Teasing Edwins Cock, a Bondage Story!
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Teasing Edwin's Cock
Edwin and I married late in life--twenty-four. We've been
married for thirty-three fortunate years during which I have kept
myself slender and elegantly attractive. However, our sexual relations
have become an infrequent, if once a month, boring occasion.
Over the years Edwin collected a number of men's magazines he
kept secreted in a drawer of the workbench in his woodshop, not
suspecting that I have always known. The GALLERY and CLUB magazines
have long since disappeared, but the copies of LEG SHOW are always
current.
One doesn't mature to my fifty-seven years without some
knowledge and insight into the sexual desires and enjoyments of one's
marital partner, however naughty they may seem at first. Edwin's
interest in Legshow fantasies was apparent to me, and I complimented
him by taking time to study the erotica he finds exciting as he had
complimented me by reading my Agatha Christie literature early on,
knowing my interest in discussing character development in the fine
mysteries she wrote.
I retired to our bedroom with a number of his issues for a
quiet interlude. I was shocked at first, but pressed on for his sake,
kindling my interest in a style of erotic photography and beautiful
models I have not seen for a number of years. As I read I became hot
and bothered. The dominant attitudes portrayed by the models in their
high heels and the submissive postures they demand of their men
aroused my passion in a way I would not have suspected.
In my minds eye I imagined Edwin stroking himself until his
thick member finally throbbed and spurted while looking at that
magazine. My velvet fingers lingered sweet and slow along the moist
furrows beneath my skirt. I have not delved my fingers so deeply or so
long between my legs that way for some years. It was elementary to
mentally justify my husband's fantasy to be teased and humiliated by
dominant, taunting women. I found myself quite wet and sexually
excited imagining Edwin's stiffened cock suffering slowly under the
touch of my soft feet and teasing fingers, pleading to be made to
come. I would smile down at him, withholding his male orgasm while
petting him into delirium. I am not preternaturally cruel, however, it
would be an interesting fantasy. I determined to play the part of the
fantasy mistresses for him.
If teasing and sexual torment was his desire, I could more
than accommodate him. I writhed in orgasm under my own manipulations
as I made my plans. Tease torture is by its very nature slow; a
tedious process for the torturess--a timeless process for the
tortured. I would be most deliberate, stiffening his manhood by slow
degrees. There would be no hurry to empty his receptacles. He would
suffer a good, old fashioned cock teasing with a few refinements to
ensure it would continue as long as I wanted. I would be the wicked
dominatrix patiently teasing and torturing his cock at length until I
was ready to be finished with him. I would be the haughty masturbatrix
slowly inflicting exquisite lingering torments upon his helpless and
well oiled manhood, getting him worked up over and over without
granting him relief until he lost his mind. He would be quite glad to
beg for the privilege of sucking my tender toes, my fingers, my shoes,
or anything else I might want sucked, in the hope that perhaps I would
see fit to eventually drain his balls dry at my discretion.
I made it my business to dress appropriately in a way
guaranteed to stiffen him for a cock teasing. I made a trip through
one of the city's shopping malls buying certain erotic clothing items.
The centerpieces were red patent mules with tall spiked heels which
showed off my red painted toe nails. I also selected black seamed
nylons complete with French lace tops to showcase my legs elegantly. A
matching black lace brassiere would lift my heavy sloping breasts. A
sheer satin slip completed the outfit. I had some devastating
surprises in store.
"Come here and kneel." I ordered when Edwin returned home that
Friday morning. I pointed imperiously to the floor at my feet with a
rigid forefinger. He was instantly stunned. The draperies were closed
tightly. A warm romantic fire blazed in the fireplace behind me. I was
posed in his favorite recliner, a shapely leg sheathed in black nylon
draped over the arm rest. The red shoes with their unbelievably tall
spiked heels glistened in the firelight, carefully placed on the
mantle above my shoulder. My costume erotically revealed my smooth
naked flesh. I appeared slender and arousing. The silky satin slip was
pulled up past my waist, hiding nothing. My warm white thighs were
open to him, blatantly exposing my soft feminine parts before his
eyes. It was my full intention to excite and tease by showing him my
moist inner flesh and refusing him admittance. I pointed and wriggled
my stocking toes meaningfully. Though shocked by my appearance, he
became instantly aroused. That long cylindrical form swelled in its
obvious excitement and jutted against his trousers. His cock was
intimately familiar with the slippery depths of my slit and the hot
grippings that had drained his sperm from him so often. He came
forward to caress me with his hands but I denied him. He would be
shackled and teased, allowed only to look and want, but not to have.
His juices would be brought to the boiling point. Only I would control
the heat. I had lessons to teach him he could not learn while
gratifying his swollen member in the hot moist sheath between my legs.
His cock was to be kept stiff and anxious, his receptacles full and
overflowing.
His engorged maleness was useless while enclosed within his
trousers. It would be much more pleasant to observe his sufferings if
it were freed. I ordered him to strip every stitch of his clothing and
kneel at my feet beside my footstool. Edwin is very well hung with a
thick venous shaft craning enormously out in front, and large, lightly
furred balls swinging low between his thighs. I would tease them until
he cried like a little boy.
"Let's play a little game, Edwin," I coaxed as he knelt beside
the stool in front of me. "Fetch those shoes from the mantle and
finish dressing my feet for me."
He hurried to comply. His warm hands fumbled just a bit as he
reverently lifted each of my feet and fitted the sparkling, new patent
mules over my red painted toes and soft heels. I offered the open toes
to his lips as he finished each foot.
"I'm not doing this to make you come," I told him sweetly as I
bobbled his swollen organ with my toes. "I'm going to tease you so
very long. You might even find yourself begging me to make you come.
I'm going to take you so, so close to spurting, without letting you
shoot. You will not be allowed to. I'm going to make sexual release
your ultimate goal. Only I can give you that relief, and I won't."
Edwin's sensitive meat stiffened even more under my toes. "If you do
unfortunately manage to shoot, you have no idea the punishment I have
planned for your balls."
Edwin tried to question me, but I declined to answer. My legs
were lewdly spread. I rather took delight in fingering my
well-thatched feminine folds enticingly before his hungry gaze. Naked
and aroused, he was not allowed to touch. His cock was magnificently
red and swollen. His eyes were locked on my fragrant cleft open and
waiting only inches from his face. How he longed to thrust his member
inside there. He was an aroused male for me to toy with. I would be
the one to decide when his cock received gratification and when it
would not. He awaited my pleasures, and answering questions did not
please me.
I lifted my feet for his inspection, wiping my soles against
his face. My toenails were painted a bright fetish red, peeking
through the open tip of my mules. His swollen cock bobbed nicely in
the air as in tribute to me. I instructed him to kiss my painted
toenails through the dark nylon, not allowed to touch my flesh. I
arched my feet and wriggled my toes against his lips as he kissed
them, laughing at his discomfiture, noting the way his thick member
shook with his desire even while being taunted.
I dangled two pairs of handcuffs from a red nailed finger,
clicking them enticingly at him. I made him put them on himself, one
on
each wrist. In short order he was spread out naked on the floor at my
feet, ankle-tied to the base of a huge oak bookcase. I knelt on the
floor and mounted astride him, snapping a cuff to one leg of the heavy
recliner. I deliberately let my overflowing bra cups hang in his face
while I leaned across to snap the other in place on the other leg of
the recliner.
Handcuffs solved a lot of the problems. The cuffs smacked
tight when he tried to reach for me, surprised at discovering just
what helplessness might mean to him under my hands. I stayed mounted
astride his chest, leisurely reaching behind myself, petting his
sensitive cock to rock hard stiffness by the inch, letting him test
his strength against steel and solid oak. I was quite amazed to find
it pleasantly delightful having his cock helpless beneath my fingers.
It would have been so easy to goad him to spurting had it been my
wish. I intentionally prolonged his arousal, enjoying my power over
him.
"I think you're enjoying this." He accused, helplessly
watching me toy with my front bra clasp before his eyes.
"Oh, you bet I am. Let me show you how much," I admitted. "Do
these give you any indication?" My cups sprang apart revealing
stiffened pink nipples protruding from my large breasts. He was
aroused and shackled and it excited me to taunt him. I bent forward
slightly, lowering my breasts closer to his lips. He strained toward a
rubbery tip with his pointed tongue, obviously wanting to taste and
suckle those big tits. He couldn't have them. How exquisite. Shortly,
I closed my bra and resumed my seat above him.
My womanhood grew more and more wet and excited watching his
sensitive male cock throb and pulse untouched as he stared up at my
legs. I reminded myself to be patient. Neither of us was going
anywhere, possibly for hours. He was obviously distracted by the
nearness of my legs but couldn't do anything about his male needs. As
I fingered my nicely furred mound just out of his sight, I dangled one
red patent spike heel above him, letting him see my soft sole and
arch. I did not show him the toes yet. Slowly I slipped the red heel
off and then on again, revealing myself almost to the toes, but not
quite, showing him the dark cleavage, then hiding it again, over and
over. It drove him frantic. He would have reached for me, caressed my
soft delicate foot, perhaps suckled my sensitive white toes. However,
chained at my feet, he must await my mercies. I extended my pointed
heel and pricked the bloated head of his rigid tool. It jerked as if
electrically shocked. I prodded it again, longer this time, pressing
his shaft aside by the sharp pressure of my spiked heel against the
knob of his cock. He groaned. I did not touch it again.
Finally I slipped one shoe completely off onto the floor,
letting him see my soft, nearly nude foot and red nailed toes as I
arched, flexed and pointed. The captive animal between his legs
shuddered visibly. I pretended not to notice his quivering arousal. I
polished my slender stocking toes across the red patent leather on my
other foot directly above his face. I could just as easily have been
polishing his red knob and long shaft. It remained untouched.
I could smell my own warm musk from between my legs and the
fragrance from my patent shoes. I had been wearing the shoes and
stockings for hours. I brushed my toes across his face and gave him my
scent. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. It was a torture to
him. He strained upward trying to kiss my toes as I stretched and
flexed my legs, pointing and arching my feet above his eyes. I danced
my smooth curves in the air just beyond his haggard face, allowing his
lips to touch lightly on the tips of my toes for the briefest moment.
I moved a bit forward and spread my legs to afford him a better view.
He stared hungrily into the deep shadow under my slip. I pressed my
soft, moist toes right into his open mouth. His eyes were wide with
lust. I was delighted at arousing his tool for my pleasure then
abandoning it to suffer its helpless need alone. Yet it had much to
endure from me before I would consider granting the sweet release of
its frothing fluids.
Helplessly stiffened, my husband suckled my toes, his heavy
plums swollen with juice, longing for grippings and squeezings I would
withhold. I could not help thoroughly enjoying driving my husband
crazy. A woman who has never patiently tantalized her husband's cock
then
calmly withheld sexual relief from him is missing quite a thrill. I am
surprised Edwin had never presented me with a small gift box wrapped
in pink paper and a big red bow, which when I unwrapped it contained a
pair of gleaming hand-polished handcuffs. How many years of endless
suckings and prolonged teasings I could have made him suffer. How many
long hours could he have writhed helplessly in my hot embrace, unable
to have me.
Edwin lay naked and shackled at my feet, his stiffness
bobbing in the air. I distracted him by tapping his heavy balls with
the spiked heel of one glistening red shoe. His arousal grew even more
enormous and erect, just as I intended it to. Nicely teased, an organ
that size would cause him special frustration while kept undrained. I
toyed with his distended cock between the polished soles of my red
mules until he groaned, raking his length with my exposed toe nails. I
smiled to see him so stiffened and aroused, but showed only disdain
for his needs. This was only the beginning. There was a cruelly
prolonged teasing in store for him. His male organ would suffer much
down all the long hours ahead. I knew his desire. He hoped I would
relent and slowly squeeze and stroke his member until he spurted his
juices into my warm taunting palm, but he must learn to wait.
I pressed his face down against the floor with my feet. My red
mules were alluring on the carpet against his lips. As he lay there
helplessly, I stretched my long legs above his face, pointing my toes
and arching my feet. I briefly allowed him to kiss and lick my toes
through my dark hose. He did not deserve to worship my bare soles yet.
I loved his tongue working around each toe in turn. I smiled
encouragingly at him as he suckled there, his hot tongue probing into
the open toe of my red patent shoes.
He was my footstool. His pole bounced up and down against my
stockinged ankle. His penis was quite hot. I let it throb against my
ankles, imagining myself gripping him mercilessly between the hard
soles and dagger heels of my shoes. He would be absolutely forbidden
to spill a drop of his hot liquid. I would frig and toy with him most
cruelly, slowly stroking his burning flesh gently up and down at
length between the soles of my shoes until he could no longer withhold
his sperm. He could not escape my goading red spikes. He would groan
and squeeze his muscles, helplessly trying to resist my urging feet,
but his organ would be heartlessly stroked until forced to squirt.
After his thick emissions had been teased forth, frothing out across
his stomach and my tormenting feet, he would then be punished for
having disobeyed my command not to come. However, I decided to do
otherwise, removing my feet from his cock, leaving him to throb in the
empty air.
His hands were cuffed. He could not resist as I knelt across
his face toward his knees, pinning his shoulders to the carpet. My
satin slip fell across his eyes and mouth. His face fit nicely between
the cheeks of my generous bottom. He could smell my moistened slit and
bottom hole rubbing against his nostrils through the sheer fabric. It
would increase his cock stand to lick me through my slip, unable to
tongue between my thick lips. His breath was hot under the fabric as I
ground my sensitized clitoris against his tongue. The thickness of his
throbbing cock increased from the closeness of my fragrances. The
color of his shaft deepened to a wine-red hue.
His licking was easily controlled. I simply raked my fingers
through his thick chest hair, locating his nipples. I pinched them
sharply between pointed nails until his muffled groans bleated from
beneath my bottom cheeks. His male nipples became little adjustment
knobs to twist and tweak between my sharp red nails. I had
intentionally filed them to exquisite red daggers for just such an
opportunity. While his tonguings were sufficient, I flicked and rolled
his hardened nipples gently, arousing those sensitive bundles of
nerves. When I felt he could do a bit better I was quite cruel to the
hard, rubbery tips between my glistening red nails. Under such
torment, he jolted and twitched, chained and pinned beneath my nether
globes. I dealt with his masculine points at length. I might have been
a beautiful and evil torturess with questions and answers to pry from
a shackled prisoner on my rack. Chained, naked, helpless and alone, in
the timeless depths of my hot smoky dungeon, he would beg me to cease
his torture and listen as he confessed all.
My clitoris felt swollen to vast proportions and throbbed
nicely against his lips as he suckled. I allowed him to satisfy me
with a number of pleasant orgasms before I lifted my bottom from his
face. My slip remained draped across his face to smother him in my hot
musky fragrance. It would not do to have him see how his pointed
tongue had affected me. I allowed him a few deep breaths of warm musky
air before spreading my cheeks apart and enveloping his face with my
bottom hole again. Smothered beneath my bottom, his groans were very
effectively silenced.
Edwin was obviously quite urgent to sperm but there was no
need for it. I saw no reason to bring him to orgasm for some time. His
helpless cock was not accustomed to being teased and goaded. He grew
exquisitely frustrated as I patiently coaxed his large manhood to
impossible swelling and sensitivity. I knew just how smooth and hard
his hot penis would feel in my palm were I to begin leisurely pumping
his foreskin to and fro, forcing his sperm from him. I did not desire
to grip his penis yet, however. It was much more pleasant to observe
the effects of the slow tantalizations I performed on him without
causing his cock to soften by allowing it to squirt. His juices would
simmer.
(Continued: Part 2)
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