Brad has a problem. His girlfriend Amber is a self-described nymphomaniac. Most men would be thrilled to have such a "problem" but Amber was getting harder and harder to satisfy and control. She loves cock and Brad loves providing his as often as possible, but there are times a guy just wanted to sit back with a beer and some fried chicken to watch the football game. There were other times he just didn't feel like doing any crotch-crashing—sometimes his poor old pecker was just too pooped to pop.
To make matters worse, Amber was a stone-cold fox. She was twenty-three years old, 5'10" tall and nicely assembled. She was also a natural redhead and her face resembled the Pebbles character from The Flintstones cartoon series of the 1960s—all she needed was the chicken bone barrette. Her hair was shoulder length and thick, the color of an antique cedar chest. Her B-cup boobs had a little bit of slosh to them, but her ass was full, tight and amazing! She liked to wear tight jeans; her pussy made an enticing vertical slot for men to admire. Good looks like hers dictated she could score a man whenever she felt the need. Being a nymphomaniac, she felt the need quite often.
Brad and Amber worked together at a factory. He had seen her give the other men on the East Line more than one come-ye-hither glance. Gerrick, Gabe, Oscar, Ali, Dan, Dirk, Jose, Josh, Jesse, Kenny—all were within her age bracket, give or take. Mike and John were both in their late forties and divorced; Brad fretted they might be able to catch Amber's roving eye during a weak moment and give them a reason to advance. Hell, he'd even seen her give Dennis a once over! Brad didn't need to worry about him; Dennis was in his sixties and his pecker had probably long since dried up and blown away.
Still, Brad didn't need the worry of keeping his prime hunk of red-haired female satisfied. He wanted to keep her for himself since Amber was the woman to have when he was in the mood for a penis pounding party. Her pussy muscles were strong and very talented; rumor had it she could peel the shell off a hard-boiled egg just by slipping it into her trench for a few minutes.
So the questions remained—how to keep her enough sexually satisfied that she wasn't tempted to seek out other men? How could he accomplish giving her enough mansteel without wearing yet another layer of skin off his?
Brad knew he didn't know everything, so he sought the council of his co-worker John. He was 48 and had been married for twenty-one years, so it was logical to presume he knew his way around a woman's body. He might be able to give some insight on the finer points of satisfying a perpetually horny woman.
John gave him the Internet addresses of several websites. Some offered sexual potency drugs and herbs for him, others offered sensitizing creams and lotions for her, and others just offered advice. None of which were of any help.
There was one website left on the list and Brad entered it into his computer. He assured the website he was over 21 by clicking the proper icon. His brown eyes almost bugged out of his head when he saw the wares advertised there. Over the next hour, he surfed that website from end to end. Then he pulled out his credit card and ordered one of their products. It was expensive but it would be worth it if the product could help him quench some of the embers in Amber's burning box.
A week passed. Brad did his best to keep her sexual embers and charms to himself and hoped the product would arrive sooner than later. She was usually in the mood for more of the same just ten minutes after delivering his inseam soldiers into her slot. A guy just cannot get it up again so quickly—not even a twenty-four-year-old man in the midst of his sexual prime. Annoyed but hiding most of it, Amber would then break out the dildoes and vibrators for a self-help party until he was once again ready to rise to the occasion.
Finally—blessedly—the product arrived. Amber was at the grocery store when the FedEx driver delivered it, so Brad moved quickly to get it assembled before she returned. He slid the device under the bed and waited for his foxy redheaded nympho to get home.
She got back thirty minutes later. He helped her carry the stuff in and get them put away. He popped a beer and regarded her with his bedroom eyes while she arranged stuff in the freezer. Experience told him that look would get her pussy slobbering in no time.
Amber finished and closed the door. She turned around and saw that look in her lover's eyes. "Yes?" she asked coyly.
"Yes!" he said happily.
"Got your condoms?"
"Got a dozen and I plan to wear them all."
Amber quickly grabbed him and dragged him into the bedroom.
They got naked quickly and flopped onto the bed. He ran his hands over her taut and freckled flesh, nibbling on her boobs as she gasped and groaned under him. Amber wished he'd indulge in pussy licking more often but he didn't consider that a manly thing to do. She pushed the thought aside and continued to bounce and writhe all over the bed as he conducted his capers on her body.
"Suck me!" he commanded.
"Don't you dare come," she warned as she climbed into position. She liked his cock in her mouth but disliked his juices. Besides, there was the matter of blowing his load and making his pecker peter out too soon—she wanted him to climax in her pussy. Nowhere else. Amber took him in and applied vacuum.
Brad marveled at how her tongue caressed his sex sword; it never failed to amaze him just how talented her mouth was! He jerked and moaned with involuntary fits and starts as his nerve endings fired in response. Amber, meanwhile, swiveled her greenish-hazel eyes up to look at his face. If he got too close to climax, she would "accidentally" bite him. That would cool him down. She very much disliked doing it—so did Brad, obviously—but she needed his boner banging around in her beaver.
Brad was getting close and he pushed her back. "Spread!" he ordered curtly. Amber flopped back and opened her legs without complaint about the bluntness of his order. He climbed atop her, lined himself up and slid into her with all the gentleness of a head-on collision.
Supporting his weight above her, Brad pumped her pussy with youthful vigor. She flexed her pelvis upward with each inward stroke and used her award-winning pussy muscles to clench his shaft on each outward stroke. Heat spread throughout loins and began to radiate through her body. Brad delighted in the slippery embrace of her cunt; she delighted in the outward displacement of his cock. She hoped he could hold off his orgasm since she needed his pussy strokes for as long as he could keep them going.
But her wish was in vain—he climaxed a few moments later. Amber watched as it had its way with him, feeling disappointed. She glanced at the bedside clock as he settled his body atop her to rest; only fifteen minutes had gone by from kitchen to climax. Hell, fifteen minutes was barely enough time to get her warmed up… and he was done already.
He lifted his head up and gave her a kiss. "I bet you think we're done."
"Of course we're done," she said sullenly. "You blew your load. That means you're out of action for an hour or so."
Brad smiled—time to spring his surprise. He climbed off her and gestured her to her feet. Curious, Amber obeyed. He opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out some of the rope stored in there. They liked to indulge in a little bit of bondage, and he always climaxed really hard while fucking her helplessly squirming body.
"Turn around and put your hands behind you."
She complied and he tied her wrists side-by-side behind her back. A length of rope was then looped over the wrist bindings and tied with a simple granny knot, leaving two long tails. Then he tied a length to each knee, again leaving a long tail. A long length of rope was tied to the plastic mattress handle neared the head of the bed. Lastly, a shorter length was routed around each foot of the bed's frame.
"On the bed."
Amber perched gingerly on the bed because of her bindings, but Brad pushed her onto her back before she could maneuver there herself. "Spread your legs to where you like `em for fucking." She obeyed and he used the two long tails tied to her wrist bindings to secure her ankles. Trying to straighten her legs would merely pull on her arms and wrists; she could feel the rope pressing on her ass cheeks under her.
Brad pulled up the rope tied to the mattress handle. He wedged the end between her arm and torso, led it across her chest above her breasts, wedged it between her other arm and torso before tying it off on the opposite mattress handle. Amber saw this would keep her from sitting up.
The ropes looped around the bedframe's feet were next and each were tied to her thighs. Amber didn't know what those ropes were for, but Brad did. Last but not least were the knee ropes. Brad spread her legs even wider and tied each knee rope to its nearest mattress handle.
He stepped back to admire his handiwork—Amber wasn't going anywhere. Her legs were held spread at a 110-degree angle, her pussy was nicely exposed, she couldn't sit up and she couldn't squirm away.
Brad sat on the bed beside her. "You are now going to get more cock than you can handle," he informed her. "In fact, you're going to get so much cock, you're going to beg me to stop!"
Amber burst out laughing—he was such a card! "Yeah, right!" she sneered.
"I am going to wear out your pussy," he bragged. "You're gonna be doing the screen job tonight walking around like you're straddling a fence!"
She was intrigued by the idea but she knew he couldn't pull it off—he was just a man, after all, and he'd spew his seed sooner or later. "Big words," she sneered, still not believing it. "Let's see you keep pumping for—"
"Three hours?" he suggested.
"You can't fuck me for three solid hours!" she exclaimed, laughing again.
"Does that mean you don't want it?"
"No!" Amber barked. "Of course I want it. But you can't do it! You can't fuck me for three solid hours straight without stopping! You just can't do it."
"Sure I can."
"Okay, big man! Show me! Get it hard and get it busy!" The thought of having her beaver banged for three solid hours sounded like heaven on a stick. Amber knew she'd accept whatever he could give her—until he popped his cork again. As usual.
"Three solid hours?" he asked coyly, just to be sure. "Are you sure you want me to fuck you for three solid hours?"
"Yes," she replied with impish impatience. "I want you to fuck me for three solid hours. Don't pause, don't stop and don't do anything but thrust for three solid hours." But Amber knew there was no way he could keep banging away that long non-stop. It just wasn't humanly possible. Still, she was surely willing to have him try—anything to get him between her legs again, his hard rod cradled within her soft nest.
Brad smirked, stood and went to the foot of the bed. He pulled the newly purchased device out from under the bed and plopped it on the mattress just below her crotch as Amber watched. It was about three feet long and had a vertical flywheel on the side of a black cylinder, with a connecting rod attached to the outer diameter. The other end of the connecting rod was connected to a stainless steel shaft, and the other end of that had a large flesh-colored dildo attached to it. "What's that?" she asked.
He didn't answer as he pointed the dildo at her slit and maneuvered it closer. Then he carefully inserted the dildo between her vaginal lips. Amber felt it tunnel into her as he slid the device it was mounted to closer still. Then she flinched. "Not so deep!" Brad pulled it out a bit more than an inch and secured it in place with a triangulated rope arrangement.
"There!" he said, sounding satisfied.
Amber looked between her freckled breasts at the unknown device. "So what does it do? It seems pretty big to be a vibrator."
Brad picked up the hardwired remote control box and flipped a switch on it. The green light on it lit up and the vertical flywheel slowly began to turn. The connecting rod followed it, as did the shaft attached to the other end. The dildo backed out of Amber's beaver before moving in again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.
Amber looked down at it again, startled. She could see the flywheel turning and the dildo thrusting. She felt it move back and forth within her pussy and she moved her hips a little, trying to adjust the angle at which it penetrated her.
"This is called a thrusting machine," Brad informed her, watching her lush freckled nudity wiggle against her binding ropes. "I bought it from a website John told me about."
Amber liked what it was doing. "So why'd you tie me up first?"
"Because this machine is mine!" he said happily. "We're not marred yet and you do not have my permission to use it without me. There is a keyed lock on it so you can't sneak in here and have a party by yourself. You can play with the remote control all you like—" he gestured with it for emphasis "—but it won't run without the key."
"Oh, Brad!" she whined. "That's not fair! You can't use it by yourself. It's a machine built for women!"
"Indeed it is," he agreed readily, watching her helpless nudity as she squirmed. He turned up the dial; the flywheel spun faster and made the dildo fuck her faster. Amber squirmed against her bondage a bit more aggressively, liking how it stroked her.
"Turn it up."
Brad used ten solid minutes to very slowly advance the thrusting machine's speed. Amber wanted to strangle him for making her wait. "There! The instruction booklet says that's faster than men can go." Which was true; it felt a lot faster than Brad or any other man had fucked her before.
"Oh damn, that's nice," wheezed Amber, loving the feel of the dildo banging around inside her. She worked within the limits of her bondage to vary the angle of its penetration; it would make her vagina very sore to have it repeatedly slid across the same place each and every time.
Brad put the control down beside her hip, sat beside her and reached between her legs. Careful to keep his fingers out of the thrusting dildo's path, he gently massaged her clitoris. Amber drew a startled breath, flexed her back as she squealed with pleasure and began to writhe erotically within her bindings.
A hard, thrusting dildo in her snatch. Gently caressing fingers on her clit. Her body inescapably bound. All three elements of pleasure combined in her brain to bring her to a quick series of ferocious orgasms as Brad watched them have their way with her. The machine's motor growled low under the greater load as Amber's pussy muscles squeezed the thrusting dildo with all their strength. He eased off her clit enough to let her calm down a small bit, then started again. She thrashed mindlessly in her rigorous bondage, gasping, her heart pounding like never before. Her climaxes were intense enough to cause an unusual blush glow from her face, neck and upper chest.
Brad forced her to have a dozen orgasms before he stopped. Then he leaned over and kissed her; Amber replied by attempting to suck his entire face off. He groped and squeezed a breast as his lips slid over hers, feeling her constant twitches and wiggles against her ropes as the thrusting machine whirred about its business unabated.
He broke the kiss and ran a thumb over her cheek, admiring the glitter in her eyes. "See you in three hours," he said softly as he stood. He headed for the door.
"Brad!" Amber screeched, alarmed. "You fucking asshole, get back—"
The bedroom door closed, leaving her alone.
"Bradley!" she shouted. "You get your ass back here! Right fucking now!"
He did not. Amber frantically looked around for the control box and found it nine inches from the side of her right hip. The cord running between it and the machine was laying over the spreader rope on that side. She might have been able to bounce on the mattress enough to get it to slide closer to her if not for that.
She opened her legs a bit wider and the knee ropes went slack. Then she snapped them closer together in the hope of dislodging the controls and letting it slide closer to her butt. Turning it off wasn't her idea at the moment, but she did want to have the ability and option of varying its speed. There would be some comfort in having the control box within reach.
Amber never had been very good at physics—the rope going taut caused the control box to bounce off the edge of the bed and fall to the floor as she watched in horror. "Well, that was fuckin' brilliant," she muttered to herself, disgusted. She looked nervously between her boobs and legs to see if there was some kind of emergency switch or something. There was none she could see. She kept her hips moving so the energetically thrusting dildo wouldn't go in at the same angle every time.
Amber struggled with great aggression. Her ankles, armpits, knees and wrists began to feel chafed with ropeburns. She writhed her hips up, to the side, down, back up, back to the side, down, sideways and up before repeating more of the same. Her sopping pussy was delightfully ablaze as the motorized dildo pounded into her with ruthless and mechanical efficiency.
Looking up at the alarm clock, Amber counted the number of times it thrust into her over the span of one minute. She counted ninety. Ninety strokes in and ninety strokes out—per minute. Times sixty minutes in an hour. Times three hours.
"Bradley!!!" she screamed as loud as physically possible.
Brad smiled to himself on the couch in the living room as he nibbled on some of last night's leftover fried chicken, a cold beer nestled against the inside of his thigh. The Indianapolis Colts were up by a field goal two minutes into the second quarter. It was looking to be a great game.
Be careful what you say you want—you might get it.