“Do you think he’ll like my boobs better in a pushup bra or braless and just showing off some cleavage?” Sylva asked me.

“You’ve known him longer than me,” I responded. “What kinds of women turn his head?”

“All kinds, I guess. He’s more into the person than the body. I asked once, um before you, what he likes the best. He just said, ‘enthusiasm’. ”

With neither of us able to reach a decision, we tried her outfit both ways and decided that braless looked better. The garment lines of the bra ruined the contours of her maroon spandex superhero bodysuit. My outfit consisted of a slit skirt and white blouse, with heels that were treacherously high. I’m a tomboy at heart, so stiletto heels and I don’t play well together.

Beneath my sexy but conservative “mild-mannered girlfriend” costume, I wore a black lace shelf bra, matching garter belt and stockings, and my Agent Provocateur thong panties, a gift from him. Of course, the panties would be over the garters for easy removal.

Sylva’s spandex costume was far too tight for any underwear whatsoever. When she turned around in front of me to show it off, her pussy lips could plainly be seen. Her round behind was merely spray-painted with the shiny material.

“Nice camel-toe!” I teased.

Sylva, a costumer, completed her ensemble with a stick-on superhero mask. She “distressed” my damsel in distress outfit by giving it strategic tears, using makeup and paints to give it a dirty and tattered look. We completed my getup with large, green plastic librarian glasses.

“Perfect!” Sylva exclaimed as she hunched over a large wooden chest filled with a varied array of props and accessories. She ruined the view I had of her spandex-clad ass by standing upright. She held up a costume utility belt with a stylized buckle and holster and a pink-painted toy ray gun.

“Are you sure he’ll fuck me?” she asked as she produced a black half-cape from the box and tried it on.

“He will,” I promised. “Besides, I’ll be bound, helpless. He won’t be able to resist you!”

Looking sad, she said, “When we all slept together, he never laid a hand on me. I don’t think he’s into me.”

“He is,” I consoled. “He admitted that you make his blood boil. Don’t worry, you’ll blow his mind.”

“And his cock, too!” she laughed.

It was his fault! Yes, I know that I constantly cast blame outside of myself; this time it was true. It was his fault.

He had a job, out of state, and had left late Monday night. We kept in touch via telephone and messaging. Our nights were spent reading erotica to each other, which is a slightly more romantic and cerebral version of phone sex. He had promised me that he’d always be thinking about me.

To prove his point he had ten-dozen carnations delivered to work on Tuesday afternoon. The card read, “One flower for every time I’ve thought of you this hour.” I was blown away and would’ve thoroughly soaked my panties, had I been wearing any.

I was ecstatic! Nobody could ever top such a romantic and grandiose gesture. He did.

The following afternoon a very embarrassed courier arrived wearing a gray trench coat and carrying a vintage boom box. He was dressed like John Cusack from the movie, Say Anything, and his stereo was blaring out the song, In Your Eyes. That card read, “Thinking of you.”

I cried; Marcy cried. I had once mentioned, in passing, that I liked the movie and loved that scene. I only said it once, about a month ago, while we were scanning for something to watch on television.

He really outdid himself on Thursday! No fanfare or buying-out of an entire floral shop this time. I received a single purple rose. I mentioned, weeks ago, that I love purple flowers. The card read, “One sole thought thunders through my mind; the thought of you.”

Now it was time for my “revenge!” We were ready. Sylva was my enthusiastic accomplice.

She and I had concocted a diabolical role-playing plan. She was to be the evil villainess and I her helpless captive in need of rescue. With her “Orgasmatron” ray gun, the hapless victim would require an intense orgasm or die the “moaning death.” Yes, it was silly and childish; but so am I!

It was Friday night and my lover, Sylva, and I were returning to my house. We had left early to go to my parents’ home to partake in a ritual of initiation. My slutty friend, Kiera, had begged my mother to teach her the ways of paganism and accepted the offer to join mom’s Coven. We were all happy that Kiera had found peace and balance; the changes wrought on her in a short time were amazing.

The ritual was joyous, filled with mirth, humor, fun, and celebration. Pagans celebrate their faith; they do not mourn it. The celebration afterward was likewise amazing. I could fill volumes detailing the interactions and revelry, especially my slutty mother reacting to seeing Glade “Skyclad” (nude). We left early, making excuses that I had to work in the morning.

He was clueless about what awaited him back home. We had barely left the winding, dirt driveway of my parents’ home before Sylva and I double-teamed him with sexual talk, innuendo, and groping. He immediately sensed that something was up, but he played along so as to not spoil our fun.

“So I’ll be heading home since you have work in the morning,” he said after he walked us both to my door.

“No,” I countered. “You need to come in. I, we, have a surprise for you.”

He paused as if to say something, shrugged, and walked in behind us. “I would have come in anyway,” he chimed, “just to admire the view.”

On the coffee table was a white garment box with his name scrawled on the lid.

“If that’s a severed head, I shall be gravely disappointed,” he smirked.

He sat while I prepared drinks and other libations for us three. He opened the box, noted the instructions, and then held up a black suit jacket. Under the jacket, a white button-down shirt was neatly folded. He gave us both an odd, quizzical look while Sylva and I held each other and giggled with delight and anticipation.

He read the printed paper. “You are a super-powered secret agent on a quest,” he paused. “Oh boy, a quest!”

He continued. “On a quest to save his luscious girlfriend from the clutches of the evil Sex Girl.”

He laughed. “Sex Girl?”

“We were pressed for time,” Sylva said.

“We?” he mused. “You two are the wildest women I’ve ever met! I love it!”

“Read the rest,” I begged.

“Grab your martini and wait here until you hear your girlfriend screaming for help. Then find and infiltrate Sex Girl’s ‘secret lair’ and rescue her from the torture of the ‘Orgasmatron’.”

“Surprise!” we both yelled out to him.

“What’s an Orgasmatron and where can I buy four of them?”

“You’ll see! Wait here and get ready,” I beamed out to him. “I wanted to give you something special because you’ve been so good to me all week.”

“How do you want your martini, Mr. Secret Agent?” Sylva asked.

Glade smiled, “Shaken, not stirred.”

His “martini” consisted of rum and coke because that’s what I had. I did plop in an olive, though. He chuckled as I handed it to him, kissed him, and then ran upstairs to prepare.

Sylva and I hurriedly taped the “Secret Underground Lair” sign to my bedroom door and rushed inside to get ready. Both of my legs and one arm were shackled to the bed; I had enough freedom to move around but couldn’t escape unless I undid the three shackles.

I laughed like crazy when Sylva surprised me. She produced a “weapon” that amounted to a huge rubber dildo on a handle. After mutual fits of laughter, we were ready.

“Help me! Somebody save me, please!” I cried out in mock despair. “Help me, she’s violating me!”

Sylva turned to me. She looked so sexy in her mask, cape, and skin-tight spandex suit. The front zipper was down and showed lots of her breasts. She pulled it down to almost her navel and adjusted herself.

“Yes, like that,” I told her. “You look so fucking hot.”

“If he doesn’t come in soon, I’m going to have my way with you,” she replied.

I shrieked out again.

The door opened slowly and Glade “posed” his way into the room, striking James Bond postures. His hair was slicked back and tied up in the back, giving him the illusion of shorter, darker hair. He gave a “seductive secret agent” smirk and set his drink on the nearby table.

Extending one arm out and adjusting his shirt cuff, he turned to us and confidentially said, “The name’s Bard, James Bard; agent double-or-nothing!”

After some giggles, Sylva replied, “you’re too late, Bard.” She pulled out the toy ray gun and pointed it at me. “One shot of my Orgasmatron and your girlfriend will suffer the moaning death.”

“Oh no!” he said. “Not the moaning death!”

“Yes,” she laughed out. “She’ll be overcome with lust and will die from pleasure. The only thing that will save her life is giving her an orgasm!”

She then laughed an evil-sounding, “muwahahaha” laugh and pulled the trigger. The ray gun made toy-gun bleeps and whirs. I started writhing on the bed in ecstasy, running my free hand all over my body.

“You’ll have to go through me, first, Bard,” Sylva said to him as she holstered the Orgasmatron and lofted her huge dildo-sword. “You get to watch her die from pleasure!”

“Umm, aah, feels so fucking good, save me, aah!” I whined out. To add realism, I reached under my torn, slit skirt and began fingering myself under my panties. His eyes popped with delight when he saw the garter and stockings.

“I’m tempted to let you die from passion, just to watch the delight of it all,” my lover said casually as he sipped his drink. “However, a world without your beauty is not worth living in. Prepare to be saved!”

He again set down his drink and Sylva interposed herself between us, smacking the rubber dildo in her free hand. I continued fingering myself, focused on how macho he looked in a suit jacket and jeans and on how sexy Sylva looked in tight, shiny spandex.

Sylva, as Sex Girl, and Glade, as James Bard, wrestled all over my bedroom. She’d swing at him, sometimes even hitting him. When she did, he’d pretend to be knocked across the room. I continued assaulting my own dripping pussy and found the entire scene to be somehow extremely erotic.

At one point they were rolling along the floor with her groping at him and him spanking her ass. Sylva’s breasts came out of her costume while they wrestled. She pinned him to the floor and pulled out the ray gun and held it to his head.

“Suck my tits unless you want to meet the same fate as your girlfriend!” she said.

I moaned loudly in response for dramatic effect. I didn’t need to act, I was close to orgasm.

He did as commanded. As he licked, sucked, and nibbled on her exposed tits, her breathing became deep and rapid. I don’t know if it was from the wrestling or the fact that he gives really good tongue. It was a sight to behold!

As soon as she closed her eyes, though, my lover knocked the toy pistol from her hand and pushed her off of him. Ever the gentleman, his hand shot out and stopped her from falling. He then sprang up and ran the three or four steps to me.

“I’ll save you!” he cried out.

“It’s too late. If I don’t cum, I’ll die.” That wasn’t too far from the truth!

He reached out and began pulling my panties down. His touch sent jolts of pleasure through my body and I moaned in lust. The panties wouldn’t come all the way off because my ankles were manacled to the bedposts. I was getting ready to call a stop to everything so I could unshackle myself and take them off.

Glade, however, had a different idea.

“Fuck it,” he exclaimed. “I’ll buy you another pair.”

He reached out with both hands and found a seam. Tugging until I heard the stitches rip, he then gave me a very passionate look and tore them apart. He stripped off his pants but left his “secret agent” shirt and jacket on.

“Fuck me, James Bard, before I die. I need to cum!”

Without hesitation, he jumped between my legs and thrust himself deep into me. I was already soaked; it slid in easily. He thrust deep, and then would wait, finding the perfect angle. His thrusts matched the rhythm of my breathing. With each moaning intake of breath, I could feel him filling me up. With each gasping exhale, he’d pull back until the head of his huge cock rubbed my G-spot perfectly.

My skirt was bunched up around my waist; my blouse had fallen open, exposing my shelf bra and nipples. My body was in paradise. As I moaned with closed eyes, I felt a hand grab my breast. I opened my eyes to see Sylva standing beside us. Her face was a mask of lust and her exposed tits showed her arousal.

Her other hand reached down between our joined groins, easily finding my passion-swollen clit. She vibrated her fingers across it so quickly that every nerve in my clitoris was stimulated at once.

“I’m fucking cumming!” I screamed out as an intense orgasm overtook me. I moaned and swore and convulsed all over the bed. I felt the manacles bite into my ankles and wrists. It only added to pleasure ripping through my body.

They both held me as I came down, panting. Then Sylva grabbed the toy ray-gun and pointed it at Glade.

“Back off,” she commanded.

He smiled with delight and backed away, holding his hands up before him.

“You have defeated me,” she said in her evil, Sex Girl voice. “But if I can’t have her then I don’t want to live!”

Sylva turned the ray gun around and shot herself right in the face. She immediately threw herself on the bed and began moaning and running her hands all over her body. She plunged a hand inside of her spandex bodysuit and began fingering herself. Watching her fingers dance beneath the fabric caused my pussy to ache for more attention.

“Save her!” I screamed to him. “You can’t let her die.”

“But she’s a villain!” He said watching the sight before him.

“You made an oath to never take a life,” I shot back. “Give her an orgasm!”

He gave me an unsure look and I nodded to him vigorously. “You must make Sex Girl cum or she’ll die.”

He shrugged and smiled at me deliciously. His hand went between her legs, over the fabric of her costume.

Thinking fast I said, “No! She shot herself in the face with the Orgasmatron. That means you need to make her orgasm orally.”

“Fuck yeah!” Sylva said, breaking character. She quickly stripped her costume most of the way off, leaving it around one leg.

“You heard her,” she commanded, pointing the gun at him once more. “Lick my kitty, Glade, I mean, James Bard, before I die from pleasure.”

He looked at me once more for reassurance. Seeing his thick cock jutting out like that and Sylva laying back, panting from lust, had me so turned on that I wanted, needed, to see that.

“Do it!” I cried out. “Do it for me!”

He knelt on the floor and pulled her wet crotch to his mouth as if she were weightless.

“Oh fuck!” Sylva moaned out. “Fuck you’re good at that! Yes, wiggle your tongue inside me like that. God more! Please don’t’ stop! Fuck! On my clit just like that!”

Her hands grabbed the back of his head and she ground her crotch on his face. I moaned with her, my hands busy on my pussy, matching the humping of her hips.

“Fucking shit I’m going to cum. Stick your fingers in me…oh in my ass! Fuuuuck! I’m cummmming!”

Sylva flailed about in the rapture of an intense orgasm. My lover stopped; his face was soaked with her nectar.

As she lay there panting, Sylva grabbed the toy ray gun and shot herself in the pussy. “Now you have to fuck me with that big cock of yours, or I’ll die!”

“Oh yes!” I pled. “Fuck her for me, save her!”

He placed the head of his manhood against her pussy and she writhed all over it. Her hips gyrated; she was moaning uncontrollably, trying to pull him inside of her.

“Aaaaagh!” she screamed out when he got the tip of it inside of her. “That’s so thick! You’re tearing me apart. No, don’t stop! More!”

He eased himself inside of her as she grabbed her tits and pulled hard on her nipples.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck my kitty,” she chanted over and over. “I love your cock; I need it, fuck me harder. Never stop fucking me.”

Oddly, I didn’t feel any jealousy. I only felt the intense heat of the moment and unbridled desire. I unshackled myself and crawled over to watch his girth sink into her pussy. His cock was wet and slick. I could see her pussy swell around its contours. Because he was standing at the edge of the bed and she was on her back, my head had just enough space to fit right over her pussy.

I darted my tongue out and flicked it over her clit. I was rewarded with loud moans. My tongue became a whirlwind over her engorged clit as her hips began to buck wildly. Her hand grabbed my ass and then stroked my pussy. She caressed my wetness as her orgasm began and consumed her.

I pulled back and kissed her as she screamed into my mouth amidst her soul-shaking orgasm.

“Oh fuck, you were worth the wait,” she said to my lover after she regained control. “You still haven’t cum? You’re a fucking god.”

He stood upright and admired us lying in each other’s arms. He smiled his “charming rogue leader of the rebellion” crooked smile. “The name’s Bard, James Bard,” he said.

He strolled over to his drink and took a sip. He pinched himself and looked at us. “Nope,” he said. “That really just happened.” He laughed.

“Can I please fuck him more?” Sylva asked me. “He hasn’t come yet.”

I was more than down for that. I didn’t want it to end. I picked up the toy ray gun and pointed it directly at his still-hard cock. I assumed my best femme fatale pose and shot him right in the pecker.

“Now you have to cum or you’ll die!” I said in triumph. “Even if it takes all night.”

It did.