Forbidden Moments in Boxes

The cardboard boxes still lined the hallway, ghosts of our recent move, but the scent of pizza and the flickering light from the laptop screen filled the air, creating a small, contained world within our temporary home. Jake was tossing the empty plates into a trash bag, the clatter echoing in the otherwise quiet room, and the thought of our last encounter, a desperate, primal need that still burned beneath the surface, suddenly consumed me. “What is it?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine curiosity.

“Well,” I began, a nervous tremor in my voice, “I was wondering if we could maybe… change things up a little?” The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken desire, a challenge thrown down between us. He shifted slightly, a subtle movement that spoke volumes, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Okay,” he said, the single word a tacit agreement. “Meet me in the bedroom.”

The bedroom was a stark contrast to the rest of the house; almost entirely bare, save for the children’s beds, neatly made, and a few piles of clothing. It felt strangely intimate, stripped down to its essentials, a blank canvas upon which we could paint our desires. I grabbed a box filled with ties, the silk smooth against my fingertips, and entered the room to find Jake already on the bed, his body tense with anticipation.

“Put your arms to the bedposts,” I instructed, my voice low and deliberate, taking control of the situation. He complied instantly, his muscles straining against the restraints. With practiced ease, I began to tie his wrists, securing them tightly to the wooden frame. Then, I moved to his ankles, tying them in place as well, a playful dominance asserting itself over him. Finally, I reached for the last tie, wrapping it securely around his mouth, cutting off his ability to speak, forcing him to rely solely on his body language.

“Rules are: to enjoy this, to have fun watching,” I said, injecting a note of playful cruelty into my tone, a deliberate attempt to push him over the edge. As I stripped off my clothes, revealing the curve of my body beneath my thong and bra, I noticed a definite change in him. A tremor ran through his body, his breathing quickened, and a deep heat began to build in his face. The anticipation was palpable, electric.

I climbed onto him, positioning myself carefully, my fingers tracing the contours of his legs, my palms brushing against his groin with deliberate slowness. It was a deliberate tease, designed to heighten his arousal. I then took my hands and began to roam them around his sensitive area, close enough to feel his heat, but not quite touching, a tantalizing dance of restraint and desire.

Looking up at him, I saw the raw hunger in his eyes, the desperate need reflected in their depths. He was begging for more, for the touch that would obliterate the boundaries between us. Without hesitation, I stuck my tongue out, tracing its path across his nipples, a slow, deliberate exploration that sent shivers down his spine. The pleasure was immediate, intense, a wave of heat that washed over him, leaving him gasping for air.

“Do you want me to…?” I asked, my voice husky with anticipation, my fingers gently probing his hard cock. The question hung in the air, a silent invitation to explore the depths of our shared desire.

As he nodded his head, his body convulsing with pleasure, I shifted into a reversed cowgirl position, pulling him closer, making every inch of his body respond. I took his hard cock into my mouth, my teeth gently holding it in place, and began to suck deeply, drawing the moisture from his flesh. Simultaneously, I caressed his balls with my fingers, licking and teasing his sensitive skin, deepening the pleasure he was experiencing.

He began to shake uncontrollably, his muscles rippling beneath my touch. I increased the intensity of my sucking, determined to push him to the brink of ecstasy. The moans that escaped my lips were involuntary, primal, a testament to the overwhelming sensations I was experiencing. Turning my head, I noticed one of his hands was free, loosened from its restraints.

“Bad boy,” I began to say, a playful challenge thrown his way, but as I realized he was undoing the other tie, a thrill of dominance surged through me. I untied his ankles and mouth, releasing him from his restraints, allowing him to finally taste the freedom he craved.

“You’re such a bad girl, not being able to say anything to you or touch you was so difficult,” he said, his voice husky with pleasure, holding all five of the ties in his hands. “Lay down,” he commanded, a possessive gesture that left no room for argument.

He secured my arms with the ties, binding me to the bedpost, then proceeded to kiss me with unrestrained passion, his lips tracing every curve of my body. He tied my ankles as well, securing them with the remaining ties, before wrapping the final tie around my mouth, effectively silencing me once more.

He then proceeded to suck on my nipples, working his tongue around them with an almost violent intensity, a display of control and dominance that both thrilled and frightened me. He continued his assault on my senses, kissing me from my breasts to my stomach, then down my thighs, each touch sending waves of pleasure through my body. He paused, his eyes locked on my vagina, which I could feel every nerve going crazy, a burning anticipation building within me.

He stuck one finger in, then two, then three, delving deeper and deeper into my depths, his movements precise and deliberate. As he thrust his fingers in and out of me, he began to lick my clitoris, a slow, rhythmic dance of pleasure that drove me to the edge of hysteria. I moaned, a primal scream of pure ecstasy, lost in the overwhelming sensations. He looked up at me, a silent invitation to continue, and I obliged, letting out another wave of moans that echoed through the room.

He began to suck and lick my vagina, his movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. He then removed his fingers, repositioning himself into missionary, and took his cock, now hard and swollen, and rubbed it against my vagina. “So wet,” he whispered, his voice thick with pleasure, the intimacy palpable in the silence between us.

He entered me with a primal force, pushing deep into my body, his movements aggressive and insistent. Every thrust sent shivers down my spine, a delicious agony that made me forget all sense of self. The pleasure was overwhelming, consuming, a torrent of sensation that threatened to drown me. I moaned louder, lost in the depths of our shared desire.

He never had been this aggressive before, but it felt amazing, a release of pent-up tension and longing. Every thrust felt like a revelation, a confirmation of our connection, a testament to the power of our shared desire. The room spun around me, the world shrinking to the confines of our bodies, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of our lovemaking. I moaned into the tie, clinging to it as if it were the only thing keeping me grounded, as I came, the release a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure that left me breathless.

He smiled, a wide, genuine expression of pleasure, and soon he came as well, shaking with the force of our shared climax.

He then untied me, releasing me from his grasp, and kissed me with unrestrained passion, a final act of devotion before we lay in the afterglow, our bodies intertwined, exhausted but satisfied, the remnants of our intense encounter lingering in the air. The cardboard boxes remained, silent witnesses to our secret, a small reminder of our temporary home and the extraordinary connection we had forged within its walls. The scent of pizza and the flickering light of the laptop screen faded into the background, replaced by the warmth of our bodies and the echoes of our shared ecstasy.

Did you like this story? Forbidden Moments in Boxes look, but like these, here Story taboo sex.