#806) Stringing the Lights, Stringing Me Up

We decorated the place for Christmas together, with Robert still in his suit from a long day at work, and me, as usual, as naked as the day I was born. We got the big job of the spruce tree all done, then the wreath on the front door, and finally the mantle with our stockings and garland. We had a string of lights left-over, thin white plastic cord and tiny, blinking, colored lights that warmed in my hand as I held them up.

“What’ll we do with these?” I asked with a smile.

Robert read my mind, and started wrapping a length around my wrists. We both giggled as he proceeded to hog-tie me. Neither of us are into bondage as a major turn-on, but this was fun. I remembered way back to one guy I slept with a decade ago who WAS into this fetish, how he mummified me practically with his soft, thick rope, how no one wrap overlapped another, how it was almost a work of art how he bound me. This was different, done fast, just for fun, messy. He had me on my tummy on the floor by the tree, my hands tied, my ankles bound as well, and my legs bent up at the knee connecting the two. There was still yards of light-string left. Robert looked puzzled, wondering what to do.

“Run it up my crease… then bind my knees together so I can’t move them..” I suggested by parting my knees and thighs, opening myself to my lover.

He ran the string up my butt crack, continued it between my labial lips, before circling my waist, then down around my legs, binding my knees together. The cord cut into me a little, not painfully, just making me very aware that it was there. The little lights against my rosebud and clitty drove me mad with lust.

Robert turned the house lights off. Me and the tree blinked on and off with hundreds of twinkling lights on each of us. I was helpless to do anything but lay there. Still, I wanted him.

“Fuck me, lover…” I pleaded.

“I want to… I just don’t know exactly how…”

I sucked him to get him rigid; that was easy. Then he gingerly laid his pipe up my butt crack, pressed my cheeks together from the sides, and hot dogged me. Warm lights right up against my private places, unable to move a muscle, my lover worshiping and fucking my ass without penetrating it. He increased the speed, the friction made my libido catch fire. His breath became labored, I exhorted him on…

“Fuck me, lover. Fuck my ass crack! Oooh, that feels so good! Fuck me good!”

He stiffened. I felt hot jets of ejaculate splatter across my back, some even getting in my hair. Robert collapsed on top of me, his spunk like mortar between two bricks binding us together as one, even as the lights bound me.

“That was selfish… I got off, but you were just a cheerleader…” he whispered self-admonishingly.

“No! That was lovely! How many times have you gotten me off? It was wonderful that I could reciprocate! You made me feel beautiful, loved, sexy, inspirational… I loved it!”

We laid like that, frozen in a steamy tableau, his face nuzzling my ear, his body stacked on mine, that cum actually hardening-up like jam in our sandwich.

“It’s going to be a very merry Christmas, lover,” I whispered, he nodded, and we kissed.

“Let’s go take a shower,” he suggested as he peeled himself off of me. We were a sticky, sweaty mess! I truly felt gorgeous in this bedraggled state! He helped me unwind out of the string of lights that still winked at me conspiratorially.

“When we wrap presents, will you bind me tight with ribbon, please?” I giggled, and my man gave me a swat on the tush. I thought about it, got a mental image of being tied to the bedposts, or to the shower nozzle, or over the ottoman… “I’m serious,” I added, and Robert saw that I was.

“Okay, but I’m going to use a length to gag you…”

“It’s a deal!” and I got another swat to motivate me toward the shower.

(How much of this story is just a retelling of the factual events, how much is fabrication? I’ll never tell…)

One response to “#806) Stringing the Lights, Stringing Me Up”

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