She laughed. “Dawn, Dawn Buckley.”
I lazily swept my eyes over her and recognition finally hit. She wasn’t the Dawn I remembered. That Dawn was a little freaky—goth, heavy eyeliner, black fingernails. This girl couldn’t look more different. Long, blonde hair, sexy legs, and hot.
“Yeah, I know I look different so I didn’t expect you to remember me.”
“No, I do.”
“I always had a crush on you, you know?”
I laughed. “Really? No, I didn’t.”
“You want to get out of here?” she asked.
She didn’t have to ask me twice. We left in my car and she started things off right when she showed me how this little game of hers was going to go—road head was my reward for inviting her back to my place.
The porch was pitch dark when we arrived and she began undressing while I fumbled for my key. When we finally made it in the house, we stayed where we landed—in the family room.
Time must have flown by afterward because now when I stand up and glance out the window I suddenly notice it is light outside and wonder how the night flew by so fast.
“What time is it?” she asks, squinting as the sun breaks through the blinds.
“I can’t even tell you what fucking day it is, let alone what time it is.”
“It’s Sunday or maybe Saturday.” She laughs.
I shrug and scratch my head wondering why this chick is still here. I should tell her that it is time to end this party, but her presence is helping me forget the things I don’t want to remember. In the kitchen I grab a drink and steel a look at the clock—nine a.m. Fuck, we’ve been at this for hours. I walk back in the room after chugging down another beer and she has a scowl on her face.
“Did you change your mind?” she asks.
“No I didn’t.”
She points to the ground. She wants to punish me and I’m going to let her. Why not? I already knew it was coming—she warned me. She wanted me to go down on her after she got herself all worked up, but I wasn’t into it. Since I refused—punishment it is. I drop to my knees, facing the couch as she instructs. She stays silent. She’s dead serious about this and I try not to laugh. She ties my ankles to the bottom rung of the coffee table with some ribbon she found on my mother’s desk. When she’s done she lies on the sofa and fingers herself. She’s masturbating in front of me and it’s fucking hot. Her method isn’t entirely worthless because I definitely want to touch her now, but her * is too far away. Obviously this is working just the way she planned it—entice me with the view. And I’m enticed. My dick swells while watching her and once she starts humping from her own touch, I take it in my hands and start stroking myself.
She jumps up in an instant and whips the belt off my shorts. “No, no,” she purrs from behind me. She grabs my hands and tucks them inside the seat cushions of the couch. “Now, don’t make me tie these, too.”
I’m so turned on by this chick’s forcefulness that my heart is racing . . . I’ll do whatever she wants as long as the rush doesn’t leave. I’m sitting here, naked, on my knees, my back to her, when I feel the cool metal of the belt buckle slide across my ass. From my peripheral vision, I can see her slap it lightly against her palm and my blood starts pumping even faster. How big can a guy’s dick get before it explodes? My ass muscles clench as I prepare for what I think is to come. But she isn’t going to give it to me that easily. She yanks my hair, pulling my head back. “You’ve been a naughty boy. I asked you to do something and you refused. Maybe the next time I ask you—you’ll do it.”