The Infamous Car Story, Part 6

Continued from here.

I stared over my shoulder at my reddened ass in the mirror. I had never seen it so red, it was almost as if heat were radiating off of it. I winced for a moment, tentatively tapping the raw skin before turning back around and pulling my top down. My nipples were swollen, tender. Somehow, I derived some sort of enjoyment from this. I felt a sense of pride at what I had endured.

The rest of the evening was fairly uneventful until Elle suggested we drive back to her place so I could get my car and head back home. My boyfriend pulled me into the back with him and urged Elle to help him tie me up. She chuckled and shrugged, “hell, one more time for luck.”

My wrists wound up back behind my back and they pulled the stockings between my teeth and around my head before knotting it again in my mouth. They sat me up on his lap before Elle got into the driver’s seat and started to pull away.

As we drove, I continuously ducked my head down whenever we passed through traffic, dipping back up to mess around with my boyfriend whenever we found some relative privacy. However, I started contemplating the possibility of being seen as we drove and I could not help but wonder what some other driver would think when he or she saw me tied up in the back seat and messing around with my boyfriend.

We stopped at a stoplight and a truck pulled up beside us. Fortunately, the driver, a young guy probably in his early twenties, was not looking in our direction. I was laid back across my boyfriend’s lap, facing him, my legs resting up on his shoulders. My boyfriend rested his knuckle on the window. I blushed furiously and nodded.

I cannot describe to you the sort of thrilled smile that crossed his face when he knocked on the window and the driver looked over. My boyfriend smiled. I winked. The guy just seemed awestruck, taking in the fact that there was a girl, tied up and clearly enjoying it, with her legs spread, looking up at him from the back seat of a car that another woman was driving.

The light turned green. The guy just kept staring before smiling and honking the horn. Elle honked back before driving off.

I swear I got an adrenaline rush from the experience. There was this complete stranger getting a glimpse into something that I normally considered terribly personal.

“What do you think he thought of it?” I asked as my boyfriend released my mouth.

Elle chuckled, “you’re speaking as if he’s stopped thinking about it.”

The end.

The Infamous Car Story, Part 5

Continued from here.

I had barely processed what my boyfriend had said when he landed a rather harsh smack on my ass. He has these hands. I can’t really explain it. They were maybe about average sized, but for some reason the force of blows he delivered distributed itself within them horribly. For this reason, he usually used his non-dominant hand and reserved her dominant one for appropriate occasions. And, even so, he could only get one or two hits in with that hand before it simply became unbearable.

This was one of those occasions.

I cried out, bucking against the armrest as the blow landed. My entire ass stung, the pain practically radiating after where he hit in violent heat. Elle’s fingers on my clit pushed together and pinched it, eliciting a series of squirms that melted into exhausted groaning.

“Did it feel good, sweetie?” Elle asked. I could barely muster words, but I had certainly been tugged out of any sort of post-orgasmic bliss and back into the real world. “I bet you’re mighty thirsty right now from all the screaming, hm?”

Apparently, I’d screamed. I nodded feebly and received a smack from what was thankfully my boyfriend’s non-dominant hand, “answer her correctly.”

“Yes, Miss,” I choked out. Now using words, I realized that my throat did feel raw. I hoped no one had heard me. But, from the absence of any sirens or bright lights, I assumed we would be fine.

My boyfriend patted my ass with a smile, “maybe we should go get her something to eat. Seeing as it’s all about little fucking Ivy’s needs tonight.” I hated that taunting. They knew I hated it. If they would have let me, I would have gone down on them. I would have pleasured them. But, they were intentionally denying themselves and then blaming me for it. The effect was immensely frustrating.

Elle’s hand slipped from my clit and up to my ass, “you hungry, dear?” I shook my head and practically buried my face in the cup-holder when my boyfriend offered, “I think my little brat wants ice cream.”

At the time, little girl play was something he had started to bring up and it was something I was reluctant to try. Respecting my wishes against a foray into it, he simply resorted to taunting me with it whenever he could. I groaned felt a blush rising in my cheeks.

Elle’s hand left my ass for a second before colliding with it once more, “is that it, honey? Do you want ice cream on your special little night where you get whatever you want?”

“I guess,” I shrugged.

My boyfriend smacked my ass again. Hard. “You guess?”

“Someone’s mighty ungrateful,” Elle chimed in.

I shook my head, “I…I mean, if you guys want to.”

“You guys?” My boyfriend landed a few more spanks, “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are.”

“I’m…I’m sorry,” I choked out, “Sir, um, MIss, do you want to?”

Elle laughed, “Ivy, we asked you. And since tonight is all about you…”

“I’ll make you cum. Both of you. Really.”

“Don’t fucking interrupt, Ivy,” she smacked up near the top of my ass again, causing me to cry out, “I don’t think so, dear. We wouldn’t want to be selfish on your special little night. And it isn’t even all about you, is it? It’s about this.” She flicked her thumb over my clit before continuing, “but I’d like to know if the little whore attached to this cunt would like to get ice cream.” I went to open my mouth and she slipped her other hand over it, “and before you answer, Ivy, I want you to remember some things. I’m helping you out here. I’m being your best fucking friend. So don’t you forget manners. And if you don’t give me a definitive answer, I swear to God.”

She removed her hand and I answered, “yes, Miss, I would like to get ice cream. Thank you.”

“Good girl,” my boyfriend sneered behind me, “and where are we going?”

“I don’t…” I began and before I could even finish they had started to spank me again. by now, my ass was raw, tender. I could practically feel how red it was and how badly it had begun to sting. My eyes were watering up with tears when I finally picked a nearby place.

“And what are you going to get?” Elle asked.

I bit my lower lip, “I forget what it’s called.”

The barrage of spanks that followed from both of them was dizzying. “How did you forget that?” Smack. Smack. “I don’t know, really.” Smack. “I think she just wants this.” Smack. “She’s holding out clearly.” Smack. Smack. “You’re only making this worse for yourself, slut.” It continued. I could barely think.

“I don’t know,” I finally blurted out, “but it has nuts in it.” I practically yelled it. The spanking stopped. There was a long silence and I assumed they were looking at each other before they both burst out laughing.

They only untied me once we reached the place and allowed me the opportunity to straighten out my hair before we walked into the shop. It was basically empty and, as I walked, I felt the sting in my ass. They both smirked at me when I asked the guy behind the counter what the name of the one with the nuts in it was.

Overcome by curiosity, I excused myself to the bathroom. Once inside, I turned, lifted up my skirt, and looked over my shoulder into the mirror.

To be continued.

The Infamous Car Story, Part 4

Continued from here.

I blushed furiously at his comment before letting out another moan in response to Elle’s tongue on my nipple. They both let out a mutual chuckle and I felt my cheeks redden even more. My boyfriend kept my head held back, occasionally tweaking or pinching my nipple when he saw fit.

I thought about what my boyfriend had said. It was true. I absolutely loved being the center of attention in this sort of scenario. I loved feeling more than one pair of hands on me, more than one pair of eyes. I loved to know that the two participants were eagerly lusting after me. I loved seeing the two work together to tease, to explore, to enjoy. And, eventually, to make me climax.

My boyfriend spun me on his lap so I faced him, my nipple popping from Elle’s mouth. “You haven’t even made an effort to please us, you know,” he said.

I shrugged, “well, my hands are tied and you keep putting fingers in my mouth.” I felt Elle’s hand collide with the upper portion of my ass check. The part that hurts marginally more than the part that’s typically hit. I groaned as she told me to stop making excuses.

But, my boyfriend just smirked, “you want this to be all about Ivy? Fine, you whore, it’s going to be all about Ivy.” He pushed me back down over the armrest and I nearly bumped my nose on the cupholder. “It’s going to be all about what little fucking Ivy wants.” He smacked my cunt hard, “but it’s also going to be all about making Ivy suffer to get it.”

I yelped as Elle smacked her hand square over where my boyfriend had just hit. He reached around me, fanning his fingers over my face before letting them branch over it and cover my mouth. “Feel nice, slut? This is why I need to get you a muzzle. I know for a fact you like the way it feels."

I groaned against his hand and shook my head. The muzzle had been brought up a few times in the past as a potential plaything, but I had been quick to dismiss it as too animal-esque for me. I knew he didn’t want to put it on me because he wanted dogs, but I also knew that I wasn’t entirely sure how If felt about being presented in a way that reminded me of them.

Also, the general idea of that style of gag frightened me. The criss-crossing of straps over my cheeks, the feeling of my mouth being that covered, the buckles heavy and tight against the back of my head. It was a bit too containing, too restrictive for my liking. And, yet, somehow that also intrigued me terribly.

I realized how transparent I could be in this position. I was clearly getting wetter from his hands on my face that way and Elle’s occasional slaps to my ass. I could basically smell myself in the car, something I’m sure Elle and my boyfriend shared. I was an open book. I was exposed. I was open.

Elle tore my panties down roughly before beginning to rub my clit, "don’t like it, dear? I don’t see how you can’t. It’s even got a nice sound to it. Muzzle.”

I moaned against my boyfriend’s fingers and shook my head. He lifted his hands from me only to replace one at the back of my neck. “I don’t…I don’t like…” I could barely get the words out. I attempted a few more times before resigning to enjoying the feeling between my legs.

My boyfriend’s free hand settled down near Elle’s as he started to tease over my lips with his fingers. He chuckled, leaning down close to my ear, “you don’t even care anymore, do you? We could put you on a fucking leash and walk you around and you wouldn’t care as long as you get your pussy rubbed, huh? Everything else just fades away.”

“Always so simple-minded, Ivy,” Elle joined in, “such a one-track mind you’ve got. The second a hand goes down there you completely lose track of everything else."

I felt myself blush, but they were right. I didn’t care. My thoughts seemed to be pin-holed to one idea, one desire. I came to the sound of them continuing to taunt me, though I could barely process their words. I bucked against the armrest, crying out and completely forgetting the cars that zoomed by.

I came out of it dazed. The effect was dizzying. I continued to squirm and shake with the "after shocks”. They smiled, they chuckled, they waited for me to at least remotely come back before my boyfriend snapped, “did we say you could cum?"

To be continued.

The Infamous Car Story, Part 3

Continued from here.

My boyfriend pulled me back up so I was sitting between them. He wrapped an arm around me before sinking a few fingers in my mouth. As I sucked on them, trying to shoot the sweetest little expression over to Elle to avoid anything too harsh, she set to pulling down my top so the straps rested below my shoulders and the neckline sat below my breasts.

She leaned forward and started to kiss at and suck on my neck. Her hands rested on my breasts and she squeezed gently before pulling them out of the cups of my bra. She rubbed them around, chuckling against my neck each time I moaned around his fingers. Her nails scraped over my nipples and her teeth slid over the side of my neck.

He withdrew his fingers from my mouth and let his hand wander down to my breast. His hand passed under Elle’s and he gripped my right nipple before starting to twist it. I cried out loudly and Elle raised her hand up to my mouth, pushing my head against my boyfriend’s chest while she muffled my cry.

Her other hand set to work on the other nipple. She pinched, causing me to writhe against my boyfriend’s form as I tried to wriggle my wrists out of my stockings. They continued like this for a while. Pinching, pulling, twisting. All the time I whined and pouted and wriggled about, hoping they would bring me to orgasm sometime soon.

Elle smiled up at my boyfriend as she gave a particularly hard tug before saying, “I love those breasts of hers.” She leaned forward and sucked my nipple into her mouth.

My boyfriend chuckled as I moaned against Elle’s hand and gently removed her hand from my mouth. He then reached back, grabbing my head by the hair and tilting my head back, “you love this, don’t you?” He smirked and continued, “you love all these eyes on you. These hands. You don’t even care how badly it hurts.”

He was right.

To be continued.

The Infamous Car Story, Part 2

Continued from here.

Elle climbed into the back seat, sitting to my left. I was between them now, my body bucking lightly from the orgasm I had just been denied. I managed to regain some control before Elle reached up and pushed me forward, bending me over the padded armrest in the front. My face was nearly in the cup holders. I tried to push myself back up, but my boyfriend’s hand shot to the back of my head and pressed me back down.

“We can’t do this here,” I insisted as Elle pushed my skirt up around my waist. “What if someone sees?” I had decided to abandon the cause of the fact that it was odd that the three of us were performing the act together and instead focused on something a little less grey as my argument. “We can’t do this in public.”

He pulled my panties aside and swept a finger down over my slit. I shivered as he said, “don’t even pretend this is your first time playing around in a car.” I whined softly as he pulled his hand back from my wet cunt. He removed his hand from the back of my head.

Elle’s quickly replaced it, her fingers grasping firmly at my hair to hold me down. “I know for a fact it isn’t.” She leaned down, biting on my earlobe before whispering, “So why are you being such a brat about this?”

I tried to pick my head up and groaned, “Elle, I…” I shrieked as my boyfriend’s hand collided with my pussy. He had these large hands and a way of hitting incredibly hard without really trying.

“I don’t think that’s the proper way to address her tonight,” he rubbed his hand over my soaked mound with a chuckle before gathering my wrists in his hands. “Got anything to tie them with?"

At the prospect of this, I panicked. My legs twisted against the seats in an effort to try to give what was at least a playful kick to one of their sides. Elle reached in front of me and into her purse. She rummaged around for a bit before replying, "no, I don’t think so.” I let out a sigh of relief. Outside, I heard cars continue to speed by and tried to keep my head low.

“Wait a minute,” I heard my boyfriend say. He let go of my wrists and I heard him unbuckle my bag. Suddenly, I felt nylon around my wrists. Fuck. I’d been wearing stockings earlier that day, as per his request, and removed them when the weather was too warm.

He tied them tightly, cinching a few times before tucking the knot inside as to make any effort at their removal rather difficult. I whimpered as Elle set to teasing my clit with the pad of her thumb while my boyfriend returned his hold to the back of my head to keep my face down. “Please, I just want to cum,” I pleaded.

Elle chuckled, “aw, we know, babe.” She adjusted my panties so they covered me again and I whined softly. She had a way of making things drag unbearably. “You make it so obvious."

Suddenly, she yanked the waistband of my panties up, exposing my rear, and clapped her other hand against my left cheek roughly. My boyfriend followed suit with the right. I practically leapt out of the sunroof, crying out and bucking against the armrest. They continued for a few minutes before Elle insisted, "this isn’t right at all. I should be hearing counting. And thank yous.”

My boyfriend smacked my right side again and I panted out a, “one, thank you, Sir.”

Elle hit the left. “One. Thank you, Miss.”

Another to the left. “Two. Thank you, Miss.”

Then the right. “Two. Thank you, Sir.”

It continued that way for a while. Occasionally, they would switch the side they spanked without telling me. His hits were harder, and they laughed each time I correctly guessed that he had moved to the other side when I grunted out a pained, “thank you, Sir.” Whenever I guessed the hitter wrong, the next hit would be square on my panty-covered pussy.

Elle broke the rhythm eventually, hitting me so many times in succession that I simply could not keep track. I slumped against the armrest. My head was starting to feel light. My ass was stinging. My pussy was throbbing.

“What number are you up to, slut?” She asked, giving my ass another smack as if to rouse me from my stupor.

I shook my head and whispered, “I don’t know, Miss.”

“You don’t know?” she repeated back to me as if she were speaking to a child. “Well, that’s no good at all.”

To be continued.

The Infamous Car Story, Part 1

It was the weekend I invited my boyfriend – at the time – to my home to meet my mother. It was summertime, a few weeks before I had to return to campus to start up sophomore year. He had made a good impression on my family and I had set about introducing him to whichever friends still remained in my hometown. One of them was her.

I was a bit reticent to introduce him to Elle. She and I were certainly now on a friendly basis, sometimes a bit too friendly. I was worried they wouldn’t get along. I thought she would bite his face off, frankly. She’s a bit of a spitfire. But, she had heard that he was in town and offered to have the three of us go out to dinner.

They hit it off almost instantly. They just jived so well with each other. I just sat there breathing this huge sigh of relief as they laughed up a storm. I was content to take the third wheel on this one. It was almost comforting.

She had driven to reduce gas and I had left my car at her place. As set off to head back after a really pleasant dinner, I elected to take the backseat with my boyfriend. We all kept up conversation as she drove towards the highway and stopped at a stoplight. This was when the trouble started.

He and I had been planning a game all that weekend where he would reach down and rub me whenever we hit a red light. This was pretty normal in the car just the two of us and I could manage to keep a poker-face as I waited for the light to change. Confessedly, I almost drove right off the road when the light changed during a drive to get lunch earlier that day, but it was mostly a fairly “safe” endeavor.

But in the car with my ex-girlfriend? I tensed up when I felt his hand snake over to me. My eyes begged him not to. It was too weird. She would kick us out of the car. Why had I worn a skirt that day?

I went to slap his hand away and tried to keep quiet until I noticed she was tilting her rearview mirror in order to be able to see what was going on in the back. I caught her face in it. She was smiling. Oh no. This was worse than the awkward interaction that I had predicted would come about at dinner. Her dominant instincts were coming out and she was getting such a kick out of this.

The light changed and he moved his hand away. She chuckled, merging onto the highway and heading back toward our town. “Sorry, dear,” she cooed into the back.

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest in mock upset. I was trying to keep this cheeky, funny. I was hoping the joke was over and that we wouldn’t be getting into anything too…weird.

He laughed and put his hand back down, starting to rub at my clit through my panties. I looked up at him and shook my head, pleading with my eyes for him to just stop. I knew if I opened my mouth to talk to him, I’d just start moaning. He had a way with his hands. It was astounding.

“I don’t know why you’re so ungrateful, Ivy,” Elle said from the front seat, “I seem to remember a certain girl who begged for it all the time in the car.” She glanced back quickly at my boyfriend, “she once got herself off with my vibrator while I drove her home. I wouldn’t drop her off until she came."

To say that I have trouble orgasming when I have a goal is an understatement. Any metaphor that I could make for how much I was blushing would also probably be an understatement.

He was beaming like a champ. My legs were shaking, my body was responding eagerly to his touch. I was so humiliated, yet so aroused from it. I couldn’t believe she was playing along with him and vice-versa. I didn’t expect them to hit it off socially. But sexually? This was almost porno-level interaction.

He stopped before I came and gave my pussy a little pat. It was a typical gloating move of his and I groaned in frustration. I realized my back had sunk down in the seat and I was basically spread out. I was covered in goosebumps, I was embarrassed, I just wanted to orgasm.

I noticed Elle was taking the long way home and huffed. "May I please cum?” I couldn’t believe I was saying it in her car.

“What do you think?” he asked, looking up at Elle. Suddenly, she veered off course and pulled into the parking lot of a playground we were about to pass. It was dark out and no one was there, thankfully.

She pulled the car in a way that it faced the road and the other vehicles that sped by. I instinctively reached to pull my skirt back down and he slapped my hand away.

“Nah,” she smirked as she turned off the car. “I think someone has miles to go.”

To be continued.

I want to be unrecognizable. I love how a relationship (I’ll just leave that right there for all of you to define how you like) can just completely drop like a bomb and leave everything scattered. I love that feeling of when we’ve gone our separate ways and realizing that suddenly I’m not the same person you were stepping into it. Anyone I’ve been intimate with in any way has left an imprint on me. I’ve been branded metaphorically with so many marks of who’s been here.

And I can reflect back and see exactly who’s done what. He made me like this. She made me get over this. They taught me this and that. Every time I open myself up, it seems those I’ve opened myself to take the opportunity to, if I may steal DYC’s perfect metaphor, rearrange the furniture to an arrangement that suits me better than that before.

I just love that strange feeling of wandering around right after a storm. You can smell the rain and the air’s still electric. And everything just feels a little different. There’s this kind of freshness in the fallen branches and the leaves stuck to the windows of cars. It’s how I feel right now, entering this new phase of my life. He literally changed around so many things within me for the better. He was absolutely the thing I needed. And he’s put his mark on me just like everyone else, his certainly being one of the most prominent.

I once read somewhere that if forest fires didn’t happen, the entire forest would just die from all the underbrush clinging to it. I don’t want to say that I was being stifled or anything. But, I do want to say that if I don’t let go, I’m bound to just wind up hurting myself.

I’m trying to look at this whole thing from the positive spin of the fact that he and I really helped each other and changed each others’ lives. And, while sometimes it hurts to say that, for now, the buck stops here, it puts a little spring in my step to know that I am beginning an incredibly new phase of my life whilst changed so profoundly by him.

Sorry for being so cheesy. I promise, the regularly scheduled smut will resume momentarily.

drinkyourcunt:

I’m going to smudge the lines of your self-portrait. I want to make the colors melt and bleed. I’ll climb in your head and rearrange the furniture. No one will recognize you when we’re done.

vrbw:

http://vrbw.tumblr.com/

He introduced me to the idea of “little girl” play without even realizing he was into it.

It started with him calling me a sweet girl before I fell asleep. Then a sweet little girl. Then just a little girl. And I didn’t really process it at first because I was tired. I also assumed that we were not going to be the sort of people who would be into “that stuff”.

I was very, very wrong. It really picked up from there. We started putting ribbons in my hair. We even put my hair in pigtails. At first, I did it because I knew he liked it and I didn’t mind it. It was sexy seeing how excited he got. But, soon it got incredibly arousing for me.

Then came the idea to start calling him “Daddy”. Not all the time. Just during those scenarios. Of course, this brings up the issue of if I have Daddy issues or something. I don’t. Seriously. I don’t want to have sex with my father. I don’t equate calling him Daddy to having him be my father. It’s just a name with some connotations of power, rather than incestuous undertones.

Now, I love it. I can’t get enough of it.

He came here.

Once, when he was really sick, I spoon-fed him beefaroni and took care of him until he felt much better. While there was no beefaroni involved this time (I’m a vegetarian), I do feel much better now.

And somehow a little bit worse.

I reblog this with great hesitation, as I know he’s probably going to somehow convince me to try this once he sees it.

Meh. You only live once.

kindlybeatingher:

Just a couple of strategically place access holes and he would really have something.