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Copyright Oggbashan August 2005

This story is based on a 323-word story in German starting ‘freitag abend 18hr’ and the author has adapted the basic translation to form a new story. The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of those parts of this story that are his original work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.


That Friday evening at six o’clock we were on the way to the motorway to have a week’s holiday at a self-catering chalet in the mountains. The landlady had sent the key by post to my office so my wife collected me from work. It had been a hard day because everyone wanted me to do one more thing before going on holiday. I was very wound up and stressed when I left.

I put my suit jacket on a hanger behind the driver’s seat, and took off my tie. It might get cold later on when we were close to the mountains. For now I was still hot and bothered from the office. Unusually for me, I was sitting in the passenger seat as my wife drove. I know I am a bad passenger. My feet kept feeling for the brake pedal I didn’t have and I couldn’t stop commenting on her driving.

“Don’t try overtaking here.”

“Watch out for that idiot!”

“Slow down. You’re breaking the speed limit.”

Actually denizli escort she wasn’t. From the passenger’s angle the speedometer seems to show a higher speed.

My wife remained surprisingly calm and drove reasonably despite my constant criticisms. Just before we joined the motorway for the long haul to the mountains she pulled into a lay-by. I was beginning think about putting my jacket on again. I had left the office far behind. I was still criticising her driving.

“Oh,” I said, “Do you want me to drive?”

I thought she would. She is a good driver but I am a dreadful passenger. To my surprise she unbuckled her seat belt and leant over to kiss me. A long lingering kiss. I began to reach for my seat belt.

“Leave it!” she said sharply, kissing me again.

She took her long silk scarf from her neck and wound it round my hands before tying it. She passed the ends behind my back, pulling me forward, and then knotted it, pulling my bound hands back into my lap. She kissed me again.

“Relax!” she ordered. “I am going to make sure we have a quiet peaceful drive.”

She lifted a carrier bag from the back seat and opened it. She took out another long silk scarf, a black one, tied it around one of my ankles so that it wouldn’t come off over my shoe but wasn’t cutting in to me, looped it around the base of the seat and again round the other dikimevi escort ankle. I could move my feet but I couldn’t leave the seat. I was helpless, tied by her silk scarves. I felt the warmth of an erection beginning between my legs.

She stood up, reached under her skirt and pulled her panties off. She caressed my face with their warm woman-scented silk before screwing them into a tight ball and pushing them inside my mouth. She made a knot in the middle of another scarf and pulled the knot between my lips before tying the scarf behind my head. The scarf was firmly held yet not uncomfortable.

She tied two or three scarves together, feeding them between my back and the seat. On each side she looped the scarves around my elbows before tying the scarves behind the seat. Like my ankles, I could move and wriggle but I couldn’t leave the seat. She kissed me on each eye and then a longer one on the forehead.

“Nearly done, my love,” she said. “Enjoy this.”

She picked up her large padded coat. It was a favourite of hers but far too big for her. She likes to snuggle up inside it when in the cold mountains. It is thickly padded with a slippery (and sexy) lining. I watched uncomprehendingly as she fastened it and pulled the hood back. She unfastened my seat belt. What did that matter? I couldn’t leave the seat. She had tied me to it. She opened dikmen escort the car door behind me. I would have gasped, if the gag had let me, as she threw the coat over my head and dragged it down over me and the seat. Its skirt spread over my legs and bunched up behind the seat. I looked down. Except for my shoes in the dark footwell I was completely hidden inside her coat. She buckled the coat’s belt loosely around me. She hadn’t tightened me into the coat but the movement I had left was so small that I was helpless.

“Just one last touch,” my wife said.

She lifted the coat’s hood. I shivered with joy as its silky perfumed lining caressed around my head. She brought the neck pieces together and pressed the poppers together. My mouth and chin were covered by the lower part of the hood. Finally she pulled on the hood’s drawcord, shrinking the hood until only my eyes and nose were left uncovered. She tied the cord across my stuffed, gagged and hood sheathed mouth before kissing me on the nose.

She fastened the seatbelt around my pinioned body and returned to the driver’s seat.

“Now I can drive without your commentary. You can sit there and enjoy being totally wrapped in my love. Don’t worry. No one can see you in there. A protruding nose and startled eyes don’t identify you as a man. Anyway, I’m not letting you free nor stopping before we reach the mountains. Then… We’ll see if you are fit to be released or whether you stay as my silk slave…”

She started the car and rejoined the traffic. I relaxed. What else could I do? I was ‘wrapped in her love’ and enjoying it as she drove competently and criticism-free for hundreds of miles.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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