Sunday, October 11, 2009
Nailed To the Floor
My girlfriend had it in her head that I needed to be dominated. That was fine. I had it in my belly that I had just eaten a great big pot brownie and drunk a giant bottle of barley wine. That had me in a pretty agreeable mood. There wasn’t much to which I would've objected at that point. We were drunk, high, and already fucking as a group all over the living room. The focused attention of two women at once is a spectacular thing. My wife’s boyfriend and I had been sharing the pleasures of that situation pretty evenly. Previously there had been a great deal of talk, especially between the women, about getting he and I to play around together. My one previous male/male experience had gone somewhat badly. I’m thoroughly comfortable in group sex situations involving other men. I just don’t normally feel compelled to interact with them. I don’t find the idea unappealing when the mood strikes me. It just doesn’t often strike me, especially not in the presence of two readily available women crawling around nude. Regardless, it occurred to me that that moment would be a good time to give it another try. He was reclining on the couch, and the women were on their hands and knees taking turns blowing him. I had been fucking one of them from behind, I forget who, while they did this, and I decided it would be an appropriate time to give it another shot. I had been assured that he’d be receptive. So I did, and it went well. The women went nuts over it. He seemed to enjoy it too. A little was all I needed though, and I went over to his wife. He and my wife started fucking on the couch. With silk scarves, his wife tied my hands together up above my head, and then to one of the legs of my coffee table. I think she tied each of my feet to something separately, though I don’t recall exactly. She worked me over with her mouth and hands. I started to feel sick from the brownie and all the barley wine, but was pretty sure that I had it all under control. As she sat down on me, I almost forgot about what was happening in my stomach altogether. Everything was pretty great for what must have been about five or ten minutes. At that point, my primary concern was that I was actually feeling so good I thought I might pass out, which would be kind of embarrassing under the circumstances. Passing out during group sex would be a new experience that I wouldn’t be anxious to add to my life resume. Quite abruptly, however, it became very apparent to me that I needed to vomit…quickly…perhaps even immediately. At once, I decided to get up. All 6’ 2,” 210 pounds of me overturned the coffee table, a floor speaker, and the 5’ 4,” 105 pound girl that was riding me, as I arose and sprinted to the bathroom, where I started violently heaving into the toilet, buckets of the vilest puke I’ve ever puked in my life. Once I had vacated my stomach completely, I continued dry-heaving until my ribs felt like they would crack. Then I fell over onto my left side, resting on the bathroom floor. I was still very alert, still drunk, still high, but alert. Each time that I tried to rise, the room spun, I felt sick, and fell back onto my side, nailed to the floor, wrists still bound to each other with the silk scarves. I believed in my heart that death was imminent, though my rational mind knew that wasn’t the case. In a few minutes, the two women, both still naked, started coming into the bathroom in intervals to see how I was doing. It occurred to me that I had officially stopped an orgy. I was naked in the fetal position, on my own bathroom floor, groaning. At some point somebody covered me with a towel so I wouldn’t be cold. Those are the sort of sweet gestures that separate good friends from casual ones. I made note. I passed in and out of consciousness a few times. I remember my girlfriend coming in to piss, with me still at her feet. She apologized, and hoped that I wasn’t awake to notice. I was, but didn’t care. After about an hour, it was apparent that there would be no more screwing until the morning, and that we should all just go to bed. The only problem being that there was nobody in the house physically strong enough to move me. With assistance from the group, I was helped to my feet and guided up the stairs to my bed. My wife was back with me in our bed, and three good hours of sleep transpired, at which point I woke back up feeling pretty straight. So I brushed my teeth. We swapped beds and picked right back up where we had left off.