In those early years of married life the dinner parties worked for many different reasons, but above all they created some much needed “us time” for Greg and I, with the children having been shuttled away to their grandparents. Those were the innocent years when we had no concept or thought of “meeting”, that adventure with others would follow much later.
I’d been feeling horny all day and gave myself plenty of time to get showered and dressed with a large glass of bubbly already on the go. After several changes of mind I’d decided to wear a short black sparkly dress, which I’d bought for the previous Christmas but never worn, together with some black lingerie and sparkly black stockings, the sort of outfit I knew would be to Greg’s liking. In a playful sense I’ve always loved the attention from other men and the thought of someone catching a glimpse of stocking, or maybe more, added a little extra spice to how I already felt. For the first time in ages the two of us would be on our own after dinner and I was definitely in the mood for some unbridled sex, something which generally was off the menu with ever present children. It probably didn’t help that I’d already told Greg he could do with me whatever he wanted; he understood what that meant.
For dinner we hosted 4 other couples, an eclectic mix of our rural neighbours and lifelong friends, with Greg playing chef and everyone bringing a starter or pudd. It was the usual fun evening but by around midnight, with plenty of good food and alcohol consumed, taxis were ordered goodbyes were said and our guests made their way home. It would be someone else’s turn to host on the next occasion but for now we started tidying the kitchen and recounting the events and conversations of the evening which had, unsurprisingly, included mention of my stockings.
Conscious about making the most of our time alone and long since bored with tidying, Greg prepared two fresh cocktails and we made our way to the bedroom full of anticipation. I chose to leave my makeup on but by the time I’d slipped out of my dress, bra and knickers, Greg was already stripped off and lying spreadeagled on the bed. That position was an invitation for me to give him a long slow massage but tonight, I decided, would be with the added sense of being bound, blindfolded and vulnerable.
We had two long black silk scarves kept in the bedside unit, perfect for nights such as this. Having whispered to Greg what I was about to do, I used one scarf for the blindfold and the other to tie and secure his hands to the metal bedhead behind him. Reaching then for a towel and oil I knelt between his legs, sliding my knees under his bum which not only arched his back raising his cock towards me but also allowed extra room to massage his balls and other special places. With his legs astride of my own I knew he could feel my stockings and even before touching him his shaved cock was already at attention, veins standing proud.
With lots of oil applied I started to massage his chest, stomach and upper thighs ensuring I occasionally brushed against his cock producing from him a gentle moan. Little by little his cock and balls became the focus and my thoughts were now to keep him on that gorgeous edge between pleasure and pain. Holding him tightly at the base of his cock with one hand and twisting the head with the other I could see and feel the tension building in his body. He whispered for me not to hurt him, he meant the opposite, but realising he was close to cumming I relaxed my grip, took a pause and looked for my drink.
Leaning across the bed I could only just reach my cocktail without changing position. In the tumbler, aside from the umbrella and ice, there was a long glass stirrer but I thought better of resting it on the bed for fear of breaking. Whilst still thinking what I should do I gathered the towel together on the bed and used it to support the tumbler keeping it within easy reach for my next drink.
As to what happened thereafter I can offer no explanation but a picture would have shown me with a cock in my left hand and an ice cold glass stirrer, about the same size as a drinking straw and adorned with a bobble, in my right hand. Thinking Greg may enjoy having something cold rubbing the head of his cock that is how I began but to my surprise he gave no reaction nor to when I then ran the length of the glass stirrer along the eye of his cock. My mind was racing I’d never even thought about a scenario like this, could I, should I, of course I could and of course I did. I held the stirrer with bobble end resting vertically on his opening and to my surprise, with oil and a little pressure, it simply slid in. My eyes darted to his face, half expecting a scream of terror but again, no response. Very very gently I inserted another inch; and then another; but not until it was at least two thirds of its length inside him did he show any hint of feeling.
By this time my pussy and inner thighs were dripping, the act of what I was doing was overwhelming my senses, a mixture of both apprehension and excitement. What would he say; I was about to find out.
Still holding his cock with one hand I reached up to his face and slid the silk scarf upwards on his forehead above his eyes. He looked at me with a loving smile still not aware of what was happening until I directed him with my own eyes to look down. It took me a moment to recognise that his whispered obscenities were not those of horror but of arousal at what he was seeing. He asked me to repeat what I’d done only this time, with his encouragement, even deeper than before to the point where I could see and feel the outline within his cock. He was so hard; was it just my imagination or was he actually bigger than he’d ever been before. I’m sure he would have loved that thought.
We didn’t continue with the stirrer for too long, I was a little uncomfortable about what I might be doing to him and the head of his cock would by now be so sensitive. What he was able to maintain however was his rock hard erection and in my heightened state of arousal I wasn’t about to waste the opportunity for a good fuck. So, whilst still bound and with the blindfold replaced, I took him deep inside me cow girl style. I’d been on the edge all day, probably, more honestly, all week, but the exhilaration of what we’d just experienced took us both to such a heightened sense that we came together. My orgasm seemed to go on forever and I became conscious of Greg trying to extract my nails from his chest such was the intensity. I also became conscious of the warm cum both filling and dripping from my pussy and in that moment I couldn’t have wanted for more.
Reaching up I removed Greg’s blindfold and leant over to kiss him. His lips were dry and so, with his cock still inside my pussy, I spread some of his cum onto my fingers and then in and around his mouth. He licked his lips slowly savouring his own taste and then, by raising his legs and easing me off his cock towards his face, indicated what he wanted next. I was only too willing, the thought of his mouth on my clit and his tongue inside me did not require a second invitation and I sank onto his face with cum still dripping out of me. He devoured me and all that was inside me and although it was only minutes since last I’d cum I came again with the same intensity, this time collapsing to his side exhausted.
As to the remainder of our evening we rested and played until the very early hours and yes he did do with me what he wanted and as I subsequently learnt, what most other men would want also. We had discovered something new and we would not be waiting until the next dinner party to rediscover that penchant.
