“Please, Lisa. Let’s try it.” He pleaded.
I already had explained this to him. I was tired. I would be the oldest woman there. I would be the fattest woman there. I was sure of it. Will continued, “We don’t need to stay too long and you don’t need to do anything. I just want to check it out.”
“I don’t have anything to wear.” I countered. My youngest child had just turned one and between work and family I hadn’t spent much time on myself. My brownish hair was long, frizzy, and unstyled. My body was fluffy and breastfeeding had exaggerated the asymmetry of my breasts. My closet was full of the worn in jeans and t-shirts that came out on weekends and the black slacks and monochrome blouses that served as my office uniform. I hadn’t had a reason to dress grown up and sexy in the past few years. Still, I paused, this was important to Will. Maybe I could make an effort.
“You can wear whatever you want. There is no dress code.” Will said. The outfit was to boost my confidence, not fulfill their rules. I opened my closet and began to peruse. Everything was as expected until I found something bronze and velvety folded over a hanger. I had forgotten about this dress. It was stretchy. Maybe it would fit. “When is it again?” I asked, pulling the dress over my head. Will smiled cautiously. He knew me – he just had to be patient. He always joked that eventually everything became my idea. I didn’t like cats and stubbornly refused to allow him to get one, until I found stray brother kittens who became our first babies. I didn’t want children – until I did. Don’t try to convince me of anything, just wait me out and, more often than not, I will come around.
Will and I have been together since we were teenagers. It was only supposed to be a summer fling. We worked together at a pool where everyone was young and horny and looking to have fun. He was the hot lifeguard– a recent high school graduate with amazing shoulders, short sun-bleached hair, and a wholesome demeanor. I was home for the summer from college and almost two years older than him. I worked the grill and watched him from a distance. He was dating one of my casual girlfriends, but I knew from my gossipy research that neither of them were particularly into each other. It was a relationship of convenience. The summer, the sun, and the limited timeline made me brave.
I still think of it as my summer of sex. I was 19 years young with long, tanned legs and a hard-earned fit body. I had a favorite black bikini with triangles of fabric barely supporting each breast. I had come off a successful year in college and was working during the weekdays as a personal assistant for a salesman and on the weekends at the pool with an eclectic group of teenagers and wannabe teenagers. During the cold winter of college in New England I had found my libido. My friends and I had passed around copies of Penthouse Forum and Anais Nin. I learned so much and wanted to test all those moves out on someone real. Now I had the found the guys - not boys anymore but definitely not men yet - to practice with. I hooked up with several of them over the course of the summer yet kept my eye on Will.
I learned that Will’s current girlfriend had a crush on another coworker. I convinced her to break up with Will and hook up with her crush. On the side I discretely flirted with Will. Soon the pieces fell into place at a late summer party with an “Eat Me Lei Me” theme. The girls wore candy necklaces and the guys wore leis. A guy would ask to “eat me” by biting off a piece of candy from my neck, breath and tongue so close to that sensitive spot. The guy who ate the last piece of candy would give me his lei. I only played the game for short time. I saw my opportunity with Will as he stood with other guys, being cute and oblivious. He was dressed in long shorts and a bright colored well worn t-shirt with No Fear blazed across the front. His hair was very short and his shoulders and torso – even covered by the baggy t-shirt – made a perfect V. I walked up to him and asked him to come with me. I slid my hand into his. I pulled him into a large closet nearby and asked “Would you like my candy?”
He smiled and leaned down to my neck. He wasn’t much taller than me but I felt small and, surprisingly, overwhelmed. I have no idea if he bit a piece of candy off because all I felt were his lips on my neck. Then his gentle - hesitant even - kisses crept up my neck. He was looking at me. I took a breath and leaned up to kiss his lips. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he pulled me tight against him. I was a puddle. We moved to a few other spots in the house and quickly realized we wanted more privacy so we trespassed at our work.
Honestly, this wasn’t my usual speed but the chemistry between us was more than I could have dreamed. Our lips fit together so perfectly. He was strong and assertive, I felt desired and sexy. My pussy was shocked and wet – and relieved. We already had been around each other skinny dipping – a benefit of working at the pool - so tearing off our clothes was a fast event. Then he looked at my breasts as if he had never seen breasts in person before. Eventually I would learn that this wasn’t far from the truth. He cupped the soft mounds in his hands and took his time kissing each nipple. He placed a thumb on each nipple and pressed. I gasped. My knees buckled as all the blood in my body rushed to my now dripping pussy. I remember thinking, ‘This is new.’ It seems we both had been reading and fantasizing and hoping for someone eager and willing to practice with.
In the pool, our hands and mouths explored each other – unpracticed but eager. My fingers traced down his chest and stomach, circling each muscle. His hands gripped my ass cheeks, holding me against him in the water. After hours of exploring, we found ourselves laying naked on the side of the pool. His 18-year-old young man’s erection was strong and beautiful. In a few short hours I had become very familiar with his hard tool. I stroked it gently, then quickly, watching Will’s eyes widen. The look on his face was lovely, but nothing compared to the sound he made when I leaned over his cock and slowly put the tip in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the swollen head and lowering myself a few inches more.
Frantically, Will offered that he had a condom tucked in his wallet. I thought about riding his cock. I had never ridden a guy before – my brief sexual history was missionary only – but I had read that it was the easiest position for achieving orgasm. “Yes, get it.” Quickly sheathed, I straddled his hips and moved in a jerking pattern. There was no way this was right. I liked his big hands grasping my breasts, but this didn’t feel natural. I asked to change positions. Will rolled me over, pressing my body under his weight. “Oh Fuck” I gasped. He buried his face in my neck and I opened my legs wider. His cock slid into me. I was moaning and he was breathing quickly against my neck. It wasn’t the longest fuck of my life, but it was one of the hottest. Two teenagers feeling attraction and desire and an eagerness to create pleasure.
At the time I wasn’t interested in anything more than Will’s broad shoulders and our mesmerizing sexual chemistry. Nineteen years, two houses, and two kids later I love him with all my heart. His kisses can still sweep me off my feet but the puddles are harder to come by.
“Next Saturday night. If we are going I need to buy tickets. I can line up a babysitter.” He smiled. “I like that dress. You look good in it.” Ugh. It fit, definitely snug around the middle with my boobs overflowing the scoop neckline, but I understand some would find that sexy. “OK.” I sigh. “I will go, but I am not doing anything. I am just there to watch.” Will smiled. He knew what he was doing.
The next Saturday night we park in a gravel lot next to a graffitied, dark building. “Here?” I say with a little shock and a lot of nervousness. There are people entering as couples and as singles – younger than me, of course, - with torn fishnet stockings and colorful hair and big black bags that look heavy and mysterious. There is no doubt about it, we are in unfamiliar territory and I am intimidated.
Inside we sign something that I don’t read and walk through clusters of bodies. Most people are chatting in small groups. Some are showing off leathery looking implements, lashing them against the floor or furniture to make loud slapping sounds. We reach a bigger open room with couches along the perimeter. I am so uncomfortable. I don’t know anyone. I don’t know what is happening around me, but Will is smiling.
Will and I had done some exploring in kink over the years. We were together for 16 years before our first child and had plenty of time and money to experiment. We watched porn together. We owned a flogger brought at a local sex toy shop. One especially adventurous weekend we went to several events sponsored by the same local toy shop. There was a toy demonstration after hours at a Thai restaurant that ended with me kissing two different women both named Michelle and even licking the pussy of the blonde Michelle while she hung on a wooden cross. Then there was the big fetish party – technically a fundraiser – involving amazing corsets and shiny boots and lots of leather. Maybe I was out of practice, but those excursions felt much less intense than what I was in right now.
Shoulders back and head high I touch Will’s arm “I am going to sit here. You go look at whatever it is you wanted to see. I will be waiting for you here.” He looks at me confused, “Come with me.”
“No, these shoes hurt. I don’t want to walk around.” I breath out. “We are here for you. I am fine. You look around.” He kisses me quickly and walks away.
My first observation is that there is so much black leather. Most of the furniture is clearly for party use, not sitting. There is a person-sized, wooden, X-shaped piece in the corner – a St. Andrew’s Cross. A woman is spread out, shadowing the cross with her face to the wood. Based upon the black leather at her wrists and ankles I know she is attached to the furniture. A man behind her has a flogger – much thicker than the flogger Will and I have at home - and slaps it against her stretched back and ass and thighs repeatedly. He uses up the space around him to swing wide. She squirms. The music is too loud for me to hear if she is making sounds, but I hear each slap of that flogger. I see her brace for each blow and, once, I glimpse her smile as she turns her head to see the man working her over.
In another corner a woman with only a prominent exposed ass showing kneels on a padded bench. Her face is obscured as she leans forward onto a higher padded bench. A small, round woman stands next to the exposed ass, admiring it. Is she admiring the shape? The size? The reddish color of the marks that cross both cheeks in no particular pattern? I can’t imagine the courage it would take to display your ass like that. The ass admirer raises her right arm and I see a dark wooden paddle come into view. She slowly draws it back. Her left hand reaches forward and grabs the short curly hair of the ass owner. In one swift move she pulls back the ass owner’s hair and swings forward the paddle so that the broad flat side lands across those ass cheeks. The cheeks ripple a bit. I am sure my mouth is agape.
I find a couch against the wall and sit down. Immediately, my eyes fall to the center of the room. A tall, olive-skinned man with shoulder-length sandy colored hair is wrapping rope around another man. His victim is smaller than him with closed eyes. He is wearing only black briefs and a soft smile. The tan-colored rope makes a beautiful pattern around the man, diamond shapes and twists, trapping his arms against his body. The rope wielding man pulls at the lines like they are a handle, pushing the smaller man around and tightening the cords against his pale skin. I cannot look away.
The smaller man looks peaceful. He is wrapped tight and I am reminded of the best hugs. He is brought to his knees and then suddenly he is in the air. He is flying, but rather than being free and sailing, he is a toy to his puppet master. The lines above are manipulated to create new shapes. Sometimes the plaything groans lowly. He no longer smiles but I am sure he is happy.
Time speeds by while I watch the two men. Eventually, the puppet master slowly unties his satisfied-looking plaything and holds him while he slides to the worn rugs on the floor. I am walking toward them. I don’t know why. When I reach them, the man orchestrating the scene is rolling up his ropes in a methodical way. “Hi.” I say. “That was beautiful. Would you do that to me?” He looks me in the eyes and smiles. “No,” almost laughing “that is not how this works. I don’t even know your name.”
“Um, what is going on here?” I turn to see Will at my side. I stutter, caught off-guard “I just saw him – what’s your name? – tying someone up and it looked interesting. I might like to be tied up like that.” “I am Brian,” he says, I guess to both of us “Nice to meet you.” “Hi, I am Will. This is my wife, Lisa. We are new here.” My body is vibrating, “Yes, new here. I’m sorry. I don’t know how this works. Is there a fee? How much for you to tie me like that?” Brian seems to want to laugh again. “My boyfriend is waiting for me to tie him. You can wait and watch and we can talk after.”
Will and I sit on a nearby couch. He says something about a karada and suspension points. Did he understand what is happening here? Of course, he does. This is probably what he googles late at night. “I can learn how to do that.” Will says softly near my ear. I feel a warmth in my chest creeping down to my pussy. He has my full attention.
Later, I listen as Will and Brian have a very excited discussion. I can’t seem to focus on anything. The room is much busier and noisier now. People are doing things – I don’t know what to call most of this – in every corner. There are implements and hands colliding with body parts everywhere, creating an orchestra of sounds with chaotic crescendos. I am distracted. Brian is holding rope and comes toward me. Will looks me in the eyes, “he is going to show me how to tie you. Is that ok?” I nod slowly. For the next few minutes the sensations are all new. Rope is pulled and secured over the crushed velvet of my tight dress. Around my hips, my waist, my boobs. There are four hands on me, pulling at the lines. Have there ever been four hands on me before? Brian’s hands are big and warm. He wraps his arms around me to guide the rope from one side to another. My head is spinning.
I hear that Brian is newer to town but definitely not to tying – shibari as it is called – or to many of the other activities going on around us. He recommends some websites and books to Will and we agree to message on a website for others with the same interest. I have opened the door and Will is running through it. I want to follow.
In the six months since Will and I started exploring the local kink scene, I had changed. I was running on the excitement and adrenaline of new experiences and the horniness inspired by that excitement. We met new people and learned new skills. We saw scenes between people that demonstrated trust and closeness and the ability for two people to be in the same thought at the same time. I felt sexy and close to Will and we were having fun together. Soon we would dive into a new way to have fun together.
One Saturday night we returned to a regularly scheduled local party. This party, as is the tradition, started with a short class on an area of kink interest. Will – a former Boy Scout – was especially curious about this class, Knife Play. When Will told me about the class, I remembered a time when I had watched a man restrain his partner using leather cuffs on her wrists, pushing her against a tall St. Andrew’s Cross with the length of his body. He put a pocketknife to the side of her face. Her mouth was open as she caught her breath, but her eyes were shut tight. Close to her ear he flipped open the pocketknife. She and I gasped in unison. In the corner of his eye, he saw me watching from a few feet away and smiled. Will wasn’t the only one curious about the knife play class.
In the class six couples stood around us and we all faced the instructor, a man in a combination of leather and fatigues like a kinky survivalist. Alternatively, most of the bottoms removed their clothes before the class started so that half the room was in lingerie with lots of skin available for use. The instructor talked through the different types of blades. There was mention of how to discuss levels of consent – is your bottom ok with scratches? Cuts? Semi-permanent marks? How do you do any of this safely? Will is fully engaged. Honestly, I am barely listening. Will is my Top. I trust him completely. I am here to feel all the sensations. I will follow his lead.
That is something else I learned in those first months – I am a bottom and a sensation slut. I didn’t want to be in charge, directly responsible for learning skills and keeping the scene safe. Also, I didn’t want a lot of pain. I already had seen, though, that the line between pleasure and pain was thin, crooked, and permeable. I wanted to be bound up securely in rope or saran wrap or leather restraints, blindfolded, and forced to feel all the heavy and soft and hot and hard – and now sharp – touches.
Will was paying attention and making friends. During class I noticed him comparing notes with a handsome man with reddish-brown hair and strong shoulders. Shoulders are my weakness. His name was Mark and his wife, Alice, was by his side. She is pretty and short with a very round ass. I think Will and Mark have been comparing knives, probably whose blade is longer or sharper. At the conclusion of class, Will looks happy, with a devious spark in his eyes. He pulls me into his chest, his mouth close to my left ear and whispers “Do you want to play?” “Mmm-hmmm” I respond. I feel his warm, rough hand creep up my right arm, graze my neck, and pause. A switchblade flips open with a sudden mechanical whoosh that echoes in my ear. I am rendered weak in his arms. “Fuck” I breathe out.
I close my eyes. I don’t want to see what is happening. I want to feel it. I don’t want to understand what is happening. I want to flow with it. I don’t want responsibility. I want experience. I am in my first knife play scene. My head is light and my panties are getting wet.
Will runs the blade very slowly along my shoulder and down my arm. His other hand is on my back, pressing me against his chest - as if I would dream of running away. He knows what he is doing. Will is naturally curious and pervy and seems to get turned on by the reactions he elicits from his bottom. He knows not to draw blood, neither of us want that, but we are experimenting with how light or hard to scratch my sensitive skin. How deep can the pleasure go before it morphs to pain and how much exquisite pain can I endure until it is no longer pleasurable.
I know to say yellow if I need Will to back off on the intensity or red if I need him to stop. These are my safe words. I am speechless as he manipulates my skin under that sharp blade. Dragging the sensation down my body slowly seems to drag the adrenaline from the deep recesses of my muscles. My body stiffens and my head can’t hold a thought. This is likely a fear response, but I am not running from anything. I am sinking into him.
With his mouth still against my ear, Will says “Would you like to feel Mark’s blade? We could switch.” I am happy and horny and respond “Yes.” It is clear that Will and Mark already have discussed this because arrangements are made in short order. Mark introduces himself to me and shows me his blade. He is a little taller than me, definitely younger than me, and muscular. He tells me that he is very familiar with knives and knows not to break my skin or draw blood. He asks if he can put his arm around my neck, not to choke me but to hold me in place. “Please do.”
My bare back is against Mark’s bare chest. His left arm is across my left shoulder and neck, pressing me against him. I close my eyes and lean into him. With his right arm he runs a blade down my cleavage. My breasts are pushed up in my bra giving him a buffet of creamy skin to explore. He takes his time. I force myself to breathe out, slowly. He draws lines across my breasts and down my stomach. My arms are at my side but as Mark’s blade creeps closer to my panties I reach back to grab his thighs. I don’t trust my knees.
I glance to my left and see Will with Alice. She is bent over the back of a padded chair. They are only a foot or two away. Will is running his blade across her smooth white ass cheeks, leaving pink stripes. Her long hair is tossed to one side and she is looking back at him, smiling. His crotch, though still covered in his jeans, is pressed against her and I imagine how he would look fucking her from behind. I want to hear what sounds she would make when he thrusts into her.
Mark’s left hand grabs my wrists and he slides his body to my side. Now we are looking at each other. He stares at me with craving in his wide open eyes. His blade is on my cheek. He keeps looking in my eyes while slowly moving the blade down the side of my face to my neck. I shudder. He notices and smiles. He leans down and kisses my neck. I moan, catching Will’s attention. He has Alice laying on the floor and he is kneeling over her. His blade is tracing the curves of her waist.
“May I kiss him?” I say out loud – not a yell, not a whisper. Instinctively, Will knows I am talking to him. We have talked about being intimate with other people, but only when we were alone, fucking or even while cuddling after. We would rehash the events at a party and comment on who was doing what to whom – especially what we thought was sexy and who we thought was sexy. Will liked the women who clearly enjoyed playing and were responsive to their Top. They role played, called their Top endearing names, made sounds loudly and sincerely. Their body type mattered less than their play style to him. I kept gravitating to the very masculine-appearing men with body hair and thick hands. I didn’t desire a six-pack as much as strong shoulders and confidence in their skill set. During our pillow-talk we had established that – in theory - we could be fine with some kissing and groping with others, as long as we came back to each other soon after, but we had never started looking for that first couple. This was my opportunity.
Will smiled at me and said “Yes, Dear.” Mark still had my wrists in one hand, but he placed the blade on the nearby table and brought his free hand to my neck. Again with my neck, I sighed. He was setting the pace. I wanted to kiss him but his fingers crept into my hair and grabbed my curls firmly. Another gasp came from me. I was panting through parted lips until Mark kissed them. He kissed me lightly and then hard. He pressed my body into his. I was ravenous. I wanted this. I wanted him.
To my side, Will and Alice were kissing. His arm was wrapped around her waist and his kiss was slow and passionate. I was happy that he was having sexy fun too. I didn’t want anyone to be left out. My full attention, though, was on what Mark was doing to me, what Mark was making me feel. The chemistry was primal. His grip on my wrists was strong.
After an unknown amount of time, we slowly separated our bodies. We each stepped to our spouses and greeted them with warm, reconnecting kisses. “We should do that again sometime” I said. There was agreement all around and plans were made. That brings me to tonight.
When Mark and Alice arrived to our house tonight, there was a plan. Alice and I had each worn panties and bras that were expendable. We would switch partners and let the men use their knives to cut off our underthings and render us naked. As Mark approaches me, I am stiff and nervous. I am not the cheery, blushing woman he left at the party. I stand in my living room in my black bra and black cotton panties, tall and unmoving. He laughs. “Don’t look so scared. I am not really going to hurt you.” Then he leans in and kisses my lips, gently, and my shoulders relax. As his fingers travel up my thigh, I warm.
Will and Alice are close by but I am focused on my scene. I can hear them – small gasps and shuffling boots. Everyone and everything seems to be proceeding well. Mark grabs my hair from the roots and pulls a bit. “Fuck” I blurt in surprise, and he growls. Oh Damn, he growled. The feeling between my thighs isn’t warmth, it is a punch of fire that almost brings me to my knees.
Now I feel his blade. It isn’t a switchblade but something thick and long. He slides it up my thigh. The pressure is sharp and intense. I think that if he wasn’t holding me in place by my hair I may have squirmed, but I can’t move safely. I don’t really want to move. “Oh God” I moan. “No God needed, my Lady.” Mark responds. “I am going to give you what you need.” My head spins with excitement. A little role play – I like this. “Please” I beg. What I was begging for I have no idea yet. But it doesn’t matter. Mark presses his body against me and I feel his cock hard through his jeans. He leans his face to mine and kisses me passionately, that damn sharp blade still grazing my side.
He puts his hand to my neck and turns my head with control. I follow his lead, craving his lips on my exposed neck, but he has something else in mind. I feel the blade across the top of my breasts. When it reaches one bra strap, Mark flicks his wrist and cuts it. “Oh!” I gasp. He changes hands and targets the other bra strap. My pussy is pounding, but Mark is in no rush. Still connected to him at my neck, he kisses me with purpose. As I breathe him in, he slices the second strap. I sigh into his mouth.
He makes quick work of the bra by bringing the knife through the small connecting cloth between my breasts. The bra drops to the floor quietly and I feel a cool breeze on my nipples.
“Too much clothing.” he growls into my neck. That damn growl again. I feel so sexy. Mark releases my neck and slides behind me. I remain silent and still, waiting. I hear him remove his shirt and toss it to the floor. He presses his chest to my back – soft chest hairs grazing my skin and eliciting goosebumps. His skin radiates heat and my goosebumps melt into little fires. He smells of clean sweat. My senses should be overwhelmed by all of the new, swirling inputs, but instead they are building a heat in me. I may growl.
In a swift motion, he brings his left arm around my shoulders pressing my breasts forward and places the blade at my pussy. “Oh Fuck” I shudder. I close my eyes tightly, focusing on what I feel – how I feel. His left arm keeps me steady while the blade in his right hand grazes over my panties. He starts using the side of the blade across the top of my mound - then the point of the blade. As the sensation gets sharper I hear myself whine quietly “Oh…oh…please…fuck.” I wish I had clever responses but I am operating in a much more basic space with only sensations and sounds within my grasp. I hear Alice and Will in the distance - dramatic, sexy sounds – but as if they are far away. I return to Mark restraining me with his strong arm, breathing hotly onto my neck, and driving all of the blood in my body to my endangered pussy.
The point of the blade travels between my thighs and catches on the gusset of my panties. Mark pivots the angle of the knife to grab the gusset in its point and impales the cotton. He frees his knife and grunts into my ear “I want you naked. I will see all of you.” He places the blade at my stomach and travels down, slipping under my panties. He quickly slides the blade to the right, slicing through the fabric resting on my right hip. “Damn” I blurt in surprise, catching my breath. With little fanfare, he shifts his body and moves the blade to my left side, slicing my panties again. Still behind me, his hand moves to my neck, controlling my position. His foot moves between my feet and gently kicks my right leg to open, spreading my thighs. My sliced up panties fall to the floor. “Good” he says slow and low.
I hear the knife get placed down on something hard. It seems he wants his hands free. Fingers roam down my body leaving shivers in their wake. Mark stands in front of me and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Kneel. Touch me.” This was big, something new in my marriage, but not unexpected. Will and I had discussed and agreed to this, among other sexy agreements. A quick gaze to my side and I see that Will and Alice are watching with smiles.
I kneel, naked, in front of Mark and gaze on his hard cock. I gently start exploring with my fingers, stroking his erection. But I am neither shy nor virginal and I am hungry. I want to taste him so I lean forward and take his hard cock into my mouth. Soon, with hands on both of my shoulders he slowly thrusts forward and back into my wet mouth. My eyes are closed and my hands grip his strong thighs as I focus, enjoying Mark’s heavy breathing above me and growing cock inside me, when I feel Will behind me.
Will is silent as he kneels behind me and reaches between my thighs. “Don’t stop what you are doing” he says as I feel his fingers move against my pussy lips. He manipulates my clit with the expertise that comes from years of experience. Oh, focusing is going to become very difficult, I think to myself.
Now I am surrounded by the warm and craving flesh of men that I desire and who desire me, or at least desire to see me squirm in pleasure between them. Mark takes his cock in his hand and pushes me backward a bit. I am balanced by Will still behind me, playing with my pussy and gently biting at my neck. I start grinding against his hand, enjoying the journey toward my climax.
I open my eyes and realize that Mark and Will are watching me. Mark’s cock is solid and purple, his hand stroking it around the apparently very sensitive tip. “I cum first, my Lady. Then you get yours.” Will isn’t making that command easy as he guides wet strokes across my clit and slides fingers into me. Mark growls again – low and drawn out. I moan involuntarily – breathy and loud. I am going to lose this challenge, I just know it. Then I see Mark’s face contort in relief and feel the warmth of cum spray across my breasts. “Oh Yes” I yell “Please Yes”, and I grind faster and deeper on Will’s fingers, grabbing at my now soiled breasts and I get mine.