Girl on the Net

Sometimes I get into this zone when I’m fucking where it feels almost meditative. The focus on pure pleasure, combined with the rhythm of what’s happening puts me into a kind of horny trance. It’s rare that I feel those same feelings when reading a piece of writing, but this week’s guest blog conjured them exactly. I’m so delighted to welcome this week’s anonymous guest blogger, who is here to share a story about first time bondage so utterly beautiful that it left me breathless and spacey.

The first time I was tied and fucked

He’s my first serious boyfriend. I really like him, and he’s got smooth skin that sits over his muscle in a way that makes me want to touch him all the time. I’m in bed, the covers on the floor, and he’s tying my hands above my head. He makes sure the knots are solid and the loops are loose enough for my wrists. I grip the material. It’s soft and silky. I explore not being able to move, and he slides a hand down my arm, over my breast, lets his fingertip trail away from the nipple.

I don’t want to gasp or whimper, because I want to concentrate on the feeling. I can’t follow his hand with my body, and I don’t roll over to try. He’s smiling, loving the trust I have in him and loving how he’s about to get to play. He takes one ankle, ties that to a corner of the bed. Single bed: we always lie close. He runs the hand up to my knee, and I wait for him to go further but he doesn’t. My cunt twitches. I want him already. I keep my breathing even and wait for the next thing.

The other ankle. Now I’m tied down, open to him, feeling vulnerable, waiting to find out what he can do. He’s standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at me. He’s already huge. I want the big, straight dick inside me, with his weight on me, his hands pulling my hips to the right angle, but I don’t get it. First of all he comes around the bed to kiss me. It’s deep and passionate, and as joyful as when I shyly asked him if he’d tie me up, please. He’s enjoying me wanting him as much as he enjoys me.

Then he moves on, kissing down my neck, slowly, promising me with every moment that this is going to go on for a while. I arch up to let him have the soft skin. That’s the first time I make a sound, a little whimper that says I like what he’s doing and want him to do more. He works his way down, lets his tongue flick across a nipple, then takes it into his mouth, sucking as his tongue works.

His hand covers the other, rolling my nipple between finger and thumb, pinching it not quite enough to hurt. We do this a lot, him working me slowly, or me edging him with my lips, but I’ve never been tied down before. He goes at his own pace, because he knows waiting for the feeling of a dick sliding into me drives me wild. I’m breathing hard now, and I want to be free so I can grab that delicious cock and feel the texture under the skin, and do with my tongue what he’s doing with his. I try to reach him and I’m reminded. I can’t. I’m tied down and he’s going to fuck me.

He explores me next, hands all over my body, feeling what he’s got, letting me know his hands can go anywhere, but there’s one place he doesn’t touch. I’m writhing under his fingertips, rewarded by him sometimes pressing down harder. He goes for the nipple again, but this time, his finger trails for a moment between my legs, and I can feel how soft and how wet I am. He stops touching me. He watches my reaction to that… and licks his forefinger carefully, where I can see him enjoying it.

I arch my hips up. I don’t speak, I just show him what I want. He puts a hand on my body, pushes me down, shakes his head. I don’t get to decide. I grit my teeth, try to relax, and feel him slide two fingers down the soft, wet lips. He gets them wet, brings them up past my clit, and abandons it, and I feel a tiny shudder in my back as I relax.

He puts them to my mouth, and I suck, lick, ask with my behaviour but not my voice to be given his dick to suck instead. I run my tongue up them, flick it back and forth, and suck as hard as I can. My eyes beg. He doesn’t let me suck his cock. He’s enjoying giving me pleasure too much to take it himself, and he likes this feeling of making me want him. He’s going to use it.

He kneels between my legs, his hand around his dick, stroking it with the grip he likes, the one he uses when he’s teasing himself up, but he’s already huge. He smiles as he reaches for a condom, watches me as I watch him rolling it on, and then he backs off, and I bite inside my lip and hold back a groan. I want his dick in me. I want it so badly that I arch up to show him what he’s allowed, what he’s asked to do. He doesn’t. He puts his hands under me and starts licking my clit, long and draggy and slow.

I cum for him, words breaking out of me in a whisper. “Oh, god, yes… please…” I’m not asking for dick now. I’m not asking for anything. I’m begging him not to stop. I’m soft and swollen and it’s turning him on, but he keeps on licking, then sucking, until I can’t remember who I am and I’m just a cunt and a slit and his mouth’s everything I know.

He keeps his mouth on me and fucks me with his fingers, two, then three, noisier than anything we’ve said, the shlick-shlick-shlick telling me that I’m being fucked, but it’s all one feeling. I’m a wreck. I’ve come three times, the third one forced from me as I wriggle and whimper and try to recover from what he’s already done. I can’t move my hands. I can’t push him away. I won’t talk – I want him to know he can make the decisions.

I want him to decide to fuck me, and he does. He’s had enough of waiting, and he slides up my body, fingers still trapping my clit, puts his weight on one arm. He kisses me, and I taste myself again. I lick his lips, suck at his tongue to tell him how much I want him, tilt my hips up so he can find me.

He takes his cock in his hand, and wets it by stroking down the wet mess he’s made, nestling in my swollen labia. He watches my eyes as he goes up and down a few times, making me wait a moment longer. Then he slides his dick into me, all the way, all at once. I don’t feel the friction. I’m so wet that what I feel is his head, deep inside me. I grip around him, and he tries to fuck me slowly, but he can’t. He puts all his weight on me, so his hands can get my hips just right. I’m the cunt he wants, and he uses it hard, so I can hear the slap of his body on mine.

I want to move my thighs, to put my legs around him. I can’t. I have to lie under him, tied down, while his fingers dig into me. His thrusts are fast and hard, into my open body, and I can’t help making little sounds. I try not to, but I like this so much that my body makes the sound. I’m being fucked, and I couldn’t choose when, and he’s getting faster and harder, and then there are a dozen hard stabs that almost bruise me, and his weight on me changes. I feel him pumping into me, a throb that tells me how much he wanted my cunt, how much I’m worth, and then he lies there, on me, until he remembers to take his weight on his elbows and undo the knot above my head.

I take his face in my hands, and kiss him in thanks. No words. I’ve just been fucked better than my life has ever held, and he did it because he wanted to make me happy. Because he wanted to make me cum. Because he wanted to empty himself inside me while I was tied down underneath him, begging with my eyes for his cock.