a Reader’s submission

Originally published in Bondage Life, No.  64, July 1996

Scanned and Transcribed by guardian46w

Story Codes: M/f, bondage, spontaneous, public, cons, rom, interrupted, X

No Leaves.  No Sunshine.  November as I recall.  The night was clear, dark and moonless; the kind of Wisconsin evening when you can see the Milky Way stretching across the sky behind the bright stars.

I drove to a deserted one room country school house that Ann knew about.  Her brother along with three friends from college purchased the building at auction and used it mainly for parties.  The owners were around only on the weekends because studies or work occupied their time Monday through Thursday.

I parked along the east side of the structure so my car would have been visible from only one direction on the highway.  The evening's agenda was to go out for dinner, then stop for a tête-à-tête before returning to our respective homes.  Our conversation dissolved into caressing and good-natured molestation.  The windows were steaming up in my Karmen Ghia.

'What are you doing?" she giggled.

As if she didn't already know.  Our evening escapade started with my wrapping black electrical tape around her left wrist, sticky side out.

Her breathy, "Unhand me you brute," lacked conviction.

"Have we enough time for this?"

That was a genuine question.  Our adventures always included a process that checked for permission as well as tension.  She neither took her hand back, nor submitted her other wrist.  Well, not without some good-natured struggling.

"A heroine doesn't deserve rescuing if she submits too readily," her assertion, "besides, half the fun of a conquest is in being pursued."

I agreed.  I pulled her right hand behind her back to meet the left during that recess.  Obligingly, she left them crossed there for me to tape together.  She continued to struggle, but moved her legs and hips instead, so I'd know she wasn't giving up.  Without her approval any attempt at erotic bondage would have been a fool's errand, if not impossible all together.

Adhesive tape worked well in the dark because no knots were required, but it wasn't without its own set of problems.  Only an ability to find the end of the tape, or the use of a scissors could release a damsel in distress.  After the initial wraps, I turned the tape over, matching sticky side to sticky side and then tightening the over wraps.  This added to skin compression and enhanced her feeling of being tightly bound.  Six more wraps of black vinyl tape around her wrists, and her fate was sealed for the next half hour.

Her arms, now confined behind her back, united to press her bosom forward.  Her torso ready for exploration as full, firm breasts pushed forward straining the buttons of her blouse.  I began a button by button process to relieve some of that pressure, which progressed smoothly and without deliberation.  Slowly the halves of her blouse parted displaying her chest and stomach.

I loosened her left breast from the bondage of her bra and proceeded to lick and tease the succulent nipple resting atop her creamy, smooth mound of flesh.  Her soft cooing confirmed that removing her bra was an immediate possibility.  I unhooked the bra, lifted it over her head, and pushed it down her back and along her arms as far as the restraints and gathered blouse would allow.  The garments now hung off her shoulders by several inches, trapped there by the black vinyl tape holding her wrists crisscrossed in the small of her back.

I collected the beads of cooling wet sweat that had formed between her breasts with the tip of my tongue.  This very dew of life, which was annoying to her, bonded the very soul of her being to my own.  Salty sweet and stinging to the tongue, it served only to increase my thirst for more of her.

Next, I turned my attention to her legs.  The smooth texture of her nylon encased thighs was slowly revealed as I pushed the skirt higher, exposing more stocking and slip.  Her panty line had just come into view when I returned to sucking her breasts.  I needed to bring her nipples to full firmness while my hand went down to massage her groin.  I felt her crotch dampening as I rubbed her and feasted upon her bosom, I heard her respiration shift gears about the same time; breathing for her was no longer slow and rhythmic.  Air was moving in and out of her chest now with a more urgent, staccato beat.  The abrasion my beard exerted on her breasts was compounding the sensations that flooded into her brain.  The first ripples in a sea of hormones were about to wash over her, threatening to drown her in desire.

She strained against the tape bands wound about her hands and struggled against any clothing that impeded our progress in this erotic quest.  Her two wrists stayed stuck tightly together behind her back and her clothes had moved about as far as they were going to.  All of her physical being was demanding my fingers to go deeper into her crevasse, only to be frustrated because her pantyhose held firm.  It was extremely sensuous to feel her physically striving to greet my fingers.  A profound experience; wanting and wanted so totally.

Ann coached the sucking of her breasts and pleaded for more vigorous treatment.  Desire was increasing as this orgasm wrapped its icy fingers around her frame, while my mouth encircled her nipple.  Passions several times hotter than my lips were burning their way into the pit of her soul.  This was a fascinating study in contrast; sweat had been forming on her chest and forehead, yet she shivered and shuddered.  Rapture was softening the look in her eyes as it stiffened the remainder of her features.  Muscles became much more defined in her neck, shoulders, and stomach as attainment of the desired madness approached minute by tantalizing minute.

A car pulled into our school yard; its headlights bathed the interior of my Volkswagen coupe in an eerie glow.  Her journey into ecstasy was short lived.  Mine had just barely gotten started.  We were unable to see clearly through completely fogged windows; therefore, no immediate assessment of our condition was available.  A frantic scramble began as I punched down the door locks to prevent any interruptions.

I dropped the scissors somewhere during the scramble.  An attempt at finding the end of the tape wound around her wrists also ended in failure.  A search for the errant scissors would require turning on the cabin light.  Definitely not a good idea at that precise moment in time.

She was much calmer than I, but then again, what good would struggling have done anyway?  She already had tried to pry her hands loose of their tape bonds when her orgasm was approaching and knew full well the futility of that.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"It's a Mustang like your brother's," I said.

"Just close my blouse and roll down the window." I must have looked shocked.  She just nodded her head toward her door and said, "Please."

I rolled down the window, against my better judgment.

"Hi Dave," she said, with a mixture of crispness and mirth that I would have never ever been able to match.

"Are you all right?" her brother asked.

"Just fine.  You know Terry?"

"Hi.  Take good care of my little sister."

"You bet."

"See you later Dave.  Good night." She then turned back toward me, "Please roll the window back up."

Definitely the best idea I'd heard in the last two minutes.  I waved good night to her brother and cranked the window back up.  I don't know if Dave thought it strange that she didn't operate the window, or if he even noticed who rolled it back up.  Dave has never mentioned the events of that evening.  I would like to say that this challenging experience picked up where we left off; however, my enthusiasm generated by the evening's activities dissipated, much like the relative humidity on the windows.

The excitement of that particular evening and the many that followed, as well as her poise and good sense, has bound me to her these past 28 years It was a taut start for our captivating trek along a mutual path through life.

Plus, somewhere, there is a perfectly good pair of scissors and a half-used roll of electrical tape jammed between the seats of a used Volkswagen.

Signed,

T.&A.  of ILL