I’d definitely had too much to drink last night – I was still half wasted when Ryan’s sucking at my breast and rubbing of my pussy woke me up. Of course I was horny, and hell, this was more foreplay than I usually got from him. And it was good, too, like he’d finally figured out a few things about what actually turned me on. Maybe more than a few things – the touches were finding my sensitive spots easily, unerringly. My hips moved to his touch and I moved my head to kiss the top of his, and tried to move my hand to stroke his hair – and couldn’t.
I opened my eyes in confusion and three things hit me at once.
– It wasn’t Ryan at my breast – it was my friend Miranda.
– I couldn’t move my arms – or legs – because they were tied to the bed, spread wide apart.
– I was about to come from the accumulated sexual pleasure and tension Miranda had been stoking in my, semi-awake state.
“Miranda!” I cried, confused. More things clicked into place in my alcohol-hazed brain. My old college roommate had invited me to her place to help me get past my breakup. Ryan had left me three weeks ago – three weeks! – and I wasn’t getting over it. She’d insisted I come. We’d been talking and drinking and I, well, I fucking broke down…
“Shhhh,” she said in response to my exclamation. “Let go.” And sucked hard back onto my nipple as her fingers slid across my clit.
“Nnaaaaah!” I came. God help me, I came so hard. And by the time that subsided, Miranda was crouched between my legs.
“You need someone who cares about you, Shan. Cares for your needs.”
She dove between my legs and started licking, eating me out like nobody ever had before. At first I tried to get away, just instinctively, but not only did I completely fail, in minutes – hell, maybe it was seconds – my hips rose to her eager mouth despite my doubts and bewilderment, and the sound that came out of my mouth was sexy even to my own ears.
With one hand rubbing my tummy, another stroking my thigh, she brought me off a second time, and I screamed in total release.
She let me catch my breath then. And when I finally did, all I could ask her was Why? What did she want with me?
“Oh, love, I want you to be happy. Your happiness matters. Ryan didn’t know that – or didn’t care. He didn’t give to you what you deserved to be given. He didn’t love you. Not like I do.”
Yeah, of course she was right, Ryan didn’t love me. That’s what had gotten me to this po- Wait a minute-
“What? You… love me?”
“Yes, silly.” Miranda laughed ruefully. “Since Sophomore year. It’s ok you didn’t know. I hid it. Too well, and until it was too late. You had Ryan, and I couldn’t get between you, even if I was unsure about him. I didn’t know what he’d do.“
The absurdity of her confession, as she knelt between my bound and spread legs, was not entirely lost on me, but instead of fighting, yelling to be freed, I was… arguing?
“But I’m not…”
“I knew that too, which is the other reason I never told you. But “what you are” doesn’t matter. Not really. The equipment doesn’t matter. The love does. The equipment is easy.” Miranda shifted on the bed and I saw the thing she had strapped between her legs. A ridiculous robin’s egg blue, the dildo stood out stiff and proud, just above her pussy.
She didn’t cut me off. I trailed off on my own before she spoke. So I wasn’t really arguing either. I didn’t know what I was doing besides not trying to stop anything. I didn’t know anything.
“No, you haven’t. I bet you’ve never been fucked by someone who wasn’t trying to get themselves off more than you. Someone for whom fucking is a present to their partner, for your pleasure over theirs. Someone who won’t finish and roll away leaving you frustrated and messy.”
She didn’t use Ryan’s name, but might as well have, since it described him to a T. As she spoke she drizzled a lubricant onto the dildo, then stroked it, spreading the slick stuff all over. I watched her hand, as mesmerized by the motion as I was captivated by her words.
“Someone who wanted you as desperately and completely as I do.”
I may have still been somewhat drunk, but those words rang in my head, clear and sober.
She knelt between my legs now, the bright blue head inches from my open, tingling, helpless pussy. But she didn’t just shove it in me. Instead, she leaned over me, her hair falling over my face as she lowered to kiss me. I found myself kissing her back. The head of the dildo just touched the outside of my slit.
“Shannon,” she said, less sure of herself than she’d sounded up till now. “May I come in?”
My heart pounded in my chest. I opened my mouth, but for breaths nothing came out. Miranda held above me, frozen, waiting for me, for my permission or refusal.
“…Yes…” It was barely a whisper, but she heard it.
Slowly, carefully, Miranda slid into me. I hissed, and then purred, and when her body pressed against me, mine rose up to meet her.
Miranda fucked me. No. She made love to me. Her hands caressed ands squeezed all over, from my tummy, to clit, to breasts, to throat, as if she couldn’t get enough of me. Like I was the center of her universe. And, well, maybe I was. She made me believe it. And who can do that?
Someone who loves you.
I came again, and again. And when she freed my hands and feet from the restraints I grabbed onto her and did not let go.
And came again.
Believe it or not, we went slow after that. It was months before I moved in with her. A year before I proposed.
She still ties me up sometimes, even though my heart is already bound to hers. But then, I do the same to her, sometimes.