“Is there any more wine?” I asked.“No, just the one bottle,” he said. “There is more water if you want it.”“That sounds good, actually.�...�He fished two bottles out of the backpack and we both had a long drink. I realized how hot I was.“Let’s go back in the water,” I said.We swam for another 20 minutes or so, letting the refreshing water cool us off. When we went back to the shady spot, still naked, I felt much better.“I’m guessing that’s not the first time you’ve done that,” I said.“No,” he said.. I told him to stop because I was married, but he kept up his assault on my most intimate private parts. I tried to wrestle free from his grasp, but to no avail. He had me pinned and I wasn't going anywhere. He then smothered my mouth with his and forced his tongue into my mouth while sliding a couple of fingers inside of me. I didn't know what to do, and really wasn't sure if I wasn't dreaming after playfully flirting with this guy all night that it was my fantasy. His tongue danced around mine. After a small pause, he said, "I could pay you to have a footjob by her, if you don't mind." He was perhaps expecting me to react strongly, but he did not know that inside I was brimming with pleasure. "Ok, I'll talk to my wife about it and let you know." We exchanges our phone numbers and he left. That night, when I was licking her feet and rubbing my dick against them, I told her about the guy. To my surprise, she was open to the idea and told me that she also wanted her feet to fuck a. Too long. Not long enough.Her eyes kept glancing to the polished wooden contraption in the centre of the high, bare cell. Glancing, looking away, steeling herself, glancing back. The leather ties that would bind her ankles. Looking away. Looking away. The smooth, dark wood over which they’d have her bend, the ties for her wrists on the opposite side. Looking away. Looking away.She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. It was cold. So cold, sitting here, naked, on this solitary plastic.
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