The Best Hangover Morning Ever!

Honestly, perhaps the finest morning I’ve ever had.

But let’s rewind to the start: Friday night, I intended to unwind and stay home. Partly because my girl was due to arrive Saturday afternoon (she lives about an hour away by car, but since she attends university here, she usually drops by almost daily after that—though we don’t get many weekends together). However, life has its ways; around 8 PM, my phone rang and a friend spontaneously invited me out for her birthday party.

Long story short—I spent the entire night awake without blinking an eye and downed several glasses of beer (and by glasses, I mean liters).

When I finally stumbled back home, I was bracing myself for perhaps four or five hours of sleep at best, followed immediately by a hangover that was already making itself known. So I walked into my flat, completely ignoring where I was heading and rushing straight to the bedroom.

Upon opening the bedroom door, something felt off. A subtle scent of slumber and soft breathing noises caught my eye near the bed. Even though it was dark in there, I could make out my girl lying on the mattress. Still not really focusing on her surroundings, I quietly shuffled back out to take off my boots so as not to disturb her.

As I passed the living room table again, I spotted a scrap of paper on the desk. It read, roughly translated: “Hi Grinser [name changed], it’s 10 PM on Friday evening right now. I came over earlier to surprise you, but obviously, you’re out. Since you forgot your cell phone, I couldn’t call either, so I decided to have some fun solo:p. I know you expect me around 2 PM, so I suppose you’ll be home sometime in the morning hours at least and find me here. I hope you don’t mind if I search through your toy box; if you do feel like punishing me for it, go ahead.”

Needless to say, my hangover vanished instantly (no headache when there’s no blood rushing to your head) and I rushed back into the bedroom—this time without those heavy boots—to get a second look at the sleeping figure. In the dim light, I saw her lying on the bed, unclothed and uncovered by any blankets. Then I noticed the wide leather cuffs around her wrists and ankles. Her wrists were chained to the headboard, while her ankles were slightly spread apart and attached to the bedposts on the opposite side.

That was when it hit me: this morning was going to be better than anticipated.

Since she remained asleep, I poured myself a glass of whiskey, sat in my armchair, leaned back, and watched her sleep for a while, contemplating an appropriate punishment for using my toys and ruining a well-deserved hangover;) As I sat there watching her rest peacefully, bound up in self-bondage, her slim, toned petite body occasionally straining against its bonds in sleep, her face hidden beneath blonde hair as the chains tinkled softly—I truly felt like I was in heaven. Damn it, I love that woman!

I’m not sure how long I’d been admiring her when she finally woke up. She yawned and tried to roll over but was halted by the restraints. That was my cue; I raised my hand and jingled the keys to her locks, which she had neatly left beside her note. Upon spotting me, she simply smiled and wriggled seductively within her bonds. As blood rushed back into my head again, I thought to myself, “If she asks for anything right now, you know damn well you won’t say no.” And as if reading my mind, in that very moment she purred, “Are you going to punish me for taking your toys?” … Perfect! Without uttering a word, I grabbed the blindfold from my toy box, leaned over her, and smiled my most wicked smile before placing it on her.

I spent the next half hour teasing her while watching her struggle to guide my fingers and lips where she wanted them most until her moans nearly escalated into screams of frustration. At that point, I broke my silence: “No, dear, I am not punishing you. In fact, I am quite pleased with you indeed. Actually, I’m going to reward you…” She yelled out in anticipation, “…by serving you breakfast in bed! I’ll be right back from the bakery; don’t run off.” With that, I bit my lip, rushed out of the flat, and burst into laughter.

The report may continue later on—there are plenty more stories about that day to tell—but for now, I’m nearly 50 hours without sleep and can hear those frustrated moans again. So perhaps another time.