It’s a big, soft, red velvet rope like you’d buy in a fabric store to tie back curtains if you had no taste at all and wanted your room to look re...l gaudy. Or maybe if you were into a retro sixties thing.He asks if I trust him as he ties the rope around my wrist. I nod but my nod is a lie. How can you trust a man who’s tying a rope around your wrist? I’ve been married to him for twenty-one years, but the man that I was married to for all that time never tied me up. This is a different Bert than. "I need to fuck you."Instead, I increased my pace, bouncing up and down on him, revelling in the sharp bursts of pleasure that ran through me. My moans grew louder and more insistent as I took what I wanted, all the while never breaking away from his burning gaze. His hands dug into my ass and he hissed when I went faster, riding him in earnest. "Sweet Jesus, you'll be the death of me, Abby."He stroked and kneaded the softness of my ass, sometimes painfully hard, sometimes feather soft. I was. More

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