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Darren undoes the rope from the pipes, but instead of freeing my wrists like I had hoped, he anchors the end of the rope to the crotch rope. My wrists, no longer pulled above me, are now secured behind my neck, stretching my triceps.
Squatting down to face me, he reaches between my thighs and touches me, a finger on each side of the rope, teasing me. Unfulfilled desire from before percolates in anticipation. Taking hold of the knot, he wiggles it against my clit. My breath quickens. I should not be wanting this.
After he’s worked me up, he stands and undoes his jeans. “Now you can blow me.”
I stare at the semi-erect cock he pulls out. He came once already, so it may take a while to get him to come again. I just hope my body can survive being tied up for the duration.
“Come on, Bridge,” he urges, waving his erection in front of me.
I open my mouth wide, like a baby bird for its meal. He slaps his shaft against me, deliberately missing my mouth. I try my best to catch him. He lets me. My lips close about his hardness. I tongue the underside of his cock and suck till my cheeks cave in.
Putting a hand on the top of my head, he pushes me down his length. I start to gag when he goes too far. I haven’t done this in over two years. He pulls my head back, then pushes me back down even farther this time. My body resists, and I try my best to relax and adjust. When we were together, he always gave me a respite. It wasn’t always as much as I wanted, but it was enough to gather my bearings. But there’s no relief this time. I choke and cough on him. My body retches when his cock hits the back of my throat.
He finally gives me a second to catch my breath, right before he shoves my face into his groin, grinding my nose into his pubic hair. I sputter and gag. My eyes water.
He yanks me off his cock. A web of spittle falls from his cock to my chin.
Holding me by the hair at the top of my head, he asks, “That what you wanted?”
After my body has calmed, I reply, “Yes, sir.”
“You missed my cock, didn’t you?” he asks, tapping it against my cheek and over my eye.
“Yes, sir.”
Reaching behind me, he tugs on the rope connecting my wrists to the crotch rope. The knot rubs against my clit. Ever so slightly, it takes my mind off how sore my feet, legs, arms, and mouth are. But he doesn’t do this for long. Straightening, he plunges himself back into my mouth.
“Harder,” he orders.
I suck harder, channeling my frustration and lack of fulfillment into giving him as much head as I can. He groans and starts pumping his hips. I’m able to get into a rhythm and ensure my lips wrap him as tightly as possible while I go up and down. I want him to remember how good I can make him feel. I want to see his brow furrow in pleasure. I want to see his body surrender, to know what I can do to him.
Though I’d rather take a break, I press on. Up and down his cock. Up and down. Sucking and sucking. Until he starts bucking into my face faster and faster. I try to keep up, doing what I can to keep the gagging at a minimum.
With a roar, he pulls out and unloads over my face and chest. The white viscous liquid lands on my lashes, my cheek and lips. Part of me feels triumphant that I got him to come and relieved that he’s no longer pounding into my mouth and throat. But now what? I’m still tied up and unable to gain my freedom.
After sending the final spurt of cum onto my dress, he lefts my chin. “Don’t worry, Bridge. I’m not done with you. Not by a long shot.”
