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The Stranger

Category: Fetish
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She saw him sitting across the bar. He was alone, probably the only single guy in the bar, although the chances that he was actually single and not just looking for something extra-curricular seemed rather remote to her. Though not conventionally attractive, there was something about the dark eyes and the arch of his brows that attracted her attention, and would not let it go. In fact, she was so absorbed in the study of him that she was not aware her date had returned from the bathroom, or wherever he had been, until he spoke her name.


Shelly’s concentration was shattered at once. She looked at her date–what was his name? Jake?–and frowned. “Hi, uh…where did you go?”

Jake–yeah, that was his name–chuckled at her, mistaking disorientation for nervousness or, worse, emptyheadedness. “I told you, I just had to run to the bathroom. Did you order me another drink?”

Shelly’s gaze returned almost unconsciously to the stranger across the bar. “Yeah, I…no. No, I forgot. Sorry, Jake.”

Jake rolled his eyes, and spent the next few minutes flagging down the bartender and ordering some sort of cocktail. Shelly found herself unable to care. The stranger was now observing her, the realization of which sent a thrill through her and left her both nervous and excited, like she might have felt on a first date with someone who was obviously out of her league. Then, as she watched, the stranger gave her a slow, quiet smile, then raised his glass to his lips and emptied it. He gave her a wink, then rose and left the bar.

Shelly felt irrationally disappointed. She couldn’t bring herself to really listen to whatever drivel her date was spewing at her–all she could think about were those dark eyes. She found she could not really recall any other features of this stranger, though she had the impression of a smaller figure. No, not small, and not thin–compact, perhaps. Well-built. Masculine, but not overly or unnecessarily so.

These thoughts drifted through her mind throughout the next half-hour or so, at which time Jake seemed to realize rather abruptly that his date was not the least bit interested in what he was saying, or his hand on her thigh, or in fact anything about him.

“Shelly? Are you feeling all right?” He struggled to keep the hurt out of his voice.

Shelly looked at him, alarmed and thinking quickly. “Oh, Jake, you know, I haven’t really been feeling very well the past couple of days. I didn’t want to say anything, though, because I didn’t want to have to cancel our date.”

She would never know whether Jake saw through her charade or not, although she suspected he did. His goodbye was stiff and unfriendly, and although he offered to walk her to her car, she knew it was only out of obligation. That was just as well–this was only a second date, and she had never really expected it to go anywhere anyway. She said goodnight and excused herself to go to the restroom before heading out to her own vehicle.

She was halfway down the long, sparsely-lit corridor leading to the ladies’ room when the stranger came suddenly from behind an alcove (what a terrible design, she thought vaguely) and pinned her up against the wall. One hand was on her hip, the other cradling her neck, his thumb resting against her skull in the little crevice just behind her earlobe. She remembered being distinctly aware that he was rubbing her there gently, almost tenderly.

“I saw you watching me,” he said softly, his lips inches from hers. She had expected an accent when she spoke, possibly eastern European, but there was none.

“You’re hard to miss,” she said, trying not to panic.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “Unless you want me to.”

She had been avoiding his gaze–she was too panicky–but at those words her eyes flicked up, startled, and met his. That slow smile crept again over his lips.

“I think you want to invite me back to your place,” he said then. “I think you would be more comfortable there.”

Shelly frowned. This was ridiculous. “Why would I–”

“Shh.” He placed a finger over her lips. Her hip ached where his hand had been. “I know you want to. Think about it.”

He released her, and then he was walking back down the hall toward the bar, and she was stumbling towards the bathroom, not drunk but aroused and confused and frightened and excited. She locked the door behind her and propped herself up on the sink to keep from collapsing.

She met her own eyes in the mirror, afraid of the eagerness she saw there.

“What are you doing?” she asked herself. And then she was out of the bathroom, and down the hallway, and she had met up with him before he was even able to sit back down at the bar.

“Let’s go,” she said, breathing hard.

Shelly struggled a little, almost experimentally, and found herself quite unable to move. Her arms were spread (though not uncomfortably so) to either side, secured at the wrist with cuffs made of something that felt a bit like leather or PVC. These cuffs were affixed to her own headboard with similar-looking straps. Glancing down, she saw identical cuffs, if somewhat wider, wrapped around both her ankles and her thighs, spreading her legs wide.

Looking down, she discovered that she was not naked as she had anticipated, but what little clothing she did have on was sparse. A pair of white thong panties and a matching white bikini hid precious little flesh. In fact, the material was so thin that she could see quite clearly the outline of her dark nipples beneath the tiny white triangles. The air was cold, and she could feel them beginning to harden.

The stranger had blindfolded her the minute they reached her place, before they had even left her car, and the blindfold had remained on until he had dressed her and tied her up. She had never done anything more dangerous or erotic in her life. Strangly enough, she felt no fear, just a strange, intense anticipation.

Her bedroom door opened. Shelly looked up and found herself once more entranced by those dark eyes. The same naked desire was still burning in them, quietly, almost languidly. Shelly suddenly understood that he was going to make this last all night.

He crossed the room to her right side and tugged gently at her wrist. A smile of satisfaction flickered across his mouth. After a cursory check of the other restraints, he turned to her.

“The safe word is ‘squid’. Understand?”

Shelly’s eyebrows rose, but she fought back a smile. Safewords were something she had never bothered with, if only because they were silly and somewhat embarrassing by nature. So she forced herself to nod–if this guy liked ‘squid’, then ‘squid’ was just fine by her.

“Good.” The stranger reached out and stroked the side of her face. “Good girl.”

Abruptly he slapped her. There wasn’t much force behind it, but it startled her enough that she let out a yelp. That made him smile. He stroked her face again where he had hit her, and let his fingers trail down her jawbone to her throat, then down to her collarbone. Shelly shivered.

His fingers grasped the thin strap of her bikini top. He jerked the string abruptly, causing her right breast to jiggle. He shook it a little harder, and Shelly felt her nipples rub against the fabric. She let out a little exhale of pleasure.

Suddenly he grabbed her nipple through the fabric and squeezed, hard. Shelly yelped again, mostly out of surprise, and steeled herself against the pain. He pulled her nipple away from her body, bringing her heavy breast with it. He shook her nipple gently back and forth, then released it. Her heavy tit flopped back down onto her chest. Shelly’s nipple was rock-hard and pulsing. Her pussy was damp.

The stranger disapppeared for a moment from Shelly’s view. He returned quickly with a pair of scissors. Shelly sucked in a startled breath as he played the metal tip over her swollen nipple, and for a moment she was truly afraid. Then he sliced the fabric of bikini top and tossed the scissors aside Shelly’s breasts tumbled into view. They were large–too big for her frame, the other girls at school had always told her–and her nipples were both hard. She felt a sudden urge to cover herself, although of course she could not, and suffered instead a strange feeling of humiliation.

The stranger seemed to notice. “Look at you, just lying there half-naked with those big tits. What a little slut.”

Shelly’s face reddened, but she also felt her pussy twitch.

The stranger cupped one of her tits in his hand but did not squeeze. “What are these, like D cups or something? Only fat girls have tits that are naturally this big. These have got to be fake.”

He squeezed. Shelly let out an involuntary moan, which made him smile again.

“They sure don’t feel fake.” He squeezed harder, kneading her large jug. He leaned down over her chest and spat on her nipple, then grabbed the hard nub between his fingertips and rolled it, stroked the tip. Shelly moaned a little louder.

“Good girl,” the stranger murmured. He grabbed her left breast with his other hand and pushed the two jugs together. He leaned over again and spat in between them, then rubbed them together so they became slick and wet.

Suddenly he climbed onto the bed and straddled her, unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. It was big–of course it was big–and curved away from him, rather than towards him. Shelly had seen this before, but it still caused her mild surprise. She watched as he pushed her tits together and slid that big dick in between them. Although the act wasn’t exactly pleasurable, Shelly found it extremely erotic. Besides, the way he stroked her nipples as he fucked her was very pleasurable.

Shelly found herself craning her neck to get close enough to lick the tip of his dick as it surfaced. He moaned enthusiastically. Encouraged, she managed to get her lips wrapped around the head of his cock each time he thrust forward. It made a wet little popping sound each time it slipped back out.

After a few more thrusts, the stranger stopped. “You’ve been such a good little girl, I’m going to give you a reward. But first–”

He released her tits and climbed forward until he was straddling her chest. Shelly instinctively opened her mouth and he slid his cock in. Moaning around his shaft, she pushed her head forward, trying to swallow more and more of it. She found with delight that because of the way his cock was angled, she could slide it deep into her throat without much difficulty. Soon his pelvis was pressed against her face and she was swallowing around a cock buried literally balls-deep in her mouth.

He pulled out when Shelly started gagging. Tears streamed down her face, but her pussy was soaking wet. The stranger stroked her face again, admiringly, and smiled. “Your turn.”

When Shelly had recovered, she found he had settled in between her thighs. Her pussy twitched again in anticipation.

He didn’t touch her immediately. Rather, he rested his head on his hands casually and observed, “You seem to have wet yourself.”

Shelly felt panicky for a moment, thinking she had lost control of her bladder. Then she realized he must only be referring to the juices that had been leaking out of her pussy since he had started playing with her nipples.

“Only dirty girls wet themselves,” he continued, his tone darkening. “Are you a dirty girl?”

Shelly shook her head. This seemed to upset him.

“You’re lying there half-naked with your legs spread, you little slut,” he growled. “Even if I hadn’t just had my cock down your throat, I’d say that qualifies as pretty fucking dirty.”

He stood up, grabbed his cock. It was still hard, though somewhat less than before. The stranger knelt on the bed between her legs, and Shelly was suddenly quite sure he intended to fuck her right then. She closed her eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with disappointment. She was horny enough, sure, but hadn’t he promised–

Suddenly her pussy felt very warm and wet. Shelly’s eyes snapped open, and she gasped. He wasn’t going to fuck her–he was pissing on her.

His lovely dark eyes met hers. “Dirty girls get pissed on.”

Abruptly he aimed the arc of his stream up and over her belly, then across her tits. She felt tiny droplets splashing her face and throat. The smell was strong and acrid. She turned her head to escape it, but there was nowhere she could go.

The stream stopped. “Turn towards me and open your mouth,” he said evenly.

She looked at him with panicked eyes. “Please–”

This seemed to spark something inside him. He leapt on top of her and grasped her chin with one hand, the other still holding his dick, and jerked her head so that her eyes met his. “Use the safeword, you little slut…or open your mouth.”

Shelly knew he had defeated her. She would not use the safeword. It wasn’t that she felt silly or embarrassed–she was just too proud. She looked for a long moment into those dark eyes, now clouded with anger, then closed her eyes and opened her mouth.

It was just a little trickle at first. She swallowed it and found it not nearly as vile as she had expected. Then a whole torrent came, and she nearly choked. She closed her throat to keep herself from swallowing any more, and instead let the piss fill up her mouth and spill out down the sides of her face. He pissed and pissed for what seemed like forever, until finally the stream slowed to a trickle, and at last he was shaking the remaining drops onto her face. She flinched.

The stranger stroked the side of her face, wet with his own piss. “Good girl. Now you really will get your reward.”

Spitting out a mouthful of urine onto the bedspread, Shelly watched him climb down between her thighs again. He reached up and grasped the tiny strip of fabric of her panties just above her mound and tugged experimentally. The piss-soaked fabric had been warm at first, but now it was cold and clammy against her skin. She shivered again.

“We’ll have to get this off you, won’t we?” he asked softly, but he did not immediately remove the panties. Instead, he continued to tug on them with sharp little jerks, pulling them tauter and tauter against her flesh. The wetness of the panties and the slipperiness of her juices encouraged the thin strip of fabric to work its way in between the lips of her pussy. Shelly could feel it, like a crude violation.

It certainly didn’t escape the stranger’s notice, either. “Look at that,” he said. “Look at how those panties slide right in between those fat pussy lips like dental floss.”

Shelly felt shame and embarrassment wash over herself. She knew her pussy lips were a little fleshy, but no one had ever gone so far as to call them fat.

She felt a finger stroke one of her lips. “Oh, what a dirty girl you are,” came the voice again. “So thick and fleshy and nasty. Who would want to put his dick in that?”

He grasped both lips and spread them wide, exposing her pink pussy except for the thin white floss that still ran over it. He pulled the lips away from her body, then pushed them together, wrapping the thong in between. With one hand he gripped both lips and jiggled them a little. Shelly felt, in spite of her own humilition, a thrill of pleasure. The thong was rubbing against her hardened clit, sure, but it was more than that. The degradation was beginning to turn her on.

“I can see your fucking juices leaking out from between these big meaty lips,” he said, almost in awe. “It’s just fucking dribbling out of you.”

Abruptly he reached for the scissor, and cut the waistband of the panties. Though she wanted to look away, she couldn’t, and Shelly watched as her fleshy pussy held the panties securely in place, deep in the crevice of her pussy.

“Nasty, isn’t it?” the stranger said with a wink.

He peeled her lips apart with a small wet sound. Then he took the two first fingers of his right hand and pushed the thong into her pussy. Shelly gasped, first from the unexpected sensation and second from humiliation as the panties disappeared a few inches at a time until they were almost completely buried inside her. Only one end of the waistband remained, hanging out of her like a tampon string. He tugged on this string just enough to move the panties around inside her. Shelly was startled by the pleasure it caused her.

The stranger chuckled. “Now, little girl, I finally get to taste you.”

He leaned forward and Shelly let out a moan as his tongue lovingly stroked those lips he had just degraded. He sucked each one delicately into his mouth, getting her flavor, tasting his own piss. He worked his way up to the hood over her clit, licked it, sucked on it. He reached up and gently pulled the hood back, and there was her clit. He licked it gently, made her squirm involuntarily. Licked it again, coaxed it into his mouth and sucked on it.

He was sucking on her clit, tickling it with his tongue, when suddenly with one hand he yanked the panties out of her wet pussy. Shelly yelped. His thumb replaced his tongue for a moment as he rose up over her and pushed the panties gently into her open mouth. She was so aroused that she didn’t protest–in fact, if she were being honest, the smell and taste turned her on more than a little. She accepted the panties into her mouth and moaned into them as his mouth returned to her pussy.

As he licked and sucked on her hard clit, he slid one finger into her now-empty pussy. He stroked it in and out, slow at first, picking up speed as she tried to arch her hips to meet his thrusts. He added a second finger, then took his mouth off her pussy as he began to fuck her in earnest. Shelly was moaning loudly now, though her sounds were muffled by the panties.

The stranger curled his fingers just so and began pounding her pussy almost painfully. Shelly ignored the pain. She was on the verge of orgasm, an orgasm she could never give herself, no matter how many toys she tried. All of her focus was on the fingers inside her, and that feeling, that feeling–

Shelly screamed into the panties, and came. Juices squirted out of her pussy, splashing all over his hand and forearm, wetting the bedspread, soaking her thighs. He kept pumping his fingers, and she kept cumming, squirt after squirt, until she spat out the panties and begged him to stop.

The stranger chuckled at the desperation in her voice, and stopped fucking her. He left his fingers inside her pussy, however, and his tongue returned to her clit. Shelly could not buck him off–she could barely move–but she begged him to stop. It was too much, too much, too–

Again she came. She didn’t squirt this time, but viscous pussy juice immediately leaked out of her abused pussy around his fingers, running down the crack of her ass and pooling on the bed beneath her. His tongue followed the trail of her juices.

It was going to be a long night.

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