Stanley Montrieth III rushed into my office, "Oh my God, I did it. I actually did it. I shagged all these beauties in a pool on my own desert island!"
His curly, ginger hair was more unruly than usual and his face was flushed with excitement and exhilaration.
I knew, he'd been working on something exciting and it looked like he was ready to tell me at long last.
Tracy tested the silk scarves wrapped around her wrists and forearms. They were so expertly tied that you couldn't really see where they were knotted and it didn't feel at all restrictive until you tried to move. They were bound together in front of her and from there tied by a single large rope that extended to the end of the bed secured to the bed frame beneath. He legs were tied in a similar fashion. Her small 5' 0" frame lay comfortably face down on the largest bed Tracy had ever been on.
In the early spring moonlight, the back of the river seemed to lift and heave like the body of a snake, flowing over rocks and stumps, braiding its way through copses of saplings on the flooded banks, pooling and forming eddies as it washed around the concrete pilings of the bridges.
"What does that remind you of?" I asked her as we drove along. "What does that make you think of?"
I stood in the shower, allowing the hot water to caress my body in an attempt to wake myself up. The thought of another long day at work wasn't helping the situation, but at least it was Friday. "Get through today and enjoy the weekend," I thought.
She woke from dreams where she was trapped in ice, immobile; eyes wide open but only perceiving the outside world as multicoloured shadows. She tried to stretch her arms, to reach out to the side of the bed for some familiar object, or even up to the pillow, just to be certain she was anchored again to reality, but she could not move.
"I knew you were unique as soon as I saw you in the club."
She clutched his arm firmly, her head resting against his shoulder. The fact that she held his arm against her left breast was a nice bonus to the close physical contact.
"What do you mean?" he asked. "Do I have a dark aura or something?"
She looked up at him, smiling sweetly, her red-painted lips making that small facial gesture all the more prominent underneath the street lamp. "If you do, then I can't see it. But the moment I first saw you, I just 'sensed' something unique about you, only I just can't put my finger on it."
I must admit, I was impressed as soon as I set my eyes on him.
His wrists were bound tightly together with a piece of rope that was fixed to the ceiling through a single brass loop. His feet were drawn back toward his buttocks with another piece of rope pulled through the brass loop, keeping them firmly in situ.
First off, let me say that rape is a heinous thing to inflict on anyone. Nobody in their right mind would suggest otherwise and I do consider myself to be in my right mind. When a friend became a victim of date rape I was as shocked, as supportive, as anyone but that was when we were in high school and I was much younger.
She stands in front of the apartment. Naked thighs cold from the wind swirling around the edges of the long coat she wears. She pulls the coat closer around her and shudders. He heart is racing as she raises her hand to knock on the door. Her nipples harden immediately. She knocks, once, then twice before she takes a small step back.
She was young and restless, and needed sex constantly, and I loved her. My name is John Vessparrio and I'm her husband. Vivian had expressed a desire to participate in a threesome with herself and two males, I of course being one of them.
The second part of her fantasy was to be fucked at the same time by both of us, one in her cunt, and the other in her ass. We had been married eight years now; she was twenty-seven and I twenty-eight and I guess we were both bored with our sex life. I knew Vivian still loved me; she just needed something new in her life to entertain her.