LunaDog wrote: ↑1 month ago
AlexUSA3 wrote: ↑1 month ago
They're not having sex; they're just playing a dirty game.
That makes sense. I can only ask you to believe me when i say my intentions here were good, i wasn't trying to cause trouble here.
And if it's up to the standard of the previous parts, it'll be well worth waiting for.
If you go through the story linked in my signature, you will find many more stories involving these same characters and more figures associated with them.
The Dirty Girls (F/F)
Janie and Lauren Patterson, now Rondell and Krzyczynski, respectively, were quite the duo. The two were thrilled when the chance came to travel and attend the big civil engineering conference in Anaheim, CA in October 2022. It was a rare chance where neither was pregnant. Hah! That is us for sure! Competing to have the most children!
“How shall we settle this, hmm?” I asked Janie as we sat down in the hotel room after a long day.
“Well, what about a game?” Janie started playing with her bandana.
“You couldn’t stop being a Gangsta Jock long enough for a day at a conference?”
“No!” my sister responds quite proudly, “I’m a Gangsta!”
“Good grief,” I laugh as I sit down, “I’ll play. What’s your thought?”
“I was thinking of an Uno card flip.”
Janie’s hair is long and beautifully wrapped in a braid that reaches to her butt. I’m one to talk; I have my hair in a similar braid, but my braid stops half a foot above my own tuchis. Her purple bandana is going through her hands as it does every time she is nervous. She has no reason to be nervous that I know.
She has a solid magenta pink ruffle skirt that comes to her calves. That it reaches so far on a girl who is 6’1” is amazing, and with that she has a solid purple button-up shirt with three quarter sleeves. Pink sneakers and purple socks are on her feet and have been for 14 hours straight. Gorgeous.
I’m dressed a little bit more formally. I have a solid black skirt of similar length, but I am 5’11” instead. I have black pantyhose and black high heels, and my shirt is a bright blue and black long-sleeve flannel shirt. It’s warm here in southern California, but the conference center and the restaurants are chill chests. Janie reaches into a nearby bag and hands me a bright blue bandana.
“What’s eating you?” I say and take the fabric square with deep concern in my voice.
“A couple of things. One is being away from [her son] Joey. The other is that my depression is acting up from being away from [her husband] Ken.”
“I’m sorry, Janie; I pressured you,” I say while folding the bandana to wear as a headband.
“No, separation is necessary at times, like whenever I have my next baby.”
“Just don’t rush yourself,” I tie the headband in perfect fashion, “Why am I wearing this now?!”
“So that we’re Gangsta Sistas playing a card game of doom,” Janie smiles brightly.
A little separation anxiety won’t kill her. There are no worries. She just needs a distraction for a brief moment until the thought passes. I take off my heels and kneel on the floor beside the bed we share for the next couple of nights. Janie kneels on the floor opposite me. She carefully shuffles the cards. My job is to make sure she stays happy. My baby sister.
“Call it,” I flip a coin.
“Heads,” Janie declares with a smile.
“Dammit. You win,” I shake my head at my luck.
“I should turn on the light. It's so dark I can't see anything but your headband.”
“As you wish,” I quote the line from
The Princess Bride while cutting the cards.
“I love you, too, Lauren,” Janie smiles as she turns the knob.
My sister really is a princess in so many ways. I don't just mean that she loves all the classic princess movies that predate her life if not mine as well. I joke she's a genuine princess because our paternal grandmother is half Florida Spanish and half Seminole. We have no known ancestry to real princesses, but Janie is one in my eyes. My source of fulfillment in my life comes from my husband, my children, and this lovable giant.
The game is simple. You declare what the card you are flipping represents and flip it over. There are some general rules to ensure no one gets hurt. To keep it straight, all you need is something to write upon, like Janie’s iPad. She declares the first card to be how many ropes will tie her legs, picks up the card, and giggles more like a 12 year old than a 23 year old mother.
Reverse card. That means I am the one drawing for my own fate now instead. This is not a bad thing since we don't care which of us gets tied up. I take over and draw the next card. It's a 6… 6 ropes, cinches, zips, or whatever Janie wants to use on me. It's a start.
“Maybe that’ll be the worst. Next one is for my arms,” I say and draw a +2, “Sh¡t!”
“Oops,” Janie laughs a little, “You meant 8 legs bonds.”
“Yeah, right,” I say and laugh while turning over an 0, “I better draw a reverse soon!”
“Someone's going to have fun! How about the next one is for orgasms!”
“Fine!” I flip a +2 and then a 7, “Oh, for crying out loud! This one is for my gag.”
“Can we handle 28 orgasms?” Janie’s eyes grow wide when I flip a Wild+4 card.
“I am sure of it.”
The darkness of a hotel room, even when the lights are on, is such a perfect setting for a bondage game. I’m smiling, and Janie is too. It's much more fun when you share a similar taste in adventure and will enjoy the game as much regardless of what happens to you. Janie prefers being tied up, but she likes being on top more with me than with anyone else.
Besides our heights, we are also both quite muscular from regular exercise that stems from playing softball from middle school until finishing our bachelor's degrees. I kept most of it, but babies have given me a bit of extra fat and skin I am proud to have and will never lose. As we flip the cards, I can tell by our tone that we are getting excited, and Janie’s eyes sparkle. Happiness.
“Hey, a reverse!” I say on the card that was to decide the heaviness of my gag,
“My turn! Ooh, a 3. That can make a nice gag,” she laughs, “Next is for spanking times 5.”
“Well, that's a nice beating,” I watch her flip a 5.
“How about levels of crotch torture?” she asks and flips a 6, “Oof.”
“That'll hurt for sure. How about orgasms into the other girl’s footwear before having to eat it?”
“How about a 4?” Janie is having so much fun, “And this one for tickling minutes.”
“A 9? Pfft!”
“Yeah, and this one is nipple cripples,” she flips a wild, “Or 18 tickle minutes.”
“Or four of them,” I grimace, “But a 4 or under gets a blindfold.”
“I can draw another Wild+4 and make it 16 nipple cripples.”
“The blindfold, Janie, and then we're done,” I’m in belly laughter now.
“How about a reverse?” she holds up the card.
“Sh¡t!” I picked a card and drew a 3 to seal my fate.
- 8 leg bonds
- 12 arm bonds
- 28 orgasms
- 3 layers of gag
- 25 spanks
- 6 kinds of crotch stimulation
- 18 minutes of tickling
- 16 nipple cripples
- a blindfold
- 4 separate orgasms into Janie’s socks before they were the stuffing of my gag
We laughed so much though during the flipping of the cards. Janie had free reign to do anything she wanted as long as those 10 rules were followed. What did she want to use, though? We had rope, tape, zips, and cinches on hand. A combo was allowed as well.
Cinches won. Janie grabs the 1.5 inch velcro straps, stands me up, and wrenches my arms behind my back with a tight binding of my wrists. Cinches typically work better when there is fabric to hold them in place. I chuckle a bit as Janie cinches my arms on either side of my elbows and then in between the elbows and the wrists.
Janie sits me down and then temporarily cinches my ankles. She unbuttons my shirt and opens it up to reveal a black sports bra holding my boobs. Next, she sits beside me and removes her socks. She pulls my pantyhose and panties down to expose my crotch and pushes her socks not only against my crotch but also into me just a little. I groan erotically, but no hubby here.
“Just temporary," she grabs a blue rubber ball with a red bandana.
“Nope,” I clamp my jaw shut.
“Nope,” she mocks me by artificially deepening her voice and yanks on my precious hair.
“Oww! Unkph!” I already feel arousal because of the socks
“I hear it in your voice,” Janie gives me a sisterly peck on the forehead while gripping my braid.
“Mmmmm,” I look into her eyes and see the bigger, stronger, younger girl feeling the power.
Those cinch straps can do wonders. Janie rolls my bra up to expose my boobs and uses my two longest cinch straps. Both wrap about my arms twice and then my torso twice and are pulled as tightly as I can bear, one above my breasts and one below. My breasts thrust out, show their true size, and just look great! The cinches are as secure as tape and 3 inches wide. She wraps a third around my arms and my torso above my hips and pulls it just as tight. My arms are trapped.
“Gmph!” I groan and attempt to move my arms, but I go nowhere with it.
“Someone’s in trouble,” Janie pushes me onto my back, “Sucks to suck like you will soon.”
“UKFF!” she jams her socks into my p-ssy with force while reaching into the bag.
“I know you like when things hurt,” Janie calmly puts a pair of binder clips on my teats.
“YOW!” I yell on the first; “H-CK!” on the second.
“Let’s do this, hmmm?” Janie’s smile is sweet.
Janie goes right to the nipple cripple! Ouch! I yell out from that one. Janie roughly rubs the socks against me, and I cannot help it. It's been a good 7 minutes since she started tying me up, and I am already set to orgasm. I feel a familiar pulse throughout my body and instinctively groan into my ball gag. She laughs at my groan; pot meets kettle! She orgasms the same way I do but with more time between each of them. Is a four minute mile or a two minute orgasm more impressive?
Speaking of orgasms… there are certain spasms throughout the body that vary by girl, and I am squeezing on Jenny's socks a little. Except for the first two nipple cripples, Janie uses nothing on the list to get me going. Fondling my breasts, pulling the crotch rope, and yanking on my braid are the main modes.
You know what occurs when you're nearly identical twins despite four years between you? Especially when the younger one is a prodigy that got into TUGs at 12 and had her master's degree at 20 while being considered one of the 50 best softball players in the world? What works on one works on the other just as well. Except for differences in experiences, we generally respond the same way to things. We perfectly push each other's buttons, and it makes things special. We love each other like no one else can!
Love, yes, love. I am getting vaginally assaulted by a pair of socks lovingly placed in my birth canal by my little sister. She is extremely intelligent and hardly ever realizes just how gifted she really is. Despite my arousal, my eyes focus on the adorable girl that her friends call “Gangsta Jock.” I practically raised her from when she was 8, and the result is a multi-faceted bond of sisterhood, motherhood, friendship (from being in college classes together), and teammates. I interrupt this story for a special message.
“Mmmmmmm! Ugghhh!” I do my third orgasm into the purple cotton phallus.
“I love the way your eyes widen and brighten during games.”
“Mmm hmfh guk hibw!” I comment on how she sometimes gets fearful.
“Lauren, let's not go there,” she shudders.
“Hih ih ho hoooh!” I laugh and change my tone to distract her.
“I'm glad. I hope you enjoy this little love letter I’m sending you.”
Short story: Janie had it much rougher than me. I am still her go-to person when she's in need of comfort of the kinds her husband cannot provide. I was always there when she needed someone as a kid, and now she returns the favors in adulthood. It’s really awesome to see her understand and reciprocate when she used to just take everything for granted. Sometimes she really did send love letters and packages and such.
Janie rolls me over and squeezes my ass and inner leg just right. Experiencing it from her own husband tells her to do it to me, and I react perfectly. I don't even get to react to the torque force of my boobs twisting around. A rough pull on my braid pushes me over the edge. As she grabs my legs, Janie compliments my “big catcher's thighs.”
Number 4. Janie pulls my dessert out of me and unknots the bandana holding the big rubber ball in my mouth. My drool has already soaked the rubber ball, and I clamp my mouth shut to keep the socks out. I was also a swimmer in high school and I can easily hold my breath for two minutes.
“Open up,” Janie kindly orders me.
“Nmm,” I smile at her and shake my head.
“Awwww, Lauren, please?” she whines like a tween again.
“Nmm mmm.”
“C-nt,” she growls like an adult, “Time to burn up a nipple cripple.”
“Yowch! Grmph!” I yell and eat my orgasm-flavored salty savory snack.
My husband's c-m tastes better, for sure, but I fancy myself as tasty too. Janie is such a strong girl, and the knot white handkerchief is just a second layer of gag. The third is still within the rules: 8 layers of pink duct tape. Few can crush a face like Janie can, and she crushed mine indeed. Now I cannot make any intelligible sounds.
Janie took my pantyhose; too bad because I felt so kinky with them. Cinches now go up my legs, 3 on my catcher's thighs and four on my legs. One little cinch ties my big toes together. Eight leg bonds finish me off. I am bound and gagged and completely helpless. My recently acquired bandana slides over my eyes; Janie redoes the knot so tightly that she can wrap the excess around my braid before knotting it.
- 28 orgasms
- 25 spanks
- 6 kinds of crotch stimulation
- 18 minutes of tickling
- 15 nipple cripples
What a list of pain ahead of me! I couldn't figure out where Janie would get 6 kinds of crotch torture. Socks were one; she could use her hands for another; a rubber ball like had gagged me before; what else? Ummm… Duh! Crotch rope. OK, I hope she cannot do better than I just did,
“Get up,” Janie hauls me off the bed, “Hop,”
“Mmm how m oo aaaa?”
“I’ll make sure you don't hit anything! Just go!”
“O-hay, o-hay, o ee hu e ho hahhy,” I take a leap of faith.
“That-a go girl,” her hand guides me.
“Hmph!”
The closet. There, Janie tied a crotch rope along which she put one of the rubber dog toy balls and made sure that it was pushing a bandana deep into my baby making hole. One rope went from the nipple clamps and around my knees and was pulled tight until my body was parallel to the floor. Rope number two knotted about my braid, went up to the shelf, and down to my crotch rope. What a world of hurt!
It's such good pain though. As long as my body has moisture, I will orgasm. Orgasm I do. It's so good; it's best when I’m tied up. I enjoy sex so much more when bound and gagged, and I know Janie does too.
“Awww, are you in trouble?” Janie starts tickling me.
“Hahahahahaaaa!” I start laughing and hop, jerking on the crotch rope and making me jerk off.
“Let's roll, cum sl-t,” Janie knows all my favorite insults.
“Hmm hmmmmmm!” I cannot respond.
“Boooooobbbbbbbbiiiiiieeeeesssss,” she fondled me while I hop.
Janie's hands naturally go for my ribs and belly as those are my most sensitive spots. I am not a thigh or armpit girl like so many; even my feet don't cause the reactions that my belly and ribs do. I enjoy every moment of it, too. Sis, I love you, and your tickle work is divine and causing me to jerk on my clamps.
My sister can be cruel, like deciding to do all 18 minutes of tickling in a single spurt of intense torment. I jerk around and off like no tomorrow while this is happening. I get off 4 times during the tickling, and my lungs get destroyed. My body is filled with the fumes from sucking on Janie's nasty socks. The cinches haven't budged during any of this. Where's my husband when I want him? My legs are sore from standing in such an awkward position, and my breasts are in agony from me pulling on those binder clips.
- 24 orgasms
- 25 spanks
- 15 nipple cripples
Goodness knows I will be in hog heaven if I orgasmed 24 more times, but Janie is not that kind of girl. She's into the actual physical action as am I, and that's why bondage sex itself is so much more arousing than regular sex. As long as it's fun and within the rules, all orgasms are good.
“So, Lauren, having a good time?” she starts the pain.
“Yowch! Mmmmm!”
“Aw, yep! My big sister Lauren! The girl I love more than any other!”
“Owwwww!” she makes those nipple cripples hurt!
“Poor girl, I’ll relieve the pain,” she starts spanking me!
“Mmmph!”
I groan and struggle as much as the cinch straps allow me. I am in absolute agony but loving every second of it. How can pain be so good? But it is! My sister’s spanking is enough to drive me to orgasm, the nipple cripples are good for two, and the rest of the spanking gets me another.
Where the hell are 20 orgasms coming?
Janie undoes the strappado though and leads me back to our bed. My crotch is very wet indeed, and I am sore from the intense torture. I wanted a good anal f-cking, but I sure wasn't getting that from Janie! Fondling my breasts and crotch are really the two major avenues left since we don't have a phallus or a strap-on on hand, and even if I had such things I especially would not allow my own sister to do it.
Two more orgasms squeeze out of me before Janie decides to put on some post-season baseball. It's more humiliating than I expected: I have to sleep like this. It's a fitting ending, though, on a night where Janie had all the cards. We had so much fun tonight, and it was going to be just as wild the rest of the week. I love you, kid.
My baby sister, the apple of my eye and the joy of my life.
THE END