I was so knocked out by all the wonderful responses to my first story. Thank you all so much! I hope this story doesn't disappoint. I really tried to go to the extreme edge of my fantasies this time. I must apologize. I should have made it clear I'm not writing sequels here; each story represents a different fantasy of mine. Maybe someday a story might have a second part, but for now each one stands alone.
Please keep those comments coming in. They are so informative and I've made many new friends that share my interests. BTW, the actual title of this piece would be: "My Hubby's Gangbang Surprise!" I hope you enjoy it.
Lastly...I'm dedicating this to Sharon. Kisses, Heartslut!
It always comes without warning and I never pick up the phone expecting it. My day is spent doing my work in my little cubicle, processing claims and compiling data and whenever the phone rings, it's with the expectation of it being either a doctor with a question about billing or administration with another request for information. When the phone begins its annoying loud chirp, I pick it up without a glance. "This is Shelly in Claims. How may I help you?"
"The cabin. Five o'clock," my husband's voice whispers, no, commands before hanging up before I can say anything. Before I manage to set the phone down, I am wet. The fire between my legs is but a spark when I first hear his voice and by the time he stops speaking, I am on fire between my thighs. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, shivering as I do so.
I glance at the clock on the wall. It's a quarter to three now. Good. I doubt I'll get much else done today. My hands rest on top of my thighs and I now regret wearing slacks today. I so badly want to touch myself. I feel my nipples getting hard under my bra, scrapping against the soft material in the cups.
The cabin. How long has it been? I haul out my day planner and flip back through days past. Today is March Sixth. I have to go back to November of last year. Almost four months. It's been too long since the last time, the sweet, incredible and nasty last time. I sit at my desk in almost a daze until one of my co-workers passes and she says, "Have a good weekend." I look up. It's three thirty. I hurry up and collect my things, a terrible thrill going through my body as I move. Every movement of fabric against my moist cunt makes me crazy.
Driving through traffic is a maddening exercise as I try to concentrate on the rush hour busyness and not let my imagination wander into the dark, naughty corners of my mind. I work my way clear of the city and into the rural countryside of my southern state. Any other time, I would enjoy the scenic view of hills and trees as I wind up into the woods. Off the main road onto a bumpy, pot hole filled lane and then onto the gravel road that ends up in our cabin.
It's a lovely place. John bought the land, some 30 acres, over fifteen years ago and over a couple of summers, he built our family a wonderful place to retreat to from the crazy and loud world. In recent years it has become so much more. The cabin is two stories high, with three bedrooms on the second floor and a fourth downstairs along with a kitchen and a wide open family area. No cable, but there is a satellite hookup. It has bathrooms on both floors and a nice front porch and a deck out back.
John's truck isn't here, but I always arrive first. I unlock the door and go in. I hurry up and strip in our bedroom. I take a quick shower, glancing at the time on the bedside table clock as I towel off. It's four thirty-five. I finish toweling my long blonde hair and stretch, trying to work out the last of the kinks from sitting behind a desk all day.
I look at myself in the long mirror on the back of the door. I run my hands over my naked body, trying not to excite myself too much. The truth is, I've never calmed down since the phone call. I cup my breasts, rubbing thumbs over my meaty nipples as I heft my heavy breasts. Not bad for thirty-eight, going on thirty nine years. My 38d tits don't sag much. I've tried to take care of myself. I slip a hand down across my bare tummy, not too much fat here, not flat, but still a sexy belly. My hand travels lower to the swelling of my mound, my scant blonde muff not concealing my excitement. My labia have flowered, revealing my tender, moist flesh. My clitoris is just barely peeking out from its hood and I stroke it gently, sending new shivers up and down my body. My nipples swell more and cry out for attention, but time is running out.
At the end of the bed is an old steamer trunk. I open it and lift the mask out. I glance down at the handcuff sets and scarves and other things that make me shiver. I wonder what will be used. I go back to the bed and begin the arduous task of putting on the leather mask. First, I tie my hair back into a pony tail that will eventually peek out from beneath the back of my other face.
My other face, that's what John calls it. A leather mask that goes completely over my head. The eye-holes are sewn shut and there are no ear-holes. It limits my ability to hear. There are nostril holes so I can breath and there is a mesh and Velcro patch over the mouth, so it can be removed when necessary.
I tug it on, feeling myself getting wetter as I lose the ability to see, to hear, to speak. Blackness envelopes my world even as I feel the heat increasing between my thighs. I sit at attention on the side of the bed, trying to hear something, anticipating what will happen next, wondering when it will happen. Time passes. In the quiet darkness, things play tricks with you. Did I hear something? Was that a car coming up the gravel lane? Was that a door shutting?
I shiver with anticipation as I register the vibration of feet walking across wood. He's here. The footsteps come closer. My flesh rises up in goose pimples as I sense him standing next to me. I give a start when I feel his hand stroke the top of my head. I turn towards him as if I could see him. He steps away and then back. He takes my hand and I feel cloth and metal and slight tightness and know that he's cuffed my wrist.
