Loading...I love touching my pussy. I love the feeling of my most personal effect in my hand. I love bringing myself to orgasm by playing with my pussy. I love the feeling of being in charge of my own happiness. I love feeling my silken gift at my fingertips, and the feeling of intimacy that it provides for me.
I’ve also had to learn to love all of those things.
I’ve come to love them over the last several years, as masturbation is my only true sexual outlet right now.
I haven’t had sex since my divorce, a little more than a year ago. We usually only had sex, say, during halftime of a game, and it was normally short enough in duration that each of us could take a shower before the second half begins. He also never bothered to go down on me. I asked, of course, but he refused to do so. Honestly, it made me feel uncomfortable in my own skin that a man, who said he loved me and found me sexually attractive wouldn’t do that, yet normally would guilt me into doing it to him. To me, that’s the ultimate showing of lust; putting your mouth on a place on someone else’s body that you know it simply should not go. That is the absolute peak of craving another’s skin. For me performing oral on him, however, it was never lust. It felt more like a chore.
This is my life now. Granted, I have two teenage daughters, whom I love dearly, and they are my reason for living. My marriage, however, was never a real marriage. It always felt more like a business arrangement. I know my husband loved me; it’s just not the kind of love that I needed, nor that I wanted. I can’t remember the last time I felt truly wanted by him, in any form. I also think he usually thought of someone else every time he was with me.
This is going to sound conceited, and so help me I don’t mean for it to, but I know that I’m attractive. I know because I’ve been told that my entire life. I’m in my early 40s now, and men, as well as women, have always been attracted to me. I’ve never suffered from lack of attention. I’m a blonde, around five feet tall, with large, beautiful, and natural breasts. I also have great skin, and nice facial features. I know I’m attractive because my ex-husband’s friends have hit on me, even while we were still married. One of my girlfriends hit on me once, and even total strangers hit on me. I know it sounds immodest, but when you’re told something over and over by many people, you tend to believe it.
For the record, I never, ever cheated on my husband. The opportunities to do so were numerous, but I always honored my commitment to my husband. I don’t have to leave for work until two in the afternoon, so I always had mornings and early afternoons all to myself. My daughters are in school, husband was at work, so I’m home alone all those hours. There were a couple of occasions that the temptation was nearly overwhelming, but I always resisted.
Thank God for the internet. What an amazing tool it is; it’s a library, it’s a store, it’s a party, it’s a toy. All rolled into one. The unlimited possibilities that exist on the internet never cease to amaze me. It can also provide a great social outlet for those who aren’t able to interact with people for one reason or another. Some people are shut-ins, some are horribly shy, and others are true life ‘desperate housewives’ – like myself.
Several months ago, I began visiting an online message board for a TV show that I enjoy. I liked reading other people’s comments on the show, and what they thought would or should happen next. Some people on the site I found more engaging than others, and I even managed to make a friend or two. Granted, those friends were in other states, and in one case another country, but it was always nice to see them online, and to talk with them. Then, I met him.
His screenname is irrelevant. What is relevant is the way I began to gravitate to him. I would see certain things that he would say, and he struck me as very intelligent, a quality that is sexy in and of itself. He also struck me as very sexual, and he also had a sense of humor that was all his own. Things that he would say online would set him apart from the rest. His line of thinking rarely fell in with many others, but that’s what I liked about him. He tended to be somewhat ambiguous when he spoke of himself, so he was quite the mystery man. He and I exchanged a couple of posts back and forth, but nothing of significance; just small talk.
The online forum was set up in such a way that people could send private messages to one another. One morning, on a whim, I decided to send him an email. I didn’t say much to him, just how I enjoyed reading his posts, and what he had to say. I waited for a couple of days, and there was no response from him, despite him being online since I’d contacted him. Finally, I got a response from him.
“Thank you for your nice words,” the message began. “I’m not good at receiving compliments, but I’d like to pay you one in return. I think you’re sexy. I’ve never even seen your face, but I like everything I’ve read from you. You tend to not say much online, which tells me you might be the shy type. Maybe there’s a tigress buried inside the kitten you appear to be.”
He got me again. He said that he found me sexy, despite having no idea what I looked like. That comment did more for me than any I’d heard for a long, long time. It made me feel wanted, and appreciated for who I was, not how I looked. He began to intrigue me even more. I even found myself thinking of him while I masturbated. I envisioned this faceless stranger, having his way with me. Every time he typed something, whether it was addressed to me or not, I found myself more and more infatuated with him. One thing I didn’t like about him is how far away from me he lived. I mapped it out once, online, and determined that it would take him 19 hours to drive from his front doorstep to mine – and that’s if he drove nonstop.
Over the next several weeks, our online friendship began to flourish. We began exchanging emails frequently, as well as talking via instant messaging. Still, in all that time, he never once asked what I looked like. He even flirted with me, on top of that, making sexual innuendoes out of the most random things. Finally, I decided to take the initiative. I asked him if he would like to see what I looked like. “Sure,” he typed back to me. I had a few photographs scanned of myself, so I picked the one I thought was best, and sent it to him. It was me, alone and smiling, looking in a direction just away from the camera lens. It could almost be construed as an artistic type of pose. I opted to send that to him through email, and I waited. He responded a few minutes later with a couple of photos of himself. One was simply a photo of his eyes, and nothing more. They were green and captivating, and the kind of eyes that spoke from the soul. The other was a photo of his tongue. His tongue was long, and it was tantalizing, almost tormenting. The text in his email only contained a simple phrase, but it was all I needed – “I want you.”
That’s all he said – “I want you.” My panties got wet just reading them. Here was this man who knew so little about me, yet wanted to be with me. I wanted to be with him, too, so I told him as much. I didn’t just want to be with him; I wanted to fuck him. I wanted to have his cock inside me right then and there. I can’t remember the last time I wanted anyone so badly. I was afraid that being so open would scare him away, as men tend to fear sexually aggressive women. They can talk a big game, but when push comes to thrust, they can balk quite easily. I was home alone that morning as usual, but even as I typed the words to him, I kept glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was around, even though I already knew nobody was home.
His response came quickly, and he felt no need to be subtle. “I want to fuck you, Kelly. I want to make you feel things that you weren’t aware that you could feel. I want to put my cock in every orifice of your body. I want to taste your pussy for hours, until you think you can’t stand it anymore. I want to fuck you until you can’t even think. I want to come all over your face, your tits, your stomach, and inside your sweet pussy. I want to fuck you in every room of your house. I want to fuck you in public, for everyone to see. I want to fuck you in front of all your friends. I want to take you when you’re not expecting it, and force you to submit to me. I want to make you my personal fucktoy.”
I’d never been so hot in my lifetime. My panties got soaked at the thought of him doing all those things to me. My body felt alive for the first time in years, and my mind became consumed with thoughts of fucking this man whose real name I didn’t even know. This wasn’t me being a lonely woman, seeking fulfillment from any source. This was a reintroduction to primal lust. I wouldn’t have known him if I walked right beside him on the street, yet my body burned for him. I excused myself from our online conversation so that I could fall to the floor and masturbate. I couldn’t have stopped myself if I tried. I absolutely had to come at that moment. I pulled up the dress I was wearing, opened my legs, and rubbed my clit as hard and fast as I could. I couldn’t come fast enough. I felt my hand covered in my own juices, and I imagined those same juices covering my fantasy man’s face. My orgasm came quickly, and it was vicious – I loved it. My body was radiant with my thoughts of this man whom I would probably never meet. As that thought washed over me, I suddenly became very uncertain.
For the first time in so long, I wanted something. I felt driven. I felt like I could be purposeful again. I’d been going through the motions in an unhappy marriage for so long, that I had lost my sense of worth. My girls always kept me going, but they didn’t know how things were between my husband and me, and still don’t. I found myself getting in deeper and deeper with this stranger, and now wasn’t sure what to do. This was new territory for me.
A few days later, during an online conversation, he asked me for my mailing address. He said he had something he wanted to have delivered to me. I had still never heard his voice, or even seen his entire face in a picture. I was extremely hesitant at first, because even though I was enjoying this fantasy, he was still a stranger. I’d heard so many stories about people meeting in person because of their meeting on the internet, followed by horrible events. I told him I’d have to think about it. I wanted to, I really did. I told him I’d think about it, and that I’d give him an answer the next day.
After sleeping on it, I decided to take the risk. I know I’m a normal person, or at least as normal as can be. I determined that not everyone on the internet wants to come and kill you. There are people out there who are just as normal as everyone else, and are just looking for a place to go, so to speak. I decided to roll the dice, and send him my home address.
I sat down the next day, and composed a brief email to him, including my home address and phone number. I stared at it for a moment, nervously, and then clicked Send. The instant I sent it, I wish I hadn’t. I became incredibly panicky, and suddenly wasn’t so sure I had done the right thing. What if I had just made a huge mistake? What if I was wrong about him, and he did want to harm me or my family? The more the day went on, the more nervous I became.
A few days went by, and I hadn’t heard from him. This had become the norm, but this time it was different. I was hoping for some kind of acknowledgement that he received my email or not. Maybe he was traveling for his job, or maybe his computer was on the fritz. Who knows? That brings me to yesterday.
I was at my computer desk yesterday morning, going through emails and just perusing the internet in general, when I heard a knock at my door. I got up, and went to the door to answer it – no one there. I stepped outside, to see if maybe it was a delivery man who had left in a hurry. Still, nothing. I shut the door, and returned to my desk.
He must have let himself in, and then knocked on the door from the inside, to see if I was home alone. I sat at my desk for a few more minutes before it happened. A man, wearing a leather mask came seemingly out of nowhere, and was running towards me. He wasn’t speaking, but he was breathing so heavily, that it almost came out as grunting. He dropped a small duffel bag just before he reached me. I tried to scream, but I was paralyzed – absolutely paralyzed. He grabbed me, and threw me to the couch behind us, the only sound in the air being his heavy breathing. Only his eyes, nose, and mouth were exposed by the mask. Everything was happening so fast, though, I couldn’t get a glimpse at his face. I thought I had woken up in someone else’s nightmare.
He was incredibly strong, and even though I tried to resist, I couldn’t. He grabbed my wrists as I tried to fight back. He fell on top of me, and began kissing my neck. The harder I fought, the tighter his grip became. His body was draped on top of mine, and his muscular body was pressed against me, grinding his crotch against me. He began to tear at my clothing, ripping it from my body. I had worn a blue, long sleeve tee shirt that morning, jeans, and panties. He grabbed the collar of my shirt, and tore it. My breasts were now exposed, and he immediately put his mouth on my nipple, and began to suck. His hand still clamped my wrists, and I was so afraid now that I could barely move. His tongue began to lick my hard nipple, already in his mouth. I was beginning to feel powerless and weak.
I was being raped.
I had never felt this before, and I wasn’t sure how I should feel. Moreover, I don’t know if I should have liked it as much as I was. I said earlier that I was in charge of my own orgasms, but I felt like I wasn’t now. I wasn’t in charge of my own body, or my own home. Everything lay in the hands of this faceless stranger.
…this faceless stranger…
Surely, this wouldn’t have been him. I wouldn’t have thought him the type to do this, but maybe this was just one of his many surprises. I continued to resist him, but felt my reluctance waning. His mouth on me was nothing but passion and yearning for me, something I wanted for so long. He released one of my wrists, in order for him to unbutton my jeans. He tore at the button, and unzipped my jeans quickly to find my pink cotton panties underneath. His breathing accelerated as his hand slipped inside to touch my pussy. He was probably surprised to find it quite wet, as he slid a finger inside me. His face was turned away from me, and I had yet to see his eyes.
His finger penetrated me furiously. I felt it slamming inside me while his mouth moved back to my nipple. He continued to suck my breasts, alternating between them, while his free hand continued to clamp my wrist. At that moment, I felt myself doing something that to date, I still cannot explain.
My free hand, instead of attempting to fight this man-beast, gravitated over to my other hand, allowing him to easily clamp the two of them together and continue to hold me. I don’t know if this was a product of my fear, or if I was feeling something now that I knew I shouldn’t at a moment like this…yet, there it was.
“Bedroom,” his gruff voice uttered. Nothing else.
“Upstairs,” I responded, scared of what was going to happen next, but afraid to not be honest with him. He pulled me up by my wrists, and forced me to the staircase leading to the second level of our home. I was still in fear, and my thoughts briefly turned to the safety of my daughters. He swiftly grabbed his duffel bag, and shoved me up the stairs. He smacked my ass repeatedly, as if he was herding an animal to its shelter. The stranger grabbed the random piece of fabric hanging down from what was left of my shirt, tearing it again and fully removing it from my body. He tossed it on the staircase as we reached the bedroom. He kept prodding me towards the king-size bed until I lay on it. The sound of his breathing was beginning to terrify me, yet at the same time, I was becoming less afraid.
He knelt down beside the bed, and reached into his duffel bag, and when he looked up at me, I got to view his eyes for the first time.
They were green. And captivating.
He removed a scarf from his bag, and pulled my wrist to the top of the headboard. At this point, I did begin to fight. I was already in less control of things than I ever had been, but the stranger was attempting to take even more control from me. My resistance for naught, as he successfully tied my left arm above my head. He then straddled my face, still completely dressed, and grabbed my right arm. I could see through his clothing that he was completely aroused. He proceeded to tie my other arm to the bedpost with a second scarf, and I was now completely at his mercy.
His crotch was positioned just in front of my face, and I thought if I had a chance to get out of here, this was it. I could have head butted his crotch, and maybe given myself enough time to do something. I didn’t; all I can remember is the feeling of helplessness and subservience I felt at that moment, with this strong man towering above me.
And liking it.
He wore a white dress shirt, and tan pants, with nice dress shoes. He began to tear off his shirt as if it were on fire. His chest was cut, and nearly hairless. It was clear from his initial attack on me that he had spent a lot of time in the gym, but I was now looking at the physical effects of it. My eyes were focused on his chest as he began to crawl down my body, hastily pulling my jeans down my legs, and tossing them to the floor. I lay before this uninvited guest nearly naked and vulnerable.
Then the fear took over again.
“Are you going to kill me,” I asked. Again, my thoughts turned to my daughters. He shook his head, while removing his shoes. I can’t say I was fully convinced. “Are you going to rape me?
He held one finger to his exposed mouth, as if telling me to be quiet. He removed his pants, and his briefs, and he was now naked standing at the foot of my bed. His ample cock was already hard, and he could have inserted himself inside me at that moment. He began to slither back up my legs, kissing and licking them as he moved upward. My body was trembling at that point, and I had no idea what my fate would be. I pulled on the scarves that bound me again, in hopes I might be able to break free; no chance. They were taut, and I had no hope to break free. I began to fight off unconsciousness, as my body was giving in to terror.
At that moment, I looked down at him again, and found his eyes looking up at me as his mouth reached my panties. He gripped them with his teeth, and began pulling them down and off of my body. His process was slow, almost methodical. The side of his shrouded face brushed by my slit, and as I watched and listened to him, I noticed something that I didn’t expect.
His mask now shined with my juices. I was wet. Really wet.
My pussy was soaked, and my nipples hurt they were so hardened. As his descent down my body continued, I felt my temperature rise, particularly between my legs. Where I once was giving in to fear, I was now giving in to excitement. My emotions were beginning to play tricks on me; shouldn’t I be petrified right now? The truth is I simply wasn’t. I even wriggled my body somewhat, to help him remove the panties from my body. Again, he began his ascent up my legs, letting his mouth be the guide. He moved much faster this time, arriving in between my quivering thighs. I could feel the leather of his mask pressed against my skin as he began to slip his tongue inside me.
…his very long tongue…
My back began to arch, as I pressed my pussy close against my assailant’s face. He slid his arms under my legs, pulling me as close to him as he could, and he quickly located my clit with his tongue. He began thrashing my clit with his gift, and I’d be lying if I said he was anything less than masterful. He was in control of me, head to toe, and for now, that’s what I wanted. My breathing began to speed up, and his heavy breathing hadn’t stopped yet. Now, it was replaced by the muffled sounds of his happiness with my pussy in his mouth. He slid a finger inside me again, and began to fingerfuck me like a jackhammer. It felt simply amazing, and I began grinding my pussy again. My wrists continued to pull at the scarves that bound me, but it was for a different reason now.
I wanted to touch him. I wanted to feel his skin with my hands. I wanted to pull his face as close to my dripping pussy as he wanted, so he could eat it. I wanted to fuck him. As the stranger continued working on my pussy, I began to get angry, but not in the way you might think.
I was angry with my ex-husband. Why didn’t he ever fuck me like this? There was no passion in our marriage the last several years, and I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this wanted by anyone, whether they knew me or not. Suddenly, the fear I had washed away, and I spoke to the stranger again, albeit silently: “Eat me”.
I wanted to come all over his face. I wanted to serve him any way he wanted. He could have untied me, and I would have still willingly obeyed his every command. I could have asked him what he wanted to do with me, and there would have been no wrong answer. I loved his tongue probing inside me, and the whipping his extraordinary tongue was giving my welcome clit. My body began writhing with ecstasy, as I wrapped my legs around his strong body. I secured him against me with ease, as he began to shake his head back and forth furiously, his tongue still locked onto my clit.
I lost control completely. I felt myself about to come. I couldn’t have stopped if I wanted to, and believe me, I didn’t want to. I was here to supply my new master’s needs. My body felt like the 4th of July as I climaxed fiercely; appropriate enough, because I felt a bizarre kind of independence during that morning. His mouth never left my pussy, and my juices flowed all over his mask, and into his mouth. It was the most intense orgasm I had ever had, and I can say that confidently. It could even be described as violent, as my body convulsed reacting from the extreme pleasure. My body was trembling now for an entirely different reason than it was just a few minutes before, and I wanted more.
He seemed to know I wanted more, or he simply hadn’t finished with me yet, as he went back to work on my sensitive clit punishing it with his tongue over and over. I could feel another orgasm nearing the surface, and I had intended it to be as fierce as the last one. It didn’t take long to find out it would be. I shouted out with glee at the intense eruption taking place within my body, something I hadn’t felt given to me by someone else in years.
I felt like a different person. I was a different person with this stranger. I was a woman reborn.
The stranger crawled above me and straddled me as he had before, only this time, there were no clothes in the way. His cock dangled before me, and he didn’t need to tell me what to do. I happily and willingly took it in my mouth, and began to suck on it for him. He grabbed my hair firmly, reminding me that he was still in charge. I loved his hardened shaft pumping in my mouth. I was completely in awe of him at that point. He thrust himself into my face with anger and wantonness – and I loved every second of it. I never imagined myself in this situation, and I didn’t want it to stop. My new master needed me to satisfy him, and I was going to.
I sucked his cock as if it was the last one on Earth, and I had earned the rights to it. Hearing his breathing above me getting faster was getting me wetter and hotter for him. He then pulled his cock out, and I reached for it with my head. He pulled it just out of my mouth’s reach, and slapped me in the face with it. No man had ever done that before, and I ate it up. He knew I liked it from the grunt I produced immediately following it. He then slapped the other side of my face with his hard dick. I tried to take it back into my mouth, and he refused. “STOP,” he said. It was then that I said, instinctively, “Yes, master”.
I was his now. He could do to me whatever he wanted. I didn’t even care if my husband walked in, and the thought of getting caught only increased the excitement I was feeling. I almost wanted to get caught. It would serve the motherfucker right. Maybe my master could give him some pointers on how to treat a woman in bed. I doubt it, though, as my master and I have been going at it for some time now, and the only time my husband had spent more than three minutes in the bedroom with me, he was sleeping.
“Open,” Master said in a stern tone. I opened my mouth, ready to suck him again. He placed his cock in my mouth, and I began to suck. “NO!” he said. “Open up.” I loved how he had said so little since he arrived, but so much had been exchanged between us. I obediently opened my mouth again, and he placed his cock on my tongue. He began to prod my mouth with his shaft, ordering me, “Do not suck it.” He grabbed my hair again, to let me know that I had no control here. I was impatient to place my hands on him, and I struggled again to break free, but the scarves were simply too tight.
He was teasing me, getting me ready for him to fuck me. I was dying to feel him inside me, and fortunately, I didn’t have to wait any longer. He moved back down my body, and held my legs in either hand. He rested my ankles against his shoulder as he grabbed his cock, and slammed it inside me all at once. I cried out with longing as he began to slam his dick in and out of me. I was butter to his hot knife, and he felt incredible inside me. I could actually feel the blood pumping through his dick as sweat began to form on his body, dripping down to mine. He held my legs in the air, and wide apart, ramming me. It was only after he entered me that I heard him grunt his approval of me. I was afraid that my master didn’t like fucking me, or that I was doing something that he didn’t like. Nothing else matters to me right now, other than pleasing my master. He continued pounding away inside me, and he couldn’t fuck me hard enough. He finally began saying a little more than he had that morning. As he thrust inside me, he would emit an “ooh yeah” or an “oh God” here and there, then he said something that couldn’t be ignored.
“Do you like being my fucktoy, Kelly?”
I’d only even heard that word once before, and it was from…
He then stopped, and climbed off of me. He moved towards his duffel bag, and produced a small bottle of lubricant. He came back to the bed, and began to spread the lubricant around my asshole. He rubbed a generous portion on it before he capped the bottle, and tossed it back to the bag. He then opened my legs again, and slowly inserted his cock into my ass. There was an intense pain/pleasure I felt as a man began to fuck me in the ass for the first time in my life, although it was more pain than pleasure. I felt filthy and sexy, all at the same time. As painful as it might have been, I dare not ask Master to stop. My breasts bounced up and down as my master continued pumping inside my ass, getting a little deeper with each thrust. He held my legs high and together, making my ass as tight as he could for him. My legs felt his strength as he held them together. I desperately wanted to play with myself while he did this, but still the binds were too tight, and it felt as if every time I pulled on them, they became tighter.
I loved hearing Master groan as he fucked my ass, and I filled the air with my own sounds of pleasure. I’d always been kind of quiet in bed, but now I understood why. No man had ever done to me what this man had done to me, physically, mentally, or emotionally. Again, he stopped suddenly, and pulled himself out. He went back to his bag, and got the lubricant again, as well as another object, which he opened immediately.
He retrieved a switchblade.
Suddenly, the fear was there again. There I was naked and alone, tied up, with a masked stranger holding a switchblade, just inches away from me. He slowly began moving toward me, looking into my eyes with the blade held upward. For the first time that morning, I began to scream with something other than passion or ecstasy, but the sound wouldn’t come out. At that moment, I thought I was going to die.
He moved the blade to my wrist, and cut the first scarf loose. He crawled over me, and cut the second loose. For the first time, Master allowed my hands to be free. He closed the blade, and tossed it back over towards the duffel bag. My first reaction was to grab his head, and pull him to me. I slid my tongue inside his mouth, and kissed him ferociously. I loved everything Master was doing to me, and wanted to show him my appreciation. He took the lubricant, and began to rub it on and around my breasts. He got them nice and slick before he told me, “Up.”
I sat up, and got off the bed. The air smelled of our sex as I got down on my knees before Master, and he placed his dick in between my tits. I pressed them as hard as I could against his steel rod, and he began to fuck my tits. He moved his hips back and forth, grabbing my hair again for leverage. I looked up at him dutifully, with the remainder of the scarves tied to my wrists, watching him gain pleasure from my body. I’d never wanted to please anyone so badly in my life, and couldn’t wait for him to squirt his cum onto me.
It didn’t take long. A few moments after he began fucking me, his voice increased in volume, and I knew he was about to come. I smashed my tits as tight against his cock as I could, and he finally exploded. He erupted all over my face, in my hair, and on my tits. He pumped until every drop was out, and I took him in my mouth, making sure that if there was any left, I could suck it out for him. As I sucked him, I played with my pussy again, performing both acts with fervor. I felt myself about to come again, and my body collapsed to the floor as it happened. I lay in the floor, covered in Master’s cum, playing with my pussy and climaxing. He stood above me, watching, stroking himself gently.
The last orgasm was just as amazing as the others. I lay in the floor for a moment, writhing as the orgasmic wave ripped through my body. Master stood watching me, seemingly happy that I had come for him again. I sat up on my elbows, looking at him as he began gathering his clothes from the floor. “Don’t move,” he ordered me. He grabbed his things, including his duffel bag, and ran out of the room.
I lay on the floor, putting every drop of his cum into my mouth that I could. I waited for a few minutes, before I moved, and then curiosity got the best of me. I stood up, and wandered to the bedroom door. I saw and heard nothing. I walked down the stairs, past my now-ruined shirt that had been torn from my body, and began walking through the rest of my house. “Hello,” I said. My voice echoed through the house. His clothing, shoes, and bag were gone. He left just as stealthily as he had entered.
My master was gone.
I went back upstairs to take a shower, and in the floor, I noticed he left something behind – the switchblade. I had no idea what to do with it, so I threw it into a catch-all drawer I have. If my ex-husband ever asks me about it, I’ll tell him I got it to ward off attackers.
I sat down at my computer later that day, still tingling from the events of that morning. There is no word in the English language to tell you how he made me feel. His hands, his tongue, his cock…everything he did was perfect. I felt liberated. I felt like I had been paroled from a sentence in solitary confinement. I have no concrete proof who it was that did all these things, but it would certainly appear to have been the one man that I would have allowed to do them.
I checked my email, hoping for an email from him; nothing. I decided to send him a quick email, with the only thing I could think to say to him: “Please…don’t be a stranger.”