Forbidden Touch: A Silent Plea

The rain hammered against the windows of our bedroom, a relentless rhythm that mirrored the insistent thrumming beneath my skin. It had been a long, grueling day at the construction site, the smell of concrete and diesel clinging to my clothes, my muscles aching with exhaustion. I’d practically collapsed through the front door, craving nothing more than a hot shower and oblivion. Vanessa, as always, was a whirlwind of efficiency, having already tackled the dishes and started dinner. As I stepped into the rain shower, the scent of lavender from the garden below mingled with the clean, sterile air, momentarily soothing my frayed nerves.

“Hi Darling,” she called out, her voice a silken whisper that sent a shiver down my spine. She was stripping off her work clothes, revealing a pale, muscular torso that always took my breath away. As she did, she casually ran a hand over my erect member, a playful gesture that instantly ignited a fire within me. “Hello there,” she murmured, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Her touch was electric, sending waves of heat through my body. I instinctively stiffened, eager to respond to her invitation.

“I washed your clothes this morning, I’ll get you a fresh towel from the linen cupboard,” she said, turning to leave the room. As she moved past, her scent – a blend of vanilla and something uniquely Vanessa – filled my senses. I quickly retrieved a fluffy white towel from the rail, wrapping it around my waist before returning to the shower.

Vanessa re-entered, now clad in a simple white bra and knickers, her confidence radiating like heat. Her gaze lingered on my body for a moment before she deliberately brushed her hand over my member once more, a slow, deliberate caress that sent a delicious shiver down my spine. “You know what that does to me,” she whispered, a sly smile playing on her lips. She then announced her intention to take a shower and change into something more comfortable before tackling dinner.

I dried myself off, pulling on my worn jeans and a soft cotton shirt. The scent of lavender grew stronger as I headed towards the dining room, where the aroma of simmering stew already filled the air. As I watched the news on the television, I heard the whir of the hair dryer erupting upstairs. Another malt for me, and one for Vanessa, I poured, anticipating her return. A few minutes later, she called down, “Can you come up, Darling, please?”

I ascended the stairs, finding her in the guest bedroom, bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. She was leaning against the window, her arms resting on the sill, gazing out at the rain-soaked garden. She wore a burgundy satin nightgown, its thin straps barely hinting at the curves beneath, the hem ending just above her knees. The gold cotton trim added a touch of understated elegance.

“What are you looking at?” I asked, settling beside her.

“Oh, nothing,” she replied, her voice soft and alluring. “Just daydreaming. It’s such a lovely warm evening, the windows were wide open, and the lace curtains were just swaying gently in the breeze.” She turned to face me, her eyes locking onto mine. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to my neck, sending a jolt of pleasure through my body. Goosebumps erupted across my skin, a primal response to her touch. “You know what that does to me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“I want to do something,” she continued, her gaze intense. “So you’ll have to play along. No questions, just trust me.”

“Okay,” I replied, my voice a low rumble, “as long as it doesn’t hurt or cost me a fortune.”

“It won’t cost you a penny,” she said with a mischievous grin. “Sit on the bed,” she ordered.

The guest bed was an extravagant piece of furniture, featuring a wrought-iron headboard and footboard adorned with intricate scrolls and flowers. As I settled onto the edge, Vanessa disappeared into the bedside cupboard. Moments later, she emerged holding a pair of sheer black tights. “I have no idea how long I’ve had these,” she said, her voice laced with amusement, “as I never wear them. It’s either hold-ups, stockings, or bare legs. I have nice tanned legs.”

She approached the bed, her movements slow and deliberate. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” she commanded. I obeyed, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and apprehension. She expertly tied one hand with a length of the tights, then the other, securing them firmly in place. “Stretch your arms out,” she instructed. I extended my limbs as far as they could go, feeling the gentle pull of the fabric against my skin. “Good,” she said, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. “Plump up a couple of pillows and make yourself comfortable, but sitting up slightly.” I adjusted my position, feeling increasingly restricted.

Vanessa noticed my quizzical expression. “All will be revealed in due course,” she promised, leaning in to kiss me on the lips. Her touch sent a surge of heat through my veins. Then, she instructed me to stretch my legs straight out. She produced another pair of black tights and tied my ankles together, further restricting my movements.

She left the room, leaving me alone in the luxurious confines of the guest bedroom. “Hey, this isn’t funny,” I shouted, frustration creeping into my voice. “You can’t just tie me up and leave me.” But she returned moments later, carrying a small cloth bag. She placed it at the foot end of the bed, then climbed onto the bed, fluffing up a few pillows and placing them at the footboard end. She settled into a comfortable position, her legs extended beside mine, facing one another.

“What now?” I asked, my voice laced with a touch of desperation.

She put her finger to her lips, signaling for me to remain silent. Then, she began to trace the contours of her head with her fingers, slowly moving down to her face, her neck, and finally, her breasts. She tickled herself with her nails, her movements both gentle and provocative. She slipped a finger into her mouth, closed her lips around it, and sucked deeply, her eyes closed in pleasure. Meanwhile, her other hand continued to trace the curves of her right breast, pulling out her finger as she stroked it, her touch lingering over her nipples. The sensation was exquisite, sending shivers down my spine. I watched, mesmerized, as she continued her intimate exploration, her body arching slightly with each movement. Her tits rose and fell, each breast a perfect curve against the satin fabric.

Her gaze remained fixed on my eyes, her expression a mixture of challenge and invitation. She leaned closer, her breath warm against my skin. “You know what that does to me,” she whispered, a hint of dominance in her voice. She began rubbing my leg with her hand, her touch both sensual and insistent. I struggled to maintain my composure, feeling increasingly vulnerable and aroused. The sensation was overwhelming, threatening to consume me entirely. As she continued to caress my leg, she pulled off her shoulder strap, revealing a glimpse of her ample cleavage. Her nipples were erect, hard, and exquisitely sensitive. She began to fondle them, rubbing them against the satin fabric of her nightgown, her movements slow and deliberate. The air grew thick with anticipation, the scent of her perfume mingling with my own arousal. The sight of her fully exposed body, combined with the intense pleasure she was generating, was almost too much to bear.

Her fingers continued to explore her pussy, tracing its curves with skillful precision. The nylon of her knickers became damp with her arousal, clinging to her skin. She smiled at me, her eyes sparkling with mischievous delight. I could feel my own body responding, my muscles tensing, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Her touch ignited a fire within me, a primal need that threatened to overwhelm my senses. She began to rub my leg with her fingers, while her other hand continued its exploration of her pussy. It was a torturous pleasure, a delicious blend of sensation and restraint.

As she continued her intimate exploration, her body began to convulse with pleasure. She let out a loud moan, her voice filled with raw desire. Her tits rose and fell with increasing frequency, each movement sending shivers down my spine. Her fingers continued their relentless assault on her clitoris, her touch both gentle and insistent. The scent of her arousal filled the room, a potent blend of sweat and desire.

I felt myself losing control, my body responding instinctively to her every touch. My muscles clenched, my heart pounded in my chest, and my breath came in ragged gasps. I was trapped, helpless, and utterly consumed by her pleasure. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated ecstasy, a sensation that transcended the physical realm.

Suddenly, she pulled her hand away from her breasts and began to lick her fingers, savoring the taste of her own arousal. She then slipped those wet fingers under her knickers, rubbing her pussy with them, the movement accompanied by a series of wet, squelching noises. Her eyes remained closed, lost in the throes of pleasure, while her other hand pulled the remaining shoulder strap off her shoulder, exposing her magnificent pair of breasts. The nipples were fully erect and hard, a testament to her arousal. She began to rub the nipple between her thumb and finger, tweaking it occasionally, and pulling it away from her breast, savoring the sensation. She threw her head back, letting out a long, satisfied sigh. Her hand remained on her pussy, while her other hand continued its exploration of her body.

The experience was both exquisite and overwhelming, a sensory overload that left me breathless and trembling. The rain continued to fall outside, but inside the bedroom, the atmosphere was charged with a different kind of energy – the intoxicating scent of arousal and the palpable heat of desire.

Did you like this story? Forbidden Touch: A Silent Plea look, but like these, here Story taboo sex.