I offered her his body and his throbbing penis, and it was soon after that that I heard his first wailing cry.
She walked up to him and stood directly in front of him. His head was swathed in a tight bondage harness that locked a big leather plug in his mouth. A plug that kept him all but silent. Until that is, Emma started on him. She tossed her mane of red hair and fixed his brown eyes with a piercing stare from her big blue ones. Then she reached down and took the very tip of his penis between her thumb and forefinger and applied just enough pressure to make their presence felt. Then she started to speak to him in a low, firm voice while moving those two digits back and forth a matter of a handful of millimetres. Just enough to get his attention as his already well lubricated foreskin slid back and forth across the oh so sensitive tip of his penis.
“I suppose you would like me to finish you off, wouldn’t you ?.” He nodded helplessly, not able to look away from her eyes “I could you know” she said softly “All I have to do is wrap my fingers around the shaft and move my arm and I could make you cum all over the floor. Would you like me to do that ?”
He nodded again
“There are only 2 problems with that” she said “One, you would make a mess all over the carpet that mum would have to clean up. And secondly, I just might not stop stroking. Can you imagine the suffering you would go through if I didn’t stop stroking once you had cum ? How long would I have to keep stroking before you came again I wonder ?.”
She smiled brightly up at him “Do you think we should try to find out ?”
Then she grabbed the full length of his shaft in her hand and gave it a fierce squeeze. That’s when he let out a wail as she gave him two or three quick strokes, then took her hand away and laughed. And it was an evil little laugh that I am still not sure whether it was intentional or if she was just acting the part of the callous bitch. I’m really not sure.
He thrust his hips at her fast retreating hand, desperate to renew the contact with those firm, teasing fingers. But Emma was having none of it. She stepped away from him and walked over to the table with all our toys laid out on it. She took her time as he watched her, carefully picking up one means of chastisement after another before settling on a wicked leather tawse. I actually enjoyed watching the look in his eyes as Emma made a great pantomime of selecting an instrument. Picking up first one, then another. Weighing the balance of our riding whip in her hand, giving it a couple of savage swishing swipes through the air before putting it down and swatting a black leather paddle against the palm of her hand. Then discarding that as she saw the tawse. A savage, thick leather item with two long tails designed to inflict a maximum of pain for the minimum of effort on the part of the wielder.
He nearly twisted his head right around as Emma walked (OK, stalked would be a better description) round behind him, the tawse hanging loose in her hand. And a playful smile dancing across her features. Once behind him she stood up on tiptoe and whispered something I couldn’t hear in his ear, then her tiny tongue reached out and caressed his ear with it’s very tip. For a few moments it teased, probed and danced across his oh so sensitive ear. Dear God but Emma knew how to turn a man on.
Then just as he seemed to relax in his bonds she took a pace back and slashed the tawse across his taut buttocks. That big plug barely stifled his surprised howl as the flexible ends of the tawse curled round the sides of his buttocks in a fiery embrace. Emma paused for just long enough, then slashed the tawse backhand in the other direction leaving two big red blushes right across the pale slopes of his arse.
“Did you like that ?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper, so soft and husky even I started to get turned on, my fingers finding their way down between my legs as I watched my boyfriend wide-eyed with a confused mixture of lust and fear. Emma ran the flat of her hand down across the red marks and murmured soft words of comfort before starting back from him and plying the tawse twice across his arse again, once in each direction. Two swift strokes, one close on the heals of the other. He jerked in his bonds, then hung loose, all the fight beaten out of him. His eyes cowed as Emma dropped the tawse and walked round in front of him, lifting his chin with the very tips of her fingers and speaking softly to him.
“Would you like me to finish you off now ?” she asked. His head barely moved. She smiled at him, and said “Oh, I’m sure you would”
She moved up onto her tiptoes and slipped her arms about his neck. Before he could react she lifted herself just high enough to put her crotch above the level of his still straining manhood and brought her toned legs together in a single sweeping movement before she landed back on her tiptoes, trapping his manhood between her muscular thighs.
Long hours on the gym had given her legs a shape and tone I lost way back in my teens, but where those muscles met my boyfriend’s manhood was trapped in a warm prison of firm flesh. The very tip protruding into the fresh air behind her as she pressed herself up against his chest. Then she started to move her body back and forth very slowly up on her very tiptoes.
Ever so slowly wanking him with the muscles her inner thighs. That velvet flesh between her legs clasping him in a wickedly tight yet tantalizingly yielding grip, his arms held tightly bound out of reach of her body. A body I knew he sometimes yearned to hold.
His head fell back as his moans penetrated even the thick plug of his gag, Emma’s body moving slowly back and forth, her breasts brushing his chest, nipples erect as she enjoyed the sheer perversity of what she was doing to him. Then it was all over. He came with a force and fury unexpected, the stream of cum flying feet across the room accompanied by a half human cry from behind the gag. And I came with him, my fingers finding that magic frequency and the right spots at just the right moment, collapsing back on the futon in a soft heap of satiated flesh. The last thing I clearly recall before my reverie overcame me was Emma’s soft voice in my ear.
“Maybe next time you’ll let us play with you mum”.
09.04.06