Of Hibernian Bondage — Olivia London

“I’m so horny, I wish a penis would drop from the sky and fall in my lap; I’d know just what to do with it.”

Lana was sitting in bed next to Malachy, her boyfriend of two years for what would be their ninetieth evening of sexless coupledom.  She was keeping count, day after frustrating day.  Ninety nights in a row, for three sere months Lana had worn sexy lingerie and stiletto slingback heels, sometimes even “tripping” on a chord in a shameless effort to unplug her sweetie’s laptop.

Malachy sighed and gave his sweetheart an affectionate, albeit noncommittal pat on her shoulder.

“Honey, you see I’m working.  I’m always looking for ways to improve.  I’m working twice as hard just to keep us where we were a year ago.  Why don’t you put on that new CD I bought you and take a hot bath?”

Plucking at her diaphanous negligee, Lana said, “I don’t want to take a bath, not by myself, anyway.”

She kept staring at her man as if she could will him into taking off his clothes.  Finally, unable to bear the proximity of wondrous maleness without reaping its benefits, Seattle’s horniest dame let her fingers glide under the band of Malachy’s boxer shorts.  He responded by snapping shut his laptop and repairing to the living room.

“Blame the economy, love,” was her boyfriend’s last word on the subject.

Lana would not blame the economy.  When she and Mal started dating neither one of them had regular jobs and could barely afford a pint of Guinness between them.  Yet they managed to make love every day of the week.  No, what they needed was an element of surprise.  Something outside the purgatory of same old, same old.

The next night when Malachy came home, he tossed his briefcase and laptop on the couch then went to the kitchen to nosh.  When he was ready to retrieve his computer lifeline, it was gone.

“Looking for something?”

“Lana!  What the hell?”

Lana stood before him now, completely naked, her hands manacled behind her back.

“There are two things I’ve taken pains to hide.  Your laptop and the key to these cuffs.  You can’t have one without the other and you’ll never guess the hiding places of either, so I suggest you play along.”

Malachy ran his fingers through his girlfriend’s long, blond hair and kissed her on the top of the head.  He had to admit, he was getting aroused; still, he had work to do.

“Sweetheart, where’s the key?”

Lana licked her lips.  “I’ll gladly tell you after I’ve made a palate cleanser of your penis.”

“I’m living with a crazy woman,” the Hibernian hunk said through a broad smile.

“You’re living with a woman who misses you.”

“Baby, I’m sorry.  I’ve missed you, too.”

“Don’t be sorry; just undress.”

While Malachy took off his clothes, Lana was surprised by the rivulets of moisture coursing down her inner thighs.  She was turned on, ready to roll out the red carpet of her tongue.  Malachy was still smiling big as a lottery winner.

“What’s so funny, Mal?”

“It cracks me up, that’s all.  Now that women have achieved parity with men, they want to be dominated for fun.”

“Don’t spoil this.”

Malachy chucked his clothes in a heap.  He’d been hard from the moment he saw his girlfriend naked.

This was something new.  Lana typically guided Mal’s penis into her mouth with one hand while using the other to surf her lover’s torso.  Now, she’d have to wait patiently for what she wanted.  It was enough to drive her mad.

Lana was sitting on the edge of the bed so Malachy had to bend over to kiss her.  She turned her lips to murmur in his ear, “Let me go down on you.”

Malachy straightened and held his erection like a bough within tantalizing reach.  As Lana’s lips stretched toward their coveted mark, Mal stepped back a pace.

“Are you sure you want to go down on me?  I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.” 

“Mal, don’t make me beg.”

He wouldn’t make her beg.  No Irish guy’s a sadist.  He stepped forward and offered the tip of his penis like a piece of candy.

She licked and let her tongue idle like a flâneur before committing to the rigors of phallic love.  Her arms were beginning to feel heavy, like waterlogged cushions, yet she had the sensation of floating; it was a heady feeling she wished would last forever.

The fluids of her lover’s erection roiled as Lana’s lips held to the base of the shaft and then Malachy was pushing her gently away, guiding her into a supine position so he could pivot his penis right where she wanted it all along.

The cuffs were beginning to chafe but she didn’t care.  All that mattered was being loved and she had her man’s love like a storm within her at last.  No more sere days or nights.

“Wow,” Malachy said, as the pair huddled together in sweet, post-coital aftermath.  “I feel like I ravished you.  Is that okay?”

“You can ravish me anytime.  But right now you need to uncuff me.  The key is tucked between pages sixty and sixty-one of Mariette in Ecstasy.”

Malachy grabbed the key and read aloud from his girlfriend’s favorite novel of the week: “’She whipped herself with knotted apron strings.  She rebuked temptations against chastity by lying naked on thorns.’”

“Isn’t that great?”

“You’re twisted, you know that.”

“That’s why you love me.”

“No, I love you because you’ll go down on me at the drop of a feather and you laugh at my jokes.”

Malachy unlocked the cuffs and kissed the mullioned imprints where the fetters had recently glazed his girlfriend’s skin.

“I really do love you, Lana.”

“Good.  Now, you can have your laptop back.  It’s on the top shelf of the closet under the plaid blanket.”

Malachy got into bed with his girlfriend and pulled her into a prime spooning position.  “To hell with the laptop,” he said.  “Let’s just stay like this for a while.”

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Read Olivia’s other sexy stories published on Every Night Erotica, here.

Olivia London is the author of the story collection San Francisco Lovin’ published by Renaissance E Books.  Titles available frome Xcite Books include Lesbian Love 3, Healthy Addictions and the erotic paranormal story Soul Bumping.  Ms. London lives in Seattle.  The author may be reached at olivialondonstories@gmail.com.