Extract "Tied and Humilated"
(c) Heather McVey 2005
Ten minutes later, my body and hair clean, I emerged from the shower. A quick glance in the narrow mirror hanging on the opposite wall showed me that my pale skin had a rosy color to it, almost the color of a light sunburn. Naked, I quickly strolled to the sink which was filled with warm water. I checked the hot wax bobbing in the center of the peach colored basin by tentatively sticking my pinkie in the plastic container. Confident that the wax was at the right temperature, I pulled my right leg up onto the corner of the bath and smeared the wax from my knee down , I’d just finished my first leg and started on the left when a staccato of knocks sounded on the front door. Since I wasn’t expecting anybody, I looked up with disdain. Man! Like, didn’t anyone care that I was in the middle of doing something really important?
I decided that if it was Mrs. Edward’s, I was going to give the interfering busybody a piece of my mind. As for her crotch sniffing poodle, Augustus, well, I’d give the little fur ball what it deserved.
Heck, it wasn’t yet 10 a.m. It was too damn early for social calls.
Sighing loudly, I rubbed the wax off of my leg with a hand towel, wrapped a bath towel around my naked body and another around my dripping wet hair, and hurried from the bathroom. For an instant, my spirits lifted as I thought that perhaps it might be our sexy milkman calling round for the milk order, which was still hanging on our refrigerator door kept in place by a strawberry fridge magnet. Philip usually took care of the order, but it wouldn’t be the first that he had forgotten. My pussy pulsed, and a wishful smile twisted my lips. It certainly had happened on occasion that the milkman had turned up unannounced on the doorstep to get the forgotten milk order. I grinned as I decided that it was never too early for that tall, dark, hunky youth to pay a house call. My smile widened, better yet perhaps it was Philip through some impossible feat home earlier than he’d planned. Philip with his bronzed body whips and stiff dick to pleasure me silly. My heart along with my sexually excited hormones sank when I got to the front door and saw the outline of a much bulkier man on the porch.
I cracked open the door, and gasped, “Who in the blazes are you?” Finding one of the gorgeous workmen on my front doorstep was enough to shock me and knock the breath from my lungs.
The young man, who couldn’t have been a day over twenty-one, was dressed far too lightly for the bitter winter's day. I shivered, cold suddenly just from looking at him. He wore a light blue denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up, tucked into a pair of extremely faded Levi's. His short ginger hair was slicked back, and I blinked as he offered me a beaming smile.
My eyes touched on the cradle of his thighs. Momentarily, I pictured my hands gliding up them. A vivid blush stained my cheeks. To compensate for my embarrassment, I glowered at him. “Don’t, lady, me young man. What do you want?” I said firmly even though my heart was pounding. I had no idea why this fine-looking, freckle-faced young man should be standing on my doorstep making conversation with me.
“I saw you, err, touch yourself earlier lady, by your window. And well, I thought maybe we could play together.”
Shit. I closed my eyes and raised my head to the whitewashed ceiling praying for inspiration. I wished desperately for the floor to open up so that I could drop in and find a place to hide. What must this guy think of me?
I finally risked a glance at him. “You saw that…I mean you honestly saw me touch…touch myself?”
He whistled through his slightly uneven front teeth. “Trust me, lady, I saw everything.”
I flushed. Suddenly, fantasying about the workmen watching me masturbate just wasn’t so alluring when one of those big, strapping young men in question turned up on my doorstep. I cursed. What had made me pleasure myself in front of my bedroom window?
“Hey lady, don’t be embarrassed. We all do it,” he said blandly, startling me. “Why just this morning I had a good wank in the shower. There’s nothing vulgar about that. Masturbation is just another natural part of life.”
I blanched, okay that was a little bit more information than I cared for. “Yes, but we don’t do it in public.”
“True.” He grinned charmingly. “Still, I more than enjoyed your little performance…”
I goggled up at him, “You did?”
“Absolutely, it got me as stiff as a board.” He gave me the briefest of wicked smiles, then even as I blushed from my forehead clear down to my varnished toenails, he placed his hands on my bottom and pulled me up against his bulging erection.
“Oh!” The man wasn’t lying. The jerking hot cock pressing insistently against my belly was rock solid.
“It’s cold out here. You’re so hot. I could do with you warming me up some. So what do you say, lady?” His smile was so carnal that my heart almost gave out. And that heavenly body—God, the way he was pressing the length of it against me, made me feel like he was making love to me, right on the spot.
My composure having deserted me, struggling for breath, I placed my hands against his shoulders and pushed him away. “Get off! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Sorrrrrrry.” He let me go and thrust his hands into his pockets, rattling change. “I can’t help myself; your little performance got me so hot lady, my cock's dripping just thinking about it. My colleagues are probably as hard as I am no doubt.”
Holding the door handle for support, I peeped around his shoulder and, to my utter horror, most of his workmates were standing by the black iron fence separating my neatly tended front garden from the street, listening to our conversation.
Christ! I groaned. If my head got any hotter, it would surely explode.
“So what do you say lady, do you want to slake some of your overriding lust on me?” The cocky youth standing upon my doormat asked while he puffed out his chest. “I’m ready and willing if you are.”
I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, so I said to his scuffed boots, “Well, I’m not. I mean take a look at me, I’m old enough to be your mother, son.”
He shrugged. “I haven’t got a problem with older women, especially when they just happen to look like you, little lady.”
Annoyed with the little, since I was painfully aware of my lack of stature, I retorted, “Well, I sure as hell have a problem getting down and dirty with a younger man.”
Unaffected by the cool note in my voice, he winked. “Can I come in, darling?”
“No!” Incredulous, I stared at him. “And just for the record, I’m not your darling.”
“C’mon lady, don’t be a spoilsport.”
“Look, young man,” I said sternly, in the same voice I used with my school kids if they were misbehaving in class. “I am not letting you in my house. I don’t know you from Adam.”
“My name is Dean Miller.” He gave me a charming grin. “Now see if you let me come in then I’d make sure you got to know me. Lady, I’d make sure that we were on more than just a first name basis.”
“How?” I squeaked, feeling suddenly as if I was on display. I wanted to cover myself somehow, but I didn’t know where to put my hands.
“Well,” he gave me a spicy smile. “First I’d drop my jeans…”
“Oh,” I gasped feeling hot in all those intimate places I had no right to feel hot.
Dean leaned in closer, planting his pale hands on my front door just above my head, until I could feel his heat. Next, he carried on in a slow, confident voice that got me so fucking turned-on, I actually feared that I would faint. “I’d slowly peel off my boxer shorts, then I’d ram you up against your closed front door. Next, I’d strip away that bath towel covering your body and bury myself in your cream.”
“Oh,” I hissed again. I was incapable of forming a complete sentence. His hot words left me breathless.
Dean leaned in closer until his warm breath fanned across my face. “Right now, I’m thinking about flicking my tongue a couple of times along your cute, little buttocks and torturing your clit with slow licks before riding you hard. Would you like that, lady?”
“Oh,” I said again unintelligently. My pulse beat frantically. My mouth was dry, and I realized that I would like it. Damn. I’d like it a lot if this muscled youth ravished me.
“I’d do all that before I grab your hips and drive myself deep into you. Can you imagine it now lady? My young body slamming hard against those cheeks of yours. My stiff cock pounding into your pussy. The cream from your excited cunt dripping all over my dick, my swinging balls, down your thighs, then me bending and licking every drop of it off?”
I shut my legs with a loud snap. My inner thighs were drenched just listening to the husky timbre of his low voice, that sent shivers racing up and down my spine. My body was dying for a good, hard fuck, but as I recalled Philips’s image, I realized I couldn’t cheat on him, not now, not ever, especially not this way with a youth who out of the blue had turned up on my doorstep and who would no doubt boastingly announce it to the whole street that he’d banged the lady in number 122 Berkeley Street, London.
I pinched the tender skin between my brows. I’d once taken a vow to honor and be faithful only to my husband and I was going to do my damndest not to break it, even if it killed me which, given the throbbing ache between my thighs, it very well might.
“Well little lady, can I come in and play?” Dean thrust his hands back into his jeans pockets, drawing the pants down further, which made my mouth feel strangely dry.
“No, young man, you can not,” I said in a very low and controlled voice. “I’m a married woman.”
“So,” I said with furious calm. “I’m off the market. To be frank, I don’t intend to cheat on my husband.”
“If you ask me lady, a woman who touches herself before her window so as everybody can see her is after wanting a man, husband or no,” Dean retorted glumly.
The bitterness in his voice made me blink.
Had this sturdy youth really wanted me so much? Did he really find me so desirable despite being forty-two? It was an exciting thought simply because it was one that was new to me. This idea that someone so young as Dean could not only find me attractive but additionally desire me, especially considering that I’d never, not even in my prime, held my looks in high regard.
One of his work colleagues sniggered obviously enjoying the rebuff I’d just dished out at his friends expense. Prompted by the sound Dean leaned towards me again. “Well, little lady what’s it to be?”
I forced myself to shrug. I couldn’t believe that I was actually carrying on such a conversation with a man other than my husband. It was what my younger sister Lucile would do, I told myself. Lucile with her ruby red hair and supermodel figure was the confident outgoing one. Roxanne would sit huddled up, looking and acting like a tongue-tied fool.
I heard myself say, “Look, young man, you can’t come in but if you’re here outside tomorrow, say around ten a.m. in the morning, I’ll put another show on for you and your friends before my window.”
Dean’s chocolate brown eyes flicked slowly over my body before they finally settled on my flushed face. “What kind of show?”
I nervously sucked in my lower lip. “A hot one, I’ll masturbate for you completely naked before my window….I’ll…I’ll touch myself everywhere.”
I saw his dick jerk beneath his jeans, and I raised my hands to my burning cheeks. I couldn’t believe it, had I actually said that? Had the shy mouse actually promised to display herself in such an intimate act before a group of young boisterous men?
Dean ran his fingers through his ginger hair, and then he stroked the same hand over his bulging cock that was threatening to burst from the denim front of his jeans. “Okay, lady it’s a date. I’ll be there. If your show is anything like today, I won't be disappointed.”
I gave him a bland smile and promised, “It will be better.”
Without another word, he turned on his heel but not before I’d seen that he was still definitely very aroused. His tight-fitting Levi’s certainly left nothing to the imagination. Still gaping like a carp out of water, shocked to my very core at what I’d just promised, I watched him walk away. His hair, even in the weak early morning sunshine, was as orange as the blazing flames of an inferno. As I observed his lithe figure, the image of a tiger came irresistibly to mind
I closed and bolted my front door before Dean reached his comrades waiting eagerly at the bottom of my steps. I really didn’t want to hear him explain to them what I’d just promised. I was scared if I heard it repeated, heck if I thought about it for so much as a second, that I would be too nervous to go through with it tomorrow.
That was when it hit me that I planned to go through with it. My hand stilled on the door chain, and my legs trembled.
What had gotten in to me? Had I finally snapped? Was I so desperate for sex with my husband gone only a week that I was now willing to do anything, almost absolutely anything to get some sort of sexual kick?
Thank God, I thought half exasperated, half amused. Thank God Phillip's back today.
Truthfully I didn’t trust myself. Christ, I was now so friggen horny that if my husband was away just one more day I was probably in real danger of stripping off my clothes and putting on a hot show for the whole damn street, which they wouldn’t forget in quite a while.
On legs which felt like they were made of Jell-O, I walked back along the hall and headed into my large, comfortable bedroom. I was drawn towards the window. Outside beneath a purple-gray sky that promised snow, the workmen had started to drill the road again now that the show was over. My eyes found Dean easily due to his unusual carroty hair. My body thrummed as my eyes roved over his sculpted buttocks and hard, flat stomach. Then remembering the delicious way his erect cock had felt pressing up against my hip, my pussy clenched almost painfully. I gasped as I remembered that I hadn’t yet had the release of the orgasm I needed so very badly because the telephone had interrupted my earlier fantasy just before I’d reached my peak.
Christ, the need consuming me couldn’t be ignored. I had to. I just had to have relief.