Intimate Strangers

Still kissing me, he moved between my legs, spreading them wider to receive his strength. He grasped his meat with one hand and rubbed it up and down my pussy, smearing me with his precum. Groaning into my mouth, he eased inside, going slow because he had to. I could feel him stretching me open as he slowly worked that stiff, thick cock in to the hilt, until his pubic hair was scraping over my clit.God…! I could almost feel him in my throat, he went so deep.

After giving me a moment to adjust to the intrusion, he began to move, gently, back and forth, not even thrusting really, just sliding and redistributing juices to make it easier on us both.

When I began to answer his movements with my own, my tiny sighs and moans escaping on every breath, he started seriously thrusting. Soon, a light froth began to gather at the base of his dick. I could feel it cooling on my inner thighs as traces of it rubbed off on my skin. Using the same hand he’d pleasured me with minutes earlier, he slathered that creamy stuff all over my genital area. From front to back. It felt so good; I didn’t question the action.

I should have known what he intended to do next… he’d shared his preferences often enough. Besides, he’s British. Englishmen seem to like things a bit nastier than the average American male.

Without warning he pulled out and flipped me over onto my stomach. Wedging my thighs apart, he jammed the pillow under my hips, lifting my ass. One of his hands wrapped around the laces of my corset, jerking me back with a firm grip. Then he reentered me, fucking me harder and faster than before, without finesse, using the laces to propel my pussy onto his prick. Just when I’d recovered the rhythm, I felt his fingers probing my anus.

"No! Wait—" I started, but it was too late. He pulled my ass cheeks apart and thrust two fingers into my nether hole. With that searing invasion, I finally understood what he meant to do.

I have never, ever been violated this way. And he knew it. It hurt--a lot. But all my tearful objections earned me nothing. Stephen continued to fuck me hard, withdrawing his fingers slightly when he slammed his cock into my pussy, then reversing the action by pulling his cock almost all the way out while he thrust his fingers deep into my asshole. All the while he maintained control of me through the corset laces, pumping my body back and forth, onto and off of the prod of his choosing. It was weird to have something feel so good and so bad at the same time.

"Stephen!" I cried. "I can’t—"

"You can and you will," he muttered hoarsely. "This is just a warm up… you’re taking my cock in there next."

There was nothing I could do to stop him. His weight pinned me to the mattress, the pillow and the corset laces offered me up to his every whim, but just to be sure, he manacled my wrists together with his fist, pulling my arms behind my back without regard for what it was doing to my shoulder blades. He pulled his fingers out of my ass, and withdrew his cock from my pussy.

"Tell me you want it," he breathed harshly in my ear, swiping his wet fingers under my nose. "Beg me to give it to you in the arse."

I could feel him rubbing his dick across the baby-smooth cheeks of my ass as he bent over me, then he slapped me with it hard enough to sting. Was he offering a way out?

"No," I blurted. "I won’t."

"Yes you will, you fucking bitch," he insisted, his clever fingers finding my clit, working it until I moaned. "What a convenient memory you have. Once you told me how curious you were to let a hard cock in your backdoor. I didn’t forget those words, and you really shouldn’t have either." He stuck his cock inside my cunt again and pumped a few times. Then he withdrew just when I was deciding I liked it.

"Oh, please don’t stop," I moaned. "Fuck me… please!"

"Tell me you want me to fuck your arse," he insisted while his fingers toyed with my clit.

"Never," I groaned, shuddering, arching backward against those wonderful, wonderful fingers.

"Fine then," he said. And he abandoned me. Just like that. He got up off me and off the bed. I heard him flop down into the chair at the end of the bed and the slight gurgle from the bottle as he poured more Scotch into his glass.

I lay there breathing heavily. I wasn’t ready to stop… I wanted him to fuck me all night, just like he’d promised so many times. I started squirming to get up.

"Stay there!" he ordered. "I didn’t say you could move!"

"But at least let me change into a decent position!" I wailed, knowing full well how slutty I looked in this one.

"I want you indecent, because you’re a whore. You’re my whore for the entire night. That’s not a hell of a lot of time, so stay as you are."

I heard him pick up the telephone and order a platter of canapés. He couldn’t mean to…Oh God! I thought. He wouldn’t…

"Stephen… you have to let me up." It was a testament to the power he wielded over me that I had to ask.

"Just as soon as I hear the magic words, love. And be convincing."

"I can’t! I’ve never done anything like that before."

"That’s rather the point, isn’t it?" he said snidely. "I want you to offer me the one thing about you that is in the least bit virginal… an important bit of your physical history that can only belong to me. That way, when we leave this room, I can rest comfortable in the knowledge some integral memory of yours will remain forever locked with mine. I want to be the first man, the only man to fuck you there. But you have to ask, or…"

"Or?" I asked in a shaky voice.

There was a profound moment of silence. "Or I’ll let the room service waiter fuck you."

Whoa! Things were progressing way beyond what I’d said I’d accept. Our rules were very clear. No pain, nothing we didn’t both agree to… and I didn’t agree to this.

By some evil miracle, a knock sounded at the door. Room service… already? Had he arranged this? He must have…

"Well," he asked in a perfectly reasonable voice, "who’s it to be then? Me or the waiter?"

I had only seconds to decide. "Okay," I finally agreed.

"Okay?" he echoed, sounding snider than ever. The knock sounded a second time.

I knew what he wanted me to say. And I knew he wouldn’t mind so much if I didn’t say it. Either way, he’d enjoy the view. I had no other choice. The waiter could be anyone, have any sort of disease…

His tone grew exasperated. "I’m giving you approximately two more seconds to give me a proper answer.One—"

"Stephen," I asked in a small voice, struggling with words that were lost to me. "Please fuck me…back there. I really want it bad. Please?"

He took a very deep breath and exhaled slowly. There was another rap at the door. "Stay put. Don’t move."

I heard him walk across the room. Surely he didn’t mean to…

To my horror, he opened the door. I heard the room service guy start to say something polite, then stop suddenly as I’m sure he noticed me for the first time. Inside, I was screaming, but I didn’t dare utter a breath. Stephen signed for the food. The waiter thanked him in a bemused voice for the tip, set the tray down on a table with a clatter and then the door thankfully closed as Stephen shooed the man out. The episode had taken all of two minutes… two of the most humiliating minutes of my life. My entire body felt flush with a thrill of shame. I could not have been more grateful for the blindfold…

And Stephen… I could almost hear him smirking.

It wasn’t fair. We both knew I could have covered myself at any time with the bedspread. I had chosen not to… But I knew Stephen could have given me to the waiter, and for whatever reason he had decided against it. So perhaps we were even.

"Which would you prefer," he casually asked. "Smoked salmon or caviar?"

"Salmon," I muttered, not hungry at all. Not for food.

"I thought you’d say salmon… it tastes like quim." For that matter, so does caviar, but I wasn’t about to spend the evening looking for impertinent facts to point out. Stephen had enough ideas already.

He took a slice of the cold salmon and smeared it across my dripping snatch. "Open up," he ordered, crawling up to my face.

Without complaint, I opened my mouth to receive the salmon. It was actually pretty tasty. It tasted even better when he wrapped a slice around his cock and told me to nibble it off. But the food offered only a brief respite. And because of the tight corset, I couldn’t eat much anyway.

He placed me back in position and said softly, "Okay… ask me again…"

I knew what he meant. I felt his cockhead sliding up and down my slippery pussy lips as he knelt between my legs.

"Stephen," I breathed in the barest voice, "…please fuck my ass… put your cock where no one ever has before. I want it… I want only you there… Give it to me, Stephen. I can take it…"

He groaned, immediately pressed that fat dick against my tight puckered star and pushed. My fingers fisted in the sheets, and I buried a low cry of distress in the pillow. The pain was pure, exquisite agony. I remember thinking that this must hurt him too, because I am very tight. But he was relentless, and with an audible pop, he managed to work the head of his uncircumcised penis into my virgin opening. After that, it got easier as he pushed the rest of the way in.

"Goddamn…" I heard him mutter.

He stopped for a moment to recover his breath and to seat his cock at a better angle. Then he began to thrust, his hands digging into my hips for support, forcing me on and off his shaft.

Soon he was stroking full-length, really pumping. Moans and grunts, punctuated by the occasional curse escaped his lips, the sounds of his labor growing in frequency and duration until all that I heard out of him was one long, continuous cry emitted through clenched teeth. I could feel sweat from his face dripping onto my ass, the salt stinging my violated tissues.

It wasn’t horrible, but there was no chance I was going to glean an orgasm from this…

Or so I thought. At some unknown point he’d recovered the dildo, and when he started to work it in my pussy while he fucked my ass, everything changed.

"Cum with me," he growled. "Cum now…" He flicked on the vibrator and rammed it into my aching, empty cunt.

In that moment the pain became an enormous pleasure… a whole new host of delights taking hold as he rutted with me. This was fabulous! Pleasure washed through my body and began to drown my soul. I wondered if it was possible to perish from sheer ecstasy. Reality splintered.

I heard his moans increase in volume and power… or were they my own? There was no way to be sure, and I didn’t care. I started to really fuck him, begging him to fuck me harder, thrusting myself up at his bone-hard penis to accept more of it, reveling in the power of the dildo plowing into my wet cunt while a hot cock divided my bowels. Filled to overflowing… my every nerve ending buzzing like live wires.Oh… oh…

Then, Stephen bent down and seized the back of my neck in his teeth--hard--hard enough to slam me into full orgasm. He abandoned the vibrator, left it quivering inside my pussy as he hunched over to secure a firm hold on my tits and pound into me with even greater force. I cried out violently, shrieking as wave after wave of delirious pleasure swept through me on an endless series of contractions. Deep in my bowels I could feel Stephen’s hot spunk spray into me, drenching my insides and squirting out to drip off my pussy and run down my thighs. All the while he was snarling like a wolf claiming a bitch in heat, his hands gripping my breasts so hard he left bruises, neat little rows of them, five on each breast. And purple bite marks on my neck…

Visual reminders that stayed with me for days and days after…

It’s probably a good thing he only got me to London for one night. Not sure I could have survived a second without permanent scars. As it was, I had a devil of a time hiding what was already there once I got home. He left several more bruises on me that night… a huge hickey on my inner thigh, not to mention the fact my nipples were practically raw from him chewing on them. My poor, abused body was sore for weeks. But I loved ever second of the torment.

True to his word, he kept me until morning… until I had to get up and dress for my return flight. He even fucked me one last time standing up, against the bathroom door until his cum ran down my quivering legs. But never once did he allow me to remove the blindfold. And when he left, he didn’t say goodbye, leaving the same way he entered… quietly.

I caressed each love mark and bruise every hour in the restroom on the plane home… not caring about the line of passengers waiting for a moment’s privacy and relief from the crowded, transatlantic jet. I had to get up often… it was uncomfortable to sit still for too long. Long flights can be like that… but the Gatwick/Houston flight remains the only time during a lifetime of travel that I’ve endured ten hours on a plane with a smile on my face.

It’s unlikely I will ever meet Stephen again… and I never did find out what he looks like. He still calls, still writes… but he’s there and I’m here. We don’t make plans. He’s dead right about the necessary distance we need to maintain from one another. Six thousand miles provides barely enough elbow room to prevent either of us from ruining everything…

But when I’m feeling especially horny, like now, I still harken back to that time I spent sitting half-naked in a chair, waiting to hear the sound of a stranger’s key in the lock, waiting for the best sex of my entire life.

And Stephen… if you’re reading this… thank yousoooooo much for being my very own intimate stranger. Call me…