Friend and Lover
by Lindsay David

Part 1

Chapter One: Introduction

There are two men in my life. My lover, Tony, is tall, about six-three, and solid, his 210 pounds being 99% muscle and bone. Tony is the strongest, and yet most gentle, man I have ever met. There was an undeniable sexual attraction between us the first time we met at a bar downtown, his dark eyes, softball biceps, and broad chest leaving me stuttering. Three years later, two of them spent living together, has not changed that. He melts my butter in ways no one else ever has. All he has to do is enter the same room I'm in and the humidity rises.

Michael, on the other hand, is my best and dearest friend, I have known Michael for well over ten years and he has seen me through good times and bad, has loaned me money when I was so desperate I could only ask him--money I paid him back, by the way--and he bolstered my self-confidence when lovers rejected me. My girl friends said I should be with him, with Michael, as it was obvious to them that he had a crush on me. The only thing was, there wasn’t enough of Michael. He was about five-eleven, tall enough, I suppose, but only weighed 140 lbs. True, he worked out and he was very lean and fit, but the attraction to me was with Michael’s mind, not his body.

You, see, Michael read. He read everything. He had read everything he could lay his hands on during his entire life. There wasn’t a subject under the sun that he didn’t know at least something about, and on most things, he knew a lot.

One afternoon this past August, Tony and I had gone over to Michael’s house for a cookout. Michael lived out in the country and after we ate Michael was going to take us down to the local fairgrounds to check out something called the Tri-County Fair. Things started off pretty well with some wine followed by steaks and salads. To me, eating outside in the summer was the best thing going. The fresh air seemed to energize my taste buds, actually all of my senses, and I savored every morsel.

“Good thing you grilled an extra steak, Mike,” Tony said. “Maria seems to have a bottomless pit today.”

“I do not,” I protested, giving Tony a playful punch on his very firm deltoid.

“It’s the extra oxygen,” Michael explained. “Out here, away from the city, surrounded by trees and plants, the air has more oxygen and less carbon dioxide than in that hell-hole of a city you all call home. The better air increases your metabolic rate. If you all moved out here and changed nothing else in your diet and exercise routine, you would, over time. slowly lose weight.”

“See,” I said. “There is a scientific reason.”

“No worries, darlin’,” Tony smiled. “I’ll work it off you later.”

Tony gave me a killer half-smile and I felt my loins quicken. Just then, thunder pealed across the sky and soon after, fat raindrops began to pelt down. We scrambled to pack up the remains of the meal and just beat the downpour.

“Well, so much for the Fair,” Michael remarked, staring out at the sheets of rain lashing the side of the house.

“Don’t they have mud wrestling out here?” Tony asked.

“Possibly,” Michael replied, “but with all the, shall we say, animal byproducts in and on the ground, I wouldn’t care to participate.

“At least not without serious vaccinations,” I added.

“At the least,” Michael agreed.

We went into his living room and sat down. Michael had a huge leather sofa and chair and Tony and I took the sofa and Michael the chair. Tony scanned Michael’s video collection and pulled one out.

“The 'Story of O' on DVD? Mike, you perverted dog.”

“It’s not perverted,” Michael protested, “it's barely above soft-core porn, actually.”

“Check it out?” Tony asked. He aimed to question out to both Michael and me, but he was mostly watching me.

I felt myself blush a bit but I wanted to appear sophisticated, so I asked Michael how closely the movie followed the book.

“Reasonably closely, Maria,” Michael explained. "This DVD was made from a movie originally filmed in the seventies. The costumes and scenery are very lush. Most of the major scenes are depicted, though some are emphasized more than others. If you enjoyed the book, you will enjoy the movie, I think.”

“Better than manure wrestling?” I asked.


“Why not,” I replied.

Michael loaded the disc and Tony brought in more wine. He set Michael’s glass down on a table at the end of the sofa and Michael took a seat on my left as the movie began. It was pretty much as Michael had described it, very seventies, and not all that erotic to watch, though it did rekindle some of the scenes from the book that had really turned me on when I had first read it as a teenager.

“Do people really do that?” I asked after the credits had run.

“Do what?” Tony asked.

“Live like that?” I asked.

“I’m sure some do,” Michael replied. “Though mostly people just do the whips and chains thing to spice up their sex lives. The feeling of a helpless lover is quite the turn-on to both partners.”

“Did you ever do it, Mike?” Tony asked.

I loved Tony for asking that question. It was question I definitely wanted to ask MIchael, and I would have had it been just the two of us. After all, Michael and I had shared some pretty intimate details in our conversations. S and M, though, had never come up. But Tony did not know about those conversations.

“Oh, yeah,” Michael responded casually.

“And did it, how did you put it, “spice things up?

“Oh, yes. Pennie had an imagination that complemented mine quite nicely and our scenes were often quite complex and theatrical,” Michael replied.

Pennie was Michael’s wife who had died in a car wreck shortly before I met him. I suspected Michael was still not over losing her. Then after a pause, he added, a bit wistfully I thought, “And wonderfully satisfying.”

“Did you whip her?” I asked.


“Did she like it?”

“Yes, she did.”

“How did you avoid hurting her?”

“You mean injuring her?” Michael clarified. “I mean a bit of pain is the point, you know.”

“Yes, injuring her.”

“After a while I kind of knew where Pennie’s limits where,” Michael explained. “But when we were first starting out, or when we tried something for the first time, I would generally “gag” her (here Michael held up the first two fingers of each hand and curled them to mime quotation marks) by putting my fingers in her mouth. That way, I could not only hear her moans and cries, but I could feel them as well. When Pennie had had enough, she simply turned her head away from my fingers and I stopped. After she had caught her breath, we would start again, like a body builder doing repeated sets with a barbell. That way we could sneak up on the absolute edge of endurance, and Pennie would be flooded with endorphins. Great stuff.”

I imagined what if must have been like for Pennie to have someone as intelligent as Michael safely taking her to the abyss and another quickening ran through my nether regions.

“How about you, Maria? You ever been tied up?” Tony asked,

“No,” I replied. I felt my face start to heat up and I tried to keep my voice casual, my tone intellectual. I had had bondage fantasies ever since I had been a young girl playing cowboys and indians and some of the neighbor kids “captured” me and tied me to a tree. As I grew older the fantasies had become more involved and elaborate, but I had not shared my fantasy life with anyone yet, not even Michael, and I had shared almost everything with him.

“Ever wanted to?” Tony asked.

I shrugged in a sort of 'I don’t know manner', but I didn’t answer. I avoided looking at Tony afraid, that he would see my answer in my eyes.

“Do you have any rope, Michael, my man?” Tony asked.

“Imagine I do,” Michael replied.

My eyes shot from Tony’s to Michael’s and back again. When I met Michael’s eyes for the second time, I saw him smile slightly. He got up from his chair and left the room. He returned a couple of minutes later with a good sized coil of soft cotton rope and a folding knife.

“Go ahead, put a few loops on Maria,” Tony told Michael.

Tony took my chin in his hand an turned my face up to his. “Just try it out and see how it feels,” he said as a shiver ran through me.

Be cool, I told myself. Like Tony said, just try it out.

Michael took my arm and started to turn me so that my back was to him. I slipped off of the sofa and onto my knees. Tony reached down and stroked my hair as Michael pulled my arms behind my back and pressed my palms together. I felt him wrap several loops of rope around my wrists and then he crisscrossed the wrap with more loops. When he cinched down the knot, I tried to move my wrists. I couldn’t move them at all. The rope was tight, but not tight enough to cut off the circulation. But it was the most secure tie I had ever seen, let alone felt. I instantly knew that escape was totally impossible. I felt my face blush as my body heated up. I was getting aroused. Tony lifted my chin up, turned my face slightly left and right.

“I must say, it does look good on you,” he said. “How does it feel?”

“Rigid,” I said.

“Not too tight?” asked Michael

“No, it’s okay,” I replied.

I felt totally helpless and vulnerable and when I looked at Tony I saw a flare in his nostrils and a look of lust on his face.

“It’s good for your breasts,” Tony said. “The rope.”

I looked down and had to agree. Somehow binding my hands behind me had thrust my breasts outward and they strained against the front of my blouse, tugging on the button holes.

“We can enhance that effect, if you’d like,” Michael said. “Something like this, perhaps.” Michael was still kneeling behind me after tying my hands and now he put his hands on my arms above the elbow and pulled them back.

“Oh, yeah,” Tony agreed, “that’s a definite improvement.”

Michael cut some more rope from the coil and bound my elbows as thoroughly as he had my wrists. I saw Tony shift in his seat and noticed the undeniable bulge in his groin. He was getting seriously turned on. So was I, especially when I looked down and saw that a button had popped open on my blouse and the top of my breast was clearly visible, swelling up out of the cup of my bra. A shoulder strap had strayed down my shoulder.

“How much more of that rope do you have?” Tony asked.

“Quite a bit,” MIchael said. “We could try something a bit more elaborate, if you like,” Michael said.

“Go for it,” Tony agreed.

I noticed that neither man asked me if I wanted to continue. But then I didn’t say no, either, and a moment later, I felt Michael’s hands reach around my waist with a length of rope. He knotted it behind me and then pulled on it.

“Back up a bit, Maria,” he said, and I scooted back on my knees.

I felt Michael tie several more knots in the rope and I started to wonder what he was up to when I felt his hand on my leg.

“Spread your legs, Maria,” Michael said.

I felt my blush deepen as Michael, with my help, pulled my knees apart. I was wearing very short cutoffs and Michael’s hand grazed my upper inner thighs as he passed the knotted length of rope under my crotch. He passed the rope under the loop around my waist and tugged it snug, pulling the bumpy knots into my mound. Despite myself, I heard a gasp of pleasure hiss out of my mouth and my panties dampened. Michael passed the rope up between my breasts and over my shoulders, ultimately tying it to the rope binding my wrists. Now every struggle pulled at my breasts, my wrists, my elbows and my mound, everything digging in deeper.

Tony reached down and caressed my partially exposed breast, slipping his finger into my bra and pinching my nipple. I heard Tony’s breath catch as he felt the firm, hard flesh. Another sound that was more moan than gasp came up from deep in my chest.

“Before I try giving her a spanking,” Tony said, “I think we need a few more ropes on her chest.”

I could feel my eyes widen as Tony’s words sank into my brain. He was going to spank me? Here? In front of Michael?

My thoughts were interrupted by Michael’s hands as he reached around me to pass lengths of rope above and below my breasts. I was getting quite warm now, and perspiration was dampening my shirt. Michael didn’t grope me as he did his work with the rope, but he didn’t avoid touching me either, his thorough attention to his work leaving my breasts aching to be touched. After tying the rope above and below my breasts, Michael tied the two bands of rope together in three places: on either side and between my breasts, squeezing the flesh in a most audacious manner. Another button or two had failed and I was in serious danger of a major wardrobe malfunction.

“Now, the best way to spank her is like this?” Tony asked as he got down on one knee on my left side. He held my chin in his left hand and gently opened my mouth and inserted two fingers.

“Pretty much,” Michael agreed. “Since Maria’s hands are behind her back, though, you may find it better to bend her over the sofa.”

“Good idea,” Tony agreed.

He toppled me forward so that my chest and face rested on the smooth leather of Michael’s sofa. It smelled divinely of fine leather. I felt Tony’s body shift and then heard and felt a sharp slap on my buttocks. Even through my denim shorts, the slap stung. I gasped into Tony’s fingers as my body rocked forward into the sofa.

“Okay?” he asked.

I nodded and Tony hit me again. And again. And again. The pain grew and soon my gasps turned to little cries and then, suddenly it was too much and I cried out sharply and pulled my mouth off of his fingers.

“Give her a minute to cool off,” MIchael said. “Then massage her and start up again, but slowly.”

The fire eased after a bit and I felt Tony’s wide, strong hand, gently squeezing my buttocks. His hand felt warm and I realized it was warm from hitting me. I writhed against my bonds and all the ropes writhed back, squeezing my breasts and wringing more moisture from my vagina. I could feel it starting to run down my thigh and I wondered if Tony could see it, or god forbid, Michael. But even as I thought about that degradation, my mouth was again settling on Tony’s fingers and he rocked me with another series of slow, firm slaps.

“That’s it, Tony,” MIchael said. “Let Maria’s reaction guide you.”

One breast had come out of my bra and the nipple was rubbing on the leather of Michael’s sofa. I reached my limit again, suddenly, but after a second, I was back on Tony’s fingers.

“Now slap and squeeze,” Michael said.

Tony did it and I began to grind my face into his fingers as I humped the edge of the sofa and my orgasm exploded in my brain. Michael had once told me that the Chinese word for orgasm literally translated into “clouds and rain.” I liked that. Shortly after he had told me that, I had watched the movie, The Perfect Storm, and ever since, I had visualized my orgasm as a boat tumbling down the face of a monstrous wave. As I calmed, I heard Tony talking to Michael.

“I know this is your house and all, pal, but I was wondering if you could excuse us for a bit? I have a fire to put out.”

“Not a problem,” Michael replied.

Over my shoulder, my vision blurred from my disheveled hair, I saw Michael hand Tony the folding knife.

“Thanks,” Tony said.

No sooner had I heard the door latch click shut than I heard the snick of the knife opening. The pressure on my crotch suddenly eased as the rope parted. I don’t think Michael had even backed out of the driveway before Tony had reached around my waist and opened the fly of my shorts. He jerked them over my buttocks and then jammed both them and my panties down my thighs and under my knees, bunching them at my ankles. I felt his rampant erection, the flesh hot and urgent, press along my slit as his large hands parted my thighs. Then I heard the foil of a condom being torn open and the the hot rod was covered with cool latex that quickly became hot as Tony pressed the head of his penis into my vagina and then shoved it home. I uttered a ragged moan as he took me and then we were going at each other, hammer and tongs. I was, of course, still essentially helpless, and Tony took full advantage of that, hammering away at me in a most violent manner. All my secret prisoner/slave/rape fantasies came to glorious fruition as we coupled more intensely than we perhaps ever had. My orgasm took my boat down the monster wave, through the raging river, and over the endless abyss toward to rocks of oblivion.

The next thing I knew, Tony’s hand was stroking my face.

“Your ice cream’s melting,” he said softly.

I lifted my head up and took stock of things. I was still on my knees, bent over the sofa, but the ropes were off, and I was wrapped in the quilt from the back of Michael’s sofa.

“Easy now,” Michael’s voice said from behind and to the side of me. “Parachute down to earth slowly.”

I truly loved Michael’s gift of mental imagery. When my chute did set me down, I sat back on my heels, hugging the quilt around me. I rearranged my bra and blouse and then pulled up my panties and shorts. Finally, I turned around and saw a huge banana split waiting for me. I dug in, along with the others and soon the three of us were chasing the cherry around like it was a hockey puck, and giggling hysterically. MIchael won, and of course we joked about his getting my cherry. I suddenly yawned and Tony said it was time for us to go. We all embraced and I looked at Michael and blushed as I recalled the evening. I mean what do you say to someone that just gave you the best sexual experience of your life and then went out for ice cream?

“Thank-you,” Michael said. “Any you’re welcome.”

It was perfect.

On the way home in the car, Tony and I were silent for a while, until he said, “Wow!”

“Wow is right,” I agreed.

Monday afternoon, just as I was getting ready to call it a day at work, Michael called me. We usually talked at that time, one or the other of us initiating the call.

“Hey, Hot Shot, how’re you doing?” Michael asked.

Michael was very proud of me and how I had finished my degree and worked my way up the corporate ladder and his occasional use of the nick-name “Hot Shot” was totally complementary.

“Good, my friend, very fine, actually. Especially now,” I replied, adding, “I’m out of work and talking to you.”

“Cool,” Michael said. Then, after a pause, he asked, “Any ill effects from the other night?”

“A little achy,” I replied.

“From the ropes?”

“No, nor from the spanking, either. After you left, Tony really wore me out. I’ve never seen him like that before. It was really intense.”

“We definitely seemed to have tapped into something special,” agreed Michael. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“It was heavenly. Thank-you. For everything.”

I had been too embarrassed to thank Michael for the bondage scene and then leaving his house so that Tony and I could make out in privacy. I was still embarrassed about Michael’s having seem me come, but over the phone made the talking easier. One of the things that made talking to Michael so easy was that he never pried, never pushed. He just let me set the tone and the level of detail that I wanted to go into. I wanted to discuss what had happened Saturday evening with Michael at some length, but it was too near, too unsettling to go into it now. Michael was good enough to leave whatever interest he had at a mere first aid check.

“Thank-you, Maria,” Michael replied.

I got home before Tony did, which I usually did not, and then I remembered he had a real estate closing to attend. I changed out of my business suit and put on some shorts and a T-shirt and started supper. When Tony came home, I was cutting up a salad in the kitchen sink. He leaned over to kiss me and then got himself a beer from the fridge. We chatted about our day and then I felt Tony come up behind me. He had taken off his tie and he took my wrists and pulled them back his back and cinched his tie around them. It was certainly nowhere near as secure a binding as Michael had done, but it worked. Tony’s breath was hot on my neck and I felt the bulge of his erection against my buttocks. There is a window over our kitchen sink and the view is down along our walk to the street. True, we have quite a bit of tree and plant cover, but a car sped past the opening just as Tony’s hands closed over my breasts and I realized that however, unlikely, it was possible for someone to look in.

“The window,” I said, turning to try and remove Tony’s hands from my breasts. “Someone might see.”

“Let them,” Tony replied. “I want the whole world watch me fuck you.”

I shuddered at his coarse language and the thought of someone actually watching us.

“No bra, Maria,” Tony observed, his voice husky with lust as his hands lifted my shirt up to my chin. “Just for me.”

I gasped as Tony’s fingers found my hardening nipples and shuddered as two men sped by on bicycles. Tony pushed my shorts and panties down and fumbled his own fly open. He already had a condom on. He had planned this assault and my having chosen to forego my bra had only fueled his intentions. Tony’s erection filled me completely, forcing the air out of my lungs in a moan. Tony wrapped one arm around me, his hand firmly on my breast, while the other hand gently caressed my clit. Tony extended his legs, lifting me up on my tip-toes, and then higher still. I realized I was impaled on Tony’s cock and he was holding me by my breast, right by an open window for all the world to see. I had never felt so ravished, so taken, so possessed. My orgasm shook me to my core. Tony slowly let me down and I collapsed in a nearly naked heap on the floor, my shirt and pants at opposite ends of my body, my center completely exposed, Tony’s tie still around one wrist. I looked up at Tony, sitting on a kitchen chair, beer in hand. His fly was still open, his penis softening, but still a bit swollen.

“Special, Maria,” Tony said. “You’re very special.”

Chapter Two: Michael’s Mind

The next afternoon I called Michael.

“Tony tied me up last night,” I blurted out, after we had exchanged hellos.

“Do tell,” Michael asked.

I gave him the details. Michael said nothing until I had finished my story to the point where Tony had said how special I was.

“Tony’s right about you being special, Maria,” Michael agreed. “Tell me though, what was the best part, being tied up or possibly being seen by someone else?”

I though about that and said, “Both, actually. It’s hard to pick one over the other. They sort of go together.”

“Actually, the whole point of being bound and helpless is to have someone observe it, to savor your loss of control and vulnerability.”

Michael had, in a nutshell, summarized my fantasies.

“That’s where the pain comes in.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“When you feel pain, say you stick yourself with a needle or pinch your finger in a drawer, what do you do?”

“Cry out?”

“Obviously. Now can you control your cry?”

“No, I can’t,” I said.

“Precisely,” Michael said. “The pain, for example, when Tony spanked you the other night, was unedited, unrehearsed Maria. Pain strips the soul naked, just like an orgasm does. You showed us your soul, even though you still had your clothes on. That’s why I thanked you.”

“I came that night,” I said, my face heating up, even over the phone. I had wanted to tell Michael that when we talked on Monday, but I was too unsure of everything. But after Tony’s tying me with his necktie last night, it was clear to me that our relationship was on a new course. I needed Michael’s perspective. I quickly glanced around the office to see if anyone was listening. It looked like most everyone had gone home.

“With Tony?” Michael asked.

“Yes, obviously then,” I replied. “But also, earlier, when he was spanking me and squeezing my ass.”

“Hmmm,” Michael said, thoughtfully. “I thought you might have, but I wasn’t sure. I knew you were getting turned on.”

“You did?”

“I felt the heat when you spread your legs for me so I could pass the rope up between them,” Michael said.

A low sigh slipped out of my mouth as that memory returned. I was getting turned on by the memories. And the way Michael phrased it, his “you spread your legs for me,” sent a shudder through me. I would not have have described it that way, perhaps, but that was exactly what had happened.

“Later on,” Michael continued, “when I tied the additional ropes over your breasts, your nipples were hard enough to feel through your shirt and bra.”

Another hot wave of embarrassment and arousal surged over me. My panties were now quite wet.

“So not only was my soul naked, but essentially so was my body,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I was asking that as a question or stating it as a fact. MIchael answered it anyway.

“Not at all, Maria. What I caught was just the tip of your iceberg, nothing more.”

Wonderful Michael. He always knew how to protect my dignity.

“I felt pretty naked,” I said. “One of my breasts came out while Tony was spanking me.”

“Now if I had only known that . . .,” Michael said.

I heard the grin in his voice and my embarrassment eased.

He didn’t complete the sentence so I completed it for him, “ . . . I would have been in serious trouble.”


His reply sent another shiver through me and my vagina pulsed. It was very hot in the office.

“What would have happened if you had seen my breast?” I asked, trying not to sound as breathless as I felt.

“Most likely, Tony would have ran my butt out of my house even more quickly than he did,” Michael replied.

“That’s probably true,” I agreed, recalling the way Tony practically raped me the moment Michael left the room.

“What would you have done if you were Tony?” I asked.

“I’m not Tony,” Michael replied.

“Well then,” I asked, desperate for Michael’s imagination. “What would you have done if Tony wasn’t there?”

“You mean, if it was just you and I fooling around and things had somehow gotten to that point?”


There was a pause while Michael collected his thoughts, and then he spoke. “When I was binding your breasts, I noticed that you were working up a sweat, (“Christ,” I thought, “this man doesn’t miss a thing.), so I would start by offering you something cold to drink. After that, I would sit on the sofa in front of you and put some my black leather driving gloves. I would do it slowly, and deliberately, I think, letting you think about my touching you with the gloves on.”

“Uhhhh,” I sighed into the phone. MIchael and I had not been physically intimate, and he knew my preferences did not include men of his body type, and he was not going to use this moment to take a cheap shot at me and/or otherwise complicate our friendship. I loved him for that.

"I would reach out and place my hands on your shoulders and then I would slide my hand down and let it come over your breast. You would have plenty of opportunity to refuse the advance, but if you didn’t, I would use both hands on your breast, fondling it and working the nipple up to serious hardness. I would shift to your other breast, exposing it and bringing it up to the same point as the first one. I would pinch and twist your nipples until you gasped and cried out a bit, then I would stop and let them thicken under my fingers.”

My own breasts were aching and I idly cupped one and squeezed it as I listened to Michael’s words.

“I would ask you then if you wanted more, and if you nodded, I would then untie the crotch rope from your wrists and pull it out from between your legs. I would take your shorts down to your ankles, leaving your panties on, and then I would tie the crotch rope back in place, being sure to pull as deeply into you as I could.”

I moaned into the phone as I imagined feeling Michael’s hands on me as he did that.

“After that, I would stretch you out on the floor on your back. With your wrists and elbows bound behind you, your back would be arched up and out, as would your breasts, and the rope in your crotch would grinding into your sex in a most excruciating way. I would bind your ankles together as I had your wrists, but with enough slack so that I could kneel on the rope. Then I would take off my belt and I would begin to gently slap your thighs with the tip of my belt, continuing until your writhing brought you to another orgasm. Then I would release you.”

I was silent for a while after Michael finished his speaking. I was quite aroused and I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. My panties were soaked and I worried that my skirt might be stained.

“Egads,” I said, my voice low.

“Egads good or egads bad?” Michael asked.

“Egads good,” I replied. “I almost wish Tony wasn’t there. Not really, I guess, but you know.”

“Yeah,” Michael said. “Who knows, maybe one day he won’t be.”

“Thank-you,” I said.

“Be good,” Michael said.

Thursday’s paper contained a very positive review of a new restaurant that had recently opened in town and Tony suggested we give it a try, followed by a movie. There were several playing locally, giving us a choice of times depending on when we finished up at the restaurant. Sounded good to me.

Chapter Three: The Barn

Friday after work I showered and dressed in jeans and camisole with an overshirt. Restaurants and movie theaters tend to have the air conditioning turned up to arctic levels and I wanted something for my arms, just on case. The restaurant was as reviewed, very attractive decor, unusual, distinctive food, and good service. Tony and I agreed that it definitely would be on our list from now on.

When we left the restaurant, Tony turned down the wrong aisle in the parking lot. He frequently did that when we went out, and I wondered how he found his car when he was out alone.

“Our car is over there,” I said, pointing toward it.

“I know,” Tony replied. “We’re going this way.”

He had been holding my hand and now he shifted his grip to my upper arm, holding it firmly as we walked a bit faster down the aisle. It wasn’t dark, but the sun was no longer visible, and the light was turning a sort of purple. We were moving faster now, my heels clicking a quick staccato on the asphalt. I was starting to breathe a bit faster and just as I was about to plant my feet and demand that Tony explain himself, he stopped and turned in behind a minivan.

“Here she is, Michael,” Tony said, extending his arm and nudging me toward Michael. “She’s all yours.”

“Good evening, Maria,” Michael said, greeting me with a warm smile. “Thanks, Tony. Catch up with you in a bit.”

“Got it, man,” Tony said, releasing me just as Michael took my hand.

“What’s going on?” I said, puzzled by all this.

“Easy,” Michael said. “Take a deep breath and I’ll explain everything.”

I took a breath, then another as Michael watched me with a gentle smile.

“Well?” I asked, when I was finally calm.

“Remember last Saturday night at my house and how incredible it was?” Michael asked.

“Yes, I remember,” I said. “What’s that got to do with . . .”

Michael stopped me by holding up his hand.

“This all sort of came together on short notice when Tony called me on Thursday. He and I discussed how last Saturday evening led to some very intense pleasures for each of you, not only then, but also later on in the week. He suggested taking it to the next level, and I agreed. What is going to happen tonight is that I am going to take you back to my house and shall we say, “prepare” you for Tony. He will join us later and finish you off, much as he did before, only this time the experience will be more prolonged and much more intense.”

I stared at Michael with my mouth open, in a state of total astonishment. It absolutely never occurred to me that Tony would get together with Michael and discuss us, our intimate lives. But then, why not? After all, hadn’t I done the same thing? Tony was not unintelligent. Obviously, he picked up on the effects that Michael’s imagination had upon me and also, upon himself. Why wouldn’t he call Michael and try to repeat or increase the experience?

I was awash in questions and emotional turmoil. I simultaneously felt betrayed by Tony, embarrassed by how obvious to both men my passion was, and yet pleased that Tony had felt secure enough in our relationship to consult with Michael on how to enhance our mutual pleasure. I blinked back tears, the source of which I would have been hard pressed to explain.

“But, but, but,” I stammered.

“All you have to do, Maria,” Michael said, squeezing my hand, “is to do what you are told to do, think about what you are told to think about, feel what you are given to feel, and to always remember that you are with your lover and your best friend.”

“Ahh,” I sighed, choking back tears of happiness.

I squeezed Michael in a bear hug and nodded my head against his chest.

Michael opened the passenger door for me and I got in. As Michael got in on the driver’s side, I mechanically pulled the seat belt over me and snapped it into place.

“No, no, no, Maria,” Michael said. “That simply will not do.”

As I looked at him questioningly, MIchael reached over and released the seat belt. He slid it back and then pulled it forward, to the limit of its reach. He took the hip strap and looped it around each of my wrists, pinning them to the sides of my hips before he clicked the belt home. From a security standpoint, it was rudimentary bondage, as I could escape with a simple twist of my wrists. Psychologically, however, it had a powerful effect on me. My chest felt open and exposed and I was quite conscious of the shoulder strap as it crossed between my breasts. Michael started to car and we pulled out into the street. At the first stop light, Michael placed his right hand on my left knee.

“Spread your legs,” he said, pulling gently on my knee. I opened my knees and Michael’s hand slid over the inside of my knee.

Michael didn’t actively caress my thigh, at least not exactly. What he did was sort of hold it more or less in place as he drove. From the restaurant, the only way to get to Michael’s house was over a series of winding, two lane roads that twisted and turned and went up and down. As we went along, the random movements of the car and each of our bodies seemed to naturally move Michael’s hand up my thigh. Since Michael never let the hand slide down, it gradually worked it’s way higher and higher. I felt my body quickening when I realized what was happening. I knew if the trip lasted long enough, Michael’s hand would be in my crotch. It did.

Despite my anticipation of the contact, or maybe because of it, I jumped and gasped when I felt Michael’s hand touch my crotch, my arms involuntarily pulling on the seatbelt, my hands balled into fists.

“Open your legs, Maria,” Michael said. “Wider.”

His voice was not mean, or stern, just firm, and I stepped my feet apart and also my knees. My right knee was now pressing against the car door and my right thigh was against the console.

“Now slide down a bit in the seat,” Michael said. “Make yourself as accessible as possible.”

The word “accessible” sent a shudder through me. That’s what they wanted, that’s why they tied me up. They wanted me open and accessible and helpless to do anything about it.

“If you don’t, Michael said, “you will be punished.”

“Punished?” I asked. “You are going to punish me?”

It was a stupid question. Of course they were going to punish me. Torture me was more like it. Michael didn’t answer the question, he just stroked his fingers over my mound and I felt my sex swelling and moistening as he learned what he could of me through the bundled denim. It seemed warm in the car and I regretted the sleeves on my top. My breath was coming in short, rhythmic pants.

“Are you going to whip me?” I asked.

“I don’t know if Tony is or not,” Michael replied. “Perhaps. I know I am going to whip you. It was one of the things Tony insisted on. He wants to watch you while I whip you.”

The car passed over an area where the surface of the highway had been milled and scraped down, in preparation for re-paving. As the tires bounced over the rough and broken asphalt, Michael’s fingers danced over my sex. I had a series of images in my brain of Tony watching my body, bound and helpless, limbs stretched out, writhing and jerking under the well-aimed blows from Michael’s whip. I remembered what Michael had said earlier about pain revealing one’s soul and I realized Tony would see both my body and soul naked and open.

I had my first orgasm then, my arms pulling tightly on the seat belt as my thigh muscles clamped over Michael’s probing fingers. Like my visual image of an orgasm as a boat tumbling in a storm, I categorized my orgasms as the weathermen did hurricanes. Monster ones like the one at Michael’s house last Saturday, were Category Fives, as the weathermen liked to say, “capable of severe and widespread property damage and imminent loss of life.” Category Five orgasms invariably left me unconscious, my limbs shamelessly spread, my sex gaping. Mid-level orgasms, such as Categories Two through Four, were characterized by various degrees of muscle weakness and my inability to speak coherently. This orgasm was a Tropical Storm orgasm--a sudden bolt of lightening, a bit of thunder, and a splash of rain. Michael stopped moving his fingers in response to the grip of my thighs, and when I relaxed and eased them a bit, he moved them gently against me. My panties felt soaked and I wondered if I had wet through my jeans. I wondered if Michael could feel the dampness. I felt my face redden in the darkness of the car.

Michael turned into his driveway and killed the engine. He helped me out and I stumbled a bit as I rubbed my wrists where the seatbelt had chafed them.

“Easy, there,” Michael said, steadying me with an arm around my shoulders. My storm might have been more severe than I thought. We went into Michael’s kitchen and he offered me a drink.

“Vodka,” I said. “On ice.”

“Excellent choice,” Michael said.

He took two tumblers from a cabinet and set them on the counter. From the freezer section of his refrigerator, Michael took several ice cubes and placed them in the tumblers. Also from the freezer, he removed a bottle of Ketel One which he poured into the tumblers, the cold liquor thick as syrup.

“To imagination,” Michael toasted, and we bumped glasses.

I sipped the vodka and felt the icy fire in my stomach. I took a long pull, and again felt the peculiar combination of cold followed by heat. Michael topped off my glass and we went into his living room. He turned on the stereo and soft jazz pulsed out from hidden speakers. We sat side by side on his sofa, the same sofa over which I had been bent over in order to be spanked and fucked senseless. Michael reached out and stroked the back of my neck, and I relaxed and let him massage the tight muscles. Aside from offering me a drink, we had not spoken since we entered MIchael’s house, yet the silence was not uncomfortable. Perhaps it was the music, the rhythm of which seemed to have morphed into something primitive, something compelling. The ice tinkled in my glass as I finished my vodka.

“Time to get started,” Michael said.

He took my hand and helped me to my feet. When I had my balance, Michael released my hand.

“You can take your clothes off now,” he said.

I stared at him with my mouth open. My knees felt weak and unstable. It was going to happen. It was really going to happen.

“Maria,” Michael said, in the same soft, yet firm tone he had used in the car when he told me to spread my legs, “take off your clothes.”

I felt the color come to my cheeks, this time in a room considerably more well lit than Michael’s car. My feet were already moving, though, stepping back out of my sandals. I unbuttoned my shirt and shrugged it off my shoulders, setting it down on the sofa behind me. My fingers fumbled awkwardly at the button at the top of the fly in my jeans, but I got it and pushed the zipper down. There is really no modest way to remove jeans and I felt my blush increase as I pushed the tight-fitting denim down over my hips like some two-bit stripper. I pulled my camisole up over my head and added it to the pile of discarded clothing on the sofa. My breasts felt loose and free and I felt Michael’s eyes on me, watching me as I stripped. Lastly, I swallowed hard, hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my panties, and peeled them down.

I looked up then, now completely naked, and saw that Michael’s back was to me as he opened the drawer of a breakfront set against the far wall of the living room. He removed a pair of thin leather gloves and put them on, obviously the same pair he had described to me over the phone. He also removed a pair of leather cuffs. He buckled the cuffs over my wrists and locked them in place with tiny steel padlocks. The cuffs felt heavy and snug. Michael pulled my hands behind my back and using some sort of clip or clasp, he joined the cuffs together. I felt my breasts sway slightly from the motion.

After giving my cuffed wrists a tug to test the security of the binding, Michael came around in front of me. His eyes slowly ran up and down my body, and I could see his mind taking it in, analyzing it. Michael nodded and said, more to himself than to me, “It worked well before, no reason not to use it again.”

From the drawer in the breakfront Michael removed a wide leather belt. He used it to bind my elbows tightly behind me, as he had done with the rope before. It occurred to me that the severity and intensity of tonight was epitomized by the lack of rope in the bondage: it was all leather now.

Michael put his arm around my shoulder and gave me a bit of a hug. He massaged my shoulders which strained against the binding of the belt. My breasts were thrust out and upward and I felt quite slutty and humiliated by them, by the way they seemed to cry out for attention. Yet I also felt quite aroused. Something about the helplessness and the humiliation was working synergistically to excite me in a very primitive manner. MIchael brought a short, narrow leather belt up to my face and I saw that the belt ran through a wooden ball. At first, I didn’t know what it was. I learned quickly as Michael opened my mouth and stuffed the ball inside and secured it there by buckling the belt around my neck.

“It will be difficult to swallow gagged like that, Maria, so you will have to get used to the idea of drooling.”

Drooling, I thought to myself, was something babies did, and the thought that I would be soiling myself with my own saliva sent another wave of humiliation through me. A wave that was accompanied by a quickening in my loins.

MIchael moved me a few steps to my left, away from the sofa and more toward the center of the room. He bent over and picked up my wadded panties.

“Last week,” he began, leaning his hips back against the edge of the breakfront, his long, lean frame seeming to become even longer and leaner, “when I returned with the ice cream, the living room was filled with the smell of sex. Did you know that, Maria?”

I felt my face redden again, or was it more. A sound came from around the gag in my mouth, something between a moan and a whimper.

“It smelled a lot like these do,” Michael said, turning my panties inside out and lifting the crotch to his nose.

My knees weakened at the humiliation but I saw the bulge in MIchael’s groin and I realized that we were feeding off of each other. He must have seen or sensed something in my reaction, because Michael approached me and pulled my panties down over my face, positioning the inside of the crotch against my nose. I don’t know if other women like or dislike the smell of their sex, I have never asked, but I find the smell of mine to be quite exciting. Now, as the warm, pungent, fertile scent of my essence engulfed me with every breath, I felt an aching in my breasts, a hardening in my nipples and my sex swelled and moistened to the point that I felt the slickness on my thighs. A drop of my saliva dripped from my chin and landed on my breast and with a start, I realized that I was drooling from both ends.

MIchael had an elastic bandage in his hands now, and he began to wrap it around and around my head, blindfolding me. The light from the room was replaced by inky blackness and my panties were secured in place, concentrating their effect.

“This works as well as it does, Maria,” Michael said, his voice soft and low, merely a whisper, but his mouth was close enough for me to feel his breath on my neck and I had no trouble hearing him, “because your imagination is as good as mine. I discovered that during our last phone call. It was the best phone sex I ever had.”

Michael had turned me on during our call, to the point where I considered asking him if he wanted to try it out. Apparently, he did.

“Now all you have are your feelings and that lovely imagination.”

I felt Michael move away from me and then I heard the clink of a buckle. Michael’s hands lifted my chin and he buckled a leather collar around my neck. LIke the cuffs on my wrists, the collar on my neck had a thick outer layer of leather, with a padded, super-soft leather layer that went against my skin. The leather smelled wonderful. Michael tugged on the collar and I stumbled after him a few steps and then he stopped me. I heard the a chain jingle and something snapped to my collar and then pulled upwards, stretching my neck and standing me up very straight.

“That’s better, Maria,” Michael said. “Your posture was far too stooped over.”

“Now, let’s see how you’re doing,” he said.

“Uhhh,” I gasped through the ball gag as I felt Michael’s hands slide down from my shoulders to my breasts. Blindfolded as I was, my other senses were on overdrive, and I about lost my mind at the intensity of the sensation.

Michael’s touch was gentle, yet thorough, so very thorough. He carefully felt each of my breasts, from the ribcage to the nipple, caressing lifting, squeezing, learning all about them. My breasts no longer had any secrets from him, and his fingers made electric sparks fly from my nipples and pulse through my loins. More saliva dripped from my chin and my thighs seemed to get slicker and slicker. I know it sounds silly, but I had the feeling that if my thighs got any more slippery, I wouldn’t be able to stand up.

MIchael released my breasts rather abruptly and I staggered a bit from the chain on my collar until I regained my balance. There was a pause and then I again heard the sounds of buckles. Michael buckled leather cuffs to each of my ankles. I could feel the weight of a chain between the cuffs. Moments later I felt Michael push an ottoman against the front of my feet. I remembered the ottoman being over by the large leather chair in Michael’s living room and how it was of the same dark leather.

“Step your feet apart, Maria,” Michael said. “Spread them around the ottoman.”

I did as Michael said, but it took several steps, each one lowering my body slightly and increasing the pull on my collar, until I at last felt the outer edge of the circumference of the ottoman slide over the chain between my ankles. I had never felt so completely vulnerable and helpless before. I was naked, bound, blindfolded, spread, and unable to do anything about it. “Do you want something to drink?” Michael asked.

I nodded.

Michael unbuckled the ball gag and eased it out of my mouth. He massaged my jaw muscles and then tilted a glass of ice cold water to my lips. I took several large gulps. Then he stroked my hair and the back of my neck. His touch was so tender, so soothing, so supporting, I felt a tear well up in my eyes. I realized how much I truly loved Michael.

“Ahh,” I gasped as I felt Michael again take my breast in his hand, cupping it in his palm while he casually fingered the nipple.

He reinserted the ball gag into my mouth and buckled it in place. It felt strangely comforting to have it back there and I wondered why. Michael set something down near me and I heard a click, then I felt a warmth on my crotch.

“Just shedding a little light on the subject,” Michael said.

Then I felt Michael sitting down on the ottoman. He actually sat down between my legs, I shivered as I felt the heat from his body and Knew his face was at the level of my groin, at my now brightly illuminated groin.

Michael’s fingers lightly stroked my pubic hair. "This is really more decoration than covering, Maria,” Michael said of my short, well trimmed bush, and I knew he was right.

Michael ran his fingers over the lips of my sex, slowly, gently parting them, exposing the delicate inner lips and finally my clitoris. I hissed around my gag as Michael caressed it. I felt a gloved finger slip into my vagina, then another, and yet another, as Michael kept his thumb on my clit. I shuddered and started to gyrate my hips back and forth, wet, sucking sounds coming from my vagina as I sought the orgasm which had been building ever since the last one in the car. I couldn’t get off, though. I was too afraid of letting go and hanging from my neck to give in to the building pressure.

A wail of frustration blubbered out past the gag and I hear Michael chuckle.

“Too bad about the collar, isn’t it?” he said. Then he added. “It’s just as well, though. Tony told me to do my best not to let you come.”

Tony, I hadn’t thought about Tony since, since when? Hours ago? I wasn’t sure. My thoughts were interrupted, though, by Michael’s movement. He got up from the ottoman, and removed the chain from my ankle cuffs. He unhooked my collar from the chain and steadied me while I got my balance back.

“Speaking of Tony,” Michael said, “it’s getting to be time to take you to him. Just a few more preparations yet to do.”

Michael walked me a ways until I felt the edge of his dining table bump into my thighs. I felt him buckle a belt around my waist.

“Bend over, Maria,” Michael said.

As MIchael supported my torso, I leaned over the dining table and laid down on it, the smooth, polished wood cool on my skin. Michael pulled my ankles apart and strapped them to the legs of the dining table. There was another pause and sounds that told me that Michael was over at the break front. When he returned, I felt him insert a rubber phallus into my vagina.

“Not quite right,” he said, slipping it out.

The next one was larger, quite a bit larger, and I moaned as I felt my vaginal muscles strain to accommodate it. But accommodate it, I did.

“Excellent, Maria. Tony will be quite pleased to see you so, shall we say, fulfilled.”

I could hear the smile in Michael’s voice, but then I felt his gloved fingers begin to massage some cold lubricant into my anus. I moaned in protest, but it was to no avail. Tony lubed me until I had no defense against the probe of his finger and soon he took the full measure of me. That finger was replaced by two, and Michael stirred them around inside my anus. The fingers were replaced by another phallus, this one right at the limit of my endurance and I groaned as Michael pressed it relentlessly into me. I felt Michael clip something to the back of my belt and then he attached the thin strip of what I knew to be leather to each of the phalluses. He released my ankles and pulled me to my feet, bringing the leather strap, which was actually two thin straps, up on either side of my clit, and he attached them to the front of my belt. Michael kissed my cheek as he attached a chain or leash to my collar.

“Now let’s go find Tony,” he said.

I struggled to walk with the phalluses stuffed up into me, seeming to split me open. I still had the elastic bandage around my head and had to trust Michael completely to lead me safety through his house. I had no idea where we were going, but then I felt Michael stop me and open a door. The outside air, now a bit cooler than it had been, washed over me and I realized we were going outside. I hesitated then bracing my feet at the threshold, not sure abut going outside.

“Move it, Maria,” Michael snapped, giving my ass a slap sharp enough to make me cry out.

I stepped outside, onto Michael’s porch, and heard him shut the door behind us. Michael eased me down the steps onto a brick walk way, and then off of that, onto some grass. It seemed we walked quite I ways, strands of bushes and branches grazing over my body as stumbled through them. Due to the strap holding the phalluses in place, I couldn’t expel them, and each step caused them to move around inside my body, fucking me as I walked. I heard a car pass by--it seemed really close, and realized we were near the street. How near, I wondered? Could anyone see us, see me? Michael led me away from the road and then we stopped. I heard him open a heavy wooden door and tell me to step up and over. I did so, and felt concrete under my feet.

I was in some kind of shed. I could smell the wood and the concrete and the closed-in feel to the air. Michael led me across the floor and clipped my collar to a chain that dangled down from above. He didn’t have to tell me to keep my legs spread; the phalluses prevented me from closing my legs. Michael slowly unwrapped the elastic bandage and uncovered my eyes. When it was off, I still could not see anything, then I realized that the shed was pitch black. Michael moved away and then, a moment later, a flood light blazed on me.

The high intensity light was so bright that I cried out and squinted my eyes shut, and still it hurt. I cold see nothing at all.

“Hello, Maria,” said Tony, his voice coming from somewhere behind in the blackness behind the light.

“Hey, Tony,” I replied, my voice distorted by the gag. My eyes were getting a bit used to the brightness now, I wasn’t able to open them yet, but they hurt less.

“Turn around slowly, Maria,” Tony said, “and let me see all the things Michael has done to you.” I staggered around in a circle, acutely conscious of the phalluses in my vagina and asshole, the way my breasts swayed and jiggled. I felt so naked, so exposed, so vulnerable.

“Are those your panties, Maria?” Tony asked.

I nodded, feeling my face redden.

“My goodness,” Tony said.

A shadow moved through the blinding light and I felt Tony’s hands on my shoulders, my breasts, possessing them in the rough and tumble way that was peculiarly his. “Agghh,” I gasped as the sensations overwhelmed my and I sprayed spittle out around the ball gag.

“I think her mouth just ejaculated,” Michael’s voice said from out of the darkness and Tony chuckled.

“A mouth come?” Tony chuckled. “Never heard of one before, but nothing with Maria surprises me.”

Tony kissed my cheek and then gave hard biting sucks on each of my nipples as his hands explored my clit and my stuffed openings.

“I see Michael has jammed you up pretty well, hasn’t he?”

I nodded, hoping desperately that Tony would continue to toy with the phalluses as I was close to coming, even with the neck collar. But he backed away. He moved away.

“Time for round two, Sports fans,” Tony said.

Seconds later the flood light was turned off and even though my eyes were uncovered, the sudden shift in light level left me sightless. The men worked together to release the chain from my collar and to unbuckle my arms and wrists. I wasn’t freed, though, a firm hand was on me at all times. I could make out the shadows of their forms as Michael and Tony moved me to another part of the shed. My limbs were spread out wide and secured with leather straps to two stout posts. Something was dragged over the concrete in front of me. Then, Michael and Tony began lighting candles, large ones and small ones, and setting them up. Some were placed on shelves or benches, some on the floor around me. Gradually, the level of light in the shed changed from black to soft yellow. I saw that in front of me was a large mirror and I could see my reflection, my bound, spread-eagled, gagged, pantied, phallused reflection staring back at me. I moaned at the wonderful terribleness of it.

“How far out in the country are we, Mike?” asked Tony.

“Five miles to the nearest town, a quarter of a mile to the nearest house,” Michael replied.

“Should be far enough,” Tony said.

Tony came over to me and I saw that he was shirtless, the muscles of his torso enhanced by the sharp shadows. Tony unbuckled the ball gag and removed it. I worked the stiffness out of my jaw and Michael held up a glass. I took a deep swallow, but it wasn’t water, it was more of the ice cold vodka. I choked, but kept it down, then had another, the white fire glowing in my gut. Saying that I had probably sucked all the juice out of them, Tony pulled my panties off of my face. He took my face in his hands.

“Maria,” Tony said, turning my face up to his. “I’m going to watch while Michael whips you. He will whip you until you come for us. Then, I’m going to fuck you to death.”

Tony’s voice had a strange sort of formal quality to it, almost like he was pronouncing a sentence on me. Perhaps he was. I watched as Tony stepped back, and in the mirror, I saw him sit on a stool to my right. That way he could watch the whip hit me as well as my reaction. I remembered what Michael had said about revealing one’s soul through pain and I realized that they were both going to see my pain and my passion. I shuddered at the impending humiliation.

Michael moved into the mirror on my left side. He was holding a whip made of a dozen, or perhaps more, leather strips tied to a wooden handle. With a sudden movement, Michael slashed the whip across my buttocks. I cried out and jerked against my bonds, my skin on fire. He hit me again, and again, and again. The he stopped and I felt my chest heave as I tried to catch my breath. With each gasp, the phalluses seemed to work their way further into me.

Michael was in front of me now and he attached clothes pins to each of my nipples as well as putting several on my outer and inner pussy lips. Then he began to whip me again. He moved the whip from my buttocks to my thighs and my back, each strike causing me to jerk and pull at the clothes pins or the phalluses, or both. I saw my face in the mirror, saw my body contort and writhe in response to the pain and my building orgasm. I watched myself scream in pain and contort myself to increase the action of the phalluses. I also saw Tony and Michael watching me, taking in everything that I revealed.

Michael stopped again and moved the clothes pins to new locations, the action causing sudden, intense pain. Then he began to whip me again, with short quick blows that increased in speed until my orgasm exploded in me.

I didn’t pass out, but I lost all strength and my body weight was entirely on my arms, clearly this was a strong Category Four. Tony and Michael gently removed the clothes pins and Tony unbuckled the belt around my waist and eased the phalluses out of me. I was released from the posts and lowered to the floor. I heard ice in glasses and knew Tony and Michael were having a drink. After a couple of minutes, they hoisted me to my feet and I was laid on my back on a heavy wooden work bench. My wrists were strapped to iron rings on the sides of the bench and my legs lifted up and tied to a wooden beam. The beam was lifted up and set a notch in two vertical posts by my head. My bottom was now completely accessible to them. I watched as Tony freed his thick, heavy cock from his pants and skin on a rubber. I had never seen Tony so huge and I was glad of Michael’s having chosen the larger phallus. Tony placed his cock at the entrance to my vagina and shoved it into me. He began to fuck me wildly, the bench creaking under our weight as his fingers grabbed and pulled at my breasts. When Tony reached one hand down to my clit, I lost it and was gone.

When I came to, the candles had burned down considerably. Michael offered me a straw to suck on.

“It’s water,” he said, smiling.

I smiled back and took the straw. After a second, Tony appeared above my head and replaced the straw with his cock. I sucked and tongued his cock and his balls and felt his erection grow. When it was again rigid, Tony moved back to between my legs. I shuddered as I felt him rub some lubricant into my anus.

“I liked the way you walked with a plug up your ass, Maria,” Tony said, his voice husky with lust. “Let’s see if we can make that a permanent thing.”

With that, Tony pushed his cock into my anus. I felt, rather than heard, a hoarse scream burn out of my throat but then I felt Michael hold a buzzing vibrator to my clit and my orgasm started almost immediately.

I came to in the front seat of Tony’s car.

“We’re home, sweetie,” Tony said softly.

I nodded and looked around, trying to recognize the inside of our garage. I was still naked, wrapped in the quilt from the back of Michael’s sofa. Tony came around to my side of the car and lifted me out. He carried me inside and up the stairs. He set me on the bed and I toppled over into a fetal position. A couple of minutes later, Tony came for me and carried me into the bathroom. He had drawn a bubble bath and he set me in it and then got in himself. We snuggled together for a good while, sighing.

End of part 1