That Grey Tie
The Fireman and I had been to a themed party, dressed in our fanciest gear. I’d worn the prettiest, floatiest dress and the highest espadrilles I owned. He’d worn a very smart suit with that grey tie that I couldn’t take my eyes off – long before Christian Grey made it a thing.
“See when we get home,” I whispered into his ear. “I want you to tie me up with that grey tie.”
His eyes lit up and a smirk snuck across his face. “I’m ready to leave when you are.”
I could’ve gone home right there and then, but I wanted to toy with him for a while. “I’m going to have another drink first,” I said, sashaying my way over to the bar.
I slowly sipped that drink, grinning to myself as he tapped his foot and repeatedly glanced at his watch. The idea had been planted – and that seed had sprouted. He was mulling over the idea in his mind, mentally working out what he planned to do with me, occasionally shifting from one leg to the other, to hide the dick that was slowly but surely getting hard.
“Ready?” he asked hopefully as I put my empty glass down on the bar.
“Nope. One more.”
It was barely audible, but I heard the, “For fuck’s sake,” he’d whispered under his breath. The idea was winding him up now, which was why I did it. I loved winding him up, playing with him, turning him on more and more. He’d fuck the shit out of me when we got home, and that’s exactly why I did it – why I always did it.
He didn’t want another drink, obviously, and he continued to tap and time-watch, sighing every now and then, until I’d finished mine.
Then, it was time. I’d played enough. I’d wound him up enough. I was getting bored, which meant that it was time to move on to the next stage of our night.
Usually, we’d walk home from that bar; it was only around the corner. That night, though, he didn’t want to walk. Another punter (sober) was leaving, so he got us a ride. Ten minutes later, he stabbed his key in the door, whipping the tie off before we’d even crossed the threshold.
Frustration was evident in his face as he checked the house, one room after another, to make sure we were alone. We didn’t exchange a word. Words weren’t necessary. I’d said everything I needed to say: I want you to tie me up with that grey tie. He’d said yes without even needing to.
Once he was happy that we were alone he grabbed my hand and led me to the bedroom, then unzipped the back of my dress, not saying a single word, still. I shimmed it to the floor, stepping out of it, then climbing onto the bed.
I worked hard to stifle an excitable giggle, biting my lip and focusing on him instead. I’d always thought he was a truly beautiful man, in his own way. Perhaps not conventionally attractive, he had eyes that could either see my soul or look right through me, depending on the mood – and they always told me exactly what he was thinking. Again, no words necessary. In that moment they told me to lie down and keep that giggle stifled, so I did.
He straddled me without using all of his weight, then lifted my arms above my head, holding them there as he bent down to kiss me.
“Still want me to tie you up?” he checked.
“Yes.” The word slipped out of my mouth before he’d even finished his question.
Pulling the tie out of his trouser pocket he slowly wrapped it around my wrists. “Yes?”
It was his turn to play with me in the exact same way that I’d played with him in the bar – and as much as it drove me absolutely crazy with frustration, I also knew that I’d come harder than I ever thought possible when we finally got there.
“Yes,” I affirmed. “Yes. Yes!”
He tied my wrists to the wooden headboard, checking that his knots would hold… and the headboard, too. “Yes?” he whispered.
I nodded, then whispered back, “Yes.”
My body trembled a little with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. What was he going to do next? Where would he touch me? Fuck me? Lick me?
He tugged my thong down and shoved them in his pocket. “I’m keeping these.”
My bra went next, and I almost complained. I liked it. It made me feel sexy. Couldn’t I keep it on? I didn’t say any of my thoughts, though. I just let him strip me, enjoying the way his fingers scorched my skin and occasionally caused an eruption of goosebumps.
He sat back and gazed over me, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. He slid it off, then reached for his trousers, the button making an audible pop before the zipper shattered the silence.
I thought he was going to fuck me, but he crawled down and positioned my thighs over his knees. This was even better. He lightly blew over my cunt a couple of times, the warm breath exploding on my skin and making me gasp. When his tongue made contact with my clit, the gasp turned into a low moan.
He licked and sucked and lapped at me until I almost came, then stopped. I struggled against the restraints, trying to get free, trying to get him to carry on, but he just chuckled softly.
I knew what he was doing: he wanted so desperately to make me come without any clitoral stimulation at all. He/we hadn’t yet achieved it. So, he wound me up until I was super close to the edge, hoping that I’d explode over him when he finally fucked me. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it with some form of foreplay or another, and it wouldn’t be the last.
With my cunt still clenching from my almost orgasm, he crawled up, kissed me in a way that made me melt into a complete puddle, then held his cock as close to my entrance as he could without actually being inside me. My hips nudged and bucked to get closer, to touch him, to fuck him, but I couldn’t move far with my wrists tightly bound to the headboard. I had wriggled about as far as I was going to get.
I grunted with impatience, but he just grinned at me, refusing to move, his eyes flashing with power. It was rare for him to have it.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he thrust into me. It was soft yet forceful, all at once, and I could tell from his gritted teeth that he was trying so hard to be gentle with me. He was too well endowed to be as dominant and rough as he wanted to be with me, but we were both hungry for a hard, fast fuck.
“Don’t be gentle,” I whispered, reaching up to kiss him. I barely reached, the tie restraint starting to dig painfully into my skin.
He moved a little faster, fucking me with a little more force – testing the waters, I assumed. Seeing how far he could go before I cried out in pain like those times before, at the beginning of our sexual relationship. Every few strokes he got a little more forceful and animalistic, but I was aroused and wet enough to take it… just.
He pounded away, one hand grappling with my hair and tugging my head to the side. I reached up, he leaned down, and our lips collided clumsily, half-kissing, half-moaning into each other’s mouths.
Suddenly he stopped, pulling himself away and leaving me empty. “No,” he growled.
“No?”
In response he bent down and delicately kissed my clit. “You first, remember?”
I’d almost forgotten about his goal for the evening: making me come without any clitoral stimulation.
He worked on me with his tongue and fingers until my legs started shaking, but he wouldn’t let me come. Three times he brought me close to the edge, before working his way to my thighs and letting my orgasm subside. The third and final time, he crawled up and kissed me, letting me taste myself from his lips.
“Let me know when you get close,” he said, positioning himself in front of me.
I didn’t get the chance to respond. He slowly slid inside me, all the way to the hilt, then slowly slid himself out again. It felt great… but not orgasm great. Yet.
He fucked me for a while. Fast, then slow. Hard, then soft. On my front, on my knees, on any other position that my tie restraints would allow. I still didn’t come, though. I didn’t even come close.
Seemingly reading my mind he put me on my back again, then slowly fucked me as his thumb twirled circles around my clit.
I breathed the word, “yes,” then wrapped my legs around him. I needed him closer, deeper. My entire body trembled, but I wasn’t cold. I was hungry to come. Desperate for it. Tired of getting pushed to the edge, then having it snatched away. It was making me bratty and impatient, and that’s never a great combination.
My back arched towards him and my arms struggled hard with the tie. He carried on fucking me and thumbing my clit, and my climax snuck up on me, appearing out of nowhere – no real build up, no warning, no nothing. Just… boom.
He kept going as waves of pleasure erupted across my body, a load moan escaping my mouth. My fingers curled as tightly as my toes, and my body jerked as he continued to fuck and thumb me even after my climax had dissipated. I soon realised why. The clenched jaw and eyes clamped shut gave it away just as much as his juddering thrusts and uneven breathing.
Two, three, four thrusts more and he groaned loudly, his entire body tensing up and every muscle rippling. He held me tight, releasing into me, half-thrusting until his orgasm had subsided.
For a while we didn’t move, heaving breathing into each other, my wrists still tightly tied to the bed – and now very sore.
“I should release you,” he said eventually, half-chuckling to himself. “Might just leave you there.”
“Don’t you dare,” I narrowed my eyes.
Thankfully, friends, he did release me. Then, we fucked once more, slower this time, to complete the night.
No non-clitorally stimulated orgasms for me, though.
Yet.
The next blog post in the dating timeline is this one: That Time His Mum Walked In.
Thanks so much for reading my little dating and sex blog today! 🖤
You can read all about The Fireman, from start to finish, right here.
If you’re in the market for something else to read, why not take a peek here:
