TAKING THE LEAD
by Margery Pinchwife
mpinchwife@yahoo.com
(c) margery pinchwife, 2001
/~Margery/
"I just don't know what to do."
I was confiding in Sally, who is a person I would not
normally confide in. I tend to keep things to myself,
especially things of this nature. However, we had
gone for a walk that morning to get a little exercise
and not five minutes into it Sally had commented that
I seemed distracted and a little depressed.
"I guess I am."
"Would you like to talk about it?" Sally trotted out
the cliche.
I didn't respond at first. We walked for a little
while. Finally I broke the silence.
"Who takes the lead when you and Stan have sex?"
Sally looked a little nonplused, whether at the
apparent change in subject or at the question itself I
couldn't tell. But Sally is never at a loss for words
for very long. She eventually answered me in the same
tone as if I had asked who does the cooking.
"It varies. Sometimes it's Stan, sometime me. I
guess overall it's probably about fifty-fifty." She
didn't ask the obvious question.
We walked a bit more without speaking, Sally knowing
that eventually the lull in conversation would get to
me. And it did.
"Frank keeps after me to take the lead sometime. He
says I never initiate sex, that I always wait for him
to do it and then go along with whatever he wants to
do. He wants me to surprise him sometime, to decide
where and when and how and in what position." I
paused a little while I thought about it. "And he's
really right. I do prefer for him to be the
aggressor. I always have."
"You mean in all the years you two have been married
you never initiated sex, never decided what games to
play?" Sally seemed genuinely surprised.
"I guess when I first started sex I was afraid of
being rejected, afraid that I might do something that
would turn my date off, maybe even disgust him. So I
just got in the habit of being the passive partner.
Old habits tend not to die. I mean a couple of times
when I was really horny I'd come to Frank in just a
bathrobe or in a tight tee shirt without a bra and
hint around. But even then, once he got the hint (if
he did) I'd expect him to take the lead. I'm just
more comfortable that way."
"And there's nothing you've wanted to do that Frank
doesn't do? Nothing new you've ever wanted to try?"
"Not really. And now, after all this time, he wants
me to behave differently, to take the lead, be the
aggressor. He says it would make it more exciting.
But I have no idea what I'm supposed to do." We
stopped walking and stood there.
"Well, is there really nothing you'd like to do?
Think about it. Nothing that you imagine might be
fun?"
"I have thought about it. I've been thinking about
it for days. And I've come up with absolutely
nothing. I'm not a sadist, I'm not going to start
whipping him. I don't want sex in the toilet of an
airplane. Or while swinging from a trapeze." I was
almost crying now. "I just don't know what to do."
We started walking again.
"Well, ok. What does he want?"
"What do you mean?"
"Hasn't he ever hinted at doing something. Ever
expressed some fantasy?"
I thought about it and finally came up with an
admission. "I guess from time to time he's hinted
that he'd like me to tie him down and, as he puts it,
have my way with him. I'd do it but first of all I
haven't a clue how to tie him down without hurting
him. I mean he's not a package. Ropes would hurt and
if I hurt him he'd get mad at me and there would go
our fun. Should I use my best scarves? I'd be
worrying about the scarves. And anyway how would I
tie him?"
"Well,..." Sally started to answer, but I interrupted
her. "And then what would I do? I think I have my
way every time we have sex as it is. I like to feel
his arms around me. I like to lie there while he
fondles me. So what am I supposed to do when he's
tied down?"
"Let's take one thing at a time. Tying him down is
easy. You get some handcuffs and attach his wrists to
the bed."
"Wouldn't that hurt?"
"Not if you get the right cuffs. They sell padded
cuffs that you attach with velcro and with chains that
you can easily hook around the bed."
I couldn't resist asking. "How do you know about
that?"
"There's an elegant sex-clothing store a few doors
down from where I get my hair done. I pass by it all
the time. There's nothing outrageous in the window,
but one time one of the other girls and I decided to
go in on a lark. You wouldn't believe the stuff they
had on display inside. Believe me, you'll have no
trouble getting the kind of cuffs you want there. And
anything else you might want."
"I could never go into a place like that, let alone
buy something."
"We'll go together. We can pretend we're buying a
joke wedding present for a couple who have been living
together. It'll be fun."
I really didn't like the idea, but couldn't think of
a good response. "Even if we did, I still wouldn't
know what to do with a tied-down husband."
"Ok, let's think about that." We had completed our
planned walk but just continued on, starting on a
second circuit. "Has Frank ever told you about any
fantasies? Ever shared his secret imaginings with
you?"
"I can't think of any. Well, maybe. No. Yes.
There is one thing." I wasn't sure I wanted to share
this with Sally.
"What? Come on. Is it that bizarre?"
"Sort of." I hesitated and then gave up.
"Sometimes, when we're making love, he likes to
pretend that he's watching me having sex with another
man. You know, that he's standing in the doorway,
watching us, and getting all excited." I was blushing
like mad as I said this.
"Well it's simple, then. You cuff him to his side of
the bed and fuck your lover on your side." She gave
me a big grin, knowing full well I had no lover and
wasn't about to get one.
"The only problem, then, would be which of my 14
lovers to use. Come on. Be serious."
We continued walking, each of us deep in our own
thoughts.
Suddenly she stopped. "That's it. Of course. He'd
be perfect. I know exactly what you should do.
Andre. I should have thought of him before."
"What are you talking about. Who'd be perfect.
Who's this Andre? I'm not about to have sex with any
Andre."
"Andre Renault is an old friend of the family. When
we were kids, he used to hang around with my youngest
brother. Naturally, all my other brothers would pick
on the two of them, and since I was the oldest and the
only girl it was pretty much my job to protect the
little ones. So Andre used to come to me for help.
As we got older, he got in the habit of coming to me
with his problems. He still calls me from time to
time to ask for advice or just to confide in me. He's
a wonderful guy and would be the perfect solution for
you."
"I don't care how wonderful he is, I'm not having sex
with your Andre whosis."
"Not sex, silly. Andre is a licensed masseur. You
could tie Frank to his side of the bed and then Andre
could come in and give you a massage on your side
while Frank watched."
"Wouldn't that be boring, watching some guy give me a
massage?" I was a little dense.
"Do you think so? A NUDE massage?"
"Oh. Nude. That's different." I began to imagine
what it would be like for Frank to be tied down,
watching his naked wife getting massaged by some
strange man. Maybe that WOULD be exciting. At least
for me. But how would Frank take it? Maybe he'd be
excited or maybe he'd just get mad. "Look, I don't
know... And would this Andre guy behave himself. I
mean Frank would be tied down so he couldn't protect
me if your Andre began to get ideas"
"Andre won't 'get ideas.' He's a professional and a
thoroughly decent guy. Believe me. I know him. I'll
call him when I get home and discuss it with him."
Sally went on, ignoring my continued hesitations. "I
can be candid with him. I'll see what he thinks and
if he's willing, we can go get your handcuffs. Are
you free tomorrow afternoon?"
"Yes, but I'm not so sure about this. I really..."
"Don't worry. It'll all work out great. You and
Frank are going to have a lot of fun." We had
completed the second circuit of our walk. "I'll call
you tomorrow morning."
She left me there, unable to voice my objections. It
was ironic, I thought, that here I was trying to find
a way to take the lead and I was just following
Sally's lead. I had major reservations about this
whole thing and was sorry now that I had confided in
her.
I didn't sleep much that night. I kept deciding that
I would tell Sally to forget the whole thing and then
I'd start imagining what it would be like to be lying
naked with a strange man massaging me while Frank lay
next to me, watching but restrained. Maybe it would
be fun. But then I'd think that no, I couldn't do
that. My mind kept oscillating and I kept tossing and
turning, pretty much all night.
When Sally called the next morning I was all set to
tell her to forget the whole thing but she was so
bubbling over with excitement that I could scarcely
get a word in. "I spoke to Andre and he'd be
delighted to help out. He'd just charge you for a
regular massage even though doing it on a bed instead
of his table is hard on his back. He even suggested
that you have a code word or phrase you could use any
time you wanted him to stop and leave. We just have
to call him to set up the date and code word. And
even better. I called the hair dresser and Charles
can take you this afternoon at two. I made the
appointment because you keep saying you'd like to try
him sometime and you're due for a cut now. We can get
your handcuffs after Charles is finished with you."
It was certainly true that I was overdue for a cut.
I'd been putting off getting my hair cut while I
fretted about Frank's request and I had wanted to try
Charles because I liked what he did for Sally. Oh,
well, I thought, at least I'll get my hair cut. And I
can always refuse to go handcuff shopping afterwards.
Charles actually did a wonderful job on my hair. I
told him what I wanted and he knew exactly what to do.
It came out even better than I had hoped. I was so
pleased with Sally for making the appointment, and for
going with me and waiting while Charles worked on me,
that I couldn't bring myself to disappoint her when
she was ready to go handcuff shopping. After all, I
didn't actually have to use them.
It was the kind of store I was embarrassed even to
look at. The window was filled with outlandish
suggestive leather outfits. I went in with Sally
quickly because I didn't want anyone to see me window
shopping there. Inside was even worse. Manikins and
walls covered with leather, plastic, and rubber
outfits designed to emphasize and/or display sexual
organs. Whips and chains everywhere. A whole display
unit filled with replica penises ranging in size from
normal human to normal horse, in a variety of colors,
with a variety of devices attached to them.
A very pleasant looking gray-haired grandmotherly
lady asked if we needed any help. Sally told her what
we were looking for and the lady took us to a counter
where she offered us a range of handcuffs. Sally
insisted on examining several of them and finally
recommended one set. It consisted of a pad that you
wrapped around the wrist with velcro to secure it and
a chain with a hook on so you could attach the cuffs
to each other or to the bed or whatever you wanted. I
quickly agreed to buy a pair so we could get out of
the store.
"Why not buy two?" Sally said. "One for the arms and
one for the legs."
"Ok," I agreed, not wanting to delay our departure.
By then I would have agreed to anything to get out of
the place. I paid in cash, not wanting them to see my
name on a credit card, and we left with my purchase in
a plain paper bag. I felt terribly evil and we wound
up giggling all the way home about my reaction to the
store and about some of the paraphernalia we saw
there.
When we got home, Sally wanted me to pick a date so
we could call Andre. I resisted.
"I really need some time to think about this."
"Oh, no you don't. If you start thinking, you're
going to find some excuse to chicken out and then
you'll be right back to where you started with an
unhappy husband and all kinds of guilt feelings.
You've got to do this now, quickly. Once you've
committed yourself you'll have a wonderful time. And
so will Frank."
She kept at me, so finally I told her that the best
time would be Frank's birthday in a couple of weeks.
He always came home early on his birthday so we'd have
time to do something - either go out or I'd cook up
some elaborate dinner or something, and of course have
a little sex. Sally immediately called Andre and gave
him the day and time. He said he could make it and
Sally gave me the phone to give him directions to my
house.
He had a lovely voice, soft and a little husky. I
told him how to get here. He gave me his cell phone
number and suggested that he wait in his car a block
or two away and that I call him when I was ready.
That way he could show up exactly when I wanted him
to. He also suggested that, whenever I wanted him to
stop and leave, I say "Thank you, Andre." To ensure
that I didn't say that unthinkingly, he'd say "Is
there anything else I can do for you?" and I'd respond
"No, thanks."
And it was all set.
What had I got myself into? Had I crossed some sort
of Rubicon? Was I really going to go through with
this? The next couple of weeks were agony for me. I
spent half my time deciding on exactly what I would
wear, how I would arrange things, making sure that
Frank would be home on time, and spent the other half
trying to think of ways to call it off. I could call
up Andre and offer to pay him anyway. But then I'd
have to put up with Sally. She'd never let me hear
the end of it. And besides, I'd still have to figure
out what to do about Frank.
I finally decided that this would be as good as
anything, that the worst that would come of it would
be total embarrassment for me, and that the die was
pretty much cast.
On Frank's birthday, I gave him his present at
breakfast (an electric shaver he'd been wanting) and
spent the morning straightening up the house,
attaching the handcuffs, and generally getting the
place ready. I had a small, early lunch, most of
which I couldn't eat, and then got myself ready. I
took a long shower and spent a lot of time fussing
with my hair. Of course, I wanted to look alluring
for Frank, but I also felt some obligation to look
nice for Andre.
Finally, it was time for Frank to come home. When I
heard him drive up, I hid behind the door he would
come in. I was wearing only my terry cloth robe and I
was holding one of those blindfolds they give you on
overnight flights to let you sleep when others have
their lights on.
When Frank came in, I grabbed him from behind and
slipped the blindfold on. I had, of course, forgotten
about his glasses and almost dropped them in the
process, but eventually managed to get them safely out
of the way and the blindfold securely in place. He
started to ask what's going on, but I put my hand over
his mouth and said "Sssh," and he quickly got the idea
that he wasn't supposed to say anything.
I led him into the bedroom and stripped him. He
started to say something again, like "This is a lovely
surprise" or something like that, but I again wouldn't
let him talk. Then I had him lie down on his side of
the bed. When I attached the first hand cuff I had to
sssh him again. It was clear that I had really
surprised him. I could tell that he liked it because
I could see his penis growing erect as I attached his
other arm and then his legs. The chains were a little
slack so I had to go back and adjust each one, pulling
it tight. By the time I had everything adjusted, he
was fully erect.
I toyed with him a while, running my fingers over his
chest and down the inside of his thighs. So far, I
felt, this was a success with him.
Now it was time for the next step, which could very
well ruin everything. I picked up the phone and
dialed Andre. He answered on the first ring. I said,
simply, "I'm ready now." He said he'd be there in
minutes.
When I hung up, I took the blindfold off Frank. I
could see the quizzical expression in his eyes, but he
knew by now that he wasn't supposed to say anything.
I spent the next few minutes playing with him. I
pinched his nipples, ran the tip of my fingernail up
and down his erection, pulled on his balls, gently
stroked his asshole, anything I could think of to keep
him excited with going too far.
When the doorbell rang a few minutes later, I could
see the question in Frank's eyes.
"That's be Andre, the masseur."
Frank's eyes widened. In confusion? excitement?
fear? or some combination? I had to wonder as I went
to answer the door, my own heart pounding.
I pulled my robe tight around me. I was expecting it
to be Andre, but it could just as well be a couple of
people who wanted to discuss the bible. I opened the
door.
"I'm Andre."
He was a pleasant looking man, maybe around ten years
younger than me, dressed completely in white, a white
tee shirt and tight white pants, which revealed a
well-kept body. He had a full head of dark brown hair
that hung to his shoulders, like Prince Valiant. He
carried a bag of what I assumed was massage equipment,
whatever that might be.
I let him in, locked the door, and handed him an
envelop in which I had put his money. He slipped it
into his bag without even looking in it and followed
me to the bedroom.
Frank had the same wide-eyed look, possibly even
wider than before, when we entered. This was it, now.
I had to go through with it. I only hoped he
wouldn't be upset. I felt the adrenalin racing
through my body. I stood between Andre and Frank,
facing Frank, and let my robe fall off. Then, perhaps
too quickly, I lay down on the bed on my stomach, my
eyes glued to Frank, looking for any signs of trouble.
Here I was, completely naked before a strange man, my
husband manacled to the bed beside me. I could
imagine all kinds of reactions that he might have,
most of them not good. But what I saw in his eyes was
excitement and a glance at his pulsing erection
confirmed that.
In the meantime, Andre, who was unfazed by seeing my
naked husband tied down, must have been getting his
things ready, because the next thing I felt was some
oil on my back and soothing hands beginning to rub it
in. It was immediately clear that this wasn't the
amateurish gropings of my husband, this was a
professional who knew what he was doing. My tense
muscles began to relax as his talented fingers prodded
and kneaded them.
He massaged slowly across my shoulders and then down
each arm to my fingertips and back up again. Then he
worked on my back. While his actions soothed and
relaxed my muscles, my husband's eyes, which followed
every motion of Andre, kept me in a state of tension.
Finishing my back at my waist, Andre began with my
feet, working his way first up one calf and then up
the other. When he began on the backs of my thighs
and I saw the reaction in my husband's eyes, I could
feel the sexual tension mounting. There was no doubt
that this was exciting Frank, nor that I was getting
excited myself. For the first time, I became
conscious of my own arousal as well as of Frank's.
Andre worked his way up my thighs, mostly on their
backs but every once in a while his fingers would prod
on my inner thighs, moving higher and higher up my
legs. He spent a fair amount of time on my thighs,
gently easing them apart as he worked upward, but
eventually he left off my inner thighs before he went
too far, somewhat to my disappointment, and began
massaging my buttocks. I could see Frank's intense
interest as Andre pressed down on them with his palms
and then in a circular motion began to knead them, at
times spreading them wide apart.
It felt as if there were a direct line of sight from
my eyes to Frank's to Andre's and finally down to my
exposed asshole, as if we were all looking at it. I
was blatently exposed and could feel quivers of
excitement building in me. Then Andre stopped.
"Turn over, please."
As I automatically followed his instructions, I
realized that I was now even more completely exposed.
Lying on my back, I could see the excitement in
Frank's eyes as his wife lay naked, at the disposal of
a stranger. All this time he had said nothing, just
looked. Now I could see his breathing deepening, his
mouth slightly opening, his chest rising and falling,
his erection throbbing with his pulse. I could feel
my nipples hardening and the butterflies flapping
wildly in my stomach.
"It's rather warm here. Is it ok?" Andre gestured
that he wanted to remove his tee-shirt. I managed to
give an assenting nod as he pulled it over his head.
So far, his massage was carefully innocent. Bare
chested now, he did the front of my shoulders and
necks, avoided my breasts and abdomen, and worked the
tops my thighs. Now his hand spent more time on the
insides of my thighs, pushing them apart and working
up to but just short of my vagina, which was now
exposed and clearly visible to him. I willed him to
keep going.
But he stopped and stood there looking at me. He
seemed to be examining my body, an examination that
made my nipples grow even harder. I glanced back and
forth between him and Frank and saw a similar tension
in both sets of eyes. Andre's eyes caught mine and
held them. He seemed to be waiting for me to give the
code words, to tell him to go.
I said nothing. Ironically, even as I took the lead
with Frank, I could only respond passively to Andre.
Without a word, Andre unbuttoned his tight white
pants and took them off, leaving him in nothing but
his red jockey shorts that clearly revealed the
presence of his penis. Then he put his hands on my
breasts.
Almost in fear, as I felt the thrill of these strange
and wonderful hands on my breasts, I looked at Frank.
He said not a word and I could see the excitement
building to a higher pitch in him, his eyes riveted on
Andre's hands fondling my breasts.
He cupped my breasts, pushing them up towards the
nipples, sliding his hands around them, coming closer
and closer to the nipples without yet touching them.
I hadn't felt this kind of excitement since the first
time a boy put his hand in my bra. It was a new kind
of excitement, heightened by the consciousness that my
husband was watching, his silence assenting, even
urging on another man fondling his wife's breasts. We
were all breathing a little heavily now. I could feel
my heart pounding as I eagerly awaited the moment
Andre would reach my nipples.
It was as if an electric pulse was shot through me
when he began to roll my nipple between his thumb and
forefinger. Frank had done this a million times, but
feeling another man do it, do it while my husband lay
naked and manacled watching, was something new,
different, thrilling and exciting beyond words.
And then I felt his other hand resting on my pubic
hair, pressing on my clit, sliding between my legs,
his finger gently caressing my labia. Instinctively,
I spread my legs yet further apart to give him better
access. Frank's eyes watched greedily, following
every touch, every stroke, every motion of this
stranger's fingers that now had delved into my vagina.
His fingers slid in easy, aided by the lubricant that
I was so copiously supplying. His thumb provided a
circular pressure on my clit. I could feel the
pressure of Frank's eyes as he struggle to get a
better view of his wife being finger-fucked by another
man.
Once again, at what seemed the highest pitch of my
excitement, Andre stopped. This time he stepped out
of his jockeys. His penis was in the semi-erect
stage, full but not entirely risen yet. Without
thinking, I reached out to assist it in its rise. As
I wrapped my fingers around that penis, I became
acutely aware on the most basic, sensory level that it
was not my husband's. It was thicker than what I was
used to, it felt different from the only one I had
touched in decades. While I of course was aware all
along that someone other than my husband was running
his hands all over my body, it was only at this moment
that I fully realized at the rawest primitive level
that I had a strange cock in my hands.
Surely now Frank would try to put a stop to this.
Surely he would say something. But when I looked at
him, when I caught his eyes and we stared at each
other, all I could see was the same thrill, the same
tension, the same heightened excitement that I felt
myself. Something was about to happen and neither of
us wanted to stop it.
Andre was now kneeling between my legs, his hands
pressing my thighs apart, his lips caressing my labia.
His tongue gently licked their edges and then began
invading the space between them. I pressed my pelvis
up, trying to pull his tongue deep into my vagina.
His tongue was as talented as his hands, stroking me,
teasing me, sliding in and out of me, while his thumb
resumed its attention to my clit.
I did not expect what came next. Andre suddenly lay
down on his back and, with no apparent effort, pulled
me on top of him so that I was sitting with the tip of
his cock just nuzzling the opening of my cunt, just
sliding along the inner edges of my cuntlips. He held
me there, staring into my eyes and then looking toward
Frank, as if asking for permission.
I looked at my husband, naked and bound, his cock
straining upward, his eyes eagerly glued to my crotch.
Andre and I stayed in that state of suspended
animation. It took Frank a moment or two to realize
we were waiting. Then, for the first time, he said
something. It came out at first as a choked croak.
But then he repeated it, loud and clear.
"Yes! Do it! Put it in! Fuck him! Fuck that cock!
Put that fat prick up your cunt!"
I began to slide down on Andre's cock. It stretched
me, pushing on the sides of my cunt, stretching them
more and more as it penetrated further and further.
"Put it all the way in! Fuck it!"
I wanted it all in me. I wanted it to fill me. I
pressed down as Andre slid up and down into me, going
further in with each stroke. I wasn't going to last
long. I took his whole cock in, raising and lowering
my ass to meet his thrusts.
"Yes! Hump that ass! Fuck that prick! Oh, yes!"
We were all breathing faster. My tits were swinging
back and forth as I humped my ass up and down, feeling
that fat cock filling my cunt. I started coming. Oh,
God! And coming. And coming.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!"
Andre pulled me down on him, squeezing my tits
tightly against his chest. He gave one last upward
thrust, pushing his prick in as deep as he could, and
with a loud gasp began to pump his semen into me.
I lay there on him, feeling the after-tremors of both
our orgasms, and hearing my husband's "Yes! Yes.
yes." getting softer and slower and then gently fading
out.
I rolled off Andre, toward Frank, and managed to
hoarsely say the code words. "Thank you, Andre." And
then I ad libbed, "Thank you very, very much."
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" he asked.
"No, thanks. But thank you very, very much."
Almost instantly he was off the bed, had picked up
his things and was out of the bedroom. He must have
stopped long enough to get dressed, but it seemed
barely seconds before I heard the front door open and
close.
I turned to my husband. His erection, still achingly
pointing skyward, reminded me that he hadn't got any
relief yet. I released his hand from the cuffs and
then climbed over him, my mouth grasping that so far
untouched prick, my knees straddling his shoulders so
that he could see my just fucked cunt, could see
Andre's semen that I felt oozing out of it.
As I alternated, sliding my tongue around his cock
and sucking up and down on it, I felt his arms pulling
my ass down so that his mouth reached my cunt. He
began licking it at the same time that I felt him
coming in my mouth. He was forming a complete cycle,
sucking Andre's come out of me while he replaced it
with his own. For the first time in my life, I
eagerly swallowed his come, gulping it down, licking
up every drop.
We lay there exhausted, his prick slowly softening in
my mouth. I summoned up enough strength to release
his legs from their cuffs, then turned around and lay
down beside him. We kissed, both our lips sticky with
semen, exchanging the semen with our tongues..
"Happy birthday," I whispered in his ear.
He took a moment, then in a voice again hoarse, said,
"That was.... that was.... unbelievable!"
THE END
Please write to me at mpinchwife@yahoo.com