Who the Hell is This Guy?

There is a sound a woman makes when she has given into her lust - a sound you don’t hear so much as feel, as it reverberates thorough your loins and up to the back of your skull. That low, almost feral growl tinted with sharp tones of pleasure. She started making that noise.

Nude save her panties, she is kneeling before me. Wraps of red hemp encircle the pale curve of her breasts and secure her arms behind her. Her crotch rubs the toe of my well worn boot. She nuzzles my bare forearms and moans, moving her lips along the lines of the muscles. Her tongue traces the path of the veins in my arm as she nibbles along the exposed flesh until she stops at my thumb. Hesitating for a moment, she then takes it into her mouth and sucks eagerly. The grinding rhythm of her crotch matches the bobbing of her head as her growls are replaced by wet slurping sounds. I stroke her short hair and then reach for the plate of cookies she brought me. I just love it when they bring cookies.

Why is a half naked girl tied up, licking my forearms? Perhaps I should back up a bit. I make bondage rope for a living. Miles of twisted hemp have passed though my hands in the last 3 years - so much rope, in fact, that I like to joke that if you see a naked person tied up on the net these days, I probably made the rope in the photo. My name is Monk, and I’m a pervert. Actually I consider myself a “Pro-vert” - I get paid for this.

Of course, my life has not always been so. No, I used to be the guy who sat next to you on the bus, or joked about last night’s episode of Seinfeld around the water cooler. Just another tech guy with long hair and a beer gut, humping the leg of the American dream for all it’s worth. You know the drill - go to college, get the “right” job, buy the house, the car, adopt a dog and then… then what? Be happy? Thing was, I wasn’t happy. Sure I had a great wife, some friends, and plenty of money… But this wasn’t who I wanted to be. Suburban swinger, closet kinkster living a double life, unable to talk on Monday morning about the hedonistic events of my weekend for fear that it would get me fired, or worse - lynched.

As the great tech boom came to a sudden and painful end, I was faced with a tough choice. Another round of unemployment checks till I found another contracting job in another bland beige cubicle? Or step off the track, say no to what I’m supposed to do and do something I believe in. And so, with the support of a wife who is one miracle shy of getting full sainthood, and the sum total of my life’s savings, I did the craziest thing possible. Started a company with the goal of making other people have better sex.

So why am I rambling on about this? Every relationship needs a beginning, and this is ours. The tale of how I came from the cubicle next door to working in “the business of pleasure” is just one of the things that I’ll be sharing here with you every week.

However I digress… where was I? Oh yes, naked girl tied up and licking my arm. See, I use my hands a lot in this craft; they are the tool of my trade and my livelihood. She has a fetish for such things, strong hands make her knees weak and her panties damp. Having never tried bondage before, the fact that I could bind her first before she set about with her mouth was an added bonus in her book. But this little diversion was quickly coming to a close, soon she would be dressed again and while looking flushed the rest of her “normal” life would be none the wiser. Me, I have a batch of black rope that needs to come off the boil and then a date with my secondary partner later. Drawing my ever present set of safety shears from their holster, I reach down and slide them between her skin and damp panties.

What happens next you ask? Well that, dear readers, is a tale for another day.

monk@janesguide.com