Caught in the act

We were pretty much finished anyway, which was fortunate.

Josephette’s hands were bound in polyester scarves and tied to the frame.  Of the couch.  In the TV room.  I was still using her favorite dildo on her, though we were pretty much done with the second vibrator.

Myself, I had finished earlier — and really, so had she.  Ten minutes prior, she had been screaming, arching her back, gasping for breath.  Now, though, the screaming was done.  She still had the dildo inside, but I was just slowly alternating between the lowest setting and turned off altogether — drawing out the afterglow a little, relaxing, as we cooled off.  We were both dripping with sweat, lying on the couch, naked as jaybirds (unless you count the scarves around her hands), exhausted and euphoric in the rush of post-sex endorphins.

And then came the voice.

“Hello?  Hello?”  It was coming from the front door.  Oh, snap.  We left the front door wide open, didn’t we?