The Letter - Part 3 - Sex Stories

The Letter - Part 3

My life was good, wonderful in fact. I had a well-paid job, lovely home and a great social life. I was also married to the sexiest, horniest woman on the planet. I was indeed a lucky man. Since my gorgeous wife and I had tossed aside our inhibitions to embrace our sexual fantasies, our wild abandon in the bedroom had kept the neighbours awake practically every night. Jess had a voracious appetite for all things carnal and I was more than happy to feed it. That was especially true now our antics accommodated my love of nylon. Jess generally adopted a dominant role during sex and always took the lead whenever stockings were involved. I’d never asked her to do that but I was glad of it. I spent all day at the office supervising twenty subordinates and needed a release from that. It was refreshing having the control taken away from me in the bedroom. Jess, however, had started taking her dominant role a bit too seriously and recently things had taken a dangerous turn. Whilst tied to the bed with black stockings and wearing my well-loved nylon tights, Jess had emerged from our walk-in closet with a sturdy leather riding crop clasped tightly in her hand. A sadistic smile illuminated her face as she wielded the thing, swishing it over my helpless, pinioned body. She let it crack down onto the exposed flesh of my stomach causing me to cry out at the sudden sting of pain. Jess scowled and administered a stern reprimand. “How dare you make a noise like a baby! You’re a naughty boy, ...

... you deserve to be punished for liking dirty nylon tights!” Well, I can’t say exactly what it was that excited me so much in that moment; was it her lusty voice or perhaps the way she hovered over me wearing black nylon stockings and nothing else? Was it the way her sleek chestnut hair hung down over her face or the look in her eyes, that impish glint? Whatever it was the combination of the whipping and Jess’s scorching sexual energy triggered an explosive pressure in my balls which sent my cum shooting out my rock hard, ten-denier encased penis. I filled my silky tights with great dollops of hot stickiness. Eyebrows arched, Jess watched me shudder and squirm, straining against my restraints as my climax shook me. A wicked smile flickered across her painted lips before the riding crop struck again, whoosh ! “Fuck!” I screeched. “What was that for?” “ That , was for soiling your lovely tights.” “Oh, Jess…” I whimpered. Her words condemned my actions to even greater depths of depravity which turned me on something chronic. “Yes Jess, I’m bad, so very bad. Punish me again!” And so the whip became a regular part of our nightly adventures and an object I both revered and feared. Our love making reached new heights of pleasure but also threatened to push me beyond my pain threshold. Sooner or later I was going to get injured and I didn’t fancy having to explain my wounds to the nurses in A&E. Things were getting out of control. I’d already thought it wise to introduce a safe word to ...