Predictably, the lock made a discernible clunk as our scarlet front door creaked open. It was a familiar sound. A sound which represented the repetitive mundanity of my life; the routine of stagnant boredom. Same old work, same old dinners, same old house - the same old sex.
That's not to say the sex was bad. My wife, Niamh, was a total knockout. She turned heads if she walked into any room with her dazzling blend of Italian and Irish blood. She was fairly tall, around 5 foot 8 inches; her long, velvet legs connecting to her wide yet slim hips, sloping up to a tiny 24-inch waist before intensely ballooning again over her perfect and full 32D breasts.
Her exquisite body was nothing compared to her long dark and curly hair, Italian olive complexion; violently contrasted with her emerald green eyes. It those green eyes which made my body quiver. They could both melt my soul and bring me to climax as she looked pleadingly up as her lips glided gently over the shaft and head of my rigid cock.
The sex however after ten years, had become as predictable as every other element in my life. We met when we were eighteen, at university. Now at twenty-eight, her maturity peaking in her tight, perfect, womanly physique, I needed more than mixing up the positions. I needed something as dangerous and exciting as the first time we fucked in the back row of a cinema.
Yeah, right. That was never going to happen. How do you tell the most perfect woman the sex isn't perfect?
As I went through the usual habits - putting keys on the side, hanging up my coat, taking off my tie - something broke the routine. As I turned towards the kitchen, Niamh was leaning against the dining room door's frame, in a tight electric blue dress which clung to her perfect hourglass frame. Instantly I felt the blood flow from my head, and travel south. My cock began to instantly swell.
She didn't say a word. She just stood there, staring intensely at me with those piercing green jewels, her chest rising and falling at a fairly fast pace. I started walking towards her, feeling my trousers stretch under the pressure of my engorging dick.
My lips attached to hers like a magnet. Those lips, which intoxicated and paralysed my body, began working their way down my neck as she simultaneously unbuttoned my shirt revealing my toned, but not overly muscular body. She loved my broad shoulders and chest, and soon felt her hands running over them. She took one my hand and looked deep into my eyes as I ran the other between her legs. I could read the excitement in the deep green - what was it? What had brought this on?
Still not saying a word, she led me up the stairs towards our bedroom. "Back to predictability ..." I thought. I had a fetish for edgier sex. Something dangerous, controlling and exciting. But the testosterone flowing through my veins demanded sexual satisfaction immediately. What happened next was quite simply, completely unpredictable.
Our bed was usually covered in a variety of cushions (pointlessly, I believed). But only one thing adorned the bed this time. A woman. A woman, graced by a sheer black bra trimmed with lace and matching French knickers, bound to the bed posts with black rope. Stunned, I turned to Niamh - who silently still - handed me a folded piece of paper. I opened it up and revealed the treasures underneath. In beautiful sloped script it read:
"I, Lisa Decroix, give Niamh Cipriani and her partner, full permission to dominate me sexually in any way they please. I have one safe word when I want you to stop: Abandon"
Hands trembling, I cast my eyes over what I could now only describe now as my submissive slave. I looked at Niamh, who was smiling and had shed her dress while I read and re-read this glorious document. She was wearing the same underwear as Lisa.
"She is deaf and blind to the world. The only senses she has now is her touch and smell". She whispers in her semi-Italian accent, as she placed her lips by my ear. I looked at Lisa. She was indeed deaf and blind to the world, blindfolded in a silk blindfold with headphones blocking Niamh's exotic accent and my heavy breathing. "I am also your slave tonight. Tell me what you want me to do".
What do I want her to do?! This was the most erotic thing to happen to anyone, ever. I stood astride Lisa who was lying face up. She was more petite than Niamh, blonde too. But drop dead gorgeous. Her frame was toned, her breasts I judged to be a C-cup. Where she lacked voluptuousness in her body, she made up for in her lips. THE definition of "blowjob lips". Once I spotted those full, plump, lips I knew what to do.
"Kiss her", I instructed Niamh, "slowly".
Those green eyes flashed with the same excitement I saw earlier as she clambered on to the bed atop of Lisa, who now aware of the imminent fun, gasped and smiled before Niamh clamped her lips gently around hers. They both moaned in excitement. Although Lisa was deaf and blind to the world, she must've felt Niamh's soft face and full breasts against hers.
