Bound By Desire's Chains

The rain hammered against the stained-glass windows of St. Michael’s, each drop a miniature, frantic drumbeat against the silence of the late-night service. I’d been feeling restless lately, a simmering tension beneath the surface of my usually placid existence. The meeting with Pastor Davies had been a necessary evil, a tedious discussion about church finances that left me drained and strangely agitated. As I gathered my coat and hat, I’d impulsively told Kristie, my stunningly beautiful wife, that I’d be home around 7:30 and that she should prepare for a night of uninhibited pleasure. More specifically, I wanted her to bind me to a chair and subject me to a slow, deliberate assault of her ministrations. A dark, twisted fantasy, but one that had taken root in my mind and refused to let go.

The drive home was a blur of rain-streaked headlights and the insistent rhythm of the wipers. My anticipation grew with every passing block, fueled by the images swirling in my head. Kristie, anticipating my desires, had already dimmed the lights and put on a classic horror film – a perverse choice, but one that suited the mood perfectly. As I stepped through the doorway, the scent of her perfume, a heady mix of vanilla and something wilder, enveloped me. She was lounging on the bed, dressed in a silky negligee that clung to her curves, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and excitement.

“Took you long enough,” she purred, her voice a low, husky rumble. Without hesitation, she moved to the closet and retrieved a heavy-duty leather belt, along with a sturdy wooden chair from the corner of the room. Her movements were efficient and practiced, a silent promise of the pleasures to come. She expertly secured the belt around my wrists and ankles, the cold leather biting into my skin. The chair legs dug into my back, a gentle pressure that heightened my awareness of my own vulnerability.

“Now, let’s get to work,” she whispered, her breath warm against my ear. She began with the familiar ritual – a slow, tantalizing exploration of my most sensitive areas. Her fingers danced over my testicles, sending shivers of anticipation through my body. Then, she moved on to my cock, gently teasing its taut skin, drawing out moans of pleasure before escalating to a more aggressive rhythm. Her lips traced the line of my spine, her tongue flicking against my neck, igniting a fire in my core. It was a slow burn, building in intensity as she continued her assault, each touch, each kiss, a calculated act of domination.

As she continued her ministrations, she shifted her position, her weight pressing down on my chest, stealing my breath. She moved onto my thighs, her nails digging into the soft flesh, eliciting sharp, involuntary gasps. The feeling was exquisite, a delicious blend of pleasure and pain. Her hands explored every inch of my body, leaving no spot untouched. She climbed onto my lap, her hips swaying against mine, her body heat radiating against my skin.

The next phase of our encounter began with a small, handheld vibrator – an eroscillator, as she called it. She lay down on the bed, positioning the device directly against my clitoris. The sensation was overwhelming, a surge of heat and pleasure that threatened to consume me. She thrust the device in and out rhythmically, her body arching in response to the intense stimulation. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, as she lost herself in the throes of ecstasy. It was a primal, animalistic experience, a release of pent-up desire.

As she reached the height of her pleasure, she let out a mighty O, a guttural expulsion of sound that vibrated through the room. The vibrations traveled through my body, intensifying the sensations already coursing through my veins. She continued to stimulate me, her motions becoming even more frenzied, her body writhing in ecstasy.

Then, she shifted her focus, her hands caressing my erect penis with renewed vigor. She began to grind her hips against me, her body pressing against mine, amplifying the pleasure. The heat intensified, and my muscles clenched involuntarily. She continued to grind, her movements becoming more aggressive, pushing me closer to the edge of pain. Finally, she unleashed a torrent of kisses, her lips devouring every inch of my flesh. The world dissolved around me, reduced to the sensation of her touch, the taste of her lips, the heat of her body.

Her movements became increasingly frantic, her grip tightening on my legs, pulling me deeper into her embrace. She pulled herself onto my cock, her weight pressing down on its head, her body arching in anticipation. She began to rhythmically thrust and thrust, her movements growing faster and more intense with each passing moment. My muscles strained, my veins bulging, as I reached the peak of my arousal.

Finally, I exploded, releasing a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure. The force of the expulsion sent shockwaves through my body, leaving me breathless and trembling. She continued to pound me mercilessly, her movements relentless, until I collapsed in a heap of sweat and exhaustion.

As she pulled herself off me, her face flushed with passion, she looked down at me with a triumphant smile. “That was a meeting, wasn’t it?” she whispered, her voice thick with pleasure. And indeed, it was. A night of intense pleasure, a release of pent-up desires, a testament to the raw, untamed power of human lust. The rain continued to fall outside, but inside, in the warm embrace of my wife, I found a sanctuary from the world, a place where pleasure reigned supreme.

Story taboo sex

Bound By Desire's Chains

Did you like this story? Bound By Desire's Chains look, but like these, here Story taboo sex.