Open menu

The Restless Libido @restlesslibido

2346 Images
By day I'm a mild-mannered reporter for a major metropolitan newspaper who pays his taxes and helps his landlady carry out her trash. This blog covers the rest of the time. - The Restless Libido (@restlesslibido)
It was a few days after theyd celebrated their @restlesslibido

It was a few days after they’d celebrated their second year together when she noticed it.

He wasn’t fat, as such, but he’d definitely started to put on a little weight, to form a the beginnings of a belly that pushed out over the waist of his pants.

This would not do.

She was just about to lay down in bed beside him when the yoga ball in the corner caught her eye. I have an idea, was all she said, and forty-five sweaty minutes later, after they’d both collapsed, breathless, back into bed, she knew she was onto something.

He sinks inside her pinning her to the mattress @restlesslibido

He sinks inside her, pinning her to the mattress and out of her mouth comes animal sound, the open-throated moan of a mortally-wounded beast.

She clutches his hands with her own, knuckles white, just holding on as she is bred.

They do this to get a rise out of me fall into @restlesslibido

They do this to get a rise out of me, fall into each other’s arms and kiss, press their bodies against one another, leather over hips squeaking against leather over hips.

Their heels click together lazily as they separate and turn to look at me, an invitation, a promise, a tease. 

I ignore them for as long as I can, resist until I can do so no longer, until it’s up to them to decide my fate.

It was so easy before it was black and white @restlesslibido

It was so easy, before. 

It was black and white. She was young, he was old. She was broke, he was rich. She was beautiful and sexy, and he was a fat, disgusting pig in a three-piece suit.

Once a week, when both her roommates were out, she would turn on Skype and click on his fat little face. He knew to answer her call quickly, regardless of where he was, as it was understood that each ring past the first was an extra thousand dollars. 

He’d answer and there he’d be, red and sweaty and usually out of breath, crouching down in an empty cubicle in the middle of some law firm or brokerage, his lips trembling, the camera shaking because his hands were shaking.

Then out it would come. All the frustrations and aggravations since their last call – roommates late on their part of the electric bill, a nagging mother, disappointing friends – would come firing out at him, sharpened words, about his fat ugly face or swollen neck or beady little fucking eyes or hideous suit. She would rain down abuse on him, zero in on the slightest imperfection or flaw that caught her eye in that moment and let him have it.

It was almost over when he started crying. I’m getting bored with you, she’d say, maybe I won’t call you again. And he’d plead, he’d beg, he’d tilt the camera to show he was on his knees.

A dollar amount. It started off small, only a couple of hundred dollars. Until she found out how rich he really was, until she blackmailed him into giving her access to his bank account and she saw the balance with her own eyes.

By now she wouldn’t call him unless she had a specific number in mind, something to buy with it. She would name it, then make him transfer it to her while she watched. The moment the transfer went through she’d hang up.

Except this time.

While they waited for the confirmation code, he spoke up in a small voice. He asked for her mailing address, said he had something for her, a gift. She figured why not – she could bankrupt him with only a couple of mouse-clicks. She said her address, watching the status bar, and disconnecting the moment it went through. He would have to figure out the zip code.

A package in her hands, delivered by FedEx while she was at work. A card inside: For my own personal demon, to better torment me

Digging her hands into the tissue she lifted it out, translucent, shimmering, strong black bands running its length. Very expensive. Tailored to her.

A bottle of lubricant. She closed both the curtains and the door to her room, and, for good measure, turned off the lights. Clothes off. Lubricant cool against her skin. First one foot, then the other, then she shifted her hips, until it was snug up against her sex. Her arms through the straps and it slid into place, hugging her closely.

She looked at herself in the mirror and found her breath had left her, that her heart had betrayed her with his rapid beating. It was her hands that were shaking as she opened her laptop and clicked on his picture.

His face filled her screen, calm and ambivalent.

Yes? he asked. He’d not spoken like this to her before.

I got your gift, she said, trying to keep her voice steady. I just wanted to say – I just – I like it very much.

Stand and let me see you, he said, sitting back. Something had changed, she knew suddenly. Everything had changed. She found herself standing and stepping back, so from knees to hair she appeared in the monitor. 

A text box popped up. An address.

My apartment, he said, now. Heels, overcoat, nothing else. No phone, no keys, nothing else. Do you understand.

Not a question. She nodded. 

Take a cab, he said, you have ten minutes

Something had changed, alright. 

Somehow everything had changed.

She has a surprise for me she tells me on the @restlesslibido

She has a surprise for me, she tells me on the phone.

Something she saw in a thrift store that made her think of me. An early birthday present.

She’s in the bathroom when I get there. The echoing sound of movement and her voice come from behind the door.

On a whim I tried it on, she says. Fits me like it was tailored. The shopgirl took one look and told me that if I didn’t buy it she was going to call the cops.

The sound of sliding fabric.

She also said that whoever I was going home to was a lucky boy. I think she was hitting on me.

A zipper, being carefully drawn along its length, to the end.

Okay, go sit on the bed.

The creak of the door, opened a crack, then all the way. The steady tick of her heels on the floor, an unfamiliar swish accompanying each step, stopping in front of me.

Happy birthday, she says.

She offers to sell him to me how long depends on @restlesslibido

She offers to sell him to me.

How long depends on how much, she says. She fondles the key that until now has just been jewelry hanging from her necklace.

You buy the key, she says, but that doesn’t mean you need to use it. In fact, I’d prefer that you didn’t – I’m trying to teaching him discipline – but once the cash is in my hands he’s all yours.

He stands between us, mute. His eyes are fixed on a point in the distance but when he sees me reach for my wallet he swallows silently and begins to blink faster.

He’s not even my type, really, but I like her. I want to do business with her. I extract several bills.

For that, she says, he’s all yours. Keep him, rent him out, sell him to someone else – whatever you’d like.

A key in my hand where the cash used to be. We are both smiling now.

It pays very well and if shes honest with @restlesslibido

It pays very well and, if she’s honest with herself, she likes the attention.

She tells people who ask that she’s a hostess, which isn’t untrue, not really. It’s closer to being true than not and that’s good enough for her.

The uniform took a little getting used to but the other girls helped her out, showing her how to rub the lubricant into her skin, how to slide it carefully up over her hips and snugly into place. 

The sound of the zipper is a part of it, of her transformation. She listens for it now, the sound of being sealed into her role, as definitive as the click of a lock on a collar around her neck.

At this point the her who took the subway there is gone, hanging in her locker with her clothes and cell phone, her driver’s license, her name.

She joins the others, glistening in their matching cheongsams, waiting behind the curtain for their shift to start.

She tugs the briefs up into place then looks over @restlesslibido

She tugs the briefs up into place then looks over her shoulder at me and asks me what I think.

We are planning a trip together, to someplace tropical and hot, with powdered-sugar beaches and turquoise waters. She’s trying on the bikini she bought for the occasion.

Hold on, don’t say anything yet, she adds. Let me put the top on first.

It was her idea i balked initially as it seemed @restlesslibido

It was her idea.

I balked initially, as it seemed so fraught, so likely to cause problems between us. But she pleaded, in a way I’d never seen her do before, fragile, needing it, nakedly desperate, and so I relented.

I follow the script she’d laid out. I entered her apartment ahead of her and hid in a closet. It was dark when she arrived and she’d only just slung her bag down when I was upon her.

I gagged her tightly with a shirt of hers I’d ripped into strips, binding her hands behind her as well. You have to make sure both are tight, that I actually can’t free myself or speak, she’d told me. And I did. 

Next to the couch, pushing her forward over it, kicking her feet apart, lifting up her skirt and tearing away her panties. I forced myself inside her and had my way. When I finish she is sobbing into the gag. When I free her mouth she is repeating thank you, over and over and over.

It’s a week later. Everything’s back to normal. I get a flirty text from her, asking me to come by, that she’d like to repay me for my performance.

The moment I close the door there’s a hood over my head and a foot at the back of my knees, bringing me to the floor. Handcuffs, too tight, on my wrists. A knife blade, long and cold and wicked, insinuates itself underneath my clothing, cutting it away. I am lifted to my feet and led to another room, forced down onto a bench. The sound of a lock fastening my cuffs below me. Her heels on the floor, echoing for the lack of other furniture.

It’s then that I finally understand. It wasn’t an act; it was a reenactment. The only reason she wanted to do it was so she could respond, in her own way, when she was ready, after she’d planned and prepared and whetted an appetite with a willing and trusted facilitator.

The whip cracks down against my skin. I endue, for her. 

On advice from a friend she bought herself a pair @restlesslibido

On advice from a friend she bought herself a pair of boots in jet-black suede.

They were tall, the tops landing just over her knees, nothing outrageous and yet nothing she’d ever think to buy for herself. Drawing the zipper up on first one leg and then the other, she felt something stirring within her, an unfamiliar feeling of calm. 

Everything else she had already. Stockings, a minidress, a long sweater. Only the boots she bought and she bought them specifically for this moment, the moment he came home and walked through the door.

She waited until he’d closed the door behind him to speak.

Things, she said to him, are going to be different from now on.

Her pussy is hot and wet and ready for him but he @restlesslibido

Her pussy is hot and wet and ready for him.

But he fucks her in the ass instead.

It’s what she deserves. 

It’s what she needs.

He fucks her whenever he wants strips the both of @restlesslibido

He fucks her whenever he wants, strips the both of them naked and fits his body over hers, mounts her, penetrates her, and grunts into her neck until he cums.

She’s grown quite powerless to stop him, her resistance worn down by repetition, to the point that just feeling his hands unfastening her clothing is enough to get her wet, to harden her nipples, to redden her lips and steal the breath from her chest. 

She’s slick as he slides into her, both of them moaning at their rejoining. And she cums now too. She didn’t before, for the first bunch of times. Now she doesn’t even need to touch herself. His rhythm is enough, the steady and forceful slap of his balls, his ass, against her, his grip around her waist, the strength in his hands

She finds herself spreading her legs for him, even after he’s pierced her, pushing back to force his cock deeper inside her, holding her breath and waiting for the first hot burst of cum to start pumping into her before the explosion of heat between her owns legs, the collapse, wet with sweat, helplessly owned, broken, into the sheets below.

Her teeth on his ear as she forces a finger in his @restlesslibido

Her teeth on his ear as she forces a finger in his ass.

She bites down, hard, until he cries out, then she whispers.

Say it, she hisses.

He’s coughing, from screaming underwater, sputtering and gasping and trying to catch his breath. She tightens her grip and forces her finger further inside him, until her knuckles are tight against his ass. She says again: Say it.

More coughing. She pulls her finger out of him, reaches around, finds his cock swinging hard and hot in the water. So he’s enjoying this, she thinks.

She grabs his balls from between his legs and pulls, leaning forward, spinning him forward again until his head is under water.

He struggles against her. She holds him fast and strokes his cock.

I can go on like this all night, she says aloud at the bubbles surrounding the back of his head. For as long as you want.

She knows it shouldnt be this way all takes to @restlesslibido

She knows it shouldn’t be this way. All takes to get her wet is the texture of his suit against her skin, the smell of his cologne, the weight of his watch, and her knowing how expensive it all is and yet, to him, so easily within reach.

And yet it is this way. She’s wet and panting the moment he places the wrapped box in her hands, the name of the store in brilliant gold across the top, a pair of panties inside that cost the same as a month’s rent in the apartment she shares with three others. 

The shame is there, at being that shallow, that easily impressed, that woman, yet she ignores it, focusing instead on the gnawing lust between her legs, the animal urges flooding her mind.

Shes got all day to find just the right pair so @restlesslibido

She’s got all day to find just the right pair so she takes her time.

She certainly doesn’t think I’ll be able to last that long but she is curious to find out how long I make it and to see what happens when I finally crack.

Her arms go around my wifes waist and pull her @restlesslibido

Her arms go around my wife’s waist and pull her back, so their bodies are touching, from ankles to collarbone. 

Tightening her grip she licks her neck, marking her, claiming her as her own.

In panties and a t shirt she holds up the @restlesslibido

In panties and a t-shirt she holds up the handcuffs and says she wants to be in charge for a while.

I lay back, as instructed. She lifts off her shirt, then, straddling me, leans forward to lock the cuffs around my wrists, pressing her breasts into my face. 

I open my mouth and extend my tongue toward her nipples but she leans back too quickly. The cuffs hold me fast. She wears a look of genuine pleasure on her face.

Her lips on my lips. Her lips on my cock. Her breasts dragged across my bare flesh. It goes on like this for nearly an hour. 

By the end I am ragged with lust but I managed to seem bored when she asks me if I’ve had enough. I wait until she’s straddled me again and unfastened both cuffs from my wrists. 

And then suddenly I’m no longer bored. I’m not tired or weary or anything other than the animal she’s just spent an hour taunting, newly-freed from my bindings.

I spring, flipping her onto her back, and tearing her panties away. Then over again, knees down over the edge of the bed, face pushed into the sheets. I grab her wrists and locks the cuffs tightly onto them, then fuck her, like I’ve wanted to for every single one of the those minutes she was in control, like she deserves to be fucked, like needs to be done.

It doesnt matter if shes uncomfortable in it or @restlesslibido

It doesn’t matter if she’s uncomfortable in it or even what it is. He wants her to wear it so she will.

She tugs the curtain closed behind her and the sweater and blouse and comfy jeans she dressed herself in this morning find their way to the floor. Panties and bra and socks too, until it’s just her in the mirror. His.

The skirt first. The squeaking black vinyl hangs in limp folds from her hands, cool against her fingers but warming. She steps into it, pulls the zipper up, then tugs it down over her hips until it’s snugly in place. She gives a twirl and it flutters over her thighs, flashing the briefest glimpse of her ass.

The corset is next. She has to take a breath to get the fasteners closed and finds she can’t quite exhale when she’s finished.

Last, the boots. Her size, all of it. He’s done his homework. She steps up into them, sliding the zipper up to her knee. 

She pulls the curtain back and presents herself to him, his to command, his plaything, his toy. 


It was the littlest thought running through her @restlesslibido

It was the littlest thought running through her mind but for whatever reason she decided, impulsively, to act on it.

They were kissing, his hands moving in a familiar way toward the next step, toward the assumed conclusion, when she separated and took a step back. 

He looked at her, seemingly for the first time. She didn’t know where she was going with this, not really, but decided that was okay.

She quickly unfastened her dress and let it hang open.

I want you to touch yourself, she said. I want to watch you

He hesitated, so she pushed the sides of her dress back, putting her hands on her hips, and stood up straight.

Did you hear me? she asked. 

He nodded, his mouth open but empty. 

So start, she said.

His eyes were on her as his hands freed himself and he began.

They are equal in most things until this moment @restlesslibido

They are equal in most things, until this moment, in which a clear distinction is formed.

One is the beast, the other the prey. 

He braces himself against the arm of the couch. As wide apart as his legs are, the other forces them wider. Hands, massive and strong, clamp onto his hips and pull, his ass stretching to accommodate the cock that pierces it.

Words and tears stream in equal measure out of him as he is filled, as he is mounted and fucked, as grunts and blood pounding fill his ears and he closes his eyes to hide from it all.

When the other cums inside him he can taste it in the back of his throat. There’s no point in pretending, in denying what he is, what he’s become.


Close Photo