I was asked to tell this story from my perspective some time ago, and seeing how I am presently suffering from a minor bout of writer's block on and off, I thought it might make a good detour from the other purely fictional projects I have going on. I will tell this story as I remember it, and there is some fiction here too, but such is necessary to keep the real-world players from realizing it's about them, as there were a few others involved in this particular one. I've played with the locations to keep consistency too, but this is more about actions, our actions, rather than the actual locations.
My better half's initial telling of it twenty plus years earlier left out a great many details that he just didn't know at the time as well, so much so that this might seem like a slightly different story to some. I have since "come clean" on everything between "Ken" and I, it really foolish of me not to have done so way sooner. But, please bear in mind that I was a teenager and made several teenager-type mistakes; and whoever wants to admit their shortcomings when they can get away with not, or discuss their deepest and most private fears, even with somebody they love, with the ever-present fear of rejection and all of that?
Not that it's an excuse, but looking back on things today I think I didn't want to diminish myself in my future husband's eyes, nor most especially disappoint him, although knowing what I do now, and bearing in mind what we three had already done together on that first camping trip, and after, I realize that this seems inconsistent. We got along great, and we were really perfect for each other - hubby and I - but we were all three growing and learning things about ourselves back then too, at least as much as we were learning things about each other. This was all so terribly hypocritical of me specifically, because I personally had a hand in lowering and diminishing my future husband, but never with the serious intention of crushing him, my heart just doesn't work that way, most especially for him.
He had even played along and asked for this, or certainly a form of it; asked for this less than equal treatment, from the both of us really, because for some reason he got something from that. What would be at the very least emotionally painful, or much more likely just the plain worst case scenario for almost any other guy; your girlfriend carrying on with your best friend, all as you were "helpless" to stop it, all as you watched and/or listened…
This specific scenario instead excited something deeply submissive and kinky within him, and at times made him erect and nearly breathless like nothing else ever. Looking back on those events now I realize that they were actually the ultimate form of submission, submitting not only yourself, but that which you love the most to somebody else you also love, perhaps even while fearing in the very back of your mind that you might not get one or the other back. One has to remember as well that back then, just one teen guy getting naked for another in a situation like this was pushing several cultural boundaries, it just wasn't done, let alone everything else that we got twisted up in after that. Our actions broke all sorts of social "rules," but I think that was the allure of it to be honest. Ordinarily good people, doing some very very naughty things, because it was fun, and because they - meaning of course we - could get away with it.
Did this bring out some deep hidden fear in my future husband, the "I might not measure up" fear? I've since read that this is a real thing for certain guys, and while big "can" be just wonderful, one has to acknowledge that men, just like women, come in all different shapes, colors, and sizes. I can't imagine that both guys ever got themselves erect in each other's company to compare, so that first camping trip could have been a real eye opener for both.
Even from the get-go our teenage sex was never bad, just unnaturally rushed. But then again it also had a more innocent feel to it prior to that first camping trip together, despite the lusty against my will stories I used to pop my future husband off with, and I also realize this was yet another contradiction. After that camping trip it was almost as if my boyfriend were competing with Ken sexually, and that single time with him - several times really over the course of the two day trip - had upped the proverbial bar on our own "home" game.
This was not necessarily in the form of trying to out Ken, but in embracing the submissive counterpart to all that. This accidental journey of discovery had perhaps reminded my boyfriend that he had some submissive tendencies - or perhaps even caused them to ferment in his mind - although for a young man courting a young lady back in the day, that wasn't ordinarily the "cool" way to play it. Ken and all his own fine masculine attributes were there on display for me to compare the one to the other, and I'd be lying if I didn't say that from a purely logical point of view the one at times looked the better bargain than the other, something Ken's aunt would likely have agreed with, but more on her later.
Not that we've ever discussed this specific thing in great detail - some things you simply can't talk about - but I think that camping trip opened his submissive mind to what was actually possible, the raw physical kinky fun that was just waiting out there for him, for us too really. One can't submit to everybody though, to live like that invites one to be everybody's proverbial whipping boy, or punching bag maybe, not good for a young man's ego to go through life like that, not good for me either if I had long term plans with him, which I obviously did. I didn't want a wishy-washy, broken-man, everybody's-fool for a husband either, but I was perfectly happy - and still am to this day - to be married to a man that can laugh at himself, and is comfortable enough in his own skin to be himself, especially around me. In the heat of the moment I think both Ken and I got caught up with him in that playful kink too, Ken with his needs and motivations, and I with my own. To be clear though, there was never any evil intent here, it was more light hearted and sharing than that, playful fooling around between friends that first turned intimate, and then into something else…
It's also hard to put into words - this other rushed feeling back then for me - but I think there was an element of wanting to experience all that I could from life before getting married, all without maybe screwing up the good and safe thing I had going on with my childhood sweetheart; thinking that all my fun would stop the moment I said "I do" to him. What's that old saying? I wanted my cake, but I wanted to eat it too. That's a terrible way to approach such things; marriage shouldn't ever be a burden, but instead an awesome shared adventure. I've grown exponentially since then, but really we all have. Not to be too philosophical here, but I think it's the journey, not the actual destination; because we may not all end up where we thought we might when we started; I certainly haven't…
Anyway, here it goes, but first a very brief recap…
…"Ken" was the young man who absolutely rocked my world on a teenage camping trip he, myself, and my future husband all took together earlier. That in itself was a first for us, and there were a whole bunch of other firsts on that trip too, all rolled into two days of craziness, dares, and debauchery. I suspected that my husband perhaps intended a threesome with Ken, as opposed to what really did happen, but no matter the initial motivations, there simply was no putting the proverbial genie back into the bottle after that trip.
Ken was also a good friend in need, and the second most important young man in my life back in the day, and the incremental way our relationship slipped from platonic, to passionately physical, seemed almost natural because of this, at least on that first, incredible, "I can't actually believe we're actually doing this" night. Dares and naughtiness that we got carried away on a very warm and unique night for three hardly dressed horned up teens, one could easily say. If it had stopped there all well and good, just an awkward whoopsie to maybe laugh about some day, or even pretend like it never happened; but it didn't stop there. Ken had auditioned as the dominant alpha male of our unique trio that first night, and there simply was no going back to pure boring vanilla after that…
To make a long story short, Ken needed me, and I was at least curious; and also very curious as to why my future husband was passively going along with all this, even on the second day when cooler less lusty heads should have prevailed. Once "IT" happened though, it couldn't "unhappen," things just don't work like that in the real world. Maybe all three of us were waiting for the other to say stop or something, but we three simply never did; except for my boyfriend half-heartedly, well after stopping was a serious option…
The second day of that trip continued with my boyfriend's "lost bet" submissive mindset - something he may have wanted to try out for himself in a somewhat safe environment - but here things went from spontaneous, middle of the night "I dare you" wild-passion, to something much more "in the full light of day" deliberate. Mostly with Ken's ideas - but truthfully with my own input and handcuffs as well - we engineered my boyfriend's humiliating naked absence ordeal so that Ken and I could be a bit more alone this time, putting my boyfriend on full display under way less than flattering conditions. Simply put, to my teenage eyes one looked like a skinny under-endowed naked boy, and the other like the man in charge. It was here that I had learned just a bit better how "Cathy" had rejected Ken and basically stopped about a half a step short of screaming "rape," calling him a freak, and crushing him forever.
I was the supposedly "normal" and non-judgmental girl that he knew, and it made all the sense in the world for him to want to get a little inside information on how the female psyche worked; but perhaps we just got a little too close and friendly with each other. Again, I don't think this was necessarily a chance occurrence, but that my future husband selflessly put Ken and I together, perhaps even for Ken's own perceived good at the potential expense of his own; "incredible selfless love" one could easily say, or perhaps "unintended foolish collateral damage." This of course turned into a very generous, needed, and loving gift for a very good friend, and opened doors for me personally that I just didn't know existed.
It would at the same time be disingenuous not to say that this was very, very good for me too on some level, because I had all the teen doubts and insecurities that one could possibly imagine back in the day, and having two desirable boys - really young men by then - that kind of interested in me, at the same time, was very empowering. The flip side of that proverbial coin was that my boyfriend and future husband was the most secure good thing I had in life back then - he still is to this day - and this potentially could maybe screw that up if I let it; so to say that I was playing with fire would be an understatement.
I didn't plan for any of this to happen, but I also didn't opt to stop it when I could have, so I own a piece of this too. In my own defense though, I was very caught up in the lust of the moment, and Ken was rather good at taking charge too, at playing what we called "being a jerk" to us, or more accurately my boyfriend…
Not to get too deep into it here, but I had a lot of insecurity at home, much turmoil, and having a boyfriend - and potentially even a spare - that could take me away from all that on a regular basis appealed to me on several shallow teenage levels I think. I didn't plot and plan this out or anything, but I did at some point notice the situation that I had sort of wiggled myself into.
Anyway, fun before marriage, one hundred percent commitment after marriage, was the way I settled all this in my mind, for a bit there anyway. Again, this maybe wasn't the best mindset to approach marriage, but it was my teenage mindset, although I didn't even have a ring yet, nor a date set. We were too young for such things really, unless I were to get into trouble, as that's the only way teens of that era ordinarily got married. These days parents raise their teen children's children as their own more times than not, if such teenage "accidents" happen, but back then that just wasn't a thing. "Old enough to make babies, old enough to care for them" was the tough-love mantra, and as proof of that concept several girls we all went to school with were mommies before they were even high school graduates.
That same camping trip that let Ken and I become lovers that first time also forced me to see my future husband as something less than perfect. None of us obviously were, but in this new light shown on him - and in comparison to a bigger, stronger, and more masculinely dominant Ken - he for a while came up short. I don't necessarily want to rehash the entire camping trip adventure, but what happened there, sets up what happens here. Just as Milwaukee Vibrator sets up what happened here as well, the one builds on the other, so to speak. To tell this any other way would make it just a wild scene or two, instead of weaving all the little details into the one cohesive life adventure that it was, or so I intend…
Anyway, my boyfriend and future husband had to take a road trip with his folks for a family function, not an actual funeral, but more of a celebration of life gathering of the extended family, after the fact. He was of the age that this kind of trip might be the last one all three of them took together, and while I had been invited, I really didn't want to go. I had never actually met the person they were going to honor, and I felt almost like I was intruding on "family time," even though they were wonderful and treated me like family already.
Their ultimate destination was also airplane-distance away, but they were instead driving as that was cheaper back then; gasoline was relatively cheap, and plane tickets were relatively expensive. Doing it this way they would easily be gone for at least a week, and days of riding in the backseat of a station wagon, with awkward hotel stays overnight, and an equally awkward stay at somebody's home I didn't know just wasn't something I wanted to do if I could get out of it somehow. Back then I hadn't flown on a plane yet either, and it's terrible to say, but if they were flying, and buying the tickets too, the teenage me might have actually wanted to go; as that would have been a new and exciting experience. I had of course recently discovered that I really liked new and exciting things, especially ones that physically took me out of my comfort zone…
Anyway, I worked as a nurse's aid in a senior living home at the time - I had really just gotten the job for the summer and most of the seniors on my particular floor could do quite a bit for themselves, and they were just wonderful too, the little I got to know them. But, some of the people I actually worked for, not so much. I don't recall what minimum wage was back in the day, but that's what I made, and I had to buy my own uniform and white shoes with that too, as a condition of employment. Anyway, this was just getting into summertime, and I had the whole summer off from school, so I was working full time at minimum wage to earn all that I could, and my excuse for not going with my future husband and his folks on this extended road trip was that I couldn't get off from work. Work was important to them, so this was a good "responsible" adult excuse, although I felt bad for playing that proverbial card as I likely could have gotten off as I wasn't the only summer teen there, just one of many and quite replaceable. Actually the home over-hired for the summer, and only kept who they wanted in the fall. Anyway, I hadn't asked for time off because I was both new there, and I was saving for a car of my own, and to be totally honest, I didn't really want to go either…
I can use my boyfriend's car like it's my own, and I do as he has two motorcycles at this point, a little learner bike that he's kept because the larger one he bought leftover-new is that terrible; it breaks all the time. And the insurance, tires, and gas on the little bike are cheap, and make for cheap transportation to and from work for him when the weather is nice enough. It's not necessarily "cool" to be seen riding a little learner bike once one has his or her full motorcycle license, but my boyfriend obviously does a great many things that most others wouldn't quite think are "cool" either, if they were to somehow find out about them.
It's likely not "cool” to be gifting your girlfriend to another young man for rough-sex playtime, maybe even while you're stripped naked and forced to watch, to get schooled, maybe even while they both playfully humiliate and taunt you. So the precedent for doing and thinking outside of the "normal" box with my boyfriend has already been well established, riding his little motorbike anywhere is just one of many symptoms of this self-imposed humility of his. He gives me his car every chance he has and instead rides his little bike, he's that kind of generous. He therefore doesn't have a huge chest-thumping ego, and he can laugh at himself; two attributes that will serve us well going forward…
Anyway, while it's his car, I almost drive it more than he does in the nice weather, to the extent that I've moved into it and put a little stuffed bear on the rear package shelf. This bear had a big pink heart in front of it, and it was won for me by my boyfriend at an arcade game on the boardwalk, and I've even written "I love you" on that heart with a black sharpie. It might have made more sense if he had written that, but it was my bear, and this is the way it went.
Still, when I looked at that bear, I thought of him, and when he saw it himself in his rearview mirror I hoped he was thinking about me as well. At one time early on I slept in my bed all snuggled up with that bear every night, the symbolism perhaps lost on my folks, but not on my observant little sister. She's several years younger than I and very pretty, like ‘model pretty’; so pretty that she coasts through life. A part of me envies that as I have to work for what I want and need, but I'm also older and trying to work through that. Anyway, she's also at that age where one is positively psychotic at times, but this observation comes from a teen herself back in the day, so take that for what it's worth.
I'm on the pill at that point though, but I've managed to keep that a secret at home too, just like I've tried to keep it a secret that my boyfriend and I are intimate with each other, as they most certainly wouldn't approve. They may suspect that I am but it's definitely a subject that I'm just not bringing up, and thankfully neither are they. I have a little sister who's always watching though, and learning, so doing something in my own house with my boyfriend, even when my folks are out - which is often lately - just isn't going to happen, like ever. It's almost like she's our other chaperone, but impressionable little siblings can be like that, and I wouldn't ever want her to emulate the things I do at my age, while she's still hers.
Looking back on things from today's point of view, all of these factors combined seemed to have smoothed out some of my more wild hormonal "mood" swings - although I'm sure my future husband, and even Ken, might have had a different point of view - although I was still coming to grips with all of this hormonal chemistry myself. Girls really do seem to have it harder than guys with this coming of age stuff, but I suppose the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence too.
So anyway, my sister and I clash more times than not, like sisters often do, but we're still sisters. She has her own independent life and friends though, and I have mine, of which for me are mostly boys, as I prefer them to other girls. Girls are catty and sometimes stab you in the back, but I'm getting to that part…
So, it's my intention to grab a few extra shifts while my boyfriend is away, and I'm going to use his car like it's my own while I do so, keep it at my house even, so I can go to and from work directly between shifts. It's kind of like a visit with full adulthood-like responsibilities, and I'm feeling pretty good about it for just a bit. The weather is going to be magnificent for the next few days, or so the weatherman says, but back then the forecasts weren't quite as good as they are now. Some of the girls I work with would obviously rather call out and go to the beach in light of this, but I've also offered to take as many of their shifts as I think I can handle, so they don't have to call out, I'll simply show up in their place and work their shift for them, clocking in as me.
Going to the beach myself and not working the extra shifts - as I suggested I "had" to do when getting out of going on this road trip - was just something that WOULD actually bother me morally, and I didn't really have anybody I wanted to go with either. Not to mention how to explain away my fresh tan when they got back, as working extra shifts indoors in a knee length nurse's uniform dress didn't make for good all over tanning. I had told both my boyfriend and his folks what I was doing, and even though my motivations were less than pure, I was actually doing it, so someplace in there my conscience was temporarily settled on the matter.
Now there were several supervisors at the senior care home, and this one woman, Marva, just didn't like me. She was just a few years older than I was, mid-twenties at best, and easily a hundred plus pounds overweight. Looking back on it from today's point of view as well, one didn't get that large at such a young age without being a serious sloth, although heavy women generally intimidate me for some reason that I would be hard pressed to rationally explain. Anyway, I don't know what I had ever done to her personally in the short time I was there, but she just had something special and dark in her heart for me.
So, Marva and I apparently have the first of my borrowed shifts together, her and I, and when she sees me she's already pissed off at me, and I've only said hello to her so far; people coming and going as the shifts overlap and all of that. I'm filling in for one of the other girls, and it's her name that's on the schedule, and I'm not her, and this is obviously a problem. I explain that I'm filling in for this other girl, and Marva just harshly tells me what to do, and it's like the work of three girls, or more accurately her work, and what I should be doing myself, all wrapped into one minimum wage eight hour shift. I'll never get it all done, and when I tell her this she snaps at me, and basically fires me like fifteen minutes into my first shift, before the other overlapping girls even leave the building.
I break down and cry once I'm alone in the car; I've never been fired before, and I'm devastated as a result. Sometime later I learned that Marva liked certain girls around her because that meant that she could mostly screw off and not do what she was being paid for, the other girls somehow covering for her. Had the other girl who gave me her shift set me up, stabbed me in the back? Or, did she set Marva up, so she would have to actually do her job without somebody to cover for her?
I didn't know the answer at the time, but I sat in my boyfriend's car and cried in the parking lot for like a half an hour before driving back home. I really needed to talk to my boyfriend, just to have him tell me it was okay. He was the center of my universe, but he wasn't around to console me. My little sister was home though, and she took notice that I wasn't at work like I should be, perhaps my presence cramping her style as my folks weren't home themselves. She did notice my freshly cried face, but other than that her empathy was totally lacking. She hadn't ever had a real job though, only house chores, so how could she relate to being fired from one, especially without just cause?
I needed to talk to somebody, so I called Ken. He had a casual girlfriend again, just a few dates really, but I was trying to distance myself and not to interfere with that. That in itself felt super odd to me, as I had an attraction to him, and our theoretical list of kinky things to try with each other too, but there was just no template back in the day for what is now called a "friends with benefits" kind of relationship, with or without the shared kink. There was just no book in any library one could read on how to do this two guys dating/sex thing, no step by step internet guide to follow either, other than maybe the forum section of playboy magazine. So I went with my heart, knowing that this wasn't good for me emotionally. I just needed to talk with somebody who could relate, sex not even on the radar screen in my present mood. I needed a friend, just to talk with, one who knew what it was like to have and keep a job, and Ken was it.
I'm sure Ken heard the distress in my voice, I needed him. Not for sex though, but just his ear, and maybe a big hug too. I didn't say so - I didn't need to - but I had been there for Ken when he really needed me, and this would be a way he could reciprocate. Friends did that for each other though, made sacrifices, changed plans when necessary, even at the last minute. Ken would be there for me at pretty much any cost, especially when my own boyfriend couldn't be this time. It was a profound and wonderful thing, he had my back, but it would take a bit to sink in.
"I'm going for a bike ride" he tells me, "grab your jacket and helmet and come on over. Oh, bring a change of clothes just in case it rains," he adds. This comes out as back to back orders, but I needed this kind of direction from him, perhaps he even senses this himself over the phone. I also know he has saddlebags on his bike now, and he's even changed the tiny "P" pad rear seat back to the larger factory original. I've ridden on this one too, and while I still feel the Milwaukee Vibrator's unique vibrations up through this larger seat, I don't maybe run the full risk of a repeat embarrassing "orgasmic emission," like on our around the lake ride, back when he had first bought the bike from his uncle.
…At one point to add some humor into Ken's troubled dating situation we had bought him a Barbie doll as the perfect queen to ride on the back of his bike with him. "She never complains, always looks awesome, and he could dress her any way he liked," we suggested playfully. So Ken sometimes used his gifted "Barbie" to tell us he was stag again, bungee cording her to the back of his bike and riding with her like that. It was a great conversation piece when we all stopped for gas; you have to do that often on most motorcycles, with the exception of my boyfriend's little one, as it was very good on gas and had a relatively large and tall fuel tank for such a small machine…
At this point my boyfriend still doesn't know about the "around the lake" incident, nor that I foolishly rubbed Ken off while riding on the back of his new bike, nor that we had a serious make out session as the sun set over the lake. That part was incredibly romantic and I was at odds with myself over it, but Ken and I had been manipulated into that "date" by his otherwise sweet aunt. She had her own motivations, but more on that in just a bit…
This is perfect, I think, there's nothing like going for a ride on a motorcycle to clear your head, well ALMOST nothing. I'm not really "there" at that point though, and Ken and I haven't so much as kissed since the night of that bike ride around the lake, except for our rather tame lost bet date with each other. But, his birthday was coming up too and he would no longer be a teen either, and his "birthday kiss" in light of that might just have to be something a bit more special this year as compared to last. He has a girlfriend now though, so this complicates things just a bit, but I've known him way longer than she has, I've even slept with him. We haven't talked about that very much though, the subject magically taboo, but I also have my boyfriend's implied permission to do still more things with Ken, although that was at best vague and unclear, and given in Ken's pickup truck in more hypothetical lusty terms. The subject obviously excites him, but desperate people will grasp on to almost anything though, although I'm not anywhere near there yet at this point.
I'm not really thinking in sexual terms on this particular day though, this in my mind is just a distracting bike ride with a friend that I very badly need at the moment, nothing more. Ken and I rarely go anywhere alone though, so there is still that. I do as Ken tells me though, I pack up a spare set of dry clothes and double wrap them in plastic shopping bags, just in case we get rained on. I get into my riding attire too, stripping out of my nurse's uniform and shoes first, and it's here where my sister barges into my room without knocking and gives me the evil eye.
"Where are you going so fast?" she asks, like a traffic cop.
"Out for a ride!" I snip back at her, clothes bag and pocketbook in one hand, helmet and jacket in the other. She wasn't the least bit interested in my getting fired like an hour earlier, and her sudden interest in what I'm doing should have me on guard. Last born, or the youngest members of a family are supposed to be the most devious and manipulative, and here my little sister epitomizes that. There is always an element of "how can I profit from this?" with her, it's just who she is, but at this particular moment I'm not really up for it, my tolerance for her head games is at an all-time low.
"With Ken?" she asks with a huge knowing smile.
"So what if I am?" I bark back.
"Just askin’, but you seem really defensive, especially for somebody who's 'just' going for a ride."
"DO NOT SAY A WORD TO ANYBODY! YOU GOT THAT?"
"No worries sis, your secret is safe with me," she tells me with her hands up and open between us, as if she's passively defending herself from attack. But, despite her body language I don't have a lot of confidence in her. She's young, and she might think it's a huge joke to rat me out once I'm not there to give my side of things, causing me problems I don't need just because she can.
"What do you want me to tell them?" she asks.
What is her angle on all this? I ask myself dumbfounded, now she sounds like she's on my side. "Doctor Jekyll and sister Hyde" I've named her in my head, and this fits now too.
"…I wouldn't say anything unless they ask, from your point of view I was never here, and I'm still at work with my boyfriend's car."
"Which one?"
"He only has the one car, but two bikes, you know that."
"Which 'boyfriend', sis? I was actually making a little joke there."
…I just stared at her for several seconds, dumbfounded again. Was it that obvious? Did I not have a secret at all, not from her, not from Sam and his brother, maybe not even from Ken's aunt and uncle? Who doesn't actually know? I should have asked myself, it might just be a shorter list…
"What are you talking about?" I unsuccessfully bluffed.
"Every time you say the name 'Ken' your face lights up and you smile, and your whole body takes on the stance of an excited puppy about to get a treat. You really aren't very good at hiding your feelings, are you?" she asks. It's an honest critique from somebody who's known me her whole life, and therefore a knowing one, but I'm still floored that it came from her lips. She doesn't exactly work at hiding her many conflicting psychotic emotions either, certainly not from me.
When I say nothing for several seconds she continues…"You know, most girls would be happy enough just to find one good guy, and here you seem to have two, although up until recently I assumed you'd be stuck with the first one for life."
"It's not that simple," I tell her, but in doing so I've also confirmed her suspicions, and aired out some of my own self-doubts too. Her tone as well suggests which one she'd pick - "stuck with" not much of a glowing endorsement - but I just can't go there; explain to her my reasoning. In matters of the heart, straight up logic doesn't always work, chemistry also plays into it here too, as does comfort and security, and a million other things as well. One was incredibly fun and satisfying to fool around with - the few times we actually had - and the other would always be there for me unconditionally; although to muddy the proverbial water just a bit more, the dependable one wasn't presently here for me in my hour of need, but the fun one was…
"So, are you going to rat me out?" I ask, leaving it just a bit vague as to what specifically, as I had a lot of culpability here on several different fronts.
"Not today. I've always liked those cork wedge clogs you have though, but they'd never let me get a pair of my own at my age."
…High heels are nice and look good on you for a few hours, but a comfortable pair of broken-in sneakers, or even boots, will take you farther than you can possibly imagine, I think to myself. It's an odd analogy to have suddenly pop into my mind; do I seem sexy with Ken, but comfortable with my boyfriend?
"Consider them yours, but don't get caught wearing them," I tell her. I liked those shoes too, they were about as sexy as I could get away with in my house at my age, but I also thought this was a small price to pay for her silence. She's also stolen them from me before, so this was really almost nothing in exchange for her silence. Why had the little manipulative monster asked for so little? She had me right where she wanted, surely she knew this herself.
"I have to get going, Ken's waiting," I tell her, but it comes out like I'm asking her permission to leave my own room, and I'm the elder sister here, the supposed adult. With my hands full I turn to do so, my point of maximum potential discovery is with that car in my driveway, and me here. Ken is waiting too, and I'm anxious to see him, although "bouncy little-puppy anxious" seems like it's a little over the top to me. I push past her, she's half in my doorway, and I go to leave, but she stops me in the hall between our rooms, calling me by my given name like she almost never does.
"WHAT? I have to get going!" I tell her impatiently as I turn.
"With that attitude; nothing, nothing at all! Have a good time," she tells me with false cheer…
I stay off the main roads all the way to Ken's house, just so that nobody that we know sees me, or my boyfriend's car, as it's supposed to be at work, with me. I catch myself thinking about the exchange between my sister and I, replaying it in my mind. The little witch set the hook, she has me now, she only asked for the shoes to see if the hook was actually set. I'd been fishing enough as a child to know the drill, and so had she; you set the hook deep, and then play the fish in slowly, sometimes toying with it as you exhausted its ability to resist, to fight back. What was her final thought though, the one that she didn't share with me?
My mind is such a jumbled mess that I find myself parked behind Ken's truck in his big driveway without remembering the actual elements of the drive. It's scary, but I didn't run into anything, or anybody, so it's all good I guess. Ken's gleaming bike is waiting in his driveway like a chariot, there to take me away from reality for a few hours I hope, before I have to go back home at the end of what should have been my first shift. I'll tell my folks that I got fired then - it'll probably be like getting fired all over again, tears and all - but only if they're home by then; that part gets to be a long story though, but sufficient to say that there is definite turmoil in my household…
I'm trying to be tough here, and I don't like to cry either, but Ken sees my face and I blurt out that big fat Marva fired me, and I start crying all over again. I don't like to call people mean names, so this is way out of character for me, but she hasn't exactly treated me fairly either. This is not to say that this is the best way for an adult to deal with conflict and disappointment, but it was my honest teenage response; half angry, half hurt, in other words a jumble of passionate emotions all smashing together in my brain. Ken hugs me tight, like with a manly big bear hug as my feet leave the ground, and I hug him back just as tight. I don't think he's ever seen me cry, nor be this upset, and I can tell by his body language that he doesn't like it at all. He's as solid as a rock though, muscle wise, and I feel better even after that one boob crushing hug. It's a very physical hug, and I'm reminded of Ken's physical strength, as if nothing bad can possibly happen to me while in his company. It's very comforting, and I feel my pent up emotions draining out of me like magic.
"It's fine," he tells me soothingly, "let's get out of here though," he then kisses me sweetly on the top of my head like a protective friend, nothing at all like a lover would do, most especially in his own driveway with who knows who watching. I have this odd feeling in my belly, a fleeting feeling at the verge of my comprehension though, I'm going someplace ALONE with big strong Ken, something we don't do very often, and something that also leads to fooling around when we do more times than not. I have my little sister to partially thank for this feeling, for planting the seeds, her suspicious words suggesting I perhaps had other motivations, physical motivations, for seeking Ken's company in my moment of distress.
He's in a hurry to get going, and so am I, so this works out fine for me, but upon reflection I should have been a little more curious about that. Anyway, with my extra clothes and small pocketbook in one saddle bag, and his side already filled and closed, we get out of there, although I don't even know where we're going yet. Anywhere but here suits me fine, I think passively, and the miles drift by as the Harley's unique vibrations make my mind wander. It tickles and teases me, but it doesn't finish the job either. There is something about the raw power of this bike, it doesn't slow down on the hills at all, just the vibrations and the sound coming from the exhaust change slightly. It's a powerful masculine bike, and it seems fitting that Ken should now own it, and that his uncle did before him.
…I've traveled just a few places alone with Ken, and just driving in his truck someplace alone with him, like even when we had our little innocent "date" together, feels kind of hot and naughty. That date had been the result of a bet that my boyfriend had lost, and Ken had provided for his absence by buying him a ticket to a cartoon matinee, even dropping him off there without a ride home while Ken and I went out alone together. Ken and I didn't do anything physical that time, except maybe exchange a friendly kiss, but I don't even remember that part clearly. I still felt like I was getting away with something very wrong back then, even though my boyfriend knew about it; like somebody we both knew might see us together and tell somebody else. Riding on a motorcycle with a man is something much deeper and more intimate than that, you're pressed right up against him, you move with him like a single unit as if you're slowly dancing together. If I so much as sit crooked on the seat the bike wants to turn that way, so balance and submission to the rider's lead is crucial…
We're heading up north; less traffic, and less people too. I have my arms around him tight for a bit, like one long extended hug, and we're also talking back and forth some, bumping our helmets together every now and then when he shifts. We're talking about nothing serious though, Ken is an absolute master at putting me at ease, and as a result I'm mostly just drifting mentally. I'm looking forward, both physically, and metaphorically; what happened back there just doesn't matter any more. Actual sex still isn't on my mind either - despite the Sportster's teasing vibrations - but escape still is; as in do I really have to go back home, like ever? It's not really a terrible home, but I can't wait to move out and start my own life either, I'm looking forward to that as well, to a fun life of my own with my future husband, to be the mistress of my own destiny for a bit; I'm really tired of being thought of as a child…
…If the Sportster has a drawback, it's the bike's relatively small fuel tank, but we've been riding the thing for well over a hundred miles or so by that point. So, it's not necessarily out of fuel, but we'll need some soon, and the gas stations are few and far between up here on the secondary roads, so as a result Ken rides into a familiar gas station to get some. We both get off the bike to stretch, it's a comfortable enough bike with the larger seat on it, but riding on any bike for hours on end will still make you a bit stiff.
"Is this near your cabin?" I ask, just for clarification.
"Yeah, I was just going to do a loop. Unfortunately the house is like a hundred and twenty miles behind us, and the cabin north of here a little more. My first plan was to swing by and check on the place, but we don't really have to if you're not up for it."
"Your first plan?"
"Yeah, but I don't want you to get the wrong idea."
"The wrong idea?" I ask. I'm being dense, and Ken and I are having a sudden disconnect in our words besides, but I place the fault for this squarely on my own shoulders, but what happened this morning really twisted me up. I have no frame of reference for being fired - I actually fear rejection of any kind, being told that I'm not good enough - and I don't have my very understanding boyfriend to sound off to either. Ken's here though as a stand-in, playing a slightly different role for me, but it's like we're speaking two different languages at the moment.
I've also known Ken for years, and I can tell that there is something he's just not telling me. I was perhaps numb to it earlier, selfishly putting my needs above his; not the most mature thing in the world to be brutally honest. He's not the least bit deceptive, and I trust him with my life; I pretty much have to as I've elected to sit on the back of his motorcycle for the last few hours or so, but I feel like there is just something more that he's not sharing.
"Well, I don't want to be a 'jerk' or anything…" he starts off.
"Don't you now?" I quip back with a smile of my own. I finally think I get it, he doesn't want me to think that he's trying to manipulate me into going to his cabin, to take advantage of me, especially when I'm not at my very best. And to be sure I didn't come riding with him thinking it would lead to anything like that either, but I'm here, and so is he, although we don't exactly have the time for something like that either, as with Ken it seems to take hours, as opposed to just seconds, or more charitably minutes with my rushed backseat boyfriend. There are only one or two major things stopping me though, and one's my mood, as I'm still off from this morning, but I'm exponentially better than I was a few hours ago with being in Ken's company.
I obviously have Ken to thank for that, and I know this.
I've been conditioned by my boyfriend though, if I don't want to do something, we just don't do it, like ever! Not that it should ever be any other way - fantasy aside - but he's just super adamant about this. About the most aggressive he ever gets is to beg for it, but this ultimately empowers me, and not him. And his tone sometimes when he's begging… don't even go there. I know he does this playfully, but the tone he hits is anything but adult and masculine, so it's very easy to say no to that. So anyway, my mood, my head, have to be in the right spot for these kinds of things to ordinarily happen with my own boyfriend, and this makes me realize why it's so unique and special that Ken and I got together on that camping trip in the first place, twice even.
I think it's hard enough just to get two people to that spot at the same time, let alone a passively watching third. Ken's a physically fit teen with a high sex drive though, and not getting it very often he's likely physically ready if the wind blows - not to mention well equipped and needy - where things are a bit more complex for me. I think most men are always wanting something, and we're left as the gatekeepers, and in that there is a power. The power to say yes, and the power to say no too. I fantasize about losing that power though, or having another take it away from me by force; how messed up is that?
Ken playfully took that power away from me for a short period of time at my request, and just "WOW!" He's a great guy, and pretty good at playing it rough too, but I've seen his sweet side as well, so "submitting" to Ken and asking for the "Cathy" treatment still feels safe. I maybe want to feel just a bit less safe than this at some point, but how exactly to do that in the real world is obviously a challenge? Doing something sexual against another's will is a crime, but having the appearance of such, without going all the way "there" is just incredibly hot for me, in concept at least. Ken ripping my bikini off of me was just super hot for me too, and it set the tone going forward that second day, rope and all. I don't think I'd want a steady diet of that, I'm sure it would get old and lose its magic at some point, but once in a while as a sinfully sweet dessert-like treat; just magnificent!
…If my own boyfriend were a monster, I'd probably fantasize about a knight in shining armor to take me away and treat me with respect. But since he's not, I fantasize about scoundrels roughly holding me down, stripping and binding me, maybe even hanging me from the rafters by my wrists and taking what they want from me by force, maybe even in mass, like the "boys from Crestmont" had in my fantasy backseat hand job stories…
Perhaps Ken's original plan was even to go to his cabin for a few days to get away all by himself, since I had planned on working all those shifts and my boyfriend was out of town anyway; and I've gone and invited myself along and spoiled his plans. I feel both bad about this, and grateful, as in he obviously cares enough about me to come up with a new plan on the fly, because I had a need. He should be rewarded for this, not punished, and except for my mood, and some sketchy boyfriend-implied permission to continue screwing around with Ken, I'm almost there in my mind. He presently has a girlfriend though, so this complicates things just a bit, although I'd know if the two were on intimate terms, because my boyfriend would likely know.
I'm not married yet either though, I don't even have an engagement ring, but there is still commitment there with him obviously. Somewhere in my unsettled mind I briefly vow to try to not overanalyze what hasn't yet happened, but this going to Ken's cabin alone with him makes me think, and I'm sure it would make others think as well, if they knew about it. My little sister knows that I'm out somewhere with Ken on his motorcycle though, and the old saying that "if two people know a secret, it's no longer a secret," comes to mind.
It would have to be a short visit anyway, I think logically, maybe just to eat lunch and use the bathroom, because we have to get back home by the end of the day so I can spring the bad news about my job to my folks after dinner, although any excuse not to is one I'd like to latch onto in a heartbeat. I'm deeply embarrassed to have been fired - really rejection in any form - such suggests that I'm not good enough, that I myself don't measure up. Riding there and back in a single day is a lot of seat time on the bike with little rest in between for Ken, and a potential nighttime ride with the sportster's little headlamp too, but I've never heard him complain about riding his beloved Harley too much, like ever…
"… but the weather is going to hell on us." Ken eventually finishes his sentence, pointing at what I should be looking at. I had been wearing dark sunglasses to keep the wind and bugs out of my eyes, we both had, but they've given everything a dark tint, and my brain has reinterpreted this to mean everything is fine, which it isn't. But with them off now I can see that the sky is getting angry behind us, and we're on a bike openly exposed to the lightning, and very far from home…
The sky behind us is dark purple, and streaks of lightning can just be seen way off in the distance, the wind even kicking up now too. We hear the rumble of the distant thunder now that the competing rumble of the exhaust on the Sportster has gone silent as Ken fuels up. It's not raining on us yet, but it's going to be soon. So, we have an obvious choice to make: beat feet to the cabin and wait out the storm, or ride a hundred and something miles through a terrible thunderstorm. So, in other words, fate intervenes and suggests a single safe and logical choice for us. We could theoretically ride home through the storm, but neither of us really want to do that if we don't have to, risk vs reward and all of that…
"Cabin" is my one word answer, but I think Ken had to hear me say it out loud for his own conscience. I've made an obvious decision, but fate had a hand in this one too. If the Sportster were a thinking being, I would suspect that it maybe had the agenda of its former owner, just like the very first time we rode on it together. It's also not lost on me that Harleys and the men that ride them do something for me, maybe it's the bad boy stereotypical image, or the thumping exhaust, or the unique vibrations. They call these things Milwaukee vibrators for a reason, no matter what seat you're sitting on.
Anyway, with our gas paid for we mount up and get out of there, beating out the storm all the way to the cabin. Ken parks the bike in the barn and we get ourselves inside, the rain catching up to us and falling hard like fifteen minutes later; we're inside and safe though as the storm builds in intensity, this our temporary and familiar refuge until the storm passes.
"Hungry?" Ken asks, always the practical one. Or, was he looking to add some normalcy to this odd situation that we find ourselves in suddenly? When Ken and I are alone it almost always leads to something sexual happening, with the exception of our lost-bet official date, oddly enough. That one let me see a different side of Ken, without hubby being there to contaminate the interaction, without sex to contaminate it too. The sex vibe just hadn't been there that day to be honest, and even though I didn't want to fall in love with him or anything, I also had to be super careful to not make Ken one dimensional in my mind, as in place him neatly in the playmate only box as I initially intended. Ken was a thinking man with his own goals and dreams, his own life, I just didn't know where I might fit into it, this thing we have going on is not likely sustainable in the long run, despite my wishes.
"Yes, I am, but I should call home so they don't worry about us. You should too" I tell him.
I called first on the wall phone, there were few cell phones back then, nor cell towers that remotely placed either. My little sister picks up on like the second ring, and this is a best case scenario for me, because I know when I tell my folks that I got fired today it will be like getting fired all over again. It's not an awful house, but there is turmoil there, and I just can't wait to get out on my own and live my own life. Anyway, I hear the genuine concern in her voice now, and also that our folks aren't home, although why gets to be a long story. No, we're not out in this, but yes, we're trapped up at Ken's cabin until the storm passes.
She's home alone and according to her the weather people are eating crow, some unknown low or high pressure, something like that, has turned into a major summer storm, and their "one of the best ten days of the summer" has turned into a summer storm from hell. Powerlines down, flash flooding, massive traffic jams as everybody tries to get off the beach at the same time, all the "fun" stuff. I give her the phone number for the cabin in case she needs to reach me, but I tell her that I "might" not make it home tonight, which in teenage verbiage really means I WON'T be home tonight. She's going to cover for me though, and even take my uniform dress off my bed, and hide my white shoes too, which I forgot to do myself, I was so flustered. I thank her, but I also know that I'm running up one hell of a bar tab with her, and she has a great memory for such things.
Ken calls his home next, but the tone I hear from him is totally different, he's just telling them where "he'll" be, not where "we'll" be, so far so good on our deception that apparently only involves he and I, and now of course my little sister too. She's the weakest link here, but I can't exactly help that part. She also might think it's great fun to rat me out once I'm not there to give my side of the story on this bike ride adventure, which seems quite rational and mature to me all things considered. Riding a motorcycle a hundred and fiftyish miles in a raging storm with flooded roads and bolt lighting might not quite be suicide, but it's kind of like Russian roulette and best avoided, even on a bike with very good tires and an experienced rider.
Ken and I are both in friend mode though, not lover mode. That vibe just isn't in the air at the moment, and to me it feels more like I'm one of his buddies that just happens to be a girl; just happens to have girl parts. It's a bit strange and standoffish, but it only gets more curious when Ken pulls a few days worth of easily made canned and boxed food from his side saddle bag. This tells me he either planned on spending several days up here solo, or half that many with a second mouth to feed. Ken has a real job too, so I don't know how many days off he might expect to have during the work week.
"Who was supposed to come up here with you?" I ask rather directly, my day getting much worse suddenly.
Ken might not "volunteer" the truth, but he won't lie to me either. He just smiles a painful smile in response, telling me that ship had sailed, and I'm the one that made it happen.
"I'm so sorry! Do you want me to talk to her?"
"I don't think that's a good idea. I just told her that something came up suddenly and we couldn't go. She doesn't necessarily know I'm out with you, and telling her that can't be good for anybody."
…That means that I shouldn't even tell my boyfriend, although he's not exactly opposed to Ken and I being together, but that usually entails him knowing about it ahead of time; so to be completely honest here there was more than one reason to keep this particular secret. The extended road test around the lake on Ken's new bike kind of blurs that line a bit, although he knew we were together, but not that we had a kind of mutual messy and awkward frottage with each other… really almost a threesome if you count the Sportster. Ken seriously manned up that night though, and I HAD noticed. I didn't one hundred percent like the "ganged up on" humiliation my boyfriend endoured though, but oddly enough that seemed to bother me more than him.
My future husband has also been different since that road test, but ever so slightly so; nothing that you could really call out and question. It's been different too since that camping trip to be honest, but this is "different, different," or maybe more different. We three were firmly in uncharted waters with all this, and I was inclined to chalk-up whatever I perceived as just coming to terms with something few had likely ever attempted successfully.
Anyway, in my teen logic this is suddenly a freebie; we can't tell anybody, so we're in my mind firmly into the "what happens at the cabin stays at the cabin" territory. There is even a very old hand painted plaque over the door to the cabin that kind of paraphrases this mentality; "What happens at hunting camp, stays at hunting camp!"
I also came to the realization that I have a choice here, really from this point forward; do I want to be as miserable as the weather, or do I want to have some fun, and make this wonderful sacrifice that Ken has made into something wonderful for him too? I still obviously have my natural moods to contend with, but as much as I have any control over such things I vow to be as positive as I can honestly be. Attitude is everything after all, a positive one can heal, and a negative one can make you sick if you let it…
"And it's just a few weeks away from your birthday too."
"Thanks for reminding me," he quips back.
"I wanted to get you something special this year, really we both did" I lied, as I hadn't discussed this with my boyfriend at all, nor had I given it serious thought myself. I did want to do something special for Ken this year, but with his current girlfriend in the picture that could get complicated, so I put that on the proverbial back burner. We knew each other, this girl and I, and we even got along, but I wouldn't necessarily call her one of my friends. I had set Ken up with one of my actual friends one single time, and it just didn't work out for either of them after just a few months; very awkward for all of us after the fact too, so a once and done experiment for me…
"Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?" he asks, sounding genuinely intrigued and grateful for the distraction.
I didn't really have anything in mind, I was just making this up as I went along, but I had kind of put Ken in the no-touch box since he started dating this new girl, so my mind wasn't necessarily going in that direction. At the same time my boyfriend had been getting more of my exclusive attention lately, and were I to start up something a little more regular with Ken it would HAVE to eat into my time with my future husband, as did his and my job, up until this morning anyway in my case. He's a giving guy and likes to share, but sharing something on your terms, and sharing them on another's is two different things. We've already blurred these lines to be honest, but finding the proper balance here is difficult. Our fun started out with a dare and an implied offer, but then morphed into some serious one directional taking, although taking with consent, if such a thing actually exists…
…I decided to stall a bit here, asking him what he wanted, as his ultimate birthday gift. Last year we gave him a talking Barbie doll that was on sale, as a gag gift; pull the string and she says; "that sounds like fun," or "let's go" or some other positive phrase. We kind of intended it to be fun, making light of his romantic escapades, nothing at all hurtful; and I'm pretty sure that's the way he took it. He kept it in his room on his bookshelf, or on occasion strapped to his rear motorcycle seat, so he wouldn't have to ride "solo," my boyfriend even swapping me out with Barbie when I wanted to ride with Ken instead…
Anyway, Ken tells me quite seriously that it would be pathetic for him to ask - about his perfect birthday gift - and I hear some real pain there now; he's let his guard down just a bit here with me. We're good friends who've been intimate, so this isn't that odd, but I assume he does this more with my boyfriend than anybody else; or perhaps with nobody else for all I know. I'm reminded of the Cathy incident though, and his sharing that with me, and how badly I could have messed things up if I had been even a little bit judgmental that day. I prefer the powerful and in-charge Ken better to be honest, but this vulnerable version is also real, and therefore really special to my heart. And real people have more than one personality and mode too; and other people have things going on in life that make getting fired from a teen minimum wage job seem insignificant. I expect that he's going to ask for something personal, as in personally rewarding; and to be fair it's not something I'd be opposed to under the right circumstances…
"My aunt is sick, and she might not get better."
Oh, boy! I think, and then I give him a big hug myself, this just isn't what I expected.
…Everything comes into focus for me now, her jamming Ken and I together so aggressively, even my boyfriend's passive "go along to get along" attitude on the whole affair. Selling off the bike, and wanting to sell off the boat too; neither are really all that important when something like this rears its ugly head. Somehow my boyfriend knew, he had to. Maybe he overheard something when they were driving to the restaurant that night, maybe something else tipped him off, but I'm seriously pissed off that he didn't tell me. In a more mature mindset I might have also realized that I didn't share a thing or two with him either from that night, although I easily could have myself; although coming clean on what Ken and I did without it sounding like a confession of guilt would have been a fine line to walk myself…
"So you need a girlfriend to show off to her, so she thinks you'll be okay?" I ask. I don't get it to be honest, but Ken is the favorite, the family bloodline continues with him, and maybe people in that unfortunate place in life think about those kinds of things. Spoiler alert here; she recovers fully, but it takes some time…
…It's a serious moral dilemma, as the "right" thing to do seems to be lying to Ken's aunt and uncle, to pretend that maybe my boyfriend and I aren't together any longer, and Ken and I are. I don't know the timeline on this illness, but I can't exactly ask that part without sounding like a ghoul, although Ken's birthday seems to be HIS deadline. I straight up don't like to lie either, but omission, as in not correcting a logically formed misconception I'm somehow okay with. Twisted teen logic maybe? I didn't tell my boyfriend that anything happened when Ken and I took that motorcycle ride together, and he therefore either assumed that nothing did, or he noticed the difference between Ken and I and also noticed that I didn't want to talk about it. So, this as well might be a version of that, maybe even one that's repeatable here at the cabin with Ken…
"Well?" I prompt, all as Ken just looks at me. He's maybe still in turmoil, but perhaps feeling better to have shared this with somebody who truly cares, although I can't read the exact emotion to be certain.
"I told you it was pathetic."
"It's not that at all, it's sweet and caring, it's putting somebody ahead of yourself, but that's not what I'm getting at here. She's a very sweet and tough woman, and I way think she'll beat this, but I also want to do my part here. If you want to ask me out though, be my steady boyfriend, for a limited time here with certain conditions, I insist you properly ask."
"Seriously, you'd go steady with me? What about him?"
"In a heartbeat Ken, but you can't necessarily replace him, on that we must agree. But maybe we have to bend the rules here for the greater good, like when I'm out with you I'm your steady girlfriend, and when I'm with him I'm his? Heck, we've already done the fun stuff, and we do seem to get up to some mischief when we're together" I remind him, thinking of that odd dinner at the lake and the bike ride too. Ken can be an obvious bad influence on me, but a sexy and fun bad influence.
Anyway, just talking about things like this is also well outside of my teenage verbal comfort zone though, I just prefer for things to kind of organically happen in matters of the flesh. Intricate plans many times lead to intricate disappointment, as all the little puzzle pieces have to fit where you envision in a world with a million variables. I'm to blame for a good part of those variables, as three wrong words can crash the mood cold for me, so talking about the actual physical details of sex is something I avoid, impossibly odd for one who writes about it all the time now though. Again, still another contradiction for one that has used erotic scenario stories to get my boyfriend off when I didn't feel like having real sex with him. But, that was talking about sex, sexy scenarios, without the intention of having actual sex.
These days I'm more excited about the emotional component anyway, the lead up, as the physical details always seem to work themselves out somehow; the parts always seem to fit where nature intended, even the extra large ones. Then again, when you're actually telling the story yourself, you can leave out or gloss over the more awkward moments, as I will admit to doing every now and then myself.
This is also a serious escalation of this game that we're on and off playing, one that we've actually just done physically maybe three times to date, if one were to count both the bike ride around the lake, and our solo real date that had no sex at all, just some very nice conversation and maybe a parting kiss or two. On that one we had dumped my boyfriend off all alone at a cartoon matinee, so there was definite humor that time. He was even a good sport about it, this telling me still again that he liked losing to Ken; even giving me up as the prize, maybe even this very mild form of playful humiliation. I never actually said if Ken and I had done something that day, but I didn't tell him we didn't either, although he also knew me well enough to suspect the truth anyway. Still it was a further tease to let that hang like that for a bit, although the truth of the matter was that he seemed kind of hopeful that we actually had…
"What happens when we're both out with you?" Ken asks logically, his tone leading, telling me he already knew the answer, or thought he did. That's the normal mode for us three when Ken is girlfriendless, I kind of act like I'm with either both boys, or neither, as in no PDA with either one. On the motorcycles I'm the backseat queen that gets lent out as a stand in, or is that sit in girlfriend, kind of analogous to how our sleeping arrangements have gone, although not on the same ride/night, so the analogy falls apart there. Not that we exactly feel pity for Ken with the masterful way he has equated himself physically, but we hurt when he hurts, and nobody wants to see a friend lonely. We three actually love to hang out together, he has some great ideas for fun things to do on a budget, being teens and having little money to burn makes one creative in their entertainment, like a midday XXX movie theater in the next town over…
"Then maybe I'm your girlfriend… He'll be fine with it, I'll explain it all to him, you know he can't get mad at me; hell, if I present it right he might even get off on it, you know what he gets off on."
I am so going to watch his eyes and read his expression like a high stakes poker player when I tell him Ken's aunt is sick, and we therefore need to modify our little sharing game with Ken for a bit, just until things work themselves out… Will he come clean with me then? I wonder. Is this maybe a proper payback for not sharing this with me earlier, or just the first payment?
"Yeah, he actually might," Ken admits, and the new light in his eyes is just wonderful to see. He was there for me, and I'm there for him, again I like how this works between us.
So, ahhh, would you like to be my stand-in steady girlfriend?"
"I like the sound of that, so yes Ken, I'd love to. Could we make this contingent on somebody being okay with it though?"
"Must we?" he asks with an eye roll and smile, but his tone tells me he also thinks this is a good idea. It's a fine line I'm walking here; I've already agreed to go out with Ken, but I'm giving my boyfriend the ability to veto all this. I'm not necessarily asking permission either though; he doesn't own me, but we do have a commitment to each other. I also can't screw up the good thing I have going with him either, but I have to be there for Ken as well; it's truthfully a quagmire that I've wandered into here, but what were my other choices?
We then seal the deal with a peck on the lips, it's still a kiss, but nothing full blown passionate. I should have talked this over with my boyfriend first, I hear my conscience whisper in my ear, but there just wasn't the opportunity, I know this. If my boyfriend had told me this Aunt thing earlier we maybe could have anticipated this eventuality, and made plans for such, but his secret keeping has instead forced me into this awkward position, and I'm a tiny bit irritated about that…
"And you'd be okay with you and I going to visit with them, not hanging all over each other or anything obvious like that, but alone, as in without somebody tagging along?"
"Yeah, I think we'd have to, at least once or twice," and I'm reminded of the trip up north to pick up Ken's motorcycle, and the offer my boyfriend had made during the long drive, it being something almost exactly along these lines. In that hypothetical case though, we might have dropped him off somewhere to solo camp, instead of him being away on a family trip with his folks. This still greatly soothes my conscience, he had offered something kind of like this already, I reasoned in my mind, Ken and I just accepted that offer in a way he hadn't anticipated. Nor had I to be honest, up until a few minutes ago…
"But, to be clear, what were your original plans up here with you know who?" I ask softly in his ear. I'm still physically invading his personal space from our kiss and literally hanging half on his neck, pulling him towards me. I had an ulterior motive in all this, yes I was warming up to he and I being alone up here, in fact I was starting to feel all housewife-y, but I also wanted to distract him from what's on his mind, just like he did for me a few hours earlier.
"I was going to see if I could talk her into fooling around some, but not like a perv or anything like that, just showing her around the cabin and seeing how she reacted. I thought I'd show her the master bedroom and see if she wanted to… you know, take a nap or something; if she seemed receptive."
"A nap? Oh, that's so smooth Ken," I chuckle sarcastically. There is just something out of place with a young man like Ken talking about taking "naps" with another girl. He'd likely be seeking an innocent form of permission like that though, understandable with the whole Cathy incident and all, but a million miles away from binding me up with rope and making me choke on his rather large guy parts in a tent, or even just ripping off my old threadbare bikini to get to the proverbial good parts. It just sounds so awkward, where his banter with me just flows more naturally, even our first serious kiss with my boyfriend looking on was just so wonderful and natural too.
I once again realize that Ken needs a special kind of woman to feel comfortable around, so that he can be his unguarded rather fun self. He's not a brute or anything, but a soft woman would be steamrolled by his dominant personality. His aunt would pick right up on this with any other girl, she's quite special and perceptive herself. This kind of tells me that this has to be something that I specifically need to do, just so long as my boyfriend doesn't have a cow or anything when I tell him what I've decided…
"So to be clear, no rope, no boat found restraints or anything like that?" I ask with a leading smile. I'm not mocking him in the least, I'm just finding the humor in all this, the humor in kinky Ken looking to take an innocent "nap" with anybody, once he has her all alone at this remote cabin.
"Nooooo! I way don't think she'd be into that kind of stuff, and up here so far from home I didn't think that would come off right either; kind of creepy to start off like that."
"Too bad that is!" I opine softly with an inviting smile, all while staring into his handsome eyes, my tone telling Ken a great many things I think. Ever since Ken had told me about that found kink bag, the one that was on his uncle's boat, I've caught myself thinking about it often, in my mind it's kind of like our handcuffs, purposeful made things to restrain another, make them helpless. Rope and other things - like bootlaces turned into my boyfriend's cock leash once - are great for such things, but also made for other "legitimate" purposes, so they can hide in plain sight. Our handcuffs, my truck-stop-bought toy, and obviously Ken's found toys, have but a single kinky purpose and need to be kept hidden, and there is just something special about that for me. It's hard to explain, but it's a real feeling all the same, designed for a purpose, used for that purpose; and even just handling them gets me excited and reminds me of that kinky purpose. I could hold up an old bootlace and you'd maybe think all sorts of things, most of them anything but sexual, but hold up a pair of handcuffs and the suggestion that somebody is about to have some serious fun is all but guaranteed… or maybe perhaps arrested.
We then establish that we'd like some lunch; we have safe shelter from the storm, and food is the next logical thing on the list for survival. I volunteer to cook it while shoeing Ken off to the shower, telling him he smells like road dirt and gasoline. I'll admit to having an ulterior motive here, but to be sure my heart is in the proper place with it. He's obviously getting the shower first this time, but it's his shower that I've offered up, although with that ulterior motive to be sure. I'd like him to be clean, relaxed, and comfortable, and wearing just a bit less too. I'm trying to incrementally get myself further into the mood - struggling ever so slightly mentally with that to be honest - and Ken wearing just a bit less for me will likely help.
I cooked the mac and cheese, but for the first time ever with powdered milk, which Ken also brought with him. There are some canned vegetables, and some other things too, as well as some emergency food already in the metal cabinets, like spaghetti sauce and pasta, but stored in a way that the little critters can't get into it. Ken had turned the power back on and closed the fridge almost reflexively when we first got there, but there just wasn't a good way to carry meat or milk up there on a motorcycle in the summertime that wouldn't have it spoiling. Things like coolers don't fit in the relatively small saddle bags, and this as well would have been inconsistent with our first plan of just riding by, or even just riding. He likely had packed these things as "just in case" things, in case his former girlfriend had wanted to actually stay for the entire night, in case he were to get that kind of lucky with her. I of course had screwed that up for him, so to say that I felt guilty for that, bearing in mind the exact reason he had such a noble deadline on a steady girlfriend of his own anyway, would be an understatement.
Cooking lunch for just he and I was impossibly surreal, and it had me feeling very housewife-y, although I'm sure I've made him some kind of lunch before, but with you-know-who also in attendance. This had a completely different vibe though, it's pouring like mad outside, and we're all alone up here, but the chance of somebody dropping by and catching us together kind of nags at me a bit, even in this terrible weather, which is admittedly extremely unlikely. It has to be a guilt inspired feeling, even though we haven't done anything to feel very guilty about yet.
Ken comes out of the shower wearing his towel like a monochromatic kilt, and hairy legs, guy package bulge, and all the look is pure masculine. I've seen my boyfriend wear almost this exact getup while running from his family shower to his bedroom at home to get dressed, and on him - post camping trip - the look says "skirt" to me. Maybe it's his nice legs and thin build, or his nearly hairless body, or the fact that I'd seen him looking much less than masculine on that camping trip, but my perception here is a real thing all the same.
I share my "surprise visitors" fear with Ken, keeping the less than masculine appearing thoughts about my future husband to myself. I've accidentally looked Ken up and down in his single garment, or more accurately I've accidentally been caught. I smile sheepishly while biting the inside of my lower lip, Ken smiles in return; he knows that I like what I see, he can see that plainly in my eyes. I've therefore successfully diverted his thoughts with other thoughts, so this is a good thing, but I'm struggling to get all the way there with him.
He then tells me that they have a calendar setup in their kitchen, meaning his aunt's kitchen, and on it the cabin - their cabin that we actually consider Ken's - is blocked out for the whole month of his birthday. So nobody is coming up here to check on it, and lately with all their health things going on, they've been kind of busy anyway.
It's a great system, and truth be told Ken might have mentioned the calendar system thing to me already, but not needing to know the details I likely didn't give it a second thought. I do now, but I have a personal reason to. Anyway, I feel myself relaxing into this unique situation just a bit more; getting caught obviously on my mind just a little more than I thought. This as well was inconsistent with offering myself as Ken's pretend steady girlfriend, at least for his aunt and uncle's consumption, as one could easily argue that they coming up here and catching us alone and together would check all the boxes for almost everybody.
I'd be a little more awkwardly out in the open with this act of mine while apparently dating Ken, but the fact that my boyfriend and I don't exactly hang all over each other kind of works in our favor here. People who first meet my future husband and I together sometimes mistake us for brother and sister, we're that kind of close, but also in another way yuck! This I think is just a natural reaction to two people who match and compliment each other so well, and who don't hang all over each other; easily mistaking our familiarity and closeness with a biological family connection; another kind of love.
Anyway, I've gone as far as I will though, the door is obviously open, but if Ken wants in, all he has to do is get in. I can't do this for him, nor should I have to, as I well know that Ken is perfectly capable of manning up when the need arises. I know he has a lot going on in life lately - some of it even my fault - but so do I. My future husband, for the few real faults that he actually has, had the courage to pursue me romantically, bridging that friend zone for something greater. I probably don't really appreciate the courage it takes a young man to ask for a date, or even that first kiss, or even what eventually comes next. If I fear rejection myself, isn't it likely that they do too? To also be perfectly fair, I didn't make it all that hard for my boyfriend to ask me out on a proper car date that first time, because I was as interested in him as he was apparently in me. Then of course we had that infamous "no means no" talk, and as a result I felt very, very safe to try all sorts of fun new things with him…
Anyway, those were our more normal innocent times, but we're well past that now, Ken, my other, temporary, steady boyfriend, about to maybe see what he could get away with, and I about to let him. All to maybe build his confidence, or because it's fun, or because I can, maybe even just to consummate this new relationship that Ken and I now have… He just has to ask and pursue me, for my own conscience, and also because in the very back of my mind I still fear ejection. Ask and it's yours, I think to myself, or just take it without asking, or just give me the fricken eye or something; I can't possibly make this any easier. It should be painfully obvious that I'm not Cathey either…
Lunch was good enough, but to be fair mac and cheese isn't exactly a culinary delight, just warm comfort food on a miserable day with some equally miserable news. I feel very housewife-y all alone and cooking for Ken up here though, almost getting a feel for being out on my own, with or without my future husband. His home is comfortable and secure, and mine not so much, so of the two of us one might need to find her own place a bit ahead of the other. These are my heartfelt desires though, not exactly rooted in reality for a teen with no job, and even no car of my own at the moment.
…Maybe wanting things this badly gives us the drive to achieve them, and the ability to appreciate them when we get them too…
Anyway, I start to clean up from lunch and ask over my shoulder what Ken has in mind for the rest of the day. This is about as direct as I can be for my own self preservation though. Ken then comes up behind me at the sink and grinds into me, I feel his excitement through my jeans as he hugs me possessively from behind; he thanks me and then offers to do cleanup if I want to get into the shower myself. I tell him with a smile that I'll need something to wear, and I get a frowny face of disappointment from over my shoulder in return, but fully naked in the full light of even a stormy day is something that makes me body-conscious. If it was my own bedroom with the door closed it would be one thing, but the clothes I would need would be only a few steps away in that environment too. I'll need comfort and security for what may come next, if I'm to get where I need to be and really let go.
At this point in life - I was still a teen with plenty of insecurity - getting stripped and dumped off somewhere is just a back of my mind hot fantasy… for myself. It's well outside of my comfort zone, which is why it's a taboo and hot fantasy, something I'd need to be "made" to do, maybe against my will, at least within the confines of this odd relationship and game we have going on. It's obviously what we did to my boyfriend once already during the camping trip, and I'm envious of that to be honest. He got off on the experience, the adventure of all of it, even knowing that Ken was keeping me well entertained while he was preoccupied with finding his way back to the campsite without getting caught. I think that was a rather big thrill for him to be honest, panties and all, at least judging by our conversations after the fact. He could have easily said "never again" when we were alone and I would have respected that, but he really didn't…
Anyway, Ken then reluctantly tells me to look in his uncle's dresser, which I head off to do. I don't mind cleaning up either, but Ken is likely trying to get me out of my clothes and hot shower relaxed, like after our messy-ending motorcycle ride the last time. I was very loose and candid then, and he's likely trying to recreate that mood for me, or so I suspect, from today's point of view.
I find a polaroid instamatic camera in the top drawer and I take it out, wondering what on earth it might have been used for. My mind playfully ponders some home made porn pictures, but it's much more likely that this is for that trophy buck, or perhaps some huge fish to be thrown back for another day. Anyway, I leave it out on top of the dresser to more easily look for a tee shirt or something to wear, but finding nothing appropriate I then go to the closet and find a hanging huge flannel shirt long enough to be a makeshift dress. It smells ever so slightly like Ken's uncle despite it likely being laundered before being hung, but this is actually his place, so the manly scent just reminds me of reality. Anyway, the bed is bare, but the linens are in the hope chest at the foot of the bed, so I made that too. This is perhaps suggestive on my part, but also housewife-y and practical.
There is nothing like a hot shower, although this reminds me of the jungle-like condition of my nether regions, but I hadn't planned on anybody seeing that besides me anyway. My boyfriend mock chokes on stray hairs when down there and busy, and to say that's a mood killer would be an understatement. I trim for a bathing suit just like anybody else, or a special car date even, but this thing that Ken and I just kind of drifted into is neither. I have no razor or scissors with me, because again I didn't think we'd end up here, but it is what it is. There are even two new toothbrushes still in the package and some toothpaste right there on the sink, evidence of Ken's forward thinking overnight plans with his former girlfriend that I ruined to be sure.
Once showered I open one up and brush, my clean body and fresh breath feeling just wonderful. Ken does the same once I'm out and there is definitely a heavy feeling of "showtime" in the cabin. Here we are, just he and I, with at least a half day to kill, and maybe a good part of tomorrow as well if it keeps raining. It's not really spontaneous though, and things for me just aren't clicking into place like I'd maybe like.
If this were my future husband it might feel so much different, but I wouldn't be feeling that "need to perform" feeling either. He and I might fool around if we felt like it, if I felt like it, but we might just have a tickle or pillow fight instead. This feeling just flows so naturally with my boyfriend, where here it's not quite forced, but leaning in that direction. I like ‘forced’ as a concept though, but do I really like it?
A kiss, and then another, and soon like a master Ken has me going though, he's leading, and I'm following; we've established that once again and nothing else matters, everything is approaching proper alignment. It's that single focus lust that I crave, that "I want to feel you inside me" just about as badly as a breath of air after a deep dive at the pool. Yes I could stop this, but I don't want to, so I let the feeling roll over me, passively letting Ken have his way with me. He deserves this at the very least, but again this is also what I want now as well. To be perfectly fair this making love thing in this environment would be very nice for any two people falling in love with each other, or perhaps already in love and consummating that relationship, but this is also just supposed to be sex for us, nothing deeper. Such was obviously a foolish position to take, as it's rarely just sex if two people care about each other…
I'm soon wrestled onto my back in the center of the bed and Ken is overtop of me, his towel wrap is gone and he's holding my offered wrists pinned to the bed. We're making out passionately, eating face, but Ken is after something else, and he drifts down lower and pulls the first button apart on my borrowed shirt with his teeth. He even shakes his head back and forth like a dog while doing so and I marvel at the animalistic nature of the act. His hands are busy mock holding my wrists down though, so this is his only option, but truthfully I like the struggle-for-escape feeling this provides. It's close to a fantasy or two for me, not quite the boys from Crestmount as it's just Ken, but we're leaning in that general mock "against my will" direction. Every button he successfully undoes bumps up my internal thermostat another notch, and when he gets to the bottom he gives me a kiss right on my furry mound without comment. We're not really talking at this point though, just the non-verbal heavy sounds of two passion filled people going at it. There is a storm raging outside, and one inside too…
Again like an animal he grabs the tails of my borrowed shirt and flings it all the way open with his teeth, and then kisses his way up my body to my chest, devouring one, and then the other boob noisily as I squeal in encouragement. Tongue, nipple, teeth, suck, repeat; this is just magnificent, and we're not even into the main act yet! Then it really hits me, this is still another first that Ken will get ahead of my boyfriend; making love, fooling around, whatever you want to call it… on an actual bed. This is way better than the back seat of a car, or even a tent, and the comfort that I now feel reflects in my hungry sexual attitude. This is the way adults make love, comfortably, passionately, without potential mood crashing distractions… or so my teen mind assumes.
He gets tired of holding my wrists down and abandons them for a more hands on approach with my boobs, but I grab the bars of the headboard instead, as if I'm tied to them. That would be awesome too, but so is this. Ken is into my boobs in a serious way as his prior girlfriends weren't quite so well endowed as I am, or so I assume by his enthusiasm. Two hands on each alternatively and some serious kneading and nursing, followed by an MMMM sound, telling me he's getting something for his efforts, milking me I suppose, even though I didn't know that was physically possible. It feels magnificent whatever it is, like this is what my body was made for. He then tongue kisses me deeply, as if to say "here's what you taste like," and I do taste something unique besides toothpaste and Ken.
I tell him I taste something, and he then goads me into trying it for myself; so as amped up on lust as I am I bend my neck and take a taste of my own nipple that Ken has offered me. He's moved it within reach for me, making it about impossible for me to say no… and I was curious besides. That being said I think I shocked him with my anything-but good girl actions, nursing on my own nipple. There is definitely something there, Ken teaching me something else about my own body still again. This proves to be far too much stimulation, but for Ken though - who's erect man parts have been grinding and poking my upper thigh the whole time - and he very suddenly pops off and creams all over my leg and stomach, some of it even pooling in my belly button. I feel a little short changed to be honest, but it was still a very hot episode… while it lasted…
…I contain his mess with my hands to prevent making a mess on the fresh linens as he jumps up and retrieves his discarded damp towel, I take a single taste with my finger before he mops me up in a gentlemanly manner with a disappointed look on his face, as if to say, "sorry about that." He could have insead fed me that entire mess off his fingers and I would have eaten it for him; I was that amped up, but then I had to wonder if Ken didn't like to touch his own spent seed any more than my future husband did. In Ken's world, hot stud guys probably aren't supposed to have accidents like that, but I just think that this makes him real and genuine, and a man that I can excite on that level too.
I had a couple of teaser mini-orgasms while he was molesting my boobs, but this is well short of anything we'd done together previously. It's a natural break in the action though, and I see his eyes go towards the polaroid on the dresser, and then back towards me. There are a hundred good reasons to tell him no but I don't voice any of them, my emotions just a jumbled mess and I really don't want to let him know how short changed I feel by his early release. At least his mess is on me and not in me, so there is that.
"I don't even know if there is any film in it" he tells me with a smile, but I don't know that I believe him. I don't stop him either though, and I don't know why as I don't think this is my best ever look. I take my borrowed shirt all the way off by way of cooperation anyway, tossing it on the mattress next to me as I pose up with my arms in the headboard once again as if I'm tied to it, one knee slightly bent. I actually prefer wearing something rather than being completely naked, at least when I'm feeling self conscious, so this is a sign to myself that I'm suddenly good with this on some level, or perhaps just still sexually needy and open to suggestion. This is a far more artsy pose rather than something from some serious and nasty porn magazine, and my untamed and very full bush is hiding the actual details of my disappointed girl parts anyway, so this is really almost a topless photo on my back, on Ken's uncle's bed in his cabin though. The location will be obvious to anybody who's been there before, if any background details are included, but not necessarily the photographer.
Anyway Ken moves around with the camera like a professional photographer, trying to get the perfect angle and light, which for him is on my raised knee side so as not to show too much of me. To answer the next obvious question, yes the camera had one shot left in it - we were both perhaps surprised by the flash and the little motor coming to life to spit out the developing picture - and the image captured was both provocative, and curious. I had a very complex expression on my teenage face, and I know this because I have possession of that picture to this very day. Ken had it for a time himself, and then it was accidentally discovered, but that's a different story…
Anyway, I look like a slightly pale teen without makeup and damp hair, so nothing like an airbrushed playboy model doing a properly lit photoshoot, but instead very real. I didn't know that I even liked that picture myself, but Ken thinks it's awesome, and he shows me it proudly after it develops. This is also a further intermission, a break in the sexy action, and seeing how things are now going Ken retrieves his hidden bondage bag that he found on his uncle's boat. I've been curious about these things ever since I heard about them, and in the bag are several strips of black leather with slots along their length, and a D ring sewn in near one end. There are some snap hooks, small brass padlocks, and even some short lengths of light chain in the bag as well, the bag looking like an old time doctor's bag from a time when they actually made house calls. This has the look of a kit of some kind, like a deluxe bondage starter kit or something. The thought makes me smile, it feels fun and playful, not the least bit sinister, although I'm sure it could be used for the latter as well.
"So, you had no intentions of using these with anybody else?" I ask suspiciously, but with a smile too.
"I can't exactly leave them in my room at home now; can I?" Ken replies.
"No, I suppose not" I tell him, wondering if his folks snoop in his room looking for drugs too, but my tone is also telling him that these objects are special and interesting to me. I feel my face redden and my breathing get a little short as I handle them, wondering what it would be like to just wear them, or better yet be bound up with them. There is just something about these things; they're purpose made to restrain another, willing, or otherwise. I know I've mentioned this before, but I keep coming back to that in my mind.
There are a bunch of cuffs in the bag, maybe 18" long each - some double D ring row and wide, some single - and I wonder why so many. Were they on sale or something, were they intended for more than one "victim" at a time, a bondage themed boat party maybe, playful slave charity auctions perhaps? The kinky possibilities are endless, but their very existence confirmed that my interests in being bound up aren't exactly unique…
Ken is sitting on the side of the bed by my hips, looking back and forth at both my face and the leather cuffs and talking to me like a fellow human with some complementary interests, not necessarily staring at my boobs that he just got done molesting, and "talking" to them instead. Older guys, middle aged men, do this sometimes, and it makes me feel like a piece of meat - or creeped out, depending on the guy - and that's even while I'm dressed innocent-teen conservatively. Anyway, I'm still needing something sexual, but I've been here before, we all have, and to dwell on that can't be good for Ken. Anyway, I offer my right ankle to Ken to try out one of the cuffs there first. He's able to wrap the somewhat stiff leather twice around it and still get a snap hook into the D ring part, and then he ever so slightly tugs on the snap to test its resolve.
Just WOW! The feeling of both the wide leather cuff just being put on by Ken's hands, and then his tugging on my ankle is just intense, as is the leather smell from inside the bag that I to this day associate in my mind with kinky fun, or maybe new boots. This thing is fairly stiff like a new and thick belt, not anything like a worn in and comfortable one, so in my mind lightly used, or perhaps unused. Such a waste I think to myself, but then I wonder about the hidden story behind them. Did somebody buy these expecting to use them with a partner, only to be shut down cold when it was suggested? Did somebody buy these with darker intent maybe, even though real handcuffs are far easier to use, by design?
This causes my mind to wander back towards the boys from Crestmount fantasy that I've shared with my future husband, the one I've used to pop him off when I don't want actual car sex… but I still want to take care of his needs. The weather is still stormy and terrible outside, but it's nice and dry in here, and I sit up now and offer my other ankle to Ken and wonder how I could possibly make this present reality and that particular fantasy of mine align, without telling him directly how I pop my other guy off in his backseat with tales of forced-to-watch abductions and other dark-fun stuff.
…From a today's point of view I realize that it's at least possible that it was I and these erotic stories of against my will fantasies that conditioned my present husband to also fantasize about me being taken against my will, maybe even while he was forced to watch; the ultimate submission and horror for most guys I'm sure, girls too for that matter. They made horror movies based around such subjects though, so these desires weren't exactly unheard of. I don't want to share the boys from Crestmount fantasy with Ken if I don't have to, although one could easily make an argument for us three already sharing so much that was way more personal.
Ken then takes a carabiner out of the bag and hooks my left ankle's D ring to the right, all as I passively watch him. He gives it and my ankles a playful shake to test their firmness, and then he picks up a little, upsetting my balance and flopping me onto my back as my arms are pulled from holding me up. I burst out laughing, and Ken laughs too at my exaggerated motions as I flail my arms about like a turtle on its back; nothing at all telling him to slow down or stop. He's demonstrating his strength, his dominant physical control over me, but also his humor. This is sexy and fun, but mostly fun, it's a game, a shared exploration, nothing the slightest bit threatening here at all. I could easily reach down, or even bring my ankles to my arms while on my back and "escape" the simple carabiner, or even tell him no, but I don't want to. I'm simply loving even this level of real restraint and playing along, even just on my ankles, and it's not that I want out, it's that I want more…
I have since learned that not all carabiners are the same, and these in this bag must have been some special ones, maybe even for actual climbing, because they had a threaded barrel portion that twisted and locked them closed, so that it took a few fingers to both release the barrel, and pull it down at the same time. Anyway, Ken does my wrists next, offering one, and then the other, and the leather strap cuffs are likewise closed with a carabiner on each, this time in similar fashion as my ankles, although not attached to each other and with a slightly longer tail section. I don't necessarily have skinny wrists for a girl, but my ankles are still bigger.
Ken's experimenting with me like probably no other girl would ever let him, but I'm also into this myself, and I'm not resisting in the least as I'm caught up in the newness of this adventure myself; we're just so on the same page here with each other, or so I think. I could easily imagine being four-corner restrained to this bed with these things, almost like a hospital bed that I have the ever-so-slightest experience with. We actually had a few beds with restraint systems on them at the home I briefly worked at, but I had never seen them used, and that wouldn't have been the least bit sexy if I had. The concept obviously yes, but just not in that environment, with those particular people…
Anyway, the boys from Crestmount grabbing me off the street, taking me to their farm, and roughly stripping me bare and hanging me from the rafters of their barn by my wrists with heavy rope, now that was sexy, and we even had a barn on site with lots of beams, and I'm certain some rope too. But that would necessitate going out in the cold rain to get there, and muddy bare feet as well, plus it would be cold, damp, and drafty in there too I'm sure. The cabin is warm enough, but should it get cold Ken could always build a fire, so comfort-wise I'd like to stay in here, but maybe next time something outside in the yard, or even in the barn could be fun too, weather permitting.
This wasn't even done and I was already thinking "next time" so this was a good sign I think…
"Let's play the truth game" Ken offers out of the blue. I ask what that is, wondering if it's a version of truth or dare that I obviously already know. This is another intermission, or perhaps a continuation of the first one maybe. He was getting me very "there" a second time with the leather cuffs, but then stopped short right before things got good, despite my obvious lusty cooperation.
"I tell you a truth, no judgments, and then you do the same."
"Deal" I tell him, anything to get this damn thing rolling again, I think, as I'm truthfully only thinking with half my brain at the moment.
"Okay, in the tent," he tells me breathlessly as he pulls in close, lowering his voice even though we're all alone up here; "when you let me tie you up, and then rip your old bikini off; that was simply the hottest thing any girl has ever let me do to her. And what we did after that, just wow! I maybe felt a little guilty right afterwards, like I took serious advantage of you, but it didn't seem that way for you at all."
"Okay, that was extremely hot for me too, and if I wanted you to I could have told you to stop a bunch of times."
"Is that your truth?"
"No…" And I realize that this is another once in a lifetime opportunity, maybe one that does something good for both of us. I would like to try this strung-up thing for real, but safely, if that makes any sense. Deep, deep down I probably don't really want "safe" at all, but the rational part of my mind wins out here, and I'm not so naïve - even as a teen - to not know that bad things happen in the real world either. I might or might not even like it, but I don't see my sweet boyfriend ever doing this for/to me either, so that leaves either trustworthy Ken, or some complete stranger, with a stranger's ultimate goals achieved, and not necessarily my own…
"You can't ever share this with anybody," I caution, he knows the "anybody" I'm referring to.
"I can keep a secret," Ken assures me, and I see the hungry anticipation in his expression. He's going to learn a girl-secret, not every girl's secret to be sure, but this is sharing on a very personal level, and if he reacts badly, laughs at me, it could crush me. I also realize how well Ken can keep secrets, as he had many opportunities to rat me out on a few different things, and he apparently hadn't to date. Some of that might be the faux jerk thing, the "I have a secret" attitude he's projecting, one that he won't even share with his best buddy as a kind of friendly power trip, a manly one-up on him.
I go on to tell him of my fantasy of getting grabbed off the street somewhere - leaving out the boys from Crestmont specifically - and getting roughly stripped and strung up from the rafters of their barn. I'm clear that there is more than one of them, and that they pretty much do anything that they'd like to me, all as I scream, struggle, and thrash about. My fantasy is the getting abducted and stripped and strung up part; the raw helplessness and struggling part. It's not necessarily the "what comes next" part, because if I'm self entertaining to this day dream fantasy - or even bringing my future husband off with it - I don't usually get all that far until the mission is achieved. I also tell him quite truthfully that I've even practiced hanging from the monkey bars at the local park, just to see how long I could, to build up my stamina. I tell him that I can also hang inverted from my knees for a while too if I lock my ankles into the bars.
Oh the loss of control fantasies I've had while doing that, shirt half falling off, hair hanging down, all as I perhaps look like an overgrown kid playing on kid toys, if of course I were ever foolish enough to do this when somebody else was around. I've hung from low tree branches like that too, because I climbed trees like any other kid back when I was one myself, and the outside in the woods hanging from my wrists feeling was also very hot for me, even fully clothed.
High School gym class, and hanging from the rings - attached with heavy ropes and pulleys high overhead to the building's roof structure - and even doing the simple things that I could do on them was almost too much for me. The coaches spotting me were rather impressed that I could do that much - "for a girl" - they didn't say, at least out loud. Hanging like that in the middle of a large gymnasium, with maybe fifty plus people watching, adult coaches of both genders too, it felt almost like the slave auctions, and me on display as the next up for bid. Did anybody there know what I had going on in my mind; did my boyfriend when I nearly attacked him on a detour on the way home from school that day?
Now of course "anything" from a today point of view, and in this present day and age, means something quite a bit different than it did back then between Ken and I in that cabin, as in nothing with my butt, or any real pain, but the concept of hanging "forced" adult activities was still there, at least for me. I didn't have the depth of experience, nor apparently did Ken, to conceptualize paddling me or taking a belt or a whip to me once strung up and helpless, it just didn't occur, and if it did it almost certainly wouldn't have been sexy back in the day. Now of course from today's point of view it almost seems like a missed opportunity, but that's just the way all this worked out.
Ripping my bikini off of me was an element of this same loss of control fantasy, as was being bound up in the tent with Ken's rope, even helplessly stringing my boyfriend up with the thin rope and handcuffs while I watched was kind of an element. Earlier when I stripped and four-corner-tied my boyfriend between the little trees, right before he formally lost his late night bet with us, that was again something I'd really like to have done to myself, just not necessarily by him, as odd as that sounds. These were all pieces of the crazy puzzle in my head, little elements that I'd love for the right man to put all together for me in one outrageous lusty experience; complete the proverbial picture for me to see if I really liked it.
What if I did? I asked myself seriously. What if "tie me up, and then be as rough and creative as you can dream up" was what I really needed to make my life enjoyable and complete; and what if this present boyfriend just can't do that, either because he can't, or because I can't bring myself to ask him? What if my boyfriend was the perfect one for me, "except" for that; and what if Ken was because of it? Does one try to build an entire life around some extraordinary complimentary sexual exploits, or does one try to build the sex part of the relationship with the one who already knows your soul, the one who would do literally anything for you, jump into the pounding surf to pull you out just after you've had a nonsense argument, all while being only an adequate swimmer himself?
Deep questions for a teenager to be sure, but best pondered another day…
Ken was safe, but elements of this fantasy by design weren't. Several things could easily go wrong by accident, not to mention nefarious intent if the wrong sort got involved. Bound up and helpless could easily lead to bound up and abducted for-real, taken away to who-knows-where and really put through my paces, all while protective Ken was maybe somehow distracted, or incapacitated. And then, maybe when they and their friends finally had their fill of me - or I my "fill" of them - maybe even sold off to the highest bidder as an unregistered cargo ship passenger/entertainer, maybe to be sold off again at their next port of call in another country, or thrown off into the sea some ways out. Super hot peril fantasies to be sure, great to get oneself off with, but nothing anybody rational wants to experience in the real world…
Anyway, I see the wheels turning in Ken's head, he's thinking about this, how to make it happen for me, and truthfully, maybe for him too, although his interest in actual sex with me is apparently nil at the moment. This is also playing with his found cuffs like pretty much no other girl he's even known will likely let him, so this is still maybe a golden opportunity for both of us, a "now or never moment."
"Tell me if I do something you don't like; okay?"
"Fair enough," I tell him, safe words not a thing we'd ever heard of before, their need unheard of between us even with the level of play we've had so far. In all fairness with my level of frustration and wearing these cuffs, if Ken wasn't right here with me I'd probably want to rub myself off to take the edge off; I was that kind of charged up and needy. Ken is on a mission now though, he peels out of the bedroom we briefly shared and I hear him jumping into some clothes and off he goes out the front door into the storm. This would be an awesome fantasy element if I were his prisoner up here maybe, stripped naked and cuffed to the bed, just waiting for his return, maybe even with some friends in tow, so it could be a real party. That's another fantasy for me; I'm the center of attention and all the related festivities at an adults only party, used for mindless physical pleasure as a thing to get off with, not for love…
Anyway, it's not like he's going anywhere in the rain on the bike or anything, probably just out to the barn to get something, but then I wonder about the being chained to the bed thing, it would have been super hot if he had actually done that himself, I think. And even more so if he up and abandoned me here like that, chained to the bed and available for whoever came up here and discovered me first, what a picture THAT would make! I have a "somebody" in the very back of my mind, both a best case, and a worst case scenario, but I truly have to keep that one to myself…
Anyway, I could obviously unclip my ankles and go check on Ken - or even just look out the windows - but the naughty playful part of my mind doesn't want to undo what Ken has just done for me. So, I come up with a better option, and I reach up through the bars of the bed once again, but this time I attach the carabineer of my left wrist to my right, fumbling with and successfully attaching the one cuff to the other. It's a magnificent feeling being tethered to something unmoving like this, and a part of me perhaps understands a tiny bit of what my boyfriend gets from the experience. Now in my case, self-escape under these particular circumstances would be relatively easy, but tying myself to something like this - or even just tying or cuffing myself in general - is a kink that I haven't really fully explored. These are of course thoughts best saved for another day and a bit more privacy, as my kinky mind could dream up endless scenarios of peril, ones that I might indulge in a bit of alone-time self-bondage to achieve even.
I eventually hear Ken come back in, and I playfully call out "WHO'S THERE?"
He doesn't immediately answer, and I get a certain feeling in my belly, and a bit lower too…
His delayed "I'm working on a surprise," perhaps gives me some comfort, but I also knew logically that it had to be him. What if he had blindfolded me like he did once before though? That might have changed the dynamic just a bit for me. Anyway, I have a surprise for him as well, and all he has to do is come in here and see it. I'm hearing all sorts of commotion out in the main room though, and I play that game in my head of "what is that noise?"
I'm baffled though, other than I hear wood being moved about, planks by the sound of it. One thing is for sure, Ken is going through some effort for something, and I also assume it's something for me. I'm touched to be honest, I maybe expect this from my real boyfriend, but my brand new stand-in steady is surely upping his game, and I vow to "love" it, even if I maybe don't.
Ken eventually comes back into the bedroom with wet hair from outside, and bare feet, but other than that dressed. Not exactly "dressed for sex," but my being in a greater level of undress in his dressed presence reinforces his position over my own. Again, this isn't something that occurred to me at the time, but only after the fact; as in "why was that so F-ing hot for me?" It's something else that I apparently share with my future husband, except for some reason I don't like to be like this for him; to submit to him in this way, really in any way, except for some extraordinary exceptions. Was this due to our first ever car date conditions that he himself had set, the no means no ones?
"Ticklish?" Ken asks playfully with a smile, once he sees what I have done to myself in preparation for his return. He doesn't really tickle me, but he grabs my midriff playfully and shakes me physically as my arms attempt to go there reflexively to cover myself from his anticipated tickle assault; although they're stopped well short by the cuffs and the headboard as I attempt to twist away. My ankles are still cuffed together too, but that doesn't stop me from reflexively bringing my knees up to defend myself either, answering the ticklish question rather definitively. I'm sure this has come up between the guys before; how I can be insanely ticklish if ambushed, at least until I can get some bodily control over myself, as in if I try really hard I can almost turn that off. My own boyfriend has even accidentally tickled me to orgasm before, and that was just strange…
In either event I've really set myself up for some torment here, as it would be hard to concentrate on that barrel type carabiner with cuffed wrists while thrashing all over the place being hysterically tickled to death. And, if either he or I replaced that carabiner with one of the little padlocks, and maybe chained my already cuffed ankles to the bottom of the bed somehow, my restraint would suddenly be very real. Naked and chained to a man's bed in a remote cabin where I could scream at the top of my lungs and still nobody would hear me; could anything possibly be hotter than that?
"Please no" I tell Ken, perhaps saving that mild form of torture for another day… Is this what I deep down really wanted though? I asked myself at some later point. Ken could easily dominate me like that too, and I would do or say just about anything to make the torment stop.
Anyway, Ken takes the high road and undoes my wrists and ankles himself, and I then follow his clothed self into the main room of the cabin, the largest room it has. I'm wearing nothing but the cuffs, and I physically feel their weighty presence there, just waiting to be used again. I also feel my look of playful curiosity as he leads me by my right hand, but I also realize that this would be exponentially hotter and far better for the fantasy that invades my mind if I were instead cuffed behind my back with a real lock of some kind, maybe while struggling and getting dragged to my richly deserved fate. I'm still out in the open during daylight hours in nothing but my skin, as in, if it wasn't so terrible outside, anybody could look in and see me. It should be well out of my comfort zone, but my unanswered need, Ken's presence, and a hundred other things have tamped down my underlying modesty. I'm ordinarily quite body modest, except when one of the guys playfully gets me into that highly needy state, but I suppose this is maybe normal for girls with some confidence issues..
As it is this is closer to an attitude of "let me show you this cool thing I dreamed up; see if you'll consent to giving it a try with me, see if it's what you had in mind." The subject matter is obviously very adult here, it's not only sex, but restraint too, although even with all that there is an underlying innocence to this as well. We're still teens getting up to playful mischief though, experimenting, but it's friendly and fun, just a big sexy adventure.
"You don't have to try it if you don't want to," Ken tells me, but to be clear I don't exactly know what "it" is either just yet. I'm taking it all in with a curious look on my face, and Ken is watching for my reaction, maybe seeing this expression and assuming it's something I'm just not up for. I'm standing in the middle of his remote cabin in the middle of a storm, wearing nothing but cuffs - this is already so far out of my comfort zone it's crazy - does he not realize how into this I have to be to just stand here with him?
"Don't like it?" he asks, the rejection in his voice impossible to hide.
"Don't know what it is," I reply honestly, and I think he can hear this in my tone too. I obviously have an idea, but for me to assume too many things here could make me look like a fool, so it's better for Ken to show and tell me what he's thinking about.
"Your fantasy. Come here and I'll show you" and I hear the wonder in his voice. If I thought something like this would never happen in the real world, isn't it at least possible that he thought the same? I follow Ken to stand directly under the heavy cross beam that holds the cabin up, and at regular intervals maybe ten feet apart there are wood posts that go up from the floor - and I assume some stout structure under it - to this massive top cross beam. Now I also assumed they were all big heavy vertical timbers, but apparently they aren't, as Ken has removed these "covers" from these two faux beams made out of some beautifully stained planks. Left and right of where he has me stand - directly under a cross beam - there are some heavy ropes hanging down, strung over the front of the cross beam loosely and just hanging there. I'm facing the entry closet door, the master bedroom door off to my left and behind me, and the main door into the cabin in front of me to my right.
Anyway, hidden beneath the planks Ken had removed there are these small diameter steel jack looking things, with holes and a metal pin to adjust them height wise, and a jack screw to adjust them up or down to compensate for the natural logs settling over time, or so I was told later when I asked. They're strong and practical, but not properly suited appearance wise to being out in the open with all that nicely stained wood, hence their being covered. I assumed they didn't need to be adjusted all that often, which is likely a secondary reason why they were covered over. I still don't completely understand Ken's master plan, but if it involves cuffs and rope, he at least has my attention.
"Can I string you up?" Ken asks formally with a smile, and I think to myself, the boys from Crestmont would never have asked…
"From that?" I point, stating the obvious and feeling just a bit slow for a moment.
"Okay, I'll give it a go" I tell him, a heartbeat later, trying and failing to play it just a bit cool on this thing that really excites me like nothing else. I'm not even mentally thinking sex at that point, just hanging by my wrists from the beams and being on display, for Ken, for anybody else too once I'm strung up and helpless I suppose. Oh what a turn around from my body modesty of a few minutes earlier. It's almost like being back on the rings in high school Gym class, although obviously buck naked and exclusively just for Ken this time. My body has some ideas of its own though, all as I offer up my left wrist and Ken ties off the rope to the carbineer on that cuff first. My right is next and about all I can't do at this point is put my arms all the way down, and if I wiggled and tugged hard enough I might even be able to pull the loosely wrapped rope from its mooring. Self-cuffed to the headboard was hot, having Ken participate and in this particular location and position it's exponentially hotter!
"Tell me when to stop" Ken commands, and I think to myself, have we not, you and I, already been down this particular road; do you not realize yet that I will likely never tell you to stop? Also, it's odd to me that in my dreams and fantasies getting stripped and strung up just sort of magically happens, all this setup and preparation that goes on in the background just sort of happens…
I nod my head by way of an answer, my mouth suddenly quite dry. Anyway, Ken unwraps and gently pulls my left wrist rope taunt first; I am forced to step that way lest I lose my balance as my arm goes well over my head. He cinches this off loosely down low on the steel column, threading the loose end of the rope through the bottom most hole in the column and facing my left ankle. Even just like this I'm pretty helpless, although not symmetrically so.
My right is next, and while I'm bound and symmetrically centered between the columns, I'm also still flat-footed. I'm obviously still helpless and dependent on Ken for escape, and this part is just awesome for me, but I still want more, something a bit closer to my fantasy. In for a penny, in for a pound, I think to myself.
"You know, I could do anything I might like to you right now" he offers playfully once standing in front of me, after stepping back to see how his handiwork looked. Is he finally feeling the raw power he has over me like this, or is he reminding me of it? I wonder
As if to punctuate this he moves in close, his rough blue jeans and shirt grinding on my bare skin as he holds my hips and grinds into me, simulating sex, perhaps my body even leaving something wet behind on his pants, I was so charged up. There is just something submissive about being nude in another's dressed presence, my boyfriend was right about this too, it sets a certain tone, I just wish I had more body confidence so as to do this kind of thing more often.
Anyway, Ken then reaches in further and kisses me passionately, and I kiss back in kind, although this feels so awkward as I want to wrap my arms around him instead. This is an odd mixture of conflicting elements for me though; potentially rough helpless nude bondage, and tender and sweet kisses. I actually want something a bit closer to the Cathy tent treatment, but how to ask?
"You look F-ing amazing like that" Ken gushes, and suddenly with his high praise I find myself feeling like part supermodel, part centerfold, and part damsel in distress. His words are genuine, not mere empty praise, because the most logical time for that would have been before I had agreed to do all this.
"I wish I could see that for myself," I tell him, perhaps this being an unintentional double entendre. I'm not really looking for a second picture to commemorate the event or anything - and I'm pretty sure the camera is empty anyway - and only after the words had left my lips had I hoped this wasn't the message he got. I wanted that kind of body confidence for myself, without having to be told that I look good all the time, without having to be all charged up for sex first. Either or both guys are proud to be out and seen with me, why is that not enough?
"Watch," Ken tells me, trotting away towards the closed closet door like a little kid with a big surprise. Ken opens it until I'm square with the full-length back-of-the-door mirror, and when he gets both the angle right, and out of the way, I see what he sees, at least from my chin down. I'm still a teen at this point, my chest doesn't really sag, but I'm still pretty big up top, and the forced position of my arms is extremely flattering; my boobs ride high on my chest. Without sounding narcissistic, I actually like the way this looks for once, but I still want more. It's obviously not quite my fantasy, but I'm still a piece of meat strung up for potential sex, so we're getting close, closer than I ever have been in real life, and it's not lost on me either that it's Ken that did this for me…
As an experiment I grab the ropes with my hands and easily pull myself from the floor, letting my feet dangle, wondering how long I could do this hanging position thing instead. It's the thing of fantasies for me, but not all fantasies turn into good realities. Anyway, Ken is watching me, and feet-off-the-floor-hanging apparently suits him too, but I can also see that he has some safety concerns. I tell him what I'm thinking, and he asks if I want some knots to hang onto, as hanging from the wrist cuffs alone without holding onto the rope doesn't seem like a very good idea, despite my fantasy. Hanging by the cuffs alone almost certainly will hurt me, even as wide as they are, and it will almost certainly cut off the circulation to my hands as well at some point, so the knots are a good idea. I'll still be restrained, but restrained and somewhat cooperating.
Ken grabs a short empty metal trash can from under the kitchen sink, flips it over, and has me stand on it, after tossing the entry mat down first to protect the magnificent floors. Having scratch marks to explain away under the beams could be uncomfortable for all involved, not to mention wrecking something that isn't really yours.
Anyway Ken is apparently adding the knots and adjusting the ropes as required. Ken also adjusts the length of the ropes up a little, maybe a foot each, and he re-ties them at the bottom of each metal post. Now I could just step off the pail myself, or even take a leap of faith and just kick it out and let myself drop a little, but instead Ken wraps a single arm around my butt and easily lifts me, checking to see if he can reach the carabiner that's holding my wrist one handed like this. He can, and he makes a show of tightening the twist barrel portion of it, but I realized that he's also checking to see if he can undo it in a hurry like this in case something goes horribly wrong. It's just part of Ken's personality; "what's going wrong, or could go wrong, and how do I fix that?" He even keeps a small fire extinguisher in his old truck behind the seat - between the inside the cab fuel tank and the seatback though - he thinks ahead like that…
Once again my nude body is pressed up tight against his clothed one, his face literally nestled between my boobs. I'm to be put a little further on display like this, and the power exchange going on here is just awesome for me. Ken was right a moment ago obviously, he could do anything he might like to me, and the thought does nothing to dampen my desires.
Don't say too much more, there is very little up from here, I think to myself erroneously.
Anyway, after asking me if I'm ready he pushes the pail away from my hanging feet with his own foot and gently lowers me down until the ropes pull tight, there being some flex and stretch in these particular braided ropes. They are relatively thick, so this surprises me, as does the sound of them pulling taunt. That sound was never in any of my dreams and fantasies, but that creaking sound as everything pulls up tight is just something that sticks with you. Even with the knots and shorter rope my toes just sweep the mat if I relax my shoulders and reach with my feet, but this hanging feeling is just awesome, and I tell Ken as much. I think he's done, and if he were I'd be a very happy and grateful little camper - like grateful enough to do almost anything he could dream up - but he's not.
"Feet together or apart?" Ken asks, and his tone is casual, like; "would you like fries or chips with your cheeseburger?" My feet are maybe a foot apart and reaching, so I put them together with a clink, experimentally, as if the cuffs were attached to each other again, and this feels just awesome. I could imagine not being able to move them independently, very restrictive, but I could also imagine what the boys from Crestmont would have done. If they had snatched me off the side of the road, left my boyfriend behind in the dust, or even tied him up somewhere in their barn so he couldn't interfere, would they have A left my powerful legs free enough to kick out at them; and B restricted their access to my sex like that?
The answer was no, and no obviously. But looking at my reflection critically - from maybe my shoulders down now - I was also reminded of the furry condition of my nether regions; and legs spread wide would only make this that much more obvious. It was also obvious that this was MY body's bound reflection - I knew it well - but without my face and a good part of my hair in that reflection this could be almost any teen with my general build and complexion.
There is a certain freedom in anonymity, like Halloween costumes for kids, and an ultra hot concept kind of occurs to me, just the spark of an idea really; what if my face were masked, or otherwise concealed? If we did it like that it would be hard for the participants to know it was actually me, at least certainly. My body and voice yes, although confirmation that I was the girl that did X, Y, and Z with "them" would be hard. I know, I know, who's them? It's another fantasy that a twisted little part of me would like to turn into a reality, but I'm getting slightly ahead of myself here…
Anyway, "never again" I told myself critically while looking at that reflection, never again would I allow myself to get into a furry animal-like condition like this, it wasn't good for my self esteem, it wasn't good for the men in my life either. It was still my body and all that, but I also willingly shared that body…
"Apart, as far as you can get them, but I'm a mess down there," this anonymous woman's reflection tells a smiling Ken, this obviously the option he was voting for.
"You're like the sexiest girl I've ever been with, and none of the others would have ever let me do anything like this to them either; so I don't ever want to hear that again" he tells me rather forcefully. He's sticking up for me, defending me, from myself though, from my own self-doubts. Not that this getting strung up by Ken was exclusively for his benefit, but it has the apparent result of distracting him from the other things going on in his life, so maybe a win-win for the both of us.
Ken pulls my left ankle towards the left metal column first, and he ties off the tail of the rope he's left there to the carabiner on that cuff. I can feel this, but not see it as my boobs and the position of my arms and head make looking down just about impossible. Likewise this is not really in the mirror's reflection either. Ken does the right next, and I move around a bit to test this out once he's done and out of the way. In my mind's eye I shouldn't be able to move all that much, but the reality is that I can twist about quite a bit. Also, with the rope holding my wrists going over the front of the thick cross beams, and my ankles now tethered to the center of the steel columns, my body is canted slightly forward, and this is almost a feeling of falling for me, and perhaps just a bit less flattering too; boobs out, hips back.
"More" I tell Ken, despite the awkward position, thinking this is a once and done experience and wanting to get all I can from it. Ken and I had a tent-agreed theoretical thousand things list, and kind of implied in there is ‘no repeats’, so this is where that comes from, but more on that later. Anyway, Ken humors me and pulls my ankles out almost like I'm doing a near split, and he ties them off like this. It's not very comfortable, but neither is hanging from your arms for a bit, as I'm starting to understand. I like this conceptually, this is like beyond what the fictional boys from Crestmont have ever done to me, at least in my recollections of the various versions of that erotic story that I've used to bring my future husband off with. Truthfully though, that's a hard story to finish with my boyfriend, because he usually pops off before I get to the end, and the theoretical "good stuff."
I tell Ken that I can't see everything in the mirror, although I feel my toes pointing and reaching nothing. In my mind's eye I can almost see myself hanging naked and on display like this, maybe twenty feet in the air right before gym class is in session, gently swinging back and forth while hanging from those same rings inside a box-like frame, all as the girls that I don't always get along with pointed and laughed at me while sitting in the bleachers… but maybe the watching teen boys with other thoughts though. Would this be some kind of punishment for some real misbehavior? I wondered, something quasi-officially sanctioned, or had the girls just ganged up on me beforehand in the locker room, stripped me bare, and did the deed themselves before anybody could stop them? I've had actual dreams like this, I'm that kind of kinky, even when sleeping apparently.
A lot of the girls were jealous of my hidden endowments back in school, but were they jealous enough to conspire and fabricate a story bad enough to get me stripped, strung up, and publicly humiliated like this, as opposed to going to the principal, or getting the cops involved? It's all fantasy obviously, but maybe still something to pop myself off with one day, when I find myself alone and needy, or perhaps the basis for an erotic story to share with others. Would those girls - or even the coaches - have masked my identity with a pair of sweaty used panties pulled over my head, the crotch area over my nose so I could savor the musky odor of whoever's they were, all as I watched through the leg holes, maybe even while they kicked red dodge balls up at me for nude target practice?
Anyway, to get back to things, Ken goes to the closet door and swings it slowly closed, and I can now see my right pointed toes and stretched and reaching leg just a bit better, and as he continues the arc I can also see the other posts, and even into the kitchen; he then swings it back when I ask him to, getting me centered in it's reflection once again. This obviously tells me that these two specific posts he's uncovered weren't random choices, again this is just evidence of Ken's forward thinking.
"I could see all the way into the kitchen for a bit there" I tell Ken, and he says something about the angle of incidence being equal to the angle of refraction. Something likely from science class that he's remembered, and I haven't. Anyway, if he were in the kitchen and he wanted to watch me struggle from the front, all he would have to do is position the closet door properly.
"I don't know how long I can actually do this" I tell him, my arms are getting tired, and I feel right on the verge of cramping up between my stretched legs. I feel and see the tendons running into my furry mound, pulling, and it also looks very hot in my reflection, overgrown bushy mound and all. One thing is certain, with both my heavy chest, and my overgrown bush, I'm obviously a woman and no child, and this is a very good thing, because I have a woman's burning desires raging inside of me.
The good news is Ken isn't asking any longer, but we are technically steady now, so maybe he doesn't think he has to any longer. He doesn't, and I've already consented a bunch of times just to get here, but this is also welcome and profound. He speed strips out of his clothes, but he's not really fully hard for me yet, although I'm extremely excited by all this, almost insanely so. This is a great show for me though, I get to see full-frontal Ken coming towards me, his half-hard cock swinging between his legs like an extra muscular appendage as he does so, and I get to see his rather nice ass and back in the mirror as well. He's a very manly looking young man, like a younger and thinner version of his powerfully built uncle, and I couldn't say no to him even if I wanted to.
Even though I'm much shorter than Ken, we're now about head height to each other, suspended by my arms as I am, but instead of making out with me he grabs one of my boobs and roughly molests it again. One and then the other, Ken is always symmetrical in his thinking. The boys from Crestmont would have already been buried to the hilt inside of me, maybe with a fist full of my boobs in each of their rough calloused farmer hands, maybe even while sandwiched between them as I hung; one in the front, and one in the back. But trust me, this is also very nice, and my yelpy little noises and twitches tells Ken that this feels just wonderful. He's likely getting something for his efforts with my boobs again, because it feels the same on my end as it did before, but this time he's not sharing.
Next he's down on his knees between my splayed legs, and I don't really need that so much as something else from Ken. I can obviously have oral from my boyfriend any time I like, and he's extraordinarily practiced at it too. I'm way past lusting for Ken, this is simply another level higher than just lust. So to get to what he's doing he has to bend his neck, which looks to me in the mirror's reflection as extremely uncomfortable, but he does it anyway. Just watching this whole scene in the mirror is incredibly erotic; I'm strung up, spread-eagle in this remote cabin, and the back of Ken's head is between my legs getting busy with my very furry and juicy box, and I could almost have an orgasm just thinking about this.
Later on I realized that Ken likely went down on me to show me how not-bothered and accepting he was of my untamed girl mess, and if that's the way it was, it worked. Now the common cliché is that guys who are very good between the sheets don't have to be good at oral, but that, let's say, more average guys have to be, was perhaps disproven by Ken's abilities. That is also to say that between my mental state, my arousal, and the position I was suspended in, Ken could have done almost anything to me down there, all as I watched him in the mirror, and I would have immediately popped off… which I did. Ken even likes the way I taste when I orgasm, my own boyfriend calls me honeypot on and off, although if whoever hears that loving term knows what it really means is perhaps unknown.
Is Ken making up for his early release? Who cares, I answer in my own mind, this feels just magnificent!
What an orgasm, what a mess! It's not quite back-of-the-Sportster mess, but Ken has once again gotten my body to do something extraordinary.
I thrashed about, I pulled my arms, tried to pull my legs together reflexively… and was almost instantly rewarded with the worst ever cramp right between my legs!
Ken to his credit was right on it, my "CRAMP, CRAMP, CRAMP!" spasms sending him into immediate action, my legs unhooked from the carabiners and he lifted me by my hips one handed so as to let me down. I stopped him from unhooking my arms though, telling him it was only my legs, not wanting to abandon this awesome position just yet if I don't have to. The cramp unfortunately temporarily killed my desire, as did that brief orgasm; the one I couldn't even properly ride through to completion. I felt kind of cheated by that, but that wasn't anybody's fault, just the way things worked out.
The cuffs are completely off my ankles now, likely laying near the posts as the carabiners were the only thing holding them closed on my ankles. I'm kind of half sitting on Ken's shoulders taking some of the weight off my arms, and Ken once again goes down on me, trying to get me back to that level of desire so that his large erect self can get inside me again. I've had Ken's truck-stop-bought toy inside of me several times, but this will only be the second time - counting the entire camping trip as the first time - that Ken and I have had actual penetrative sex together. He set the bar pretty high that first time though…
Anyway, Ken is again very skilled with his mouth too, and pretty soon I'm a juicy mess again, and not one complaint about all that hair either. He stands up while kind of still holding my ass in his hands, supporting some of my weight like this, and he lets go with one hand just long enough to slide his large and erect self up and down my slick entrance, starting his impressive self off in the right general direction, which in this case is pretty much directly up.
This was just such new and uncharted territory for me - standing sex, or maybe hanging sex - and possibly for Ken as well, but the feeling of being filled with the warm and textured real thing, no rubber between he and I, was just extraordinary. Ken has his head back, mouth agape, and I think his eyes are even rolling back in his head; in other words this is very very good for him too. I have my legs around him with my heels lightly on his ass, but Ken is in charge of the action here, the pace, everything. I'm powerless in this young man's hands, literally my ass in-his-hands, all as he bounces me up and down in time with his upward thrusts, which are still rather gentle all things considered; allowing me once again accommodate his mass. I could close my eyes and imagine I'm some man's prisoner up here, or even a bunch of Harley biker men that snatched me off the street to have some fun with back at their club house, or I can open them and watch Ken's muscles flex and work, which is what I end up doing. Visually Ken's body is rather appealing to watch…
He's making noises, I'm making noises, I'm half hanging from my wrists, the entire event is just off the charts wild; it sounds almost like the soundtrack from a XXX movie, without the cheesy music and terrible dialogue. But then Ken kicks it into high gear, he's not trying to hurt me with his thrusts, but almost. I could tell him to slow down, or easy, or pretty much anything, but I don't want to. I'm not frightened or anything, but I also bought this proverbial ticket and I'm along for this ride, pretty much no matter what. This is rough, so rough that our bodies slap when they come together, and Ken's thrusts are deep and filling as he drills into me from below. I even feel my chest flopping up and down, gravity itself nothing as compared to Ken in a sexual rage.
It doesn't last long, but nothing as intense as this possibly could. Ken gets there first, and to say that the feeling of getting blasted on the inside, "up and in", so to speak, is unique, would be a huge understatement. My boyfriend uses condoms, rubbers, because I demand it, Ken doesn't, because he tells me they don't fit him. I'm on the pill so as long as I don't forget them, I'm not getting pregnant; or so I hope, if the clinic doctor did her thing properly.
A part of me wants to hang there for a bit longer and feel this feeling, savor the experience, but I'm a fresh mess down there and I don't want to leak all over the place either. I've managed to overstimulate Ken twice in a row up here at his cabin all alone with him, so a little good, a little bad. Very good for my growing ego, not so good if I wanted something a bit closer to the camping trip. If my future husband was here and watching I think I might have him eat me clean, or maybe get Ken to make him instead, as a further submission to both he and I. I could almost see a naked and sated Ken grabbing my bound boyfriend by the hair and forcing his face into my messy nether regions, the thought makes me feel something special, but to put that to words might be difficult. Anyway, I'm kind of happy that he isn't here though, as I don't know that I could have done all that I just did with Ken while looking at him looking at me, at us. Again, another contradiction I realize, but this was just my "back then" reality, perhaps not really knowing what I wanted, nor from whom.
…Untied and let down, and once again showered, Ken and I slept together in the master bed. This was another first, sleeping the entire night in an actual bed with a man, smelling his scent, hearing him breathe, feeling his warmth; it's still another first that Ken would get before my husband. It was becoming a trend, and I can't say that I necessarily liked it, but Ken just had a way of making new things like this happen, he had a very adult-like freedom in his life that I envied.
Ken was the top man of our little group of three at this point, so maybe it makes sense that he should get his way more often than the other young man in my life. Ken was winning more often than not though, he was positively good at it, and my boyfriend was coming in second somewhat consistently in these games that we were playing as well, but by his own choices. A call home the next morning tells me that my folks are out again for the day, and that my sister has covered for me once again. There is obviously something going on there, but this is the eight hundred pound gorilla in the room that I don't want to acknowledge.
Ken has gotten up early and made me breakfast in bed, another first, and while this sounds just wonderful and romantic, I can tell you now that I prefer eating almost anywhere else. Still I was gracious, and appreciated the gesture though. At least it's not raining now, and Ken asks that instead of going directly back home, would I be up for going for another bike ride to his aunt and uncle's house, maybe for lunch, if of course they were home.
I have the whole day, and it seems that neither one of us feels all that much like more sex, I'm not giving that vibe, and I'm not getting it in return either. I confirm the day of the week and take my little pill, but this time Ken knows what I'm doing. His previous girlfriends haven't always been on the pill, so his default method of birth control was usually to pull out and hope for the best, so far so good on that I guess, but slightly inconsistent for a young man who plans for all sorts of contingencies in his daily life.
In is apparently far better than out for a young man's orgasm - something built into them for breeding purposes no doubt - and Ken having a partner that he can F to completion without apparent consequences should be more to his liking. Judging by his facial expressions and the noises he makes I'd have to conclude that physically this is better for him, but the first time that we did it together on that table, that newness coupled with the Russian roulette feeling for him of staying in to completion had to have done something extra for him as well.
Then of course to try and imagine what my watching boyfriend had gone through emotionally, I truthfully didn't understand it to be honest. It was exciting, hot, and obviously quite taboo for him too based on his own short account of that wild night, but the jealousy and intense anger just never materialized for him, at least with Ken.
Anyway, as to the bike ride to his aunt's house to visit with her, this is perfect, it won't necessarily be like a romantic date or anything, just two friends out for a ride together. I can even play this off as one hundred percent innocent if anybody asks, Ken and I went for a motorcycle ride to visit with his sick aunt, big deal. I have friends that are guys, you knew that ahead of time, again, big deal. I don't exactly know what to expect as far as her condition, but Ken calls ahead and our visit is welcome, so I assume that if it wasn't good for her, she would have said so.
I have some conflicting emotions during that ride; guilt, just like when I went to bed and slept with Ken the entire night, but also the feeling that I owed Ken a very big thank you for this rather distracting adventure. Once again Ken had managed to do something for me that I never thought would happen in the real world; I had hopes obviously, but hopes and actions were two different things. The fact that it wasn't as incredible as I had envisioned in my mind was troubling to be honest, but I was still trying to sort that all out mentally, as in why wasn't this just like that camping trip, or even better? My boyfriend wasn't there to watch this time, so I didn't have to look at his watching face directly, let him hear the sounds Ken made me make, so this should have been off the charts magnificent; but was it really? Don't get me wrong, it was new and wonderful and all that, but not as awesome as that first time camping trip.
I also needed to somehow apologize for any problems that I caused with his girlfriend, I had serious guilt over that one, or soon would, once I learned just a bit more. I owned that one, but the extent of the damage won't be fully known by me for a bit yet, from her point of view Ken just last minute bailed on a planned date with her, but then there was the fact that my "not in town" boyfriend's car was in Ken's driveway…
Ken's aunt and uncle's place is closer to their cabin than it is to either of our houses, but it's still a ride, and the heavy rain has dragged gravel and dirt into the roadway in places, so Ken has to be careful. We both have dirty clothes in the saddle bags, and if it's possible to borrow their washing machine again we gladly will.
We did laundry, we had lunch, and it was generally a very nice visit, no mention was made of my missing boyfriend by either us, or them. Ken's aunt looked fine, but exhausted, and I ended up helping Ken's uncle cook and clean up too. I smelled Ken's uncle working so close to him, it's just the way a man smells, and it's really not a bad smell to me, very manly. Anyway, it reminded me of the way his shirt also smelled when it had been the only thing that I wore; in his cabin's bed, but for his nephew. His pillow even smelled a little bit like him too, it was a subtle reminder of who actually owned all these things. It was also a scent that made my mind wander, but sometimes smells, scents, whatever you want to call them, sometimes they do that to me specifically.
Ken and his aunt had some time to talk together privately while we worked, and if my just being here solo with Ken gave her some small comfort that Ken would be okay, I was feeling very good about myself for doing so. How could I therefore be crossed with my boyfriend for not sharing this condition of her's with me right away, maybe even before Ken himself knew? Did he perhaps as well feel like he was doing something profoundly self-sacrificial that night for her benefit? For that matter, didn't I already know that my sweet and loving boyfriend was a giving soul already? Was this not almost something expected for a personality such as his; would I even love him just as much if he was a "me first" kind of guy? There were far worse things than being generous after all.
Anyway, I eventually have to go back home and tell my folks that I got fired, but if there were some way to put this off for another day I think I would. Could we stay here tonight? I wonder, separate beds though, despite my boyfriend's earlier suggestion; I just can't go there right now. They may suspect that Ken and I have slept together, or not, but there is all risk and almost zero reward in two teens sleeping together under their roof, or even asking to. I'm also not even the least bit in the mood being in this particular house at the moment either, I realize.
I've been tied up, firmly held down, cuffed, and even strung up from the rafters, all in a host of new locations, to include a real bed in a cabin we were truly alone in, and Ken had done all this both for me, and with me. Normal; lets get into the back seat and as undressed as we dare, have you go down on me for a few, and then roll on a rubber on and "do it" as quickly as possible, before we get caught fogging up the windows, was now losing its allure. I love my boyfriend dearly, but I want to do adult things in an adult setting, with perhaps some more defined domination and submission too. It's hard to have long elaborate lovemaking with toys and cuffs and things when your time is measured in minutes and not hours, Ken and his new toys, and the time to make use of them, makes lovin’ fun again, where I'm getting so done with the whole hurry up back seat thing. I want fun, and I think I deserve fun too, Ken's acceptance and compliments elevating my own perceived self-worth. My bush was simply out of control on that day, one hundred percent my fault for being lazy about such a personal thing, but still Ken wanted a picture, and it was no act how much he liked it. This was another way that Ken was very good for me too, I realized…
We ended up riding home that day, as our hosts had some doctor things to do starting early in the morning. It would be light out when we got home so this was still safer than riding at night. I'm caught up in thinking about who, or perhaps what would be on his back seat if I wasn't there for him. His former girlfriend perhaps, but I can't imagine having somebody new in his aunt's house could feel all that good for her under the circumstances. Then I thought of the what, as in, if I wasn't here holding onto him and comforting him, perhaps his gifted Barbie doll just might be riding in my place. The thought makes me smile…
Ken's simple "that went well" as we rode made me feel like I had done a good deed, even though some morally sketchy actions preceded that selfless act of ours. I shared my concerns about being unemployed for the summer, and what would happen next year. My home was in turmoil, and Ken did know some of it, but not the full extent. A job for the summer and some saved money would have gone a log way towards my independence, but that plan had been crushed. Simply put, back then there were more teens than summer jobs for teens, so finding one now would be difficult at best, and quite likely subject me to endless rejections, something my psyche didn't necessarily need.
"Find another job" Ken told me simply, but he had skills that I didn't, and he could even do physical things like landscaping and construction that just weren't available to somebody like me. It was good advice to be sure, but good advice for somebody else…