Our Honeymoon Vignettes (M/F) - Continuation (May 23, 2025)

[AlexUSA3]

Our Honeymoon Vignettes (M/F)
Saturday, April 20, 2019

I love Giovanni so much! Here we are on our honeymoon. In a blink, we went from meeting in October of 2017 to him proposing marriage a year later on the same date to being married. It’s a little fast in some people’s eyes, but sometimes God gives undeniable signs that something is His exact desire. I have grown to love him more each day, and today we got married with the priest’s blessing and with many of our friends and relations there to see it unfold.

“I can’t believe this is real!” I hop down the crushed shell path to our cottage.
“Oh, I can,” my handsome almost-blonde-haired Italian chuckles as he unlocked the door.
“We picked such a good place for such a blessed and important moment in our lives!” I bounce.
“So, here we are!” Giovanni says as we walk into our honeymoon cottage.
“Our marriage begins!” I drop my suitcase on the floor and turn to him with a sunset behind me.
“What do newlyweds usually do on the first night?” he asks from a genuine lack of knowledge.
“I think they get naked? I don't know,” I pause and scratch my own head, “Yeah, I think sex.”

This is an interesting question to have. Here we both are: me the innocent 23 year-old Minnesota girl and Giovanni the clueless 25 year-old Italian man. I play with my hair for a spell and finally look up at my now husband and have nothing new to say. I kind of shrug. There’s a bit of fear I harbor because I’ve never seen a naked man in my life. I know that’s kind of odd, but I’ve done a good job of avoiding all scenarios, even hiding my eyes during health class in school.

I look at Giovanni and then look at the setting sun. It wasn’t a long drive, but it was a big day to say the least. I’m tired, and I don’t really want to do anything but go to sleep. Giovanni and I do realize that something special is supposed to be happening though. I guess there is no obligation to do it, but I hear the words of my best friend in my head, “Trust me, Jenny. You will love sex.”

“Gianni,” I turn to him with a smile, not knowing what to expect, “Let’s get ready for bed like a normal night before we got married,” I giggle a little, “Only we get into bed nakie instead.”
“All right,” my tall, tan, handsome Italian shrugs his shoulders, “Let’s try it.”

So, instead of getting into pajamas, we get naked. We brush our teeth like normal, and we do all our normal routines. OK, it was a little strange kneeling by the side of my bed to say my prayers while nudie. I didn’t really know what I was doing, and I asked God to give us confidence so we would enjoy each other’s company even if we made total idiots of ourselves. I was just finishing my prayers when Giovanni finished his own bedtime routine and came out of the bathroom.

“Whoa!” I gasp in shock when I see his figure because I had no idea.
“What?!” he asks me in surprise, “Is something wrong? Am I bleeding? I hope it’s not blood!”
“That's what it looks like in person?!” I grimace in absolute horror, “I think I'm asexual!”
“What did you think I was going to look like? Why do you think people say, ‘Eat a d-ck’?”
“Giovanni Maria Nicola Randaccio, wash your mouth out with soap,” took me less than 9 hours to use his full Christian name, “That thing’s going inside my body?!”
“Yes,” he started laughing, “this is what it looks like. You never saw The Godfather?”
“No! Too violent for me,” I blush and continue hiding behind the bed so he can’t see me.
“Some time I bind you and make you watch that movie,” he is laughing until I stand, “WHOA!”
“What? Never seen a girl?” I sarcastically respond and lie down on the bed near him.
“Nope! When siblings were born we had to be behind Mama,” he shakes his head.
“You and me both! Does it stiffen up at all, or does it stay floppy?” I curiously touch him.
“It might start to stiffen up from you poking it though,” he lets out a befuddled cackle.
“Giovanni,” a sly grin forms on my face, “I want to find out more about how it moves.”

Next thing I knew, the dynamic was backwards. I am pulling him into myself, with nothing but over the top love for the way he feels inside my body. I’m so glad we got a cottage, because we were so loud that a hotel would have asked us to leave because we would have annoyed even the people in the lobby. My bestie was right; I love sex, but Gianni is the true highlight. The confirmation that our feelings are genuine makes me even louder in our passion.

“Giovanni,” I whisper in his ear, “Would you tie me up for sleeping and use me as your cuddle toy? Make sure it’s cozy so that we both can enjoy it since I’ll be tied up for so long.”

Yay, clothesline! This one is simple and good though. I love a classic clothesline TUG! It’s so eclectic and effective, and Giovanni ties me up so well. He ties my wrists and elbows behind my back, and ties a harness with cinching through the armpits and a waist rope. He ties my legs at the ankles, knees, lower thighs, and upper thighs. Best of all, he ties my big toes too! I’m going to be so comfortable. Then he gags me with one of my big blue rubber dog balls after passing a purple bandana through the holes. Now we’re enjoying marriage the right way.

“Comfortable?” he asks me before blindfolding me with a yellow bandana.
“Mmmm hmmm,” I nod and squeal with joy at being plunged into darkness.

What a nice way to fall asleep! I’m nudie, bound and gagged, and cuddled by my husband after an hilarious adventure to answer the question “How are babies made after all?” Now, except for being nudie, it’s just another cozy TUG for sleeping, and how cozy I am in my favorite position.

But what is squirting? My friends told me I’d be a girl who would squirt. I finish the night with a smile but being no closer to understanding that.
________________________________________________________

Sunday, April 21, 2019

“Dressed like that?” Gianni asks me with a grin as we step out the door to the beach.
“Of course!" I responded defiantly and with a happy bounce, “I’m the CGC’s Gangsta Princess!”
“I never understand girls and their skimpy beach clothes, but I like them on you,” he chuckles.
“Well, you’d better, because if you don’t, you’re not getting any more of last night’s delight.”

I love bandanas! I’m happily skipping towards the beach, and pausing to let slowpoke catch up to me, dressed like a bandana. My bikini has a brown paisley pattern, just like the bandana that I am wearing as a headband. Of course I was; I am Jenny Danielle Kristensen, the CGC’s one and only Gangsta Princess, and I am not changing. I am a happy bouncy Gangsta Princess forever! My sunglasses make it even more like me!

I finally tire of getting so far ahead of Giovanni and decide to savor the time. Together, we hold hands walking towards the beach. This was our first trip to the beach as a married couple though we had come in the past with Giovanni’s younger sister who was a classmate of mine in college and the one who brought Giovanni and I together. Part way down the boardwalk, I find that we are alone. I stop and put my beach things down. I get back and hold my hands frame style.

“Stand back Gianni," I say to him, and he does just as I ask, "I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life," my voice is full of my usual energy, "You on our honeymoon."
“Well," he blushes in a rare moment of vulnerability, “This is a momentous occasion for us!”
“Giovanni Maria Nicola Randaccio, I love you," I say softly and pick up my supplies, but then I take off running to the beach, "See ya! Last one there is a rotten egg!"
“Get back here, Jenny!” he calls after me, as if he’ll catch a race winning collegiate track star.
“So sorry, but I don't speak to rotten eggs!” I shout back at him as I dash out onto the sand.
“You naughty little thing!” he is really trying to catch me. Pfft! Like he has a chance!
“The rotten egg calling me naughty. Really, Gianni?” I say while putting my things down.
“Really, Gianna,” he finally arrives at the spot and puts our supplies down.

But the best moment is yet to come. We put up our umbrella and get ourselves positioned under the shade. We have our sunscreen, chair, drinks, and lunch and need nothing more! Sitting on the beach under the umbrella while holding hands is as idyllic as a scene could be. For us, at the moment, it is as if time has stopped. We sit there in marital bliss for at least an hour.

“I'm happy to be a Randaccio,” I finally say after a while, “Jenny Danielle… Randaccio.”

My friends really confuse me. Of course the nosier ones text me and ask questions about squirts and foreplay and a whole host of other terms I don’t know. So nosy, but so on point for them! A question like that is not unexpected, but… I don’t know how to answer them either.
________________________________________________________

“What a great day!” I smile when we return to the cottage, “Beachcombing, swimming, eating on the beach, kissing… what a great day!” I still have energy to bounce through the doorway.
“Jenny, something is confusing you. You wrinkled up your nose at your phone a lot today,” he is so on point, “Oh, no!” he laughs a little, “They asked about last night and teased you, did they?”
“Ummmm… Yeah. Giovanni… um… what’s foreplay supposed to be?” I finally ask him.

Then we return to that same confused state we experienced last night. Last night we awkwardly and hilariously fumbled through the motions. Giovanni pauses for a moment, as if thinking of an effective answer to my question. I can tell he knows the answer, but he’s trying to come up with the right explanation that won’t make me retreat into the suitcase and zip it shut around myself.

“Giovanna Daniela Randaccio,” he walks up behind me, “It’s something special. Perhaps it’s a good time to tell a fantasy I’ve had,” he wraps his arms around me, and my breath hitches a little.
“Giovanni Maria Nicola Randaccio,” I don’t know how to react to this, “Show, not tell.”
“This is foreplay,” he then squeezes my boobies, sending a jolt through my body, “This.”
“W-w-w-w-why did you do that?” I ask him while wanting him so badly right now.
“Jenny, may I tie you up and take your bikini off?” his tone makes it clear what foreplay is.
“Gianni… I… I-I,” a chill goes down my spine, “NO,” I say with a shudder, “I love T-T-TUGs. I want TUGs to be TUGs, the g-g-g-games I played as a high schooler and in college,” my voice is thrown off my his motions, “If you want to do that to me, I will n-n-not have s-sex with you. No way, José,” I’m almost shivering but loving it, “Maybe adult-only TUGs, but no TUG sex.”

I take a deep breath. I want to be tied up. And I want him. I want him inside me like last night, but I can’t do that. I watched friends almost forget how to play innocent TUGs because they all played too many bondage games that involved sex or too much sexuality. I’d considered making TUGs a part of the marital experience, but I knew my limits. I knew of using TUGs to discover pleasure, but I wanted sex out of my TUGs. Bondage games were possible alongside TUGs, but bondage sex was completely out of the realm of possibility for me. If I were going to be tied up, it had to be something I’d be willing to do in front of my friends or my sisters-in-law.

I now understood why my friends said that boob squeezing was banned until a girl was 18. The pulses aren't just physical reactions to the contact; they’re a burst of sexual energy that’s surging through me now. Now, I suddenly realize why some of my friends wouldn't let boob squeezing be done to them. I have to make a decision now. I know what I want, and I want it badly.

“You may, b-b-b-b-but,” I stammered, “stop for a second.”
“I’m listening. I will never make you do something you don’t want,” his voice is understanding.
“Gianni,” I turn around and stare into his eyes, “Let’s take a naughty shower first, OK? I want to get this sand off our bodies and do something I’ve heard is fun,” I playfully write his name on his chest with my finger.

We lay down the rules for our honeymoon right there. We can play TUGs, and he may take off any article of clothing as he desires during the game without asking first. Sex is banned if I am tied up, but he is allowed to squeeze my boobs. Is squeezing the right word for that? Some of my friends used another word… fumbling, maybe? “Fumbling my boobs” sounds wrong. This made sure TUGs stayed TUGs while giving them a distinct adults-only flavor that I’d like.

“What’s a naughty shower?” Giovanni then asks me in surprise while considering my question.
“Ummmmm,” I giggle a little, “I don’t know,” but I’m bouncing in place, “Something fun!”
“Calm down, Jenny. One squeeze of your titties was enough to get you going!” he laughs, and I absolutely love the way he laughs because it’s so innocent and endearing, “Oh, I love you!”
“I guess it means we take a shower together… Probably the naughty part is dirtiness.”
“I’m plenty dirty from that beach sand,” he jokes without missing a beat.
“C’mon. After last night, I have some ideas for how to make this more fun,” I kiss his cheek.

I don’t know why. I liked the way he felt, but I liked the way he reacted when I touched him last night. I let him take my clothes off before the shower, and I giggle when he does it. Then I keep poking his manhood and touching it. That he uses the potty with it somehow doesn’t bother me at all, and I experience some immature wonder at how it gets harder. Next thing I know, I’m in the corner laughing and hugging him. We take turns with him pushing me in the corner and me pulling myself up and down him. It is true marital joy. We’re truly in love with each other.

“C’mon, Gianni, tie me up and gag me really well!” I dare him afterwards and skip to the bed, “I am so full of energy, I think I need to be put in a really tight chair tie today!”
“You want a chair tie, then you will get a chair tie, but it will be a kidnapping. Get dressed!” he shoos me away, “I want to see a Gangsta Princess deserving of a tight chair tie in 10 minutes!”
“Oh, Giovanni Maria Nicola Randaccio,” I giggle, “You know me so well!”

TUGs are genuinely my favorite game to play. More than my racing video games, and they even make me happier than watching sports on TV. In fact, friends, family, work, and my car are all I know that I will choose over TUGs. I love being tied up and gagged so much, and the tighter the binding the happier I’ll be. This was not only a dare to Giovanni to tie me up, but we were about to make a roleplay out of it while I got stripped of some amount of my clothing! What fun! I do love you so much, Giovanni! I’m bouncing in the bathroom while getting dressed!

For this, I choose a red bikini, a red bandana headband, and denim shorts. White socks and red canvas sneakers complete a very characteristic look for me especially with my braid. It's time to be tied up, but I’m going to be “kidnapped” for this one. It's so exciting! I quietly open the door and look out into the bedroom of the small cottage. But where's Giovanni? I step into the room with a smile on my face, hoping for something fun and humiliating as part of the TUG.

“Gianni! Where are you?” I call out, but I get no response, “Hmmm, where did Gianmmmph!”
“Ha ha haaaaa!” he laughs, “Ti imbavagliavo con la tua bandana marrone!”
“Gmmmmm!” and the bandana I wore to the beach fills my mouth to gag me.

I’m so much smaller than Giovanni. He's 5’10”, but I’m only 5’1”! Plus, he was on my school’s rowing team; he's so strong! I am squirming so much, but he's squeezing my face down with the gray duct tape. I love that squeeze so much, and he wraps my face eight times. Sooooo good! I love it. Out comes my beloved pink rope, and he binds my elbows together behind my back. It's so tight yet so good. You know what's the best part of TUG? The emotions with the playmates!

“MMMMMMMMMMMM!” I grunt and struggle, but I can’t escape him because he’s strong!
“Ha ha ha! My little Gangsta Princess, you squirm and try, but you fail,” he taunts me too!
“MMMMMMM!” I groan some more, but he’s tying my wrists now with the same rope.
“Take a seat, Jenny, and have fun,” he pushes me onto a wood chair and cleverly ties a waist and crotch rope first while it’s easier to keep me under control, and he ties it tightly, too!
“GMMMMMMMMM!” I am giving him a hard time, and then he undoes the bikini top strings.
“That’s my Jenny, always fighting the TUGs because it’s what she thinks is fun!”

When Giovanni ties the harness, he goes through my armpits twice. The first pass through the armpits is for cinching the harness itself, and the second pass secures my chest to the back of the chair. My trunk is completely trapped against the wood now. Oh, what fun! I love him so much more than he realizes! Or maybe he does realize it! I don’t know. I just know we’re in love!

Now hubby has no problem tying my ankles to the legs of the chair or tying my thighs together; I am well and truly stuck! I’m crushed against a wooden device intended to allow people to sit at the table. Instead, it’s a way to keep a little rope-loving bandana-obsessed Gangsta Princess out of trouble, or rather in trouble! Yeah, this is such a bad spot to be in, right? Right?! Not for me. To make it tougher, he ties my braid to the chair so that I can’t bend my neck forward, meaning I have to keep my head level or look up but can’t look down. Clever Gianni!

I squirm and struggle on the chair, but it's useless. The hair tie is so effective at keeping my head in place. I look down at my exposed breasts, and I look at Gianni. It's OK after all. It makes me wonder if I deprived myself just a little bit in college. Maybe I did my friends a favor by being a girl who wouldn't allow such things, adding variety to the CGC! Kiddy TUGs. vs. Adult TUGs. I see room for both in my life, and I see pleasure in both. Oh, what fun it is to be here! Love is in the air! In the past day, we’ve loved each other as friends and as a couple. God is good!

Then comes the best part of all. As risky as it is, I make an exception to the rules by which I had always abided, and I let Giovanni abandon me in the cottage to go get us a pizza. I should not be doing such things, but it feels so amazing, so real, so thrilling to be properly abandoned like true damsels-in-distress. I am left there sucking on the brown bandana I’d worn to the beach, and he kindly puts a car race on the TV for me. I occasionally look down at my exposed boobs, and I liked the sight. This is the kind of game I could play with friends after all. It just isn't an essential element for me like it is for some, but it is both humiliating and empowering. Here in the cottage, to adr to my struggle and experience, I decide to improvise for my own excitement.

“Mmmmmmmm!” I quietly call out into the bandana despite the tape, but I get no response.
“MMMMMMMM!” I get louder and realize I am truly alone, bound and exposed.
“GMMM MMM MMMM!” I fight the ropes and the hair tie, jerking on my braid.
“HELLLLLLLLLLL!” I cry out, but no one could hear me in the next room left alone outside.
“HELL EE! HUMUHHY HELL EE!” I shriek for help, but I’m sweating and alone.
“HEATHE! HELL EE! HUMUHHY UNHIE EE!” I cry out in vain, but it's hopeless.

I slump in my chair, and I whimper. I’m sweating, and I’m tired from frantically struggling for my fantasy. I’m just, as my friends might say, a cute, adorable, tiny, TUG-loving, adventurous, energetic, happy, bandana obsessed, athletic, fast, springy, sweet, considerate rope bunny. This’ll definitely be a recurring theme throughout our honeymoon, and I decide to pause and enjoy the race on the television and leave behind my fantasies for another day when there's no race on TV.

Gianni’s back! Pizza time! Has it really been 45 to 50 minutes since he grabbed me? Wow! It looks like Gianni is planning to ungag me and hand feed me! Such a sweet, loving man!
________________________________________________________

Monday, April 22, 2019

I like the red bikini so much I’m wearing it today, under my tiedye t-shirt, while we walk all over downtown. A blue kerchief bandana, red gym shorts, blue crew socks, red canvas sneakers, and tie bandana wristbands (one on each wrist) go with my sunglasses to make me look like the true over-the-top CGC Gangsta Princess. Everyone and his brother can see I am not a genuine threat.

I don't wear a blue bandana too often, and it's a shame because Giovanni seems to like the color on me a lot. We hold hands and walk from store to store, and we might get a nibble of food or a little something for one of our loved ones. But we struggle to find something for each other until I walk into one little place and see something I know is classic Giovanni. It's just a magnet, but I can see him sticking it on his toolbox. Unlike some guys, Gianni is organized and clean with his tools, and it's just the right thing. It only says “Atlantic City Downtown,” but it's from me.

“Giovanni,” I bite my lip when we walk into the cottage that afternoon, “Could we… play?”
“Ummm, what kind of play?” he asks me with a smile, envisioning the magnet on his toolbox.
“Husband-wife… I’ve heard that sometimes it's fun when you have your clothes on,” I answer in a cutesy tone and take off my sunglasses, “Or is da Gangsta Princess gonna haf ta seduce ya?”
“Jenny, I never imagined you as the marital instigator,” he jokes, but he jokes affectionately.
“Gangstas, even rope bunnies, still have a tough, naughty side, and,” I poke him in the chest, “I found mine. It just turned out to be,” I wrap my arms around him, pull myself up, and whisper in his ears, “somewhere no one ever expected to find it. Then, I have a TUG request.”
“My love,” he looks into my eyes, “I hope we never stop learning to love each other.”

Then we make love. Not on the bed; on the sofa! I might be on the bottom while we laugh, kiss, and do the marital act, but what really matters is the connection. We’ve done this five times in a span of under 48 hours, and we've discovered new things about each other each time. I still have not squirted, and I have shied from asking my friends what it is or why I should do it. As funny as it sounds, I just don't think of asking such gross questions, especially not in text! Orgasm? Is that a body part? I’m guessing it must have been taught when I blocked my ears in class.

“Giovanni, would you like to play like we did yesterday? Kidnap me, tie me, gag me, and leave me alone like you're a cruel kidnapper with me just a damsel-in-distress?” I ask him and blush.
“My blue kerchief Gangsta Princess makes such cute requests. I love your outfit,” he kisses me.
“I’ve been on my feet all day. It would be a shame if something happened to my socks,” I giggle as I say the words, “They must surely be wet with my sweat and strongly flavored by now.”
“Is that why?” he asks while I take my shirt off, “You answered my question.”
“Yes, Gianni,” I grin and bounce, “That is why I wore the red bikini again. Yes, yes, yes. l did.”
“Jenny Danielle Kristensen Randaccio, you're lovable, loving, adorable, and absolutely ravishing beyond all belief,” he says to me in a sweet tone, “ You'll have more fun than yesterday.”

And then he grabs me before I expect him to do so. I let out a surprised squeak and squirm in his big, muscular arms while he hand-gags me. He's so much stronger than me that he's able to use a free hand to grab the TUG bag and then sits on the sofa, burying my face into the corner of it and generally pinning down. He's able to effortlessly pull off my sneakers and my socks, and he uses my tough brown rope to boxtie my arms behind my back. He sits me up and adds a harness and a crotch rope that support the boxtie, and he makes sure they're as tight as I want them to be. He stuffs one of my socks inside the other sock and knots a white bandana around the outer sock so I cannot choke on the gag. I am so glad one of my friends figured this way of making a safer gag!

“Oh, Giovanni Maria Nicola Randaccio, you are a bad man, you know that?” I happily ask him.
“A bad man? Me? What have I done?” he asks me with a sly grin and pulls my top strings.
“Kidnapped your wife, tied her up, and now removed her bikini top!” I happily study my boobs.
“Quiet time, Jenny,” and he stuffs my socks into my mouth, socks I’ve worn all day. YUM!
“Mmmmmmm,” I groan because of my cheesy socks; he cleave gags me the white bandana.
“That is so much better sounding indeed,” and he wraps my face in 8 layers of clear tape, too.

Then Giovanni moves to my legs. I’m 5’1”. How many ropes will my legs need? Well, Gianni decides 6! He ties my ankles, knees, and shins first, and then he ties my lower, mid, and upper thighs. He uses a piece of pink yarn on my big toes, likely yarn he got from his sister. He lays me on my stomach on the sofa and hogties me from my ankles to my elbows for tighter hogtie. Then, he wraps more yarn around my braid and uses it for a hairtie around my big toes! Nice!

Of course, I’m squealing, squeaking, and struggling the entire time, acting like he's some random stranger doing this instead of my husband. but I’m loving all the sensations from the taste of my cheesy socks to the tightness of the ropes to the texture of the yarn to the painful incessant yank on my braid. When he stands back, I turn, look at him smiling at me, blush, giggle, and bury my head in the corner of the sofa like it's a game of hide and seek or something. He pulls me out of my hidey-hole and pats me on my bandana-covered head.

I love when my captor pets my head, especially when I have a kerchief on my head. No! I don’t mean pet play. I just love when my head is pet when I’m bound and gagged, and somehow that blue kerchief really has his attention, and he enjoys kneeling on the floor beside me petting such a simple part of me while I struggle and squeak like he’s a total stranger who’s kidnapped me.

Then comes the part I’ve been desiring—Gianni abandons me to go out for dinner supplies. Yes, once again, I am left all alone, bound and gagged, sucking on my cheesy delicious socks. There is no race on the television today, so I’m truly alone with just my thoughts and my nakie boobs. The Cool Girls’ Club one and only Gangsta Princess is a damsel-in-distress! What fun! Yes, it’s definitely time to repeat the fun I had yesterday while struggling in this strict, tight, fun TUG.

“Mmmmmmmm!” I start quietly just to test the gag, but it is really strong toe cheese this time.
“Mmmmmmmm!” I try to get louder, testing my ability to speak into this gag, but I’m soft.
“Gmmm mmm mmmm!” I’m trying to talk and struggle, but I say nothing exactly useful.
“Hlllllllllll!” I cry into my yummy socks, but the socks, bandana, and tape stifle me.
“Hlll mm! Hmhmhhm hhmm mm!” Giovanni gagged me really well; I’m almost silent. Yay!
“Huuhhh! Hll mm! Hmhmhhm nnhmm mm!” someone at the front door wouldn’t hear me!

I squeal and shriek into the gag, imagining myself as the helpless, kidnapped girl, tightly bound and gagged and with her bikini top stolen. I’m just a Gangsta Princess with a cute blue kerchief bandana on her head, a red bikini bottom underneath her red gym shorts, and innocently adorable tiedye bandana wristbands. My shirt is gone, and I’m wearing my socks in my mouth in what is a thrilling and humiliating fashion. Could I ask for anything more than this? I’m truly alone in a little beachside cottage, and my kidnapper could return any moment. How funny I certainly look with that clear tape squishing my face, and I love the sensation caused by the rope and yarn.

The best part is that I can’t escape the ropes. Imagine how fun it would be to be completely tied up using the yarn; I bet if done right it could be uniquely tight and inescapable. I saw the skein of yarn and know my sister-in-law almost certainly gave it to Gianni just to use it just like this. I have played too many games with her; I know how she operates since it’s not like she once asked me to tie her up using yarn before! The only problem is that there’s no way to save it; you get no choice except cutting it off afterwards. I’ll be content with my rough brown ropes for now.

“Gmmmmmmmmm!” I lie there helpless on account of the rope, yarn, and gag.
“Eeeeeeee!” I painfully jerk on my braid using the hairtie because… I can? It’s there to be used!
“Nmmmmmm!” I cause myself to get a massive taste of my toe cheese… yummy, cheesiness!
“Gmmmmm!” I am so quiet because of the heavy gagging, and I love the sofa’s texture too! It is a perfect spot to be hogtied and abandoned like a kidnapped damsel-in-distress, “Nmmmmm!”
“Well, hello, Jenny, sorry I took so long. I had to wait 30 minutes just to order, and then he took at least 30 minutes to get the order ready!” Giovanni smiles as he comes in, “Did you have fun?”

And that right there should tell you how much fun I had in that little adventure. The sandwiches are delicious, and the tiramisu that Giovanni and I share is divine. I love Atlantic City!

[Caesar73]

That was quite the Honeymoon to have - and it is only the start! Do carry on @AlexUSA3 !

[LunaDog]

I normally prefer F/M but this is well worth a read.

[AlexUSA3]

That was quite the Honeymoon to have - and it is only the start! Do carry on @AlexUSA3 !

It is indeed only the start! Much more to come!

I normally prefer F/M but this is well worth a read.

You say that a lot about my stories

[AlexUSA3]

Wednesday, April 24, 2019

We let Tuesday go by without TUGs, but as you can imagine I spent the rest of Monday studying my rope marks and the ever-slowly fading redness from having my face taped for almost 2 hours. My friends asked me if I’d orgasmed yet. I didn’t know what that was, why I would want it so badly, or what made it special. I was too embarrassed to ask and would not Google it!

On Wednesday, though, I returned to my colorful ways. A tiedye kerchief bandana immediately steals Giovanni’s eyes with that same red bikini top that has become a symbol of marital naughty TUGs and denim jean shorts. I force him to get creative this time by wearing red flip flops for a lovely day of beachcombing without swimming in the ocean so we’re able to wash our feet off and walk off any residual moisture. I am such a naughty Gangsta Princess in my usual blissful manner, just daring him. You know what I want, don’t you? It’s thin and pink, and Gianni tied my toes with it on Monday. I wanted that, but I also wanted a more creative gag.

“Giovanni,” I reach out and take his hand, “What’s been your favorite part of our honeymoon? I know that’s a hard question, but…,” I pause in thought, “There’s no wrong answer.”
“That it means,” I feel him squeeze my hand tightly, “The phrase ‘Til death do us part’ is true.”
“That’s so sweet. Let’s promise something. When the end comes, whichever one of us is about to be alone with stay by the other’s side to their last breath so that even when God calls us to be alone we’re never truly alone but merely go on a great journey with the other’s blessing,” I say.
“That’s a beautiful promise. I promise,” he hugs me tightly, and it’s so warm.
“I love you, Giovanni Maria Nicola Randaccio,” I whisper into his chest, “Did I feel a raindrop?”
“I think you did,” he never takes his eyes off me but instead enjoys the embrace.
“I thought so. See ya!” I squirm out of his arms, “Last one to the cottage is a rotten egg!”
“Oh, are you starting this game again, Giovanna Daniela Randaccio?!” I love when he translates my name into Italian, “Get back here you naughty little Gangsta Princess!”
“Mi dispiace, ma non parlo con le uove cattive!” I shout back to him in perfect Italian.

So we run as the rain picks up until it is pouring. We’re laughing as we run, and it doesn’t tire us even a bit because we’re so athletic and have maintained that element of life from college. Three minutes to run back to the college barely breaks a sweat for me since I was on both the track and cross country teams. We’re both only a little wet though because of covered paths and our speed. I am giggling so much as we walk into the cottage that I forget about my pink wish until I feel the irresistible grip of hubby grabbing my arms and tying my wrists behind my back with it.

“Gianni!” I giggle helplessly while he does it, and he does it perfectly: tight, safe, and effective.
“You had a wish to experience the idea my sister planted in your head,” he sees right through me.
“It only was planted when she sent those photos of her tied in it by you the night before we got married. She’d been getting tied in it, and probably your baby sister, too, for weeks!” I laugh.
“You got us. Yes, Sera (Note: Gianni’s sister) and I first did it three weeks ago,” he laughs, too.
“You saved a wonderful surprise for me, too,” I let him knot it above my elbows and turn around to look at my husband despite my bound arms, “Giovanni, I do love you and your whole family.”
“I love when I see that look on your face. I saw it when you tasted St. Joseph’s zeppole for the first time and when you tasted Serafina’s tiramisu. I saw the first time you said you loved me and the moment you said, ‘I do,’ and now I’ve seen it three times on our honeymoon,” he speaks in such a sweet, emotive manner, “You stole my heart,” he then appears to be nearing me for the best kiss ever, but then he turns my prior naughtiness against me, “But, hey, I’m a rotten egg, and now I’m kidnapping you,” and he spins me around and begins tying my arms below my elbows!

Just like that, the pink yarn idea is out, and I’m bound in three places on my arms. I just knew he was tying them with yarn. They tested it using some of Serafina’s yarn to see if it was safe to use and decided to keep playing with Serafina and their baby sister as the captives, saving this for my honeymoon surprise. I’m so happy I met Serafina, especially since without her I wouldn’t have a big handsome Italian man kidnapping me right now! God has been so good to all of us.

Of course my bikini top comes off. That’s the point, isn’t it? I wear it when I’m wishing he is a naughty boy who binds, gags, and exposes his wife. I almost giggle when I look down and see a pair of exposed boobs. I never thought I’d love this so much, and now I find myself wishing that Serafina could play, too. Maybe it’s actually fine to be exposed if it’s in humiliation and around people who won’t be offended by such play. My womanhood is only for Gianni to see though!

“Sit down, Giovanna,” he pushes me onto that same wooden chair and continues using the yarn to tie my legs. Let me be clear that this isn’t some thin stuff used to make coasters, and it’s being tied with circulation in mind. It’s strong yarn and has little give when I fight it, but it’s not about to cause me to get an amputation either. It’s so much fun, and I can’t help but giggle again.

“I’m a kidnapped Tiedye Gangsta Princess!” with feigned concern while he makes an incredibly good harness out of the pink yarn, wrapping it above and below my boobs and also making sure it goes through my armpits, “Man, Gianni, that feels so good. This was a great idea!”
“I’m glad you like it,” he smiles while working on a waist and crotch… yarn?
“Oh, mister, you better not put your hands on my boobs!” Oh, no! I said my desires out loud!
“Jenny Danielle Randaccio!” his laughter is contagious, “Since you asked for it!”
“Haha! Gianni!” I break into a fit of giggles, “Oh, you’re such a sweet man.”

I’m seated on the floor, and he uses the yarn to frogtie my legs, folding them up and tying them from waist to upper thigh and also a couple inches from the knees. Two pieces of yarn for each leg to hold me in that position. He doesn’t give me time to react before threads a pink bandana through an orange rubber dog ball to make a “homemade ball gag” and gags me with it! Now I am really stuck. He blindfolds me with a blue bandana in an obvious nod to Monday’s game.

I don’t mind that Giovanni is… let me check my phone to get the right word from my friend… fondling me. Ugh! My friends won’t let those two words go: “squirt” and “orgasm.” I know my happiness is their desire, but the way they’re now teasing me about knowing is, well, deserved! I am being a total prude rather than learning about something that might happen. I enjoy TUGs so much that I don’t see too much reason to seek out these strange and foreign concepts.

Gianni is so considerate though! He stops to put double-sided tape over my lips to keep me from drooling because he knows I don’t care for that except in certain games where it just seems to be completely appropriate and humiliating to me. This isn’t one of those, and I also appreciate that he adds a useless bandana (he told me it’s white) as an OTM gag just for looks and feel. Can our honeymoon get more romantic? I don’t think it can! He’s kissing me and enjoying me, and it is definitely… notes again… foreplay. When I get out of this TUG, I’m going to desire him.

“Who ah oou?” I ask like this is a routine with him as a kidnapper and me as the kidnapped.
“I think you need some time in the closet,” he picks me up, but I can’t resist playing along.
“Eeeeeeee! Noooooooo!” I wiggle my bare feet, struggling against the bindings and gags.
“There you go, my dear,” he puts me down and shuts the door, ensuring I belong to him alone.
“Unhie ee! Hleathe? Hon’h hoo thith hoo ee!” I seemingly beg in, but I hear the click.
“I’ll be back… at some point,” Gianni says and then maniacally laughs at me as he walks away.

Oh, no, an evil man has kidnapped me! I’m tightly bound with this strong pink yarn, and the big rubber dog ball gag keeps me from calling out for help. It’s tight, and he even exposed me and played with my boobs. Oh, woe is me! I’m so helpless. I’ll just have to uselessly struggle until I’m completely soaked in sweat and need to take a shower and keep gag talking until I’ve soaked the tape off my face so that the drool can escape and make a mess of me. Won’t that be a terrible shame? Ahem, I asked… Won’t that be a terrible shame? Even blindfolded I could see that!

One can never pick the best part of a situation like this. Is it the restraints themselves, or is that I am restrained in general? Maybe it’s the gag or blindfold? Wait! I’m supposed to be the classic damsel-in-distress. I have a job to do, and that’s getting myself into a frenzy by struggling until I seem to run out of energy. Run out of energy? Me? Pfffft! Like I would ever do that in a TUG.

“Hell eeee! Humhuhhy hell ee!” I really test the string; my energy is increasing.
“Hellllllll! Han’h anyhuhy heah ee??!” I cry out into the void of the closet, enjoying the binding.
“Hleathe unhie ee! Ah awnna oh hohe!” I practically beg into the ball gag.
“Ith anyuhn thehe?! Ah hon’h awnna ee hieh uh!” I’m wiggling my feet and fingers a lot.
“Eh ee ouhha thith! Ithn’h thehe anyhuhy who han unhie ee?!” I desperately squirm too.

Then I hear the front door shut. Giovanni has left to go get the things we need for dinner. Now, I am really stuck like this! Oh, the joy! I’d been “abandoned” before, but never for the fun long intervals like Giovanni and I have done during our honeymoon. I really am stuck, nobody aware that I’m bound, gagged, and blindfolded in the coat closet here of a cottage. Is it possible for the games to get more exciting? Oh, my, what is that feeling? The yarn gives me an odd feeling in my crotch; it’s pulling on me differently from the usual ropes and wires I use.

“Ugh! Thith hah! It’th ho hih!” I grunt in observation of the blue rubber dog ball that gags me.
“Helllll! Humuhn hethhue ee!” I beg for imaginary rescue from an imaginary kidnapping.
“Anyuhhy! Hellll! I’he een hihnahheh!” as if anyone can hear me more than 30 feet away.
“Hum on! Hurehy huhmuhn ith thehe who han unhie ee!” my struggle is extremely frantic now.
“OH!” I get a funny feeling in my body, “GUHHH!” I struggle against that nasty crotch yarn, but I feel something foreign, and waves of energy pulse through my body, “Ugggggghhhh” I quietly moan and feel a flash of heat rush through my face, and I am sure something bad has happened.

I’m a Tiedye Bandana-Wearing Gangsta Queen. What just happened to me? That felt… good. I don’t know what it is though. Maybe I had a heart attack? No, it can’t be, could it? The yarn in my crotch did it, though. Maybe I need to use the potty? I’m a denim-shorts-wearing Gangsta Princess who’s been kidnapped, blindfolded, and gagged! I’m no weakling like that, am I? Nah!

Well, might as well keep struggling. Gianni will want to hear me struggling when he comes back from the store. I love the way my red bikini has become a damsel-in-distress trope all of its own in the past few days. When we get home, I’ll have to walk out of the bedroom randomly wearing it some days just to make him laugh and recall the fun we had here in Atlantic City, and then I’ll ask him to tie me up, and he’ll play with my boobs and kiss me, and then he’ll abandon me, and then I’ll enjoy myself, and then he’ll untie me, and I’ll be on top of him while we make love, and then… Why am I thinking about Gianni in such a dirty way since that yarn did that to me?

“Han’h any oh oou ihiohth heah ee?!” I resume my frantic struggle.
“HELLLLLLL! I’hh heen hihnahheh!” my fantasies continue going as strong as ever.
“Ah’ll eh ouhha thith and thow ou!” I am ever so determined.
“GMMMM!” I feel that burning sensation return, “Whah ith hong hith ee?!”
“Hmmph!” fine, I’ll just struggle in other ways that don’t do that to me! I’ll talk to Gianni after.
“Ah’m all uhone, ahn’h ah?” I pretend to wail in despair.

How I love being tied up in yarn. I can feel the sweat soaking into my tiedye kerchief. The poor kidnapped Tiedye Gangsta Queen will not be conquered, and she resumes her struggle. Quickly, I forget what happened before, and I’m propped up in the corner frantically struggling again. It’s just too much fun, but that yarn, even with the denim shorts, uncomfortably rides into… into my womanhood. Why am I getting that hot flash again? Why am I involuntarily groaning? Why do I feel cramps inside me? Maybe I’m already pregnant from the other night? I thought it should take a lot longer than 3 days for pregnancy to cause that kind of complication though. The worst question I have—why do I like it so much and want to do it over and over again?

I’m kind of glad when Gianni comes back, opens the closet, taunts me, shuts the door, makes our dinner, and takes me out of the yarn. Somehow, being with him makes me feel right after that. I won’t tell him what happened in the closet, but once again I lost track of time. After supper, we have the best relations yet, and I feel that my fulfillment during the naughty shower is linked…
________________________________________________________

Thursday, April 25, 2019

Hmmmm… Brown and red on Sunday, blue on Monday, pink on Tuesday, tiedye yesterday. I do not know which bandana I want. Camo, green, or pink camo? Decisions, decisions. How much of a Gangsta Princess do I want to be? What kind of damsel-in-distress am I in my fantasies for today? How spunky or naughty do I want to be? Will I be on the top or the bottom in bed? The beautiful part for some things is deciding on the fly, but outfits must be chosen now.

Red bikini goes on first, of course.

Socks or no socks? Yummy toe cheese sock gag or not when I inevitably wind up tied up? Odd, I haven't had to smell my sneaker during any TUGs, which is a shame. It spices things up when you have to smell a girl’s sneaker or are gagged with her socks and can't do a thing to stop it. No boy socks or sneakers, please. It’ll be all green. Yes, green! Bandana headband? Check! Look in the mirror. Hellllloo, Gangsta Princess! Green gym shorts (trainers). Green sleeveless t-shirt. Red canvas sneakers. White crew socks. Finally, red bandana wristbands; all the red’s to match my hidden bikini; white makes it a good approximation of an Italian flag, for my beloved Italian born Romeo. I put my hair in a braid, using a white scrunchie to hold it in place. I’m so ready to take on the world and show I’m tough.

“Gianni, does this outfit make your wee-wee stiffen up?” I bounce out and ask him.
“Gianna, I see it's gonna be one helluva day,” he drinks his coffee with a sly grin on his face.
“Nothing like a caffeine shot to start my day,” I practically skip to the table and take a glug of my own coffee, perfectly prepared with love by Giovanni, “Yum! You made it just right!”
“Mamma mia, anche beva il caffè,” Giovanni mutters and shakes his head.

I am still eager to try the yarn again, but this time I am hoping the gym shorts will prevent some of the discomfort from last time. I threw out my panties last night; they had weird nasty gummy stuff in them. I’m hopeful that today's yarn adventure, if yarn is what Gianni uses, will be more relaxed and controlled… as relaxed as I can be, of course! Who knows? Maybe I was having an awfully good time and just got too excited like a puppy and peed myself? Whatever.

We have so much fun again today. Oh, sure, laugh at me, but it's easy to forget about TUGs out there! My mind is on the start of our marriage the entire time. So many thoughts rush through my mind, but the happiest ones are starting a family together and growing old together. They’re serious but important thoughts, and they're thoughts that make me happy. Our love is true, and I am now happy that I agreed to be married in my Roman Catholic in-law Randaccio’s church. It just felt solemn and holy doing it there, and it's really growing on me with time.

“Well, Giovanni,” I am practically skipping back to the cottage, “Another great day!”
“Another day of fun and adventure. That food was good, too,” he laughs.
“First time you really ate your fill all week,” I pause to let him catch up and squeeze his cheek.
“You're something else, my adorable Italian flag,” my husband studies my outfit.
“I’m glad you noticed!” I skip away again and unlock the door to the cottage, “MMMMPH!”
“Now it's time to furl up the flag and put it away,” he whispers in my ear, “Are you, perchance, wearing a red bikini underneath your clothes?” he is quite the mind reader too!

I can't help but giggle. He already sees through me, and we haven't been married a week yet. He is so aware of things, sweet and considerate. Only true love allows people to observe each other like we do. He keeps me hand gagged and pinned against the sofa while he removed my shirt to confirm his suspicions. Sure enough, he finds a red bikini underneath my shirt.

For those who don't know what a boxtie is, I’ll explain. Your arms are folded at 90 degrees, and your forearms are put against each other with your hand touching the opposite shoulder. For the boxtie, it's typical to tie the forearms in the middle and move on to the other restraints. Not this time. Giovanni sees those bandanas on my wrists, so my arms get tied with the left wrist tied to the crook of the right elbow and the right wrists to the left crook. Doesn't this sound like fun?

I! LOVE! THIS! PINK! YARN! Maybe it's one use, but it's delightful. It makes a comfortable breast harness, and the crotch rope is effective. I hope I don't get sticky stains in my panties like yesterday. Giovanni has me as his prisoner of love, and he really got the jump on me this time as if he'd seen through me from simply overhearing my internal monologue while getting dressed. I am a Green Gangsta Princess who has been turned into a damsel-in-distress!

Today it's a lotus tie for my legs. I know there hasn't been much variety, and we're spicing things up with this. Giovanni makes me sit cross-legged and ties my ankles while they're like this. The yarn is looped from my thighs, just above my knee, to my shoulders, to make my struggles much less effective. My sneakers are taken off my feet, and then my socks are removed. Yummy! We all know where those socks are going, and I’m mentally smacking my lips!

“Open up,” Giovanni says, “I heard you going ‘Mmmmmmm!’ when I took the socks off!
“What?!” Oh, no, I betrayed my thoughts again instead of keeping them to myself!
“You are a cute, TUG loving, sweet, bandana-obsessed, short, athletic, kind, mischievous, sexy, energetic, naughty, silly, skipping Gangsta Princess, and,” he pauses, “My beautiful wife.”
“Awww, Gianni, only all that? You're so sweemmmppphhhh,” and then I am gagged with cheesy goodness as white crew socks fill every crevice of my mouth, shutting me up to his happiness.
“Am I as sweet as your sweaty socks? I do not know. Those are probably salty,” he teases me.
“Mmmphh!” is all I say when he adds a red bandana cleave gag to keep the socks in my mouth.

Then Giovanni grabs the white duct tape. He intends to keep me really quiet again, and I am not going to oppose this in the least. Bring it on! The tape slowly squishes my face more and more, 8 layers wrapping my face to squish it down. Before he snaps the tape, he puts one of my canvas sneakers over my nose and wraps the tape several more times so I must filter all breaths through the sneaker first. The strings of my red bikini top are playfully pulled, and I become an exposed Green Bandana Gangsta Princess! He wraps more yarn around my braid and ties it to my ankles, knotting the yarn just tightly enough that I can't move my head forward or bring my chin into my chest without yanking on my hair. He is so considerate, isn't he?

“Mmmmmmmmm!” I look at him, but all I taste and smell is delicious toe cheese.
Giovanni takes a bunch of photos of me just so I can see myself after. We have strict rules in the Cool Girls’ Club against posting photos of exposed girls. Ha, I’m kind of nakie, aren't I? This is so much fun, especially with the foot related humiliation and the exposure. The pink yarn keeps me well-restrained and ensures I will not escape. The boxtie is overkill but comfortable thanks to my smart decision to wear the red bandana wristbands, which pad my skin against the yarn.

“Now, excuse me, my lovely Gangsta Princess, but I have to do some things,” Gianni laughs.
“Nmmmmmm!” I pretend to panic, but I’m loving it even as a green bandana blindfolds me.
“My kidnapped doll, you better be here when I come back,” he gently pets my head and leaves.
“Nnnnnnnm!” I shake my head and hear the clicks of the door and the deadbolt.

Oh, no! I’m a damsel-in-distress! The Green Gangsta Princess has been kidnapped by a stranger and brought to this cottage. She's been exposed by her kidnapper, who joyfully pulled the strings of her red bikini to display her boobs to the world. Now she has boxtied arms and is in a lotus tie on the sofa in a strange cottage far from home. She's been gagged with her own socks, and she’s being forced to breathe through her own shoe! Oh, the poor Gangsta Princess! Woe is she! Will she be able to escape, or will she fall prey to the clutches of the evil Giovanni Randaccio?

The yarn binds her tightly! Oh, whatever will she do? It's tough enough with a standard boxtie, but her arms are bound thrice for this boxtie! The yarn makes an intricate, restraining harness, a piece that accentuates her exposed bosom. The crotch yarn causes a distinct yelp in her voice, a true restraint that serves to regulate her behavior. The hair tie makes her shriek when she forgets its there. Blindfolded, bound, and gagged, the Gangsta Princess is helpless.

“Hlllllllllllllll!” the gag muffles my voice, and I call out again, “Hlllllllllllllllll!”
“Hlll mm! Hnn anuuhnn hlll mm?” I look around, forgetting the blindfold.
“Hnn anuhuhu hhhhh mm? Unhuh mm! Hheeehe!” I am begging for help.
“Ihhnh ehh anhuhn hoo hnn hlll mm?” I forgot and jerk on my braid, “Owwwwwww!”
“Anuhuhu?! Hlll! Ah hinn hihhanneh!” that yarn is causing a burn in my crotch like yesterday.
“HLLLLLLLLLLL!” I yell at the top of my lungs now, for my thrill, “HLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!”

That crotch yarn is riding up on me just like yesterday. I had to throw away my panties because I had that strange sticky residue left behind from yesterday. Maybe the crotch yarn is making me a little bloody or something? Why does it make me so much warmer than ordinary crotch ropes? I like the burn it causes, but I shouldn't like it because it's unnatural, right? Ohhhhhh… no… I feel it again! Oh, no! The waves of energy are pulsing through my body, and I feel an odd need both to stretch and to groan. I don't know what it is, but it’s—Wait a moment. My friends! No!

“Mmmmmmmmm!” it's better to frantically struggle anyway and fantasize of kidnapping scenes.
“Ehh mm ohhh! Ah honh awann ee hmmma,!” I struggle a lot, but the feeling of the yarn… Yes!
“Mmmmm!” my every word leaches toe cheese onto my tongue, “Hlll ee ouhha hihh!”
“Mmmmm!” my every breath wafts toe cheese into my nostrils, “Hmmmuhn unhie mm!”
“No, no, no!” but that crotch yarn is doing bad things to me, “UGGHHHHH!” and now I have a second pair of ruined sticky panties thanks to this yarn. Thanks for nothing, Serafina!

Oh, no. It hits me. My friends said crotch ropes did it to some people under the right conditions. I did it without Giovanni. I cheated on him. I… I orgasmed… I didn't even do it with a friend. I did it all alone. Is that? Then again, Giovanni did this to me, so he kind of did it, and that is a lot of fun to feel. I like the strange waves of pulsing energy and the burn. I’m… learning! Yeah, I am safe to resume! It's such a strange feeling. I threw away yesterday's panties for nothing!

“HELLLLLLLL!” Oh, come on, can't anyone hear the Green Bandana Damsel-in-Distress?
“EH MM OUH UH THIH!” My kidnapper has rigged up a devious trap for me.
“HAH ANUUHN HELL MM?!” Somebody? Anybody? I’m a captive bound in pink yarn!
“HELL MM! HUMUHHY HELL MM!” I'm sucking on yummy, scrumptious cheesy socks.
“AH HON’H AWNH HO EE HMHM!” and I’m breathing my own fragrant foot gas too.
“UNHAH MM OU AAHAHONH!” the lotus tie and boxtie are very effective.

Mmmm… I love the smell of the duct tape, too, what little of it bypasses the foot gas and reaches my nostrils. I actually… I kind of like the way that yarn is riding up on me, especially now that I know what it is. It's a gift. While I have friends who like these things, I don't think I’d like that particular sensation unless Gianni was part of the experience. It's kind of silly how it works. As I get into the scene, I get frantic. Getting frantic pulls on that yarn. Pulling on that yarn causes the waves of heat. The waves of heat make me more frantic. It's a positive feedback loop, and it sure is a positive feedback, too! What an evil kidnapper! Somebody, rescue me!

I am such a cute, TUG loving, sweet, bandana-obsessed, short, athletic, kind, mischievous, sexy, energetic, naughty, silly, skipping Gangsta Princess, a beautiful wife, and a damsel-in-distress. I have been kidnapped by an Italian man, a handsome Italian. A handsome Italian man who loves me. Who loves me in every way. Who loves the way I dominate him during sex. Who… Snap out of it, Jenny! Get back to being a damsel-in-distress, you hilariously horny girl!

I dressed like an Italian flag for my Italian husband, and I end up sucking on my own white crew socks. My red canvas sneaker is my engine’s new air filter. I’ve got metaphorical Denver brakes all over my body to keep me from getting away before my kidnapper repossesses me. My intake valves have been stuffed and sealed with the socks and duct tape. My windshield is blocked by a white bandana. Oh, and my hood’s been stolen. Hmmm… are my boobs jiggly?

“Gmmmmmmm!” and that crotch yarn is… Yes, Gianni is the piston that moves up and down in my engine block, causing explosive reactions in me, and… Paradise… crotch yarn, “Mmmmm.”

TO BE CONTINUED