Honey Has Her Hubby (M/F)
Posted: Fri Sep 12, 2025 12:31 pm
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Honey Has Her Hubby (M/F)
Saturday, January 18, 2025
OK, OK! Enough already! Stop clamoring. I orgasmed while recalling the juiciest parts of my last story and left you in the lurch when a new adventure broke out of that one. That was such a steaming hot adventure that resulted in me keeling over in the freaking bathroom. You hide in a secluded place just for that reason when you're writing your own stories; remember that!
Anyway, where was I? Oh, right! So, to make up for my interruption, I figured I'd tell you about that adventure I intimated at the end of the last story, for those who read it. Now, don't get your panties in a knot. I'm going to fill in some of the pieces for you so that you don't feel like you've missed something. All right, you did miss something special, but that's on you and not me. As a form of apology for that lacking detail, this time I'm going to make sure I get the butt sex in there as well and not short change you the steamiest, most arousing part of CNC games with Ross.
Because I love Ross, I sometimes let him come after me with some zipties or whatever species of tape he wants to use on me. Ross loves me, so he always makes sure he stuffs my mouth with a scrumptious little something before taping it shut. Yes, I'm stealing lines from the previous story because it's easier. Get real! Recycling is good for the environment, and you know it!
From my issues, some of you will recall (recycling warning) that I had taken off my panties after soaking them in my fluid and put them on the bed where Ross would be sure to see them so that a second tasty delight would go into my mouth, albeit not as much fun as dirty, sweaty socks. A dirty sock gag cannot be topped. Sorry for those of you who can't handle them; your loss.
"Hi, baby," I walked up to Ross and rubbed his scruff and kissed his cheek, "How are you?"
"Hmmm, Kendra," he wiggled his eyebrows, "Are you in a mood?"
"It's just me and you, Ross," I said since we were alone, "Just the two of us," and let a strap fall.
"Hmmmm," he replied with a lecherous wink, "Is this some sort of hint?"
"Zipties, Ross. Zipties. And make sure you're meaner to me and more aggressive than you were in that one film where you and those girls had me and my friends… you know the one!"
As I walked away, I swished my purple cotton knee skirt by the slight twitch of my hips. My red pumps gave me a powerful feminine mystique. Underneath my pink tank top was nothing! Ooh, I am something else. I turned back, gazed at Ross, winked, walked into the bathroom, turned on the light, and began adjusting my red bandana headband to be sure it's in the right spot. All four kids were in bed, including the one procreated in the last story. Poor Ross just wanted to enjoy a hockey game, but that had to be put aside because he knew not to miss a rare opportunity where I wanted him to kidnap me and use me as his pleasure toy so that I'd find my own pleasure.
Yeah, you're looking and thinking, "Oh, gosh, here goes Kendra again into her crazy CNC heavy R games again!" Yep, that's exactly what it is. Only it's OK because I tell Ross to do it, and you don't get a say in our marriage. It's kind of fun to grab his eyes and whisper, "Take me and do all you desire. Just make sure… that… I… get… wet," and then kiss him on the cheek and walk out of the room. Or rub his scruffy beard and drop a strap to reveal a tit.
"GGGMMMMMMPPFFFFF!" he grabbed me in his loving, strong embrace just how we like it.
"Well, well, what do we have here? Are you a dwarf or a hobbit?" he taunted me, and I melted.
"MMMMMGGGGGGPPFFFFFF!" well, damn, first post-writing orgasm already just from that.
"Wow, girlie, you're awfully strange," Ross just played off my reaction, "You like kidnappings?!"
"UGGGHHHH!" my response went to hell because he stuffed the panties into my mouth.
"Let's go. Into the bedroom!" he ordered me and gave me a harsh spank on the bottom.
"-o h-ck -ourthelpf!" I snapped, walked into the bedroom, and sat down on the bed as he pointed.
"All right. Take off the heels and your socks. Put the heels back on your feet and stuff the socks in your mouth," he crossed his arms and stepped back, "Do it, or I'll do it for you, tiny b-tch toy."
Of course, why be shy at that? He wants me to do it, and resistance will get me punished. Bright red pumps off my feet. Purple socks off my feet. Purple socks into my mouth. Red pumps back on my feet. There little kinky foot-fetishist damsel-in-distress Kendra sat, fresh off writing a tale of which the mere recollection alone made her orgasm, and she'd already orgasmed just from her husband's first taunt. What did she do? Orgasmed when the taste of her socks hit her taste buds. Just be prepared to hear that word repeatedly because it's going to show up. Too much maybe.
"You're weird," Ross teased me while sealing my lips with a tegaderm, a fun choice of gag that I am fairly certain he must have gotten from my friends just for my next ziptie request.
"GMMMMMPFFF!" he spun me around to rip a zip around my arms above the elbows. Kinky!
"What are these tattoos on your wrists?!" he asked me in mock shock, "Survivor JF11120286."
"GMMMMMPFFFFFF!" I yelled at him, but he was too busy zipping my wrists to respond.
"So you're a convict," his tone turned playfully menacing, "Should make this even more fun."
"NMMM MMMMMMM!" I really should have worn a long-sleeve t-shirt for this. Oh well!
Back to the Kendra confessional. Move it! NOW! There, my sweets. Now, take a seat to hear a quick story. I had a break with my family when I was a teenager. Played the clarinet in the wind ensemble in school. Really brought fulfillment. Anyway, I was second in the first section and to my surprise was moved leading the second section. My parents thought it was a knock and took it to mean that I had no talent. I wasn't an athlete nor was part of a first section or leading it was seen as the talentless child. My mistake was my response: becoming a cocaine junkie. That's the reason I went to prison and became a survivor, Mudville Juvenile Detention Center JF11120286. JF means a juvenile female; 11 means November; 12 means 2012; and 0286 means that I was the 286th juvenile female arrested in that district that year. I survived and overcame it. Thank God!
Wait until my kidnapper finds my "κούκλα" tattoo on my ankle, the only other one I have, just a small tribute to my Greek mother. Well, he's tenderly fondling my ankle, finding it just before he ripped another ziptie around my ankles. I have the Greek complexion and nose despite having blonde-brown hair more typical of my Danish surname Kristensen. Two stories and not once did I throw a Danish curse or insult at Ross. I've let you down! Well, that sucks for all three of us.
"GMMMMMPPPPFFFFF!" the taste of my juices hit my tongue strongly and… Orgasm. Yep.
"What the hell is wrong with you honey?" Ross asked me in a classic mocking tone, "Weirdo."
Not me shooting daggers out my eyes at Ross. Definitely not. He joyfully ripped the zips up and down my arms and legs, turning them into helpless secure bundles without pinching me even a little. When one went below my elbows, my helplessness was assured. Adding two more right in between that and my wrists, binding my forearms, was brilliant. My legs had four more going up my legs to my knees and then one above my knees. Ross loves me and proved it by zipping my arches together so I couldn't ditch my heels. I still could've kicked him in the balls though I of course wouldn't do that. I'd do lots of things, but honey isn't ever going to hurt her hubby.
"Mmmm, nice," Ross pulled up my shirt and fondled my tits like a sexy predator with his prey.
"GMM MMMM PFFFFFF!" I really couldn't say much back to him despite my efforts.
"You're pretty," and he ripped two zips around my chest, on either side of said tits, pinning my arms to my body and making sure the shirt wouldn't fall down (and making me again wish I had worn a long-sleeve tee because that would have been so much sexier right then), "Very pretty."
"GMMPFFF!" my gagged sputters were nonsense, but he squeezed me just right, and… Orgasm.
"Mmmmm," he kissed my tegaderm sealed lips, "Such a beautiful young dolllll."
"GMM MMMM PFFFFFF!" that looks as downright pathetic as it sounded to us both.
"Just making sure you don't escape," he said and ripped another zip around my waist to add one final pinion, this one clamping my arms down even further, "Can't have that happening, baby."
Poor little Kendra. Little sweet, kind, bandana-wearing, warrior princess, snarky, caustic, sweet, hyper-aroused 5-foot-nothing retired clarinetist, famous bondage model, housewife, mom, and foot-fetishist couldn't help but watch while her assailant stripped naked. The mere sight of her husband was so good, and she imagined the various sensations of her husband's manhood. Yes, it was a heavy R consensual-nonconsensual game, but the main purpose had arrived. Yes, my favorite part: making babies! Come on, you knew that was coming eventually!
And then Ross played me like an instrument.
If you provide rhythm or constancy, I will orgasm rhythmically. Like, if a vibrator is strapped to my thigh, I will orgasm almost with exactly the same number of seconds between each one. It's a bizarre quirk that people just love using against me. Who's to stop them? I sure am not about to tell them to stop doing it because I kind of like it. Where was this going? Oh, right, babies!
When Ross folded my legs into my chest, orgasm occurred before he even took the plunge into my body. Then he did that cruel deed: not releasing. He'd move around, get close, drive me to yet another orgasm, and stop. Cruel yet not cruel. It was awfully loud there. There I was stuck on my back on the bed, torqued in zipties, fighting like he's an axe murderer casually taking me to the cleaners before snuffing me out, and he'd blue balling himself to make me orgasm on this painful repeating cycle. See how much Ross loves me! Ohhhh, I do love him for so many other reasons that make this look like nothing, but this was us expressing it in a special way.
"GGMMMMMMPPPPFFFFFF!" yep, that's special all right, howling into panties and socks.
Yep, Ross played me for a long time. This cycle continued. I'm fairly certain I was making this awful mess. My skirt had curled from my awkward position, but this went on for like 20 minutes or longer, him just blue balling himself to near release and then finding my G spot. He even took extra precautions to make sure he wasn't close enough to release that my own muscle cramps did not finish him off by mistake. I was sucking on my own orgasm-soaked panties and socks that I had worn for at least 15 hours… and it was absolutely heavenly being his plaything like this. All I could do was squirm, howl into the gag, and shoot daggers out my eyes, just how we liked it.
"GGMMMMPFFFFFF!" those sputters sound so amazing to you, do they? Right…
"Well, someone's a bit of a bondage c-m sl-t," Ross dishes out the most arousing insults.
"NMMM MM MMMMMPFFF!" I tried my damndest to get away from him but couldn't.
"All right, here it is," he pushed just right so I orgasmed, my cramps in turn setting him off.
And the baby was a girl whom we named Teresa Olivia.
But you're more interested in the butt sex, I'm sure. Well, let's go that way!
I squeaked my heels together while Ross grabbed some things. Taking a piece of clear packing tape, he carefully made a loop and applied it over the tegaderm, right over lips. Then, showing a clever streak just like the smartest plumber on earth (which he is), he added a purple bandana as an OTM gag for no reason except to make me look sexier. Oh, this was sexy indeed.
See how it goes? I love Ross; Ross loves me. We know how to make each other happy and give the other our best. When Ross took a quick break to decompress and use the restroom, I got up and started hopping around the bedroom. Yeah, my tits were out and my skirt was flopping. So what? I knew how to get Ross ready for the next round. He had played me like an instrument as it was. Now it was my turn to play him. Honey has her hubby hostage in her heart.
"Just what are you doing?" he absolutely took over when he saw me and grabbed me by the tits.
"GMMMMMPFFFFFFF!" and I melted (orgasmed) in his arms before he blindfolded me.
"This will keep you in one spot," he pulled a brown bandana over my eyes and knotted it tightly.
"Gmmmm mmmm hmmmmpffff!"
"Take that, JF11120286," he said from memory and spanked me on each butt cheek.
"GMMMMMPFFFFFFF!" I hopped up before he took me and effortlessly tossed me on the bed.
And then Ross took the plunge, and it felt really good. I couldn't see anything, but my sense of touch sure as hell was working overtime. Ross was touching things no one but he will ever get to touch until I'm old and need a colonoscopy. Damn, that boy is good at hitting the right spots, making sure he gets me going. Of course, he started rocking rhythmically, screwing around on the timing of things until… No! Rhythmic orgasms! Every 107 seconds I involuntarily howled into my socks and panties with the howl of pain and the delicious tastes of my feet and c-m. Oh, Ross, baby, you really were pushing my buttons, and… GAH! The author just orgasmed…
Naturally, the proper thing to do is fight like hell. It sure as hell was arousing, but CNC requires an unwilling person, right? The thrill is in fighting back and acting like it's miserable even when you're orgasming non-stop. 107 seconds and… orgasm. Blindly squirming and squeaking those bright red pumps while Ross crushed me into our mattress was beyond amazing. He kept trying to roll my head to one side or another and kiss my lips while I kept turning away until he grabbed me by the bun and held me in one position while his lips kissed my lips right in the center of the bandana OTM gag. His grip and his rhythm and his weight and his lips and… NOOOOOO!
Sorry about that. Goodness! That blindfold made things so much more fun, and of course there was that incessant squeaking of my pumps because this foot fetish girl wanted to hear that sound as much as her husband wanted to hear it. Just think, my taste buds had to handle the taste of the socks that I'd worn for the previous 15 hours as well. If you think that tasted good, you're totally nuts; if you think that was wildly arousing, then you've been paying careful attention to my story.
"GGMMMMPFFFFF!" I howled when Ross got me in just the right spot. It was so good that my reaction was to cry because of the combination of pain and arousal. Don't fret because he wasn't actually hurting me. Haven't you ever heard of a G-spot? G = good. Ross is so good at this, and when we play like this he never leaves anything on the table. Seriously, just check this out.
"So, short thing, you think you're gonna keep fighting me?" he asked, holding my bun.
"GMMM MMM GMPFFFFFF!" the addition of my panties really quelled my speech.
"Whose my tiny b-tch toy?" that kind of question always was enough to get me going.
"GMMMPFFFFFFF!" yeah, you know what I was doing, right at 107 seconds on the dot.
"You're a strange one, Kendra," Ross sweetly fell out of a character, "But I love you so much."
A little spanking, fondling (both tits and crotch), kissing, hair pulling, menacing, romancing, and a brief break all brought things around for Ross to get his own release. Remember those morals I put first; well, Ross puts them first too. Even after 30 minutes of ramming me in the rear so that I was crying while enjoying the pain so much at times, we still finished in the right place because of our Roman Catholic beliefs concerning his release. Of course, I orgasmed several dozen times over the course of the game. It was hot, arousing, steamy, pleasurable, aggressive, fulfilling, and uniting, and… GAH! I promise this is the last time I'll orgasm… while writing this story.
After all this, what did hubby do with his captive honey? Well, he opened his personal armoire, put her on the floor of it, shut the door, and locked it, of course! Then he went about his personal business, doing whatever he wanted to do to get ready for bed, deciding to forget about watching his hockey games because he didn't want to abandon me for real and risk me choking on the pair of yummy, cheesy, socks in my mouth or the panties I'd soaked while writing the first story just a little while before this. Oh, ha ha ha! We're an interesting couple, aren't we? Don't worry about the 107 second rule of this adventure; it's about to rear its ugly head in just a moment.
There was little I could do besides kick and howl my usual garbled garbage while trapped in that armoire, but knowing I was locked in there kicked things up a notch. Like 84 second orgasms to be exact. Since Ross left me in there for 25 minutes, and 25 minutes is… calculator… give me a second… 1500 seconds… 1500 divided by 84 goes to 18! My crotch was on freaking fire from a rhythmic series of explosive pleasure that hurts so much but is sooooooo good. Stopping myself dead in my tracks before I do that to myself for the third time. I promised!
Release rarely felt so good. My friends, with Ross helping them, once rigged up a setup during a filming day and got me down to 16 second orgasms, but they weren't as good as these because all of these were as a result of our commitment to each other. Removing the brown blindfold to find darkness (he turned off the lights) made the CNC vibes unreal. Unknotting the purple OTM gag was an erotic pleasure. Fixing my shirt brought satisfaction. Unpeeling the tegaderm was a total and absolute b-tch, but one that made me howl with pleasure. Pulling out the socks forced me to smile. Adjusting all my remaining clothing (pumps, skirt, shirt, bandana) empowered me.
"Ross," I said in a hoarse voice, needing a drink, "I love you baby."
And kissed him on the cheek.
THE END
Honey Has Her Hubby (M/F)
Saturday, January 18, 2025
OK, OK! Enough already! Stop clamoring. I orgasmed while recalling the juiciest parts of my last story and left you in the lurch when a new adventure broke out of that one. That was such a steaming hot adventure that resulted in me keeling over in the freaking bathroom. You hide in a secluded place just for that reason when you're writing your own stories; remember that!
Anyway, where was I? Oh, right! So, to make up for my interruption, I figured I'd tell you about that adventure I intimated at the end of the last story, for those who read it. Now, don't get your panties in a knot. I'm going to fill in some of the pieces for you so that you don't feel like you've missed something. All right, you did miss something special, but that's on you and not me. As a form of apology for that lacking detail, this time I'm going to make sure I get the butt sex in there as well and not short change you the steamiest, most arousing part of CNC games with Ross.
Because I love Ross, I sometimes let him come after me with some zipties or whatever species of tape he wants to use on me. Ross loves me, so he always makes sure he stuffs my mouth with a scrumptious little something before taping it shut. Yes, I'm stealing lines from the previous story because it's easier. Get real! Recycling is good for the environment, and you know it!
From my issues, some of you will recall (recycling warning) that I had taken off my panties after soaking them in my fluid and put them on the bed where Ross would be sure to see them so that a second tasty delight would go into my mouth, albeit not as much fun as dirty, sweaty socks. A dirty sock gag cannot be topped. Sorry for those of you who can't handle them; your loss.
"Hi, baby," I walked up to Ross and rubbed his scruff and kissed his cheek, "How are you?"
"Hmmm, Kendra," he wiggled his eyebrows, "Are you in a mood?"
"It's just me and you, Ross," I said since we were alone, "Just the two of us," and let a strap fall.
"Hmmmm," he replied with a lecherous wink, "Is this some sort of hint?"
"Zipties, Ross. Zipties. And make sure you're meaner to me and more aggressive than you were in that one film where you and those girls had me and my friends… you know the one!"
As I walked away, I swished my purple cotton knee skirt by the slight twitch of my hips. My red pumps gave me a powerful feminine mystique. Underneath my pink tank top was nothing! Ooh, I am something else. I turned back, gazed at Ross, winked, walked into the bathroom, turned on the light, and began adjusting my red bandana headband to be sure it's in the right spot. All four kids were in bed, including the one procreated in the last story. Poor Ross just wanted to enjoy a hockey game, but that had to be put aside because he knew not to miss a rare opportunity where I wanted him to kidnap me and use me as his pleasure toy so that I'd find my own pleasure.
Yeah, you're looking and thinking, "Oh, gosh, here goes Kendra again into her crazy CNC heavy R games again!" Yep, that's exactly what it is. Only it's OK because I tell Ross to do it, and you don't get a say in our marriage. It's kind of fun to grab his eyes and whisper, "Take me and do all you desire. Just make sure… that… I… get… wet," and then kiss him on the cheek and walk out of the room. Or rub his scruffy beard and drop a strap to reveal a tit.
"GGGMMMMMMPPFFFFF!" he grabbed me in his loving, strong embrace just how we like it.
"Well, well, what do we have here? Are you a dwarf or a hobbit?" he taunted me, and I melted.
"MMMMMGGGGGGPPFFFFFF!" well, damn, first post-writing orgasm already just from that.
"Wow, girlie, you're awfully strange," Ross just played off my reaction, "You like kidnappings?!"
"UGGGHHHH!" my response went to hell because he stuffed the panties into my mouth.
"Let's go. Into the bedroom!" he ordered me and gave me a harsh spank on the bottom.
"-o h-ck -ourthelpf!" I snapped, walked into the bedroom, and sat down on the bed as he pointed.
"All right. Take off the heels and your socks. Put the heels back on your feet and stuff the socks in your mouth," he crossed his arms and stepped back, "Do it, or I'll do it for you, tiny b-tch toy."
Of course, why be shy at that? He wants me to do it, and resistance will get me punished. Bright red pumps off my feet. Purple socks off my feet. Purple socks into my mouth. Red pumps back on my feet. There little kinky foot-fetishist damsel-in-distress Kendra sat, fresh off writing a tale of which the mere recollection alone made her orgasm, and she'd already orgasmed just from her husband's first taunt. What did she do? Orgasmed when the taste of her socks hit her taste buds. Just be prepared to hear that word repeatedly because it's going to show up. Too much maybe.
"You're weird," Ross teased me while sealing my lips with a tegaderm, a fun choice of gag that I am fairly certain he must have gotten from my friends just for my next ziptie request.
"GMMMMMPFFF!" he spun me around to rip a zip around my arms above the elbows. Kinky!
"What are these tattoos on your wrists?!" he asked me in mock shock, "Survivor JF11120286."
"GMMMMMPFFFFFF!" I yelled at him, but he was too busy zipping my wrists to respond.
"So you're a convict," his tone turned playfully menacing, "Should make this even more fun."
"NMMM MMMMMMM!" I really should have worn a long-sleeve t-shirt for this. Oh well!
Back to the Kendra confessional. Move it! NOW! There, my sweets. Now, take a seat to hear a quick story. I had a break with my family when I was a teenager. Played the clarinet in the wind ensemble in school. Really brought fulfillment. Anyway, I was second in the first section and to my surprise was moved leading the second section. My parents thought it was a knock and took it to mean that I had no talent. I wasn't an athlete nor was part of a first section or leading it was seen as the talentless child. My mistake was my response: becoming a cocaine junkie. That's the reason I went to prison and became a survivor, Mudville Juvenile Detention Center JF11120286. JF means a juvenile female; 11 means November; 12 means 2012; and 0286 means that I was the 286th juvenile female arrested in that district that year. I survived and overcame it. Thank God!
Wait until my kidnapper finds my "κούκλα" tattoo on my ankle, the only other one I have, just a small tribute to my Greek mother. Well, he's tenderly fondling my ankle, finding it just before he ripped another ziptie around my ankles. I have the Greek complexion and nose despite having blonde-brown hair more typical of my Danish surname Kristensen. Two stories and not once did I throw a Danish curse or insult at Ross. I've let you down! Well, that sucks for all three of us.
"GMMMMMPPPPFFFFF!" the taste of my juices hit my tongue strongly and… Orgasm. Yep.
"What the hell is wrong with you honey?" Ross asked me in a classic mocking tone, "Weirdo."
Not me shooting daggers out my eyes at Ross. Definitely not. He joyfully ripped the zips up and down my arms and legs, turning them into helpless secure bundles without pinching me even a little. When one went below my elbows, my helplessness was assured. Adding two more right in between that and my wrists, binding my forearms, was brilliant. My legs had four more going up my legs to my knees and then one above my knees. Ross loves me and proved it by zipping my arches together so I couldn't ditch my heels. I still could've kicked him in the balls though I of course wouldn't do that. I'd do lots of things, but honey isn't ever going to hurt her hubby.
"Mmmm, nice," Ross pulled up my shirt and fondled my tits like a sexy predator with his prey.
"GMM MMMM PFFFFFF!" I really couldn't say much back to him despite my efforts.
"You're pretty," and he ripped two zips around my chest, on either side of said tits, pinning my arms to my body and making sure the shirt wouldn't fall down (and making me again wish I had worn a long-sleeve tee because that would have been so much sexier right then), "Very pretty."
"GMMPFFF!" my gagged sputters were nonsense, but he squeezed me just right, and… Orgasm.
"Mmmmm," he kissed my tegaderm sealed lips, "Such a beautiful young dolllll."
"GMM MMMM PFFFFFF!" that looks as downright pathetic as it sounded to us both.
"Just making sure you don't escape," he said and ripped another zip around my waist to add one final pinion, this one clamping my arms down even further, "Can't have that happening, baby."
Poor little Kendra. Little sweet, kind, bandana-wearing, warrior princess, snarky, caustic, sweet, hyper-aroused 5-foot-nothing retired clarinetist, famous bondage model, housewife, mom, and foot-fetishist couldn't help but watch while her assailant stripped naked. The mere sight of her husband was so good, and she imagined the various sensations of her husband's manhood. Yes, it was a heavy R consensual-nonconsensual game, but the main purpose had arrived. Yes, my favorite part: making babies! Come on, you knew that was coming eventually!
And then Ross played me like an instrument.
If you provide rhythm or constancy, I will orgasm rhythmically. Like, if a vibrator is strapped to my thigh, I will orgasm almost with exactly the same number of seconds between each one. It's a bizarre quirk that people just love using against me. Who's to stop them? I sure am not about to tell them to stop doing it because I kind of like it. Where was this going? Oh, right, babies!
When Ross folded my legs into my chest, orgasm occurred before he even took the plunge into my body. Then he did that cruel deed: not releasing. He'd move around, get close, drive me to yet another orgasm, and stop. Cruel yet not cruel. It was awfully loud there. There I was stuck on my back on the bed, torqued in zipties, fighting like he's an axe murderer casually taking me to the cleaners before snuffing me out, and he'd blue balling himself to make me orgasm on this painful repeating cycle. See how much Ross loves me! Ohhhh, I do love him for so many other reasons that make this look like nothing, but this was us expressing it in a special way.
"GGMMMMMMPPPPFFFFFF!" yep, that's special all right, howling into panties and socks.
Yep, Ross played me for a long time. This cycle continued. I'm fairly certain I was making this awful mess. My skirt had curled from my awkward position, but this went on for like 20 minutes or longer, him just blue balling himself to near release and then finding my G spot. He even took extra precautions to make sure he wasn't close enough to release that my own muscle cramps did not finish him off by mistake. I was sucking on my own orgasm-soaked panties and socks that I had worn for at least 15 hours… and it was absolutely heavenly being his plaything like this. All I could do was squirm, howl into the gag, and shoot daggers out my eyes, just how we liked it.
"GGMMMMPFFFFFF!" those sputters sound so amazing to you, do they? Right…
"Well, someone's a bit of a bondage c-m sl-t," Ross dishes out the most arousing insults.
"NMMM MM MMMMMPFFF!" I tried my damndest to get away from him but couldn't.
"All right, here it is," he pushed just right so I orgasmed, my cramps in turn setting him off.
And the baby was a girl whom we named Teresa Olivia.
But you're more interested in the butt sex, I'm sure. Well, let's go that way!
I squeaked my heels together while Ross grabbed some things. Taking a piece of clear packing tape, he carefully made a loop and applied it over the tegaderm, right over lips. Then, showing a clever streak just like the smartest plumber on earth (which he is), he added a purple bandana as an OTM gag for no reason except to make me look sexier. Oh, this was sexy indeed.
See how it goes? I love Ross; Ross loves me. We know how to make each other happy and give the other our best. When Ross took a quick break to decompress and use the restroom, I got up and started hopping around the bedroom. Yeah, my tits were out and my skirt was flopping. So what? I knew how to get Ross ready for the next round. He had played me like an instrument as it was. Now it was my turn to play him. Honey has her hubby hostage in her heart.
"Just what are you doing?" he absolutely took over when he saw me and grabbed me by the tits.
"GMMMMMPFFFFFFF!" and I melted (orgasmed) in his arms before he blindfolded me.
"This will keep you in one spot," he pulled a brown bandana over my eyes and knotted it tightly.
"Gmmmm mmmm hmmmmpffff!"
"Take that, JF11120286," he said from memory and spanked me on each butt cheek.
"GMMMMMPFFFFFFF!" I hopped up before he took me and effortlessly tossed me on the bed.
And then Ross took the plunge, and it felt really good. I couldn't see anything, but my sense of touch sure as hell was working overtime. Ross was touching things no one but he will ever get to touch until I'm old and need a colonoscopy. Damn, that boy is good at hitting the right spots, making sure he gets me going. Of course, he started rocking rhythmically, screwing around on the timing of things until… No! Rhythmic orgasms! Every 107 seconds I involuntarily howled into my socks and panties with the howl of pain and the delicious tastes of my feet and c-m. Oh, Ross, baby, you really were pushing my buttons, and… GAH! The author just orgasmed…
Naturally, the proper thing to do is fight like hell. It sure as hell was arousing, but CNC requires an unwilling person, right? The thrill is in fighting back and acting like it's miserable even when you're orgasming non-stop. 107 seconds and… orgasm. Blindly squirming and squeaking those bright red pumps while Ross crushed me into our mattress was beyond amazing. He kept trying to roll my head to one side or another and kiss my lips while I kept turning away until he grabbed me by the bun and held me in one position while his lips kissed my lips right in the center of the bandana OTM gag. His grip and his rhythm and his weight and his lips and… NOOOOOO!
Sorry about that. Goodness! That blindfold made things so much more fun, and of course there was that incessant squeaking of my pumps because this foot fetish girl wanted to hear that sound as much as her husband wanted to hear it. Just think, my taste buds had to handle the taste of the socks that I'd worn for the previous 15 hours as well. If you think that tasted good, you're totally nuts; if you think that was wildly arousing, then you've been paying careful attention to my story.
"GGMMMMPFFFFF!" I howled when Ross got me in just the right spot. It was so good that my reaction was to cry because of the combination of pain and arousal. Don't fret because he wasn't actually hurting me. Haven't you ever heard of a G-spot? G = good. Ross is so good at this, and when we play like this he never leaves anything on the table. Seriously, just check this out.
"So, short thing, you think you're gonna keep fighting me?" he asked, holding my bun.
"GMMM MMM GMPFFFFFF!" the addition of my panties really quelled my speech.
"Whose my tiny b-tch toy?" that kind of question always was enough to get me going.
"GMMMPFFFFFFF!" yeah, you know what I was doing, right at 107 seconds on the dot.
"You're a strange one, Kendra," Ross sweetly fell out of a character, "But I love you so much."
A little spanking, fondling (both tits and crotch), kissing, hair pulling, menacing, romancing, and a brief break all brought things around for Ross to get his own release. Remember those morals I put first; well, Ross puts them first too. Even after 30 minutes of ramming me in the rear so that I was crying while enjoying the pain so much at times, we still finished in the right place because of our Roman Catholic beliefs concerning his release. Of course, I orgasmed several dozen times over the course of the game. It was hot, arousing, steamy, pleasurable, aggressive, fulfilling, and uniting, and… GAH! I promise this is the last time I'll orgasm… while writing this story.
After all this, what did hubby do with his captive honey? Well, he opened his personal armoire, put her on the floor of it, shut the door, and locked it, of course! Then he went about his personal business, doing whatever he wanted to do to get ready for bed, deciding to forget about watching his hockey games because he didn't want to abandon me for real and risk me choking on the pair of yummy, cheesy, socks in my mouth or the panties I'd soaked while writing the first story just a little while before this. Oh, ha ha ha! We're an interesting couple, aren't we? Don't worry about the 107 second rule of this adventure; it's about to rear its ugly head in just a moment.
There was little I could do besides kick and howl my usual garbled garbage while trapped in that armoire, but knowing I was locked in there kicked things up a notch. Like 84 second orgasms to be exact. Since Ross left me in there for 25 minutes, and 25 minutes is… calculator… give me a second… 1500 seconds… 1500 divided by 84 goes to 18! My crotch was on freaking fire from a rhythmic series of explosive pleasure that hurts so much but is sooooooo good. Stopping myself dead in my tracks before I do that to myself for the third time. I promised!
Release rarely felt so good. My friends, with Ross helping them, once rigged up a setup during a filming day and got me down to 16 second orgasms, but they weren't as good as these because all of these were as a result of our commitment to each other. Removing the brown blindfold to find darkness (he turned off the lights) made the CNC vibes unreal. Unknotting the purple OTM gag was an erotic pleasure. Fixing my shirt brought satisfaction. Unpeeling the tegaderm was a total and absolute b-tch, but one that made me howl with pleasure. Pulling out the socks forced me to smile. Adjusting all my remaining clothing (pumps, skirt, shirt, bandana) empowered me.
"Ross," I said in a hoarse voice, needing a drink, "I love you baby."
And kissed him on the cheek.
THE END