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He worked on undoing his belt, slowly yanking it out and tossing it aside. He took off his shoes next, and then his socks. The more he undressed, the more real this became for me, and the more I struggled. If I told him to stop, he’d stop. I knew it in my heart. This man, though he was a stranger, felt almost familiar. We’d connected in such a short time, it was ridiculous.
His hand went to his pants in the next moment, and I held my breath while I watched him take them off. Such strong, sure movements. Soon he wore nothing but his boxers, and those left almost nothing to the imagination, due to the pitched fabric.
His cock was hard. Of course it was. Why wouldn’t it be?
He was seconds from tearing down his boxers and revealing his whole self to me, but I stopped him by saying, “Wait.” I wrestled with my inner turmoil, with the doubt and the fears nestled inside as my eyes raked along his body. I struggled with myself, and it was only when I was certain I wouldn’t try to run again that I said, “Okay.”
The man took down his boxers, letting me see him in his full glory. His cock stood straight at what had to be a very respectable length—longer than my body could take in, surely. All veins, his lower half was also impeccably sculpted, too. Never before had there been a more beautiful man.
I… I didn’t know if I was ready to touch him there. Because I didn’t know what to do in that moment, I got to my feet and gave him my back. I swept my hair to my left shoulder and said, “You can undo the zipper.”
He didn’t say a single word, but his fingers immediately went to the zipper. I held my breath when I felt his warmth graze my bare skin, and I had to close my eyes when he unzipped me, his hand lingering at the small of my back. I wore no bra beneath the dress, just panties, and I wriggled out of the dress shortly after that, standing before him in nothing but my black, lacey panties.
Gathering up my courage, I turned to face him. We stood less than two feet apart now; so close. We were so close… and yet there was a single thing more I needed to take off. Our eyes locked, and I hooked my thumbs through the sides of my panties, pulling them down. Down along my hips, over my thighs, letting them fall to my ankles. I kicked them aside, my heart beating faster than it ever had.
“You,” he breathed out, “are fucking beautiful.” His words were not whispered; they were stated, as if they were truth. Perhaps they were. Perhaps he meant every single word unironically. “Get on the bed.” His words were an order, hard and rough.
I didn’t want to second-guess anything anymore, so I did exactly what he said and got on the bed. I crawled toward the pillows, rolling my body onto my back, my head on the fluffy things. A little uncomfortable wearing a mask while doing all of this, but it protected me, just as it protected him. If my father ever found out about this, the man who was currently crawling onto the bed to join me would meet an untimely end after days of torture.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed. “Focus on how good everything feels. If something doesn’t feel good, tell me, and I’ll stop.” He knelt near my feet, and in the next moment he spread my ankles apart, giving him room between my legs.
The last thing I saw before letting my eyelids fall was how hungrily he gazed at the space between my legs, how he stared at my apex like it was an oasis and he was a man lost in the desert for years. The prize at the end of the journey, something to treasure while devouring it wholly and completely.
With my eyes closed, everything was amplified. Everything felt ten times more intense, and though I still struggled with feelings of repulsiveness, I was able to push them down and force myself to be in the moment. To focus on the man and his hands, how they continued to travel up the insides of my legs, grazing my thighs, stopping just before their destination.
I gasped when I felt his fingers slide up my slit and circle my clit. Every single nerve down there felt like it was on fire, my lower stomach burning with what must be desire—something utterly new to me. It helped, of course, that I was attracted to this man, that I felt some kind of connection to him, even if I never saw his face.
I didn’t need his face. I needed his body. I needed him to wipe away all those shitty memories, and it seemed he was more than up for the job.
He worked my apex like he knew what he was doing. He applied pressure on my clit, rubbing me in a way that got my hips to dig down, every so often increasing his speed. My breathing came out short, my heart pounding away wildly in my chest. He knew precisely how to touch me to elicit a reaction from my body, and I couldn’t stop it from happening.
Everything in me felt hot. Every move he made between my legs was just what my body needed. I started to let out sounds, unfamiliar sounds I’d never heard come out of me before. The pressure on my lower half began to be too much for me, and he must’ve known it, for he picked up his speed even more, playing my body like a fiddle.
It happened both too fast and not fast enough. It was like everything inside of me exploded in a fiery ball of pleasure, wiping out any residual anxieties I had about this. A powerful, undeniable orgasm that took hold of my entire body and refused to let it go. My muscles tensed up, a muffled cry coming from my lips.
“Fucking perfect,” he growled out. “Let’s see how many more your body can handle, princess.”
I took issue with him calling me princess, but I couldn’t say a single word. He didn’t let me recover from the orgasm before starting to work me up for another one… this time using both hands. One finger slid inside of me while his other hand worked on my already swollen clit. He must’ve massaged something inside of me with his finger, for a different kind of pressure filled my lower half.
Oh, God. Oh, my God. Fuck. This was… as much as I wrestled with myself about this being stupid, about how I shouldn’t do this, I was glad I did. Bodies were capable of so much destruction, so much pain and agony, and yet they could also be instruments of pleasure. Your body could ride cloud nine and lift up your spirits, reminding you there were still some good things left in this world.
Orgasms. Orgasms were definitely one of those things.
The next one that took hold of me would’ve made the room spin if my eyes were open, I was sure of it. Stronger than the first, I didn’t know pleasure could be this consuming, this addicting. Suddenly I understood all those people out there, not caring who they were with, as long as they had fun. Not saying I could ever be one of them, but I understood.
I couldn’t help myself. It was like this man knew me right down to the core, how to touch me, how fast to go. I lost track of how many times his fingers helped me come, how many times an orgasm swept through me like a storm surge, powerful and unrelenting, swallowing me up and spitting me back out.
How the hell was I supposed to walk out of this club after this? My legs would be no more than goo after this many orgasms.
My eyes were slow to open, and I watched the man smirk at me. He removed his hands from my apex, the finger that had been inside of me slick with my juices. He lay beside me, propped up on an elbow, and he brought that finger to his face, inhaling. “You smell fucking amazing, too,” he spoke, his voice nothing more than a growl, all rough and haggard, like touching me had taken the wind out of him. “I bet you taste even better.” And then, before he said anything else, before I could say anything in return, he parted his lips and stuck that finger in his mouth.
Was that normal? Did guys get off on that sort of thing? I was clueless, and because of that, I said nothing, merely watching him lick his finger clean of my slick.
He brought his face to mine, leaning his mask against mine as he said, “Are you ready for me, princess? Or do you want to call it a night?” Even now, with a rock-hard cock that surely ached for release, he was willing to stop. For me, for a girl he didn’t know but clearly wanted to fuck. It was kind of sweet.
I didn’t do sweet. My life, my past, the blood on my hands… sweet didn’t go with any of it. That was why I told him: “I’m ready.” I thought I was, at least. Better to rip the bandage off quickly rather than do it slowly. Get it all done. Just do the damned thing already. Let this stranger fuck me.
Hell, he had supreme skills with his fingers, so I imagined he was just as good with that long, thick cock. All the better to wipe away the past with.
