The Birthday Bet Part 1 A “Jen” Origin Story from the Middle Years M/F Consensual, bound, gagged, mature, sex

[CleveKnots1969]

Preface:

Having reached an age where it feels not only natural but necessary to set down the experiences of my youth, I’ve decided to test my writing skills once more and gather a handful of fond memories into a series of tales. Before I begin, it seems only fair to offer the reader a glimpse of what awaits within.

These pages hold moments that shaped me—some small, some significant, all softened by the passage of time. They are not meant as history or instruction, but simply as stories. In this collection, those stories lean toward adult themes and explore elements of consensual bondage as I experienced them in my younger years. While some details have been embellished for color or pacing, the core events, the personalities involved, and—most importantly—the mutual willingness of every participant remain true to life. Names and locations have been changed to protect privacy.

Each tale centers on a consensual power exchange scenario. There was never any real force, coercion, or deception involved; any sense of danger existed only within the boundaries of role play, something I trust will be evident as the stories unfold. The dynamics portrayed generally reflect a male dominant, female submissive framework, occasionally involving more than one partner, and are written from a heterosexual perspective.

My storytelling tends to be expansive—some might say long winded—but for me, the build up is as essential as the resolution. These narratives are intended for mature adults only. If you are under eighteen, please set this aside and go enjoy the world beyond your screen. If you are between eighteen and twenty five, you may find more value in creating your own stories than in reading mine.

With that, we begin.

My stories generally fall into one of three timelines: my “college years,” which includes some interesting events that occurred both at and during the summers of my collegiate career, my young adulthood after college (which I will refer to as the “middle years” ), and my early maturity or “past present” experiences, for lack of a better description. Interestingly enough, it’s that later slice of life that produced some of the most memorable moments. I am married now, having found my true love later in life, and NONE of those experiences will grace this or any other page, and at no time during my marriage have I ever strayed, so if that is implied in my stories somehow, forgive me as I try to stay to the basic truth of the matter.

At any rate, three recurring female protagonists appear throughout these stories, each based on a real-life partners of mine. I refer to them as “MJ,” “Kate,” and “Jen.” MJ is a shorter redhead, Jen is tall and athletically built with dirty-blond hair, and Kate is the epitome of the beautiful blond you might expect to see on a beach or in a club.

I have a type, as you’ll probably notice, and all three are well built from a male perspective. I dated each of them off and on for several years, drawn back again and again by their adventurous nature and their willingness to accommodate a certain kink of mine. At times, they even seemed to be as interested in bondage as I was—sometimes more.

There are other wonderful women I’ve been intimate with, many of whom also took part in bondage adventures, but MJ, Kate, and Jen were involved in so many of them that they naturally became the leading ladies in many adventures you may find here.

This story features Jen and took place during the "Middle Years," several months after I met her.

"Origin" stories, of which I have one each for Jen, Kate and MJ are my story of "breaking the ice" as far as bondage in our relationship(s) . Once we get past the origin, or adventures often become more daring and more frequent. But as one can imagine, it takes time to build trust for a consensual bondage relationship in or out of the bedroom.

With that, I present:

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The Birthday Bet Part 1

A “Jen” Origin Story from the Middle Years

Years back I began dating a fantastic girl that I had known professionally for several years, and we had flirted on and off at work and at several work-related social functions for three or more months. Finally, I worked up the gumption to ask her out for a date, and she agreed.

For the sake of her privacy, I’ll refer to her as Jen. She was a tall, blond, athletic, and large-chested girl who was more softball-athletic than ballet-athletic by far. Standing at 5’10” and probably 130–140 in weight, she still managed to have a slim waist, an ass that one would applaud if it ran by, and a chest that filled out the double D bra but yet had not begun to give in to gravity. She was a bit of a tomboy even in her low 30’s and could both drink and curse as well as any sailor could.

We agreed to meet at a sports bar to have drinks, a spot between both of our houses that offered both refuge should the date not go well and harbor should it go as well as anyone on a date could hope. I must admit that I had a pre date drink of two beers to steady my nerves and loosen my disposition. When I arrived, I was pleasantly surprised to find her car already in the lot. I entered the bar and found Jen standing at the bar with a cold beer in a mug sitting in front of her and engaged in a conversation with the bartender, who was obviously making an effort to leave an impression should this customer need to find a friend at the end of the evening.

Who could blame him? Jen was dressed in a short black skirt, matching boots that rose to mid calf, and a fairly tight white sleeveless top that accented her chest in ways that God himself would have applauded. Her hair was left long and straight, flowing down below her shoulders, and had just a tint of brunette among the blond locks. Jen was not someone who wore a lot of makeup and had skin that seemed to be flawless, but I detected a hint of lipstick and just a bit of blush that assured me she had taken her time to get ready for the date.

Now, this first date did not end up in any awesome bondage scenario, so I will glaze through it, but it did have several important aspects that later turned out to be vital to the plot, if you will. That evening we drank our share of beer, talked about random things as well as about some of the common people we knew, and while we were having a great time, I did not sense a time to “make a move” and try to kiss her. I was getting worried that this would end up being just a platonic date, which is not necessarily a bad thing, but not ideal. That was until about 10 p.m., when Jen was leaning over the pool table where we were playing our third round of cricket, and she looked up and caught my eyes focused on her cleavage. I may have missed her looking at me for a few seconds because I was only aware of her alert eyes when she cleared her throat to catch my attention. I remember feeling immediately embarrassed and looked into her eyes, expecting to see disappointment or outrage.

Instead, Jen smiled, looked slyly back and forth, confirming that our end of the bar was otherwise empty, and reached up to the V-neck of her shirt, bent at the waist, and pulled her blouse away from her, providing a good look at her breasts underneath, though still shrouded in what appeared to be a fairly sheer bra. She jiggled just a bit as I looked, mesmerized by her chest, and then let the blouse snap back into place. She looked at me and simply asked,
“so are we gonna hump or not”?.

Now, I probably stood there flabbergasted for a moment before saying something like, “Hell yes, we are,” and then headed straight to the bar to pay the tab. Mind you, we hadn’t even kissed up to this point, but as soon as we stepped outside, I made sure to change that. As we walked toward our cars, I grabbed her by the waist, spun her, and gave her my best open mouth kiss. She responded in kind, and we leaned against my car, locked together, for a good five minutes. My hands roamed al over her shirt, and hers started to move aggressively around the outer side of my pants. Both of our anatomies responded in kind. Her nipples became sharp and stiff while I found myself growing and getting hard.

We left her car in the parking lot, and the ride home was filled with some groping as well as more than a few moments of Jen unbuttoning, stroking, and kissing my member as my non-driving hand tried to grab, finger, and squeeze any part of her body I could access. Im not even sure how we stayed on the road as she tried to suck the life right out of my cock. Meanwhile, I had managed to learn how to drive with my legs, shift with my left hand and finger a girl with my right. It was beautiful chaos.

We drove to her house, where we continued the pre-sex wrestling match and started shedding clothing even before we made it inside.
During our assent to the bed, I had pulled her hands behind her to collect them behind in what I have found to be a trusted method to see how willing a female partner may be to bondage. She pulled her hands free, though, and used them on me in a very pleasurable manner, so I could not complain.

When we were making love, I gathered he hands above her head together, and she arched her back and seemed to be enjoying allowing herself to be overpowered, but just a few moments later broke the grasp and brought he hands back into play. I was not exactly disappointed due to the next twenty minutes of almost feverous sex, and was left without complaint.

In the post sex chitter chat where we discussed our likes and dislikes when it came to bedroom activities, I was not surprised, but a bit disappointed when Jen said matter-of-factly that she did not like “being tied up” and apparently had a negative experience with a former boyfriend who was more of a “whips and chains” type of dominant. I was, as I said, disappointed, but not anywhere near enough to cause that to affect our relationship at this point.

So, for the next 10 months, we dated exclusively and had both an amazing relationship as well as some of the most energetic and enthusiastic sex I had ever had. Blow jobs while driving, outdoor sex, public (movie house) escapades that were almost criminal, you name it. We role-played, had planned sexual encounters, and paid for hotel rooms in our own town just to have something new and exciting to do on any given evening. During that time, I did not even try to introduce bondage.

Then came my birthday. On, the a few days just before my birthday. Jen and I were lying in my bed after sex, and she asked what I wanted as a birthday present. I joked about having anything from a threesome with her best friend to buying up half of our local adult gimmick store.
We were watching TV in bed and just then, the gods smiled on me.

The TV murmured in the background, more noise than entertainment, until I quietly nudged the channel over to an old episode of T.J. Hooker. Season 5, “The Obsession.”

In this classic episode, Stacy Sheridan is kidnapped by three bank robbers and tied up several times while in her police uniform. In one unforgettable scene, Stacy (Heather Locklear) is hogtied and cleave gagged in the back of a van while the three bad guys rob yet another branch

I tried to play it off like idle flipping, but the moment Stacy Sheridan appeared on-screen, tied up in the back of that van, my attention drifted before I could stop it.

Jen noticed before I did.

“That chick sure does get tied up a lot,” she said, her voice light, almost amused.

My pulse jumped hard enough that I felt it in my throat. I kept my eyes on the screen a second too long, then forced myself to look casual.
“Oh yeah?” I managed, hoping the steadiness in my voice covered the sudden scramble in my head.

She shifted beside me, not looking at the TV anymore — looking at me. “I mean, between Dynasty, this show, and I think even Melrose, she was constantly getting tied up. I’m pretty sure I read an interview where she even had sex like that with her husband Tommy.”

For a moment, everything inside me paused — a held breath, a suspended thought. I could feel the weight of her words hanging there, waiting to see what I’d do with them.

I chose mine carefully, like stepping onto thin ice. “Well,” I said, keeping my tone even, “any good police drama needs its damsel on occasion. And I don’t know anything about her sex life, but who’s to judge.”

She didn’t say anything right away. Just watched me with that curious, knowing half smile — the kind that made it clear she’d seen more than I meant to show.

And suddenly the room felt different. Not tense, exactly. Just… charged. Like a door had cracked open between us, and neither of us was quite ready to close it.

Thinking back, I blew it. The opening was right there — clear as daylight in hindsight — and I felt it slip past me like a door I didn’t have the nerve to walk through. My mind had stalled, caught between wanting to say something and being terrified of saying too much. Jen, though… the Monday morning quarterback in me suspects she didn’t miss a thing.

She glanced at the screen again, then back at me. “Besides,” she said, “anyone could get free of that in like a second.” Her tone was casual, but there was a spark under it — a deliberate nudge, a test balloon floated into the space between us. “Ridiculous that they’d leave her alone like that in the back of the van. She’d either wriggle free or yell for help in the first ten seconds.”

Clarity came like the light of day — sudden, sharp, impossible to ignore. Before I could second-guess myself, the words were already out of my mouth.

“Wanna bet?” I challenged, my voice steadier than I felt.

She turned toward me, eyebrows lifting. “Bet? Like what?”

My heart thudded once, hard. This was the moment — the kind that feels both reckless and inevitable. I swallowed, trying to sound casual even as my pulse raced.

“For my birthday,” I said, choosing each word with care, “if you lose the bet… I get whatever I ask for. Within reason, of course.” I tried to tack on a light laugh, something to soften the edges, but it came out thinner than I intended. “But still.

“Oh, hell yeah,” she said, grinning as if she’d been waiting for me to throw down a challenge. Then her eyes narrowed just slightly, playful but sharp. “But what if you lose? Then what?”

I forced a shrug, trying to look casual even as my pulse thudded in my ears. “Well… I guess my birthday becomes yours,” I said. “And you get whatever you want.”

“You’re on,” Jen said, flashing a big, confident smile.

“Rules,” I said, sitting up and turning to face her fully. My voice came out steadier than I felt.

She glanced at the TV, where Stacy was now being driven away from the robbery, still bound in the back of the van. “I don’t know,” she said, lifting a shoulder. “If I get free of that in the first five minutes,”—she motioned toward the screen—“and I win. I don’t, and I lose.”

There was a spark in her eyes, playful but sharp, like she was daring me to push back.

“Okay,” I said slowly, feeling the moment tighten between us. “But let’s make it fifteen minutes, to be fair to you. And it’s gotta be more realistic, I mean, how she is tied is not very real, we can keep it basically the same, but the ropes have to be tied better than that.”

“Deal,” she said, her smile widening just enough to show she was enjoying this more than she let on. “Make it as real as you think you can, I'm not worried”

“Now?” I asked, trying to sound casual, though my voice carried a tightness I hoped she didn’t hear.

Jen didn’t hesitate. “No better time than the present,” she replied

Since we were both naked, and I was starting to get pretty aroused, I thought it might be a better idea if we were at least partially dressed for the challenge.

“You get into whatever feels comfortable,” I said, standing up and trying to sound matter-of-fact. “I’ll go look for some supplies. I’ll meet you in the living room.” I donned a pair of boxer-briefs, jeans, and a sweatshirt that was lying on the ground.

Jen nodded, still wearing that half smile that made it impossible to tell whether she thought I was being practical or just stalling. Maybe both.

Her living room had a soft rug and a wide, comfortable couch, both of which would make what I had in mind ideal.

I headed into Jen’s garage. I’d been through here before and knew more or less what she kept tucked away on the shelves. It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for — a long length of white rope coiled neatly in a plastic bin, and a roll of silver duct tape sitting beside an old toolbox.

In a small box near the door back to the house was a cluster of cloths made of old clothing and set aside for possible rags. I located an old t-shirt and ripped free a square about 10 inches square, pocketing it.


When I made my way back to the living room, I saw Jen emerging from her bedroom. I let out a low whistle.

Jen is gorgeous on an ordinary day, but the moment seemed to accentuate her beauty. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders. It had a recently fluffed and brushed appearance indicating that she was as interested in her appearance as the challenge itself. She wore one of my white ribbed sleeveless cotton T shirts — the kind I’d tossed on a chair without thinking, the fabric soft against her frame, paired with short, beige lace briefs that hinted more than they revealed. Her powerful legs and toned arms contrasted with the gentle, almost hesitant quality in her stance and expression.

She was clearly bra-less, and the outline of her full, but still firm breasts pressed evenly against the cloth.

“Wow” was all I could get out.

“What?” she replied. “You’ve seen me in far less than this over the last half year.”

She wasn’t wrong. But I could sense the change our sex life was about to have if I only threaded the needle correctly. “You are so hot,” I said, the words slipping out before I could second-guess them. “I don’t say that nearly enough, but it’s true.”

She smiled coyly

“OK—rules,” I said.

“I thought we had the rules,” she retorted.

“Yeah, the basic ones. But now it’s the nitty gritty—the small print, if you will.”

I took a breath. “Here they are: if you can get free in the next fifteen minutes, or if you can get to your phone, call mine, and clearly tell me you want to be released within that same time… then you win.”

I let the words settle between us.

“If not, you lose,” I said, “and I get my birthday wish.”

“My phone?” she asked.

“Yep. I’ll put it right here,” I said, picking up her phone and placing it in the center of the large island in her kitchen, about twenty yards from where she was standing.

“This is easy money,” she said.

“You think so?” I replied. “Now turn around.”

Jen did as I requested, turning toward the couch and the wall behind it.

I walked up behind her, placed the duct tape on a coffee table softly, I didn't think she had even noticed it. Then I placed my hands on her arms and slowly moved them to the rear. She crossed her wrists in anticipation.

I un-crossed them and placed them wrist to wrist. Taking one length of white rope I began to wrap it around the wrists until I made about ten closely grouped loops. Then I made three loops between the wrists, pulling tightly and making first a square knot at the bottom, then looping around twice again and making a second square knot at the top, between her wrists. The remaining rope, about five feet on either side, was allowed to fall behind her.

I watched as her hands clenched and unclenched while she tested her bonds.

“OK,” she said with confidence. “Is it time to try to get free?”

“Hardly,” I said. “Turn and sit on the couch.”

Jen did as I asked, and I knelt in front of her, gathering her legs together.

Jen had fantastic legs. It didn’t matter whether you meant her thighs, her calves, or anything in between—volleyball and softball had shaped them into a hardened, powerful set of limbs I admired every time I had the opportunity to see them in the wild.

Just like her wrists, I wrapped a large number of loops around her ankles and then wrapped three more loops between. This was a shorter length of rope, and I managed to just tie a square knot above and another below before I ran out of rope

“OK” is it time to start?” Jem asked

“You wish,” I said, “first kneel on the rug.”

She smiled at me, slid forward and landed softly on her knees facing me.

“Ohh, I get it.. since you have me where you want me, you thought you would get in a quick blow-job” she said, moistening her lips with her tongue.

“Not quite, a fine I idea I might say, but first let’s settle this bet” . I leaned over to the coffee table and grabbed the roll of duct tape, starting to unpeel a length

“whats that for?” she asked , still with a hint of a smile.

“Well, I have to make it challenging for you,” I replied, “you said you wanted it to be realistic so it was easy right?”

she shrugged in agreement

“well that little cloth that she had in her mouth was not going to stop her from calling out for help, at least not like they had tied it”
Oh OK, Jen said in agreement, but boy are you gonna pay when I win” She closed her lips and offered her face to me.

I caught my breath and reached into my pocket, pulling the square of cloth from it. “Open your mouth first,” I said.

Without protest, Jen did exactly that. I quickly stuffed the sloth into her mouth and pushed the corners back between her teeth.

“Whhhmmffftttt tthhhhhhffs” Jen’s muffled and slightly surprised response was to me.

“ I cant just throw some tape over your mouth, it would take a half a second for you to use your tongue to loosen it .. “This way it will be more challenging. “

Jen relented, closed her mouth over the cloth, and allowed me to place a strip of the silver tape over her pursed lips. I followed this with three more, the first two slightly criss-cross and the last just slightly below the first. Then I smoothed the tape over her lips and cheeks, making sure it was adhering. The tape gag covered Jens mouth from below her nose to just above her chin and from one cheek to the other.
Jen made several muffled sounds that were more a test to see how effective her gag was that as any actual attempt to communicate with me.

“Now,” I said with some seriousness,” If at ANY point, you want to get untied or for me to take the tape off, just snap your fingers, OK?”

Jen nodded.

One more thing, I said, and, moving behind her, I took hold of her shoulders and led her comfortably toward the ground, face first.

Jen peered back at me as I took hold of the bonds around her ankle and pulled them up toward her backside. With one hand, I found the loose ends of the rope leading to her wrist bindings and began to lash that to the ankle ropes. I purposely left about one and a half to two feet of slack between her wrists and ankles, and was able to make two passes between both. I didn’t think a strict hog tie would be appropriate for this first “challenge”. Then I tied the rope just below the loops around her ankles. Yes, I probably should have made the knot above her wrists, but I honestly wanted to give her the opportunity to get free.

Jen looked back over her shoulder at me and made several guttural grunts, but the sparkle in her eye indicated that she was being more playful than concerned.

“Just like in the TV show, but a little more realistic.”

“MMMvvbbiiittle” was all Jen could manage

I could tell she was mocking my statement, “A little?”

OK, lets start the timer… oh wait, one more thing . This was met with another grunt or two.

I grabbed the T-shirt around her abdomen and tore the lower half away, pulling it free from underneath her. This left her chest still covered, but the lower rounded edges of her full bosom were now visible below the altered halter top. Pressed into the floor, they filled out even more than normal.

Jen gave a very startled and muted exclamation.

“Hey, it's my T-shirt, and I think you needed that little touch of distress to complete the scene” I said with a mischievous tone.

Jen paused, gave a light groan, and then nodded.

“Ok Time starts … now.” I started a timer on my phone and showed her the display.

Jen immediately went to work testing the security of the ropes. She wriggled her wrists to see if they would loosen the restraints at all. Next she tried to kick, twist, and move her legs back and forth, but with no luck. After that, she strained against the rope that connected her wrists to her legs. This too did not give.

She made muffled grunts in frustration from behind the tape. The cloth stuffing was working well, and the tape held firm. I watched as her lips made an effort to dislodge the gag but this too failed.

For the next five minutes, I sat on a chair facing Jen as she writhed and struggled on the floor of her living room. She rolled to one side and then the other. I was rewarded with regular flashes of her nipples as the shirt rode up on her chest and then back. The heft of her tits as they mashed against the floor and then sprang free when she moved on to one side and then the other was mesmerizing. The wither ropes being pulled tightly against her while she tried to reach for the knots was equally hypnotic.

Finally, Jen found the knot that secured the rope, making the hog tie. It took her a few minutes of frustrating picking at the knot to get it loose. This was accompanied by more stifled grunts of protest as her neck stretched and the tape tightened against her lower face, keeping the sounds well within the boundaries of the gag.

We were about ten minutes into the challenge when Jen was able to lower her still-bound legs to the floor, straightening them out.
“Impressive,” I said, “but not exactly free, are you?”

Jen shot me a look — half glare, half grin — before rolling onto her side with deliberate exaggeration, as if to say watch closely. She planted her shoulder against the edge of the sofa and pushed, using the leverage to twist herself upright.. From there, she was able to get into a kneeling position, then, with some more effort, she was able to actually get to her feet.

“Very impressive,” I said, giving a slow, exaggerated clap. “Tell you what — if you can make it out the front door like that, I’ll let you win.”
Jen tilted her head slightly and made a muted retort. Then she looked past me toward the kitchen island and, with some effort, took a hop in that direction.

I stood and moved the chair out of her way and watched as she made consecutive leaps, feet tethered together and hands bound behind her, toward the kitchen. Each leap caused her breasts to rise and fall, each time the torn shirt rose above one or both, and her small, dark, round nipples seemed to beckon as she moved past. I turned and continued to watch this impressive display now with a clear view of her ass and the bound wrists, the length of rope trailing behind.

Jen finally made it to the center kitchen counter, where her phone was sitting, face up in the center. She stopped and leaned over the counter. Unfortunately for her, the counter was just a bit too high for her to reach the phone with her bound arms, when she twisted to try to reach. Next she leaned forward, over the counter, which gave me a fantastic view from the rear, but though she could nudge the phone with her face, it just managed to slide further away. This was followed by a series of well stifled grunts and mumbling as Jen tried to figure out how to reach her phone,

She gave up temporarily on this plan and stood back on her feet, hopping over toward the kitchen drawers. I watched as she jiggled and bounced around the counter, the bindings and gag staying secure.

She managed to open a drawer that held the kitchen utensils.

“Hold on” I said quickly. I quickly walked over and reached in, taking a knife out “I don’t want you to drop it and get cut… here.” I said, placing the handle of the knife in her hand. “I assume that’s what you were trying for.”

Jen gave a grunt in the affirmative. She hoped again and leaned over the counter and started to manipulate the knife, trying to get the sharp edge onto the ropes surrounding her wrists. I stood by closely, ready to grab the knife if she slipped and it fell from her grasp.

Jen held it tightly, but try as she might, she was unable to get the knife to make any progress against the white ropes.

The timer’s sharp BING BING BING cut into her actions.

Jen gave a disappointed grunt.

“Times up” I said gleefully, but with as much muted excitement as I could muster.

Jen straightened and offered me the knife. I took it and placed it back in the drawer.

Jen turned to face me. I could see that she had worked up a bit of a sweat; her forehead was slightly moist, as was her taut stomach. I noticed that the T-shirt was clinging to her chest due to some of the dampness, emphasizing and contrasting the outline of her breasts' supple skin and roundness and the obvious firmness of each dark nipple.

I realized that I had been standing and staring at her for a moment in silence. Looking up, I saw Jens' eyes on mine.

“Sorry, don’t mind me ogling, I said with a laugh, “here let me untie you.” I started forward.

“MMMMPPFFFGGHH” Jen let out. This stopped me momentarily while I tried to translate what she meant.

Jen looked at me, then let her eyes purposefully wander toward the front of my jeans. It must have become obvious that I was now as hard as a rock for the bulge in my pants was pretty undeniable.

Jen turned her back to me and gestured with her hands. I stepped forward, close to her so that my breath could be felt in her ear.
With her still restrained hands, Jen deftly unbuttoned and then unzipped my fly. The unbelted jeans slipped down my legs, and she slithered her hands inside the waistline of my briefs.

I took a slow and deep breath in as she brushed, then stroked my firm member with the tips of her hand. This was followed by her tugging at my shorts to free my cock. I assisted and let the clothes fall down my legs with little effort.

Slowly, with masterful hands, Jen began to softly and steadily caress me. Up and down the shaft, with soft, sure but steady motion. Small, slight twists, the occasional touch of the head, and even cupping the two balls with one hand, the other continuing to caress my manhood.

I was starting to get a warm sensation flowing from my brain throughout my body. My breath started to come faster, and I reached around her bound arms and took handfuls of her chest in each. I kneaded, squeezed, and lifted. Using my fingertips to circle her nipples with soft pinches inbetween.

Jens' breath was starting to come fast now also, her nose making deep inward and then outward snorts. I could also detect a growing mewing emitting through the tape gag and stuffing. None of this was distress, but excitement, passion.

Suddenly, Jen released me and hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her shorts, pulling them away and down. I also helped pull down so that they fell to the bindings around her legs. , revealing her bare bottom. I let one hand move up slowly between her legs until it found purchase in her lovely, warm crotch.

Once I managed to get two fingers inside her and made soft, slow motions with them, Jen started to make louder gasps from behind the gag. She arched her back and strained against the bindings, craning her neck, her head pointed up toward the ceiling - her taped lips stretching against the tape

WE started to rock together. She stroked me while I fingered her.

A moment later, she turned and, with her eyes, nodded toward the glass kitchen table. I kicked free of my pants and briefs and helped her hop a few feet over to the table. She started to lean over it face-first. I quickly removed my T-shirt and pushed in between her abdomen and the edge of the table. Then I grabbed her t-shirt from between her shoulders and ripped it from the neckline, and then again around the arm holes, allowing it to be pulled free from her body. Her chest burst forth completely unencumbered and heaved with her growing excitement.
Naked now, she bent forward over the table and turned her head to look back at me. We were panting and moving quickly now. Though her legs were still bound, I could access her from behind, bent over like this.

Acknowledging her passion and combining it with mine, I shimmied into position and began to enter from behind. Slowly, the head of my cock pushed between the lips of her pussy, forward an inch, then back a half. In two back a half, then further, harder, more.

Finally, the entire length of me was within her, and I started to make full strokes back and forth. She was completely wet now, her natural lubricant was generating a warm, moist feeling as I moved in and out.

Her gagged moans came faster and louder as the heat built. I was leaning back and thrusting with as much might as I dared, gripping the ropes leading to her wrists like a harness on a horse.

I was panting loudly now, and our movements became one. Faster and harder, her hands clenching and unclenching, straining against the ropes, her voice against the layers of tape.

The heat continued to build as did her guttural and muted cries of what had to be “more” and “harder”.

I grimaced trying to prolong the onrush of ecstasy. I held my breath in an effort to stall the inevitable, as I continued to hammer home.
But finally, inevitably, the rush came up from within.

With a long inward stroke, I exploded inside her. I was rewarded by a spasmodic-like reply from her, and she almost managed a scream of pleasure from within her gagged mouth.

MMMMMMMMMMFFFFPPPHHHHHHHHHHHT ! was what managed to burst forth from Jenifer.

With just a few more soft strokes, the orgasm passed over me. And I collapsed onto her back, still inside her as she made soft jerking movements with each slight movement.

I slowly managed to stand, freeing myself from within her.

Jen remained face-first on the table, though her head turned and her eyes sparkled at me in a way I had not noticed since we first started our physical relationship.

I shook the cobwebs from my head and began to unknot her bonds, slowly letting the loops loosen and finally fall free. Jen pushed herself from the table, and I stepped back. She turned while tugging slowly at the tape on her face. I watched as the skin pulled and peeled free. Moments later, the tape was gone, and she plucked the soaked rag from her mouth.

Not sure what to say, I just stood and looked her in the eyes. Jen paused, then leaned forward, grabbing the back of my head and bringing our faces together. She kissed me long and hard with passion that had been missing in these last weeks.

When she broke the kiss, she exclaimed, “That was amazing. I have not had that strong of an orgasm in a long time.”

“I wasn’t sure if you were faking or not, we came at the exact same time,”I replied.

“That was real for sure” followed by the almost whispered confession, “I thought I was going to pass out.”

"Well, Im glad you did not, that would have been hard to explain. "

She laughed, reached down, pulled up her panties, and began to work on the ropes to her legs.

“Well,” she said, peering up with a mischievous grin, “I lost the bet.. so what's your birthday wish?” she asked?

“Well..” I started



The rest of this story will have to wait for “The Birthday Bet, Part Two”

[cellofello]

Another enjoyable story.

Sounds like Jen got comfortable with the idea of bondage because she first got comfortable with _you_ - that she felt she could trust you, whereas her previous experience was not a comfortable one. This does not surprise me at all.