You then disappear for a few moments.
You come back, this time with a shade of my lipstick on your lips, I spy through my napkin-blindfold.
Then you kiss my neck, my breast, apply some more lipstick, then several times down my stomach, towards my grassy knoll.
Then apply some more lipstick and kiss my legs.
I become concerned.
"This isn't funny.
Untie me so I can clean myself up. Untie me so I can please you, too."
You laugh, insert your finger inside of me, then lick your finger.
"You are the first woman I have tasted, besides myself on my lovers' lips."
Then we here another set of keys in the front door, and you race out the back way, through the sliding glass window that you are unable to re-lock.
Andrew is home, but the chain keeps him from entering.
"Jo. Let me in," he asks.
He yanks at the door, frustrated.
In a moment Andrew abandons the front door and makes his way around back.
He lets himself in, and is surprised to find me in my current state.
"What were you doing while I was gone, Jo?," Andrew asks in disbelief.
I did not know what to say.
I did not want to tell him that Lisa did this to me, not knowing how he would react.
My mind races. "I asked a friend to help make this a more wonderful fantasy," I finally offer my husband.
Instead of being angry or jealous, he removes the blindfold.
He kisses me tenderly, always kissing me tenderly after we have been separated for a while.
He quickly disrobes, first showing his fully-developed chest, then his hairy legs.
His plain white Jockey shorts are off in an instant, and he again kisses me.
He starts kissing my lap, working his tongue around the ropes which still bind me to the chair.
My eyes are closed, as I fantasize about the whole thing.
His warm, slobbery tongue parts my vagina, and he begins playing with my labial lips.
I open my eyes for a moment and spy you looking in the sliding glass window from the bushes.
Andy forgot to draw the curtains. Instead of shocked, I am more excited.
As Andrew licks me into cumming, I wonder whose name I should shout out, my husband's or yours.
I am still a coward, so I pick Andrew's, and as I cum Andy is already wanting to mount me in the chair.
He rises, and starts kissing my mouth with hungry kisses.
His hands almost attach my breasts, and I am in ecstasy.
As he gets ready to mount me, I see his whole naked body, his hard, firm penis with its massive head, his muscles rippling to his command.
He sits on me and slowly guides his penis into me.
Because of the positioning, he cannot penetrate me fully, which makes this position so wonderful.
He begins his strokes, and he deposits a kiss upon my lips.
Now I am comparing his kisses to yours, Lisa.
His kisses are strong, forceful.
His tongue almost wrestles mine, while your tongue explored cautiously.
His penis comes out for a moment, as his strokes were increasing, but he manages to snake it back into my being.
I almost want it to come out again, brushing against my vaginal lips and making me shiver.
Andrew comes out again, and this time he seems more frustrated.
He decreases his strokes as he enters me once more.
His chest brushes against my breasts, him wanting to feel myself against him.
He kisses my neck with hard, wet kisses.
I shudder and look over my shoulder, and I spy you again.
My husband begins to cum and I look at you.
I can feel his hot juice fill my cavity.
Then he kisses my lips, drawing my attention away from you from outside of the window.
Andrew then glances out the window, and says a quick, "Oh, shit."
I am afraid he spots you, but he just does not want the neighbors to see.
He withdraws from me quickly, wanting to close the window.
I wonder if you are looking at my husband closes the window.
I am sure, if you are, you are getting an excellent view of his penis dangling limp after the excitement.
And the thought of you viewing my husband is exciting, too. I am overdosing on excitement right now.
Your husband pulls she curtains closed, shielding me from further viewing.
But I begin to replay what I have seen.
What a wonderful show.
The next day, as I am sitting home watching soaps, I decide to call you.
It seems this day everyone on television is jumping into bed with someone, and I want to ask you about how you were feeling.
"Horney," was your one-word response, and you asked me to come over so you could tie me up.
Needless to say, I was over in a flash.
You greeted me at the door with a kiss, and you nearly pulled my arm out of the socket dragging me in.
You were wearing an old, comfortable-looking robe, with your long, brown hair cascading over your shoulders.
Your glasses, as I looked at you, were not on your face. It looked almost as if I woke you up.
"Could you do something for me?" you coed, stiffling a yawn.
I knodded, and you asked me to undress.
Timidly, loking down, I began to unbutton my white cotton oxford-cloth shirt.
I could feel your eyes buring into my flesh as I was performing this task.
You came closer to me, kissed me on the neck, and touched my still-covered left breast.
You helped me out of my shirt, and you turned me around to undue the hook on my bra, letting the bra slowly loosen from my body.
You lightly scratched the middle of my back with your fingernails. A chill ran the length of my spine and I shuddered.
Then we made our way to the bed.
As you were studying me, you asked softly, "Why did you approach me, kiss me, touch me, when I was tied up to the chair?"
"I suppose you looked helpless."
"Was it exciting?"
"Yes, it was," I answered.
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