I guess you recall how we are dressed, Blair, my wife and I. Two prisoners. She in the sexy short dress, flashing thigh so high she might have been genuinely arrested. Me in the humiliating convict outfit, with the tiny clingy shorts the women at the party had found so amusing.

So we hit our house running. Hot and in need. We haven’t had sex for an age, months. Our sex life has been on a downward slide for way too long.

We both know we are bursting for sex, yet we say nothing.

All the way home in the car we catch each other’s eyes. Blair grinning with her knowing eyes. So sexy, her head slightly bowed, looking up at me through her eyelashes. My dick firm in the shorts. Obvious to all. But she doesn’t touch it so I wonder if she truly wants it.

Then running up the stairs like children.

A pause, right at my bedrooms doorway.

As if both of us want to draw breath. Ask the other if they feel same. She sees my uncertainty and grabs my hand. Within moments we are devouring each other.

Deep sucking kissing like we haven’t experienced since before Chloe’s birth

Stripping each other as we stagger to the bed.

My cock now would push through butter. So hard it hurts. How long since I have felt like this?

Collapse onto the bed, attacking each other. My shorts are down, my hard cock up with only one place to go. We both tug her panties down and she is groaning, eyes closed, her hips pushing up. In need. We must have each other.

I slide in as she folds her legs around me. She gasps. Grips my back, her nails hard and sharp.

I am fucking her. I can feel her insides gripping and sucking.

“Blair,” I groan, “Blair.”

She is whispering, “Yes, yes, oh my God.”

Not being able to hold on even for a few seconds I am about to cum and she says it.

I hear her words. I hear the name.

Spluttered from deep within her. “Fuck me Morgan. Fuck me.”

I pause. My body rigid as she cavorts about me, pumping her hips like a wild machine.

Morgan.

She said his name. I am in my own fantasy. I am now him. The alpha male stud I have so often imagined screwing my wife. He is screwing my wife and I am in chastity. I can feel it in my imagination. My CB6000s tight around my cock while Morgan slams into my wife in another room.

The motions recommence. All on their own. My entire body doing the job.

I put my mouth to her ear. “I am taking you ‘cos your husband cannot. He cannot satisfy you like me.”

With that she freezes for a moment as her body goes berserk. Clenching my penis like a machine. Is my cock going to be crushed? She comes, spurting over my groin. I can feel it. The sticky little lumps. I have never known her so hot.

Then my mind turns blank white and I cum.

And cum … and cum.

It seems as if neither of us will ever stop. Not ever.

Finally her grinding slows and she lays splayed beneath me. Exhausted, gasping fish like for air

She is still moaning.

We clamber mindlessly beneath the quilt. She might as well be on drugs. Her eyes are miles from the real world.

“Blair?”

She hushes me, but the effort of hushing me exhausts her. Her eyes close, her breathing slows as sleep pulls on her senses.

“Blair?”  She shakes her head in her half sleep. not wanting to hear.

But I must know.

“My love, that was Morgan who just had you wasn’t it?”

She shushes me, but her lips slip into a sweet, naughty grin.

Rolling towards me, she buries her shoulder under my arm making me cuddle her.

I am bursting with questions. How can she sleep?

“Blair?”

She giggles, gently pressing a finger onto my lips. “Shush,” she says and after a long pause adds, “cuckold!”

She then giggles pushing her hot, soft body hard into mine. Moments later she is snoring gently.

Me? I cannot sleep. I am thinking. My head is spinning. She called out his name. She called me a cuckold.

I tried to think through it, make sense of it, just as I have done in the weeks that followed.

That image from the party: Morgan so powerful, so in control. My wife eagerly grinning up at him.

And those handcuffs. Double locking real, genuine police handcuffs.

 

My Chastity belt is in the draw near the window and I do not want to move right now. I do not want to spoil what we are feeling. But how I long to feel its security around me as I imagine so much.

Exhausted I muttered a quiet ‘wow’, before I slipped into a deep sleep. I felt a door had been opened in my life. I new path had grown before me.

I so like so had to share these links

 

I mean, like, they are way too hot. Like totally hot.

 

A lady who IS making herself a brainless barbie doll in real life …

 

A girl tied to a bed, helpless and squirming! OMG. It is like, well you know, sooo totally like it.

 

 

 

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/02/19/blondie-bennett-barbie-woman-hypnotherapy-stupid_n_4815495.html

 

And a soooo hot clip of a gorgeous girl tied helpless to the bed. View and envy.

 

http://www.myvideo.de/watch/9457070/Gagged_girl_handcuffed_to_bed_in_lingerie

How your master can easily carry you around the house after he has bound you.

Advice brought to you by The Hotel

As you can see

 

 

end

As you can imagine the fancy dressed party was full of sexily dressed women.

Blair and I remained handcuffed for only the first ten minutes. During this time her prisoner outfit was greeted with lustful up and down stares from the guys and raised eyebrow with up and down stares from the women. I was met with wide grins and giggles as my short panted prisoner outfit clung to me as much as Blair’s obscenely short tee shirt.

Within an hour I was concerned about my hardening cock and wished I was wearing the cb6000s to keep it in place. In fact the idea of wearing a chastity belt whilst my wife was leered at and flirted with by all the guys was a huge turn on itself. An excitement not mitigated by the array of sexy thighs and boobs from the women.

 Blair soon disappeared onto the dance floor, as is usual for her after a few glasses of white wine. Fortunately the clinging tee shirt-dress stuck to her bottom and only rode up occasionally. Not that it stopped guys taking her in with lustful eyes. I was desperate to get a way for a wank.

I noticed only one other guy in what I considered a subbie outfit, a burly rugby fellow in a maid’s uniform. His muscular tattooed arms exposed. No danger of seeing him as a sissy.

So here is an interesting observation. Many of the women made a bee line for me. I guess in my prisoners outfit I was less threatening than some of the more masculine outfits in which the other guys were attired.

It was as if the prisoner uniform gave them permission to approach and make fun of me. And I loved it.

The life changing incident with her boss Morgan Hopkins was to happen after the meal.

The food was delayed, so more wine was drunk. The dining room was a raucous cacophony of heightened sexual tension. It was amazing no women were on their backs on the floor. I imagine that roman orgies must have had a preamble such as this.

Blair grabbed me at the foot of the stairs and dragged me upstairs.

“I can’t dance anymore. These heels are killing me.”

 I looked down at her white ankle boots and made a note to buy such a pair as soon as possible. They made her legs in the black tights look even more sumptuous.

Gripping my arm she whispered, “and I can see the ladies love your little bottom in your shorts.”

I laughed, confiding that I had never before enjoyed so much attention from women.

So that was when we saw the group around Hopkins.

Morgan Hopkins was holding forth outside the snooker room on the balcony. He stood before a huge painting of some overly decorated general from hundreds of years ago. He was surrounded by a small group of giggling women and men who I could see were in two minds about him. Part envy at him being so tall, good looking, clearly the boss and effortlessly alpha male.

Blair gripped my hand and dragged me over to them.

“Hi!” she announced to Hopkins, breaking up one of his stories.

The women were pissed off at her confidence and exchanged glances: ‘who does she think she is?’

I felt myself flush. Blair is a quiet lass as a rule but after a few drinks she is the sort of girl to clamber onto a table to dance.

“Hey!” Hopkins bellowed. “Look at you! Wow.”

“This is Jordan, my husband. You met him before.”

She tugged me before him and I flushed bright red feeling like a little boy in my shorts before such a bear of a guy.

As you know my fantasies have been about Morgan Hopkins cuckolding me, with me being a sissy in chastity. So now I was speechless.

And I need to tell you what Hopkins was wearing. Even today, some weeks later, it gives me a thrill. He was dressed as a US police officer, with baton, gun and flat hat. He filled the uniform with some menace, I think helped by the way the cap’s peak came partly down over his eyes. It made him look no nonsense tough

I cleared my throat, feeling speechless and way too nervous to feel any erotic charge.

“Yeh! We keep meeting up when we are pissed eh Jordan?” he laughed.

I laughed, and yes it was sycophantic laugh and yes I was feeling hot about my cheeks. I guess he was about 6 inches taller than me, maybe standing 6’3”, but he was wearing big boots. I have never seen him without this huge confident grin, as if he knows something wickedly funny and he won’t share it.

So he filled us in on the story so far before continuing it with his audience in his hand. The punch line was only something about him already having received a cheque for twice the amount from the client but for some reason we all found this hilarious.

You don’t need to know about the next half hour or so of chat. Some people left, mainly the guys and a few more joined, mainly girls. I remember feeling a bit of an idiot standing in the half circle of his audience not saying anything, watching my wife’s giggle and fawn over his every story.

Then it happened. It makes my mouth go dry even now.

It started with him saying something to Blair about being late at a meeting, it was part of one of his stories. Blair, now benefiting from far too much wine cocked one knee  in front of the other to look up at him and gushed. “So are you going to arrest me officer?”

She span her handcuffs around her hand in front of him.

At that point I was embarrassed. Embarrassed at not having the guts to have left the group ages before, maybe with a excuse of having a pee. And now embarrassed at my drunken wife making a fool of us. I felt a tremor of anger. Had there not been so many people around I would have said something to her.

Hopkins took the cuffs from her and I watched my wife twist back and fore like a naughty school girl in front of the headmaster. Her eyes seemed huge, she was awaiting his response. I knew she was hot. In the days when we had sex she wore that same passive, willing to please look when aroused.

Hopkins’ grin stayed firmly in place as he waved the cuffs in front of her. “You are a naughty prisoner aren’t you?”

There were giggles but it was as if the group was holding its collective breath with sexual tension.

“Maybe,” Blair whispered slyly.

“These are toy cuffs prisoner. Look.” He closed them and then used the trick catch to spring then open. “If you wore these you would escape!”

She played the game by gaping and putting her hands to her mouth. “Please Sir I just didn’t know.”

And now I had a semi hard on. And I suspect I wasn’t the only guy in the group with a hardening dick.

“You need these.” Hopkins pulled a hefty set of handcuffs from his belt.

We were awestruck by them. It was as if he was a hypnotist and we his subjects.

My wife’s eyes were huge, unblinking orbs. She took in every flash of light on the silver cuffs.

Hopkins lowered his voice and if sharing confidence said, “These are real police handcuffs. A friend in Honk Kong bought them for me. They are the actual ones police use over there.”

I swallowed. I wanted a pair! Real police handcuffs. Wow.

He lowered them before Blair. “They are double locking. You know what that means?”

She giggled, “I am doubly in trouble?”

There was some laughter.

“Well, yeh, that too.” Hopkins continued in sotto voce. “It means you lock them once to hold the prisoner but then lock them a second time so that they won’t get tighter. Stops prisoners squeezing them shut on their wrists and then them needing to be opened. Means you can keep your prisoners locked up for a longer time.”

 Blair had no witty response. Her glossy pink lips fell open showing her white teeth. Her eyes were set on the cuffs.

“Want a give them a try?” he asked,

Her mouth dropped open in shock, but then giggled and held out her wrists.

I can recall feeling almost fully erect. The top of my prisoner outfit didn’t descend far enough to hide my groin so I moved my wine glass to obscure it as best I could. I was breathing quickly, as if I had just been for a run.

Being unaware of anything in that room save Morgan, his double locking cuffs and my aroused wife I cannot say what the others were feeling or doing. Even the music and shouting was wiped out by this moment of electricity.

All attention was on the two of them.

Morgan kept his eyes locked on my wife’s as he clicked the first cuff around her slender wrist. I could see her boobs rising and falling under the clingy prisoner outfit. She was in heat.

“Now I lock it once.” He turned the key in the mechanism and we heard a click. “Now I double lock it.” The lock clunked a second time and we all knew Blair would not be able to remove her cuff without Hopkins’ key.

“The other hand.” Hopkins commanded as if ordering another drink.

Blair was reluctant; I could see her eyes waver. She glanced up at him about to say something but then grinned, as if thinking better of it before offering him her right hand.

He closed the cuff around it and Blair gasped.

“So I lock it once.” Click. “And now the second time.” Clunk.

And so my wife stood before him her hands handcuffed wearing just a sexy, tiny, body hugging tee shirt, pertaining to be a prisoner’s uniform, along with her little ankle boots.

There was a short moment when galaxies formed and were destroyed before the group came back to life and people started snapping pictures on their phones.

Morgan gripped my wife’s shoulders and spun her around so his arm was about his captive. “My prisoner folks!”

If this were a Deborah Ford story I guess the evening would have ended with me in handcuffs as Hopkin’s prisoner and Blair lying on her back on a snooker table while Hopkins took his pleasure. But Hopkins quickly unlocked Blair and started cuffing the other women who pleaded to try the handcuffs.

Blair approached me, her eyes sleepy with arousal searching deep into my eyes. I could almost hear her saying: ‘so what do you think of that cuckold. Your fantasy comes true?’

 We didn’t speak. We walked back downstairs to the dance hall then towards the wine bar. It was at that moment that I felt it. I had precum around my cock. It felt cold and wet in my boxers.

Taking hold of Blair’s wrist I stopped her and she looked at me with wide eyed expectation and a sexy grin.

“We have to go,” I said. “I am damp in the groin.”

She whispered in my ear, “You are not the only one.”

We left with me keeping my hand across my shorts to hide any evidence of ‘spillage’.

Will tell you what happened when we got home in the next journal.

Never asks why he has so many belts to be tidied up, he might show you.

Advice brought to you by The Hotel

Never pout to your wife’s lover  about always being tied up in doors during the day. Remember, he is very inventive.

Advice brought to you by The Hotel

“Well you weren’t much help,” Blair said when she saw the expression on my face. “What was I supposed to get. They hardly had anything left.”

I was holding up my outfit for the party. A party we were supposed to be at in an hour to be in time for cocktails.

I had been expecting a pirate’s outfit for me, just as I had worn the previous year, along with a sexy burlesque number for Blair. That was what we had discussed on that fateful evening when she and Chloe teased me about a maid outfit.

What I was looking at was two convict uniform made out of a cheap terylene or some such. Hers was little more than a slightly long tee shirt, ensuring her legs would be totally on display. It was so tight and elastic that her boobs and arse might as well be exposed like her thighs.

Not that I minded, I think like most cuckold sissy lovers I quite liked seeing guys ogle my wife. Mine was a matching convict’s outfit, same horizontal lines on thin stretchy material, with only a pair of shorts for modesty.

We each had matching hats with the same stripes.

“Come on,” Blair grinned. “It’ll be a laugh.”

Public humiliation is part of the burn in my fantasies but in the real world I hate the idea of being laughed at.

Blair pushed her hand through the packaging and with a wicked grin triumphantly held up a pair of handcuffs. Even I had to laugh at that. She knew full well my bondage fantasies.

“Don’t get too excited,” she smiled. “They are only toy ones! Look you click here by the lock and they open .”

I shrugged and laughed. “Ok,” I relented. “Once we are drunk it won’t make any difference.”

With little choice I dressed as the convict. As soon as I saw myself in the mirror I knew I looked ridiculous in a subby way. By wearing the prisoners outfit I sort of adopted the persona. My dick thickened in my pants so I carefully examined my shorts in the mirror to see if it were visible.

Then Blair bounced into the room with a fanfare and a lot of girly arm waving. My dick grew semi hard. She was totally wow. The outfit clung to every curve. Her arse and boobs were amazing. She wore black tights over her sexy legs which enhanced the vision of a girl on show to the world. I wanted to ravish her there and then.

“I hope you are going to close your mouth before we get there,” she laughed, bending forwards and using her finger under my chin to close it.

“You are amazing!”

“I know, but thanks for agreeing.” With that she accentuated the wiggle as she left. “Come on. We will be late.”

What I would give to have those curves to show off.

We arrived at the manor house and I could hear the shouting and laughing before we even opened the car doors. The place must have been packed.

Blair pulled on a pair of white ankle boots with a two inch heel and clipped the handcuff over her left wrist. She offered me the open other half. “Come on Jord, let’s go for it. Make an entrance. Give ‘em something to think about.”

“The guys will be thinking about you for a long time to come!”

I clipped the cuff around my wrist and she kissed my cheek as if thanking me for joining in the fun

Feeling exposed in the tight shorts and top, handcuffed to my on fire-hot wife, I let her lead us to the stone steps and the music and commotion.

We slipped between Catwoman and a chubby nurse and entered.

Yep we made an entrance, and yep my wife got the attention, and yep I was on the receiving end of the titters.

But it is what that dick head Morgan Hopkins was wearing that was to shake me to my boots and deliver up fantasy after fantasy for many weeks to come.

Will tell you more, next time.

Be aware of letting your wife use Superglue to attach you bunny tail to you, before her lover ties you up. They will be laughing at you for along time afterwards.

Advice brought to you by The Hotel

 

 

If you tie yourself up on a downstairs floor always ensure you have a knife to hand in case your wife and her lover return early.

Advice brought to you by The Hotel