tagGroup SexThe Proposition

The Proposition

bydrscar©

"May I join you?"

I looked up from my book, slightly surprised. I had come to the coffee shop-slash-bookstore during my lunch hour for a brief respite from the stress of the office, and I hadn't anticipated being interrupted. Glancing around, I saw that there were plenty of empty seats around.

The look on his face indicated that he had something he wanted to say, and my natural curiosity took over. It had been a while since a stranger had tried to chat me up in a bookstore. I inclined my head for him to sit.

He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down, a very deliberate motion. Something in the way he moved indicated a self-awareness that was immediately hypnotic. He didn't put his coffee cup down; he placed it upon the table.

"I apologize for interrupting your reading," he said.

"No problem," I replied, sliding the bookmark into the binding and closing the cover. "It was a rather dull part anyway," I lied.

"I doubt that," he said, smirking. "You seemed pretty engrossed." His voice was smooth, calm, low but in a register that didn't feel threatening. His diction was clear as if he had practiced how to speak for years. I couldn't place the accent; American? There were a lot of foreigners in London so it didn't surprise me.

I paused for a moment, considering my response. I decided to go for coy. "Then why did you interrupt me," I said, reaching for my tea.

He cocked his head to one side. "Because I have a proposition for you," he said.

Direct and to the point, I thought. I looked him over once again – he wasn't gorgeous, rather average actually. He was handsome, but his features weren't striking. Brown hair, brown eyes, slightly taller than average. Nevertheless he had a confidence and self-awareness (have I said that already?) that was magnetic. There was a dance in his voice that bordered somewhere in between playful and sexual. This was a man who didn't want for ego.

"A proposition," I repeated. "I see." I didn't, of course. I was ready to brush him off and tell him I wasn't interested when he took my pause as a cadence for his own marching rhythm.

"Yes, a proposition. I know you have no idea who I am but I assure you I'm quite harmless."

"How disappointing," I said, continuing to play my coyness.

He smiled now. "Well," he said, glancing down momentarily and then looking up again directly into my eyes. "Mostly harmless." He took a sip of his coffee.

"What kind of proposition?" I asked. "Is it indecent?"

"Depends on how you look at it," he shrugged. He was so casual about it. This confused me, as it looked as if he had no vested interest whatsoever in whether I agreed or disagreed to what he had to say. My curiosity surged. How did he know I was going to respond like this? How did he know I wasn't going to just tell him to fuck off?

He continued, "I won't insult your intelligence by pretending to be offering something I'm not," he said, his eyes still locked on mine. His smile was still there, though he was more direct and serious now. His eyes seemed so deep, and I could see that he was being honest.

"I want you to help me fulfill someone's fantasy," he said.

"I don't..." I began.

He raised a hand to prevent the conversation from getting over-excited. "I want you to feel completely comfortable to say no if you don't like what I have to offer," he said. He didn't rush his words, instead he was calm and his voice was very soft. He seemed very nonchalant about the situation; if not me then he would find someone else to help him.

I took another sip of tea. "I'm listening," I said, my voice betraying my cautiousness. The coyness was all gone now. I should tell him to go away, I thought.

He took another sip of coffee and then paused. This wasn't a pause of someone trying to get up the courage, it was a pause of him trying to size me up.

"This fantasy involves another woman." He took a sip. I did the same. "Should I continue?"

The question took me by surprise. The ball was in my court. It was clear he was talking about sex, and sex with another woman, but how did he know I liked women too? I was bisexual, sure, but how could he have known that? Was I really that easy to read to a stranger?

"Go on," I said, trying to regain my sense of carefree and coyness but not sure if I succeeded.

He nodded. "She hasn't had sex with a woman in a long time," he said, and for a moment I wondered if I had missed the beginning of his sentence. She? Who? I realized it didn't matter. "She has been craving the softness of a woman's body and I know that you are her type."

Well, that explained why he singled me out. It still didn't explain how he knew I wouldn't slap him.

"Her type?" I said. "Straight?"

He smiled now. "You're not straight." He said it as a statement of fact, as if he had known me all my life and was correcting me as if I had said that two plus two equals five.

He took another sip. "In fact," he said, "I'm willing to bet she's your type too."

Now I was insulted. How dare this man – whom I've never bet before – sit down and tell me what type of woman I was interested in? How could he be so presumptuous?

"I hope you'll forgive me for being so direct," he said, stealing my thunder. He looked up from his coffee mug at me again. "As I said I don't want to insult your intelligence by pretending to play a game with you."

Okay, that makes sense, I thought. But how did you know?

"I'm talking about a one-off, one-time only. She has been fantasizing about this for a long time and hasn't been with a woman in at least a couple of years. She has a very specific fantasy and if it's something that you are uncomfortable with I would completely understand. All you have to do is tell me and I will leave you to your book in peace."

I didn't even know what the fantasy was. I glanced down at the book, some cheesy bodice-ripper that portrayed fictional characters with more exciting sex lives than my real one.

"What's her fantasy?" I asked, looking back at him.

He leaned back slightly in the chair, taking his coffee cup into his hands and holding it in his lap. He smiled again, but his voice remained calm and collected, each word enunciated with precision. This was a man in control and I was beginning to feel myself drawn to help him help this woman. He knows this. How did he know this?

"She wants to have a woman tied up and offered to her to do with as she pleases." He watched my reaction, but I kept my face unresponsive. He continued as if he were reading from a newspaper advert, "She's extremely visual, and so she likes to watch as well. In particular, she wants to watch me have sex with someone else at the same time that she is."

I slowly started nodding in understanding. So he did want to fuck me after all. The look on his face, though, was passive. His eyes didn't flicker, gave no indication that he was after me for himself. Again, I got the distinct impression that if it wasn't me he'd find some other candidate to fulfill her fantasies.

"What do I get out of this proposition?" I asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "Great sex," he said. The look on his face had changed, almost as if he was surprised I hadn't figured it out for myself. Suddenly I felt he was disappointed in me, and for some reason I felt my heart flutter in panic. Oh no, I thought to myself. He thinks I'm asking for money!.

"No," I said, just a little bit too quickly and earnestly. "I didn't mean... I mean..."

He was looking at me quietly, pondering something. He breathed in through his nose and checked himself, as if trying to choose his tone carefully. He smiled wanly, trying to put me back at ease (had I ever been at ease?). "If I wanted a prostitute, this would have been much easier to set up. But the fantasy wouldn't be fulfilled if someone wasn't their of her own volition."

Volition. Nobody uses words like "volition" in casual conversation. I could only nod.

"There are rules, however," he said. Somewhere in the back of my mind I marveled at the audacity of this man, asking me to help him fulfill a fantasy and then mandating rules to me. My curiosity was peaked, however, and I nodded for him to continue.

"First, there is no pain involved, for anyone. That means no biting, no slapping, nothing." His tone was deadly serious, and for some strange reason the fact that he put this first made me feel much more trusting of this man whose name I still didn't know.

"Good," I said. "I'm in complete agreement with that."

My eyes widened involuntarily as I suddenly realized I had unwittingly agreed to his proposal. What am I doing?

"Second, you can say anything you like, but you cannot ask any questions whatsoever. None." He looked at me carefully, gauging my reaction.

My mind reeled, how many questions do I ask during sex? Normal questions, like "do you like this," or "can I do that," or...

"That means," he said, disrupting my train of thought, "that you cannot ask her name, anything about her, anything about what you can do to her. If you want to do something, you can just do it. This is part of what she wants."

I nodded again, dimly aware that my end of the conversation was woefully left wanting.

"Third, you will be tied up when she arrives in the room. You will be presented to her spread open and ready, naked as the day you were born. Eventually you will be released to touch her too, but not until she is ready for that. I will decide when that is."

I squirmed in the hard wooden coffeeshop seat. My imagination was starting to run away with me. I suddenly wanted this to happen very much. This man's calm demeanor had me hooked. If the place was empty I might have jumped him there and then. He knew this about me. Before he ever said anything he knew this. How did he know this?

He drained the rest of his coffee and placed the mug gently on the table. He looked down at it and then back at me. "There is one more thing that you might object to. And if you do, that's okay."

I subconsciously leaned forward in my chair. "What is it?" I croaked, my throat dry despite the hot tea.

"She will not talk to you at all," he said. "She will only direct her comments and questions to me. I hope you understand that her fantasy is to have a woman to play with, she doesn't want a relationship and she isn't looking for a connection with you. It's not personal, it's just part of the fantasy. If this objectifies you or makes you feel uncomfortable, I completely understand."

I sat and pondered this. To be sure, this went against everything I felt that a balanced sexual relationship should be. It meant voluntarily putting myself in a position where I was being objectified, used. This woman would use me for my body, for my sex, for my mouth. It wasn't me as a person, it wasn't me at all. I was a stranger, sex with a stranger...

"So, let me get this straight," I said, adjusting myself in the seat once more. "I can say anything I like as long as it's not a question."

"Yes," he said, nodding. "To me or to her."

"She will not say anything at all to me, either a statement or a question."

"Yes," he said. Again the precise enunciation.

"And no one is going to inflict pain on anyone."

"Absolutely not," he said. He was adamant.

I considered all of this some more. Slowly I felt my head nodding before I was ready for it to do so. "So, when do you want to do this?" Did he know I would agree to this? How did he know?

"Tonight," he said, reaching into his pocket for a pad and pen. He wrote down something on the paper and ripped it out of the pad, handing it to me. It was the address and room number of a bed and breakfast in the centre of the city. "She will be arriving at 8, so it would be best for you to arrive at 7 so that we can prepare for her."

He put the pad and pen away as I stared at the address. I looked back up at him and he was smiling warmly. At that moment I knew that I would do it. His smile wasn't lewd or cruel, in fact it seemed quite grateful. I felt like not only would I be helping someone out with their fantasy but I was in for a real treat tonight. I was tempted to ask him if he wanted to go back to the bed and breakfast now for a quick shag beforehand - who cares if the office missed me?

"Well," he said, smoothly. "I think I've taken up enough of your lunch break, and I have some errands and business to take care of before this evening."

He stood, and I started gathering my things as well. I stood up, and he leaned in for a kiss on the cheek. He's used to being in England I thought. He didn't try to shake my hand like most Americans who just got here would. The very thought of it seemed ridiculously out of place after the conversation we just had.

He turned and left the coffee shop and I suddenly realized I had no idea what his name was.

The rest of the day was a complete waste of time. My productivity was complete shite and even though I tried as hard as I could, I simply couldn't get the conversation out of my head. His voice, smooth and placid, echoed in my head. She was going to use me, use me for her pleasure. She was going to taste me, probably have me lick her. Did she have hair? Was she shaved? What would she look like?

My mind wandered through all of the possibilities of what could happen. Would she try to put something in my ass? Would I be okay with it if she did? Did she have long nails? Despite what the pornos show, nails can hurt!

Around 3 o'clock I couldn't take it any more and ran to the woman's bathroom. Locking the stall I reached into my pants and found myself absolutely dripping. I listened carefully to make sure there was no other breathing or other sounds, and then rubbed my pussy furiously until I came. My hand came away drenched from my own body's arousal and I found that instead of taking the edge off, as I had expected, it only whetted my appetite for more.

I skived off early to my flat, jumped in the bath and started doing some quick calculations for how long it would take to get there by tube. If I wasn't there on time then the whole fantasy could be ruined for her. The fact that I didn't know who "her" was or even her name excited me. This was anonymous sex, which I had never had before and had toyed with the fantasy as well.

I took a quick look at my closet for the appropriate clothes to wear and then realized after about five minutes of indecision that I was going to be naked anyway. I found some perfume that had driven some other women crazy in the past and dashed some across my breasts and pussy, and then dabbed some along my neck.

Taking a look at myself in the mirror before getting dressed, I tried to imagine what she would see when she came into the room. I spread my arms out as if I were tied up to the bed, and spread my legs so that my entire body looked like Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man, minus the penis. My brown hair hung down loosely astride my breasts, matching the sliver of pubic hair that I carefully sculpted with my razor in the bath.

Avoiding the temptation to masturbate again, I got dressed and headed out the door.

Arriving at the Bed and Breakfast I strode up to the room like a woman with a purpose. Along the way my nerves had started to wear thin at the edges but my excitement and arousal more than made up for it. The room wasn't hard to find, and I knocked on the door.

After a moment the door swung open and he stood there, wearing the same slacks and shirt as he had before. I wasn't sure what I had expected him to be wearing, but I thought he might have prepared for tonight as I had.

"You're late," he said, but he was smiling.

"The tube..." I began, but he dismissed my protest with a small gesture.

"It's no matter," he said, closing the door behind me. "As you can see I'm running a little behind as well. We still have plenty of time."

He showed me into the cozy little suite which had a small sitting room attached to the bedroom. On the small table next to the chair was a bottle of chilled wine and a glass. He uncorked the bottle and poured me a glass.

As I took the glass I said, "You never had any doubt that I would come, did you?"

He smiled, and considered his response. "Well," he said, "sometimes we can afford to allow ourselves to trust some people."

I took a sip. It was excellent wine. "Aren't you going to have any?"

"Not right now, maybe later," he said, turning and walking into the bedroom. He began unbuttoning his shirt. "First I want to get myself ready. As I said, I'm running a little behind and want to shower."

He started taking off his shirt and I could see that despite having an average build, he had incredibly muscular shoulders and arms. He wasn't an Adonis by any means, but he was definitely a good looking man.

He stopped what he was doing and came over to me, took the glass and put it down. "You'll have that back in a moment," he said.

He began undoing my coat and I allowed my purse to fall to the floor. The coat came with it and the next-to-nothing I had underneath came as something of a shock to him.

"Oh my," he said, grinning. It was the broadest smile I had seen from him.

The coat fell down and revealed my thigh-high hose and suspenders, without any panties to encumber access to my pussy. "I love garters," he said, and it took me a second to register the American name for them.

He placed his hand between my legs and slid his finger inside my wet pussy lips. "I'd say you've been looking forward to this," he said, his grin locked in place.

The man had just fingered me, hadn't ever kissed me, hadn't told me his name, and here I was offering myself to him and wanting him to do more. My nipples ached from my arousal at the situation.

"I bet I could slide my cock inside you to the hilt on the first thrust," he said softly, sliding his hand back and forth and making my knees weak. My mouth felt suddenly very dry, and I placed my hands on his shoulders for balance. As I felt his skin slide across my own I marveled at how well he seemed to know me.

He withdrew his hand from my pussy and placed the finger in his mouth, looking into my eyes. "Oh," he said with a slight moan. "You taste very good. She'll like you."

With that he turned away and moved into the bathroom and started the shower running. "Make yourself comfortable," he called from the bathroom. I moved into the bedroom with my wine glass and sat on the bed. I looked at it and noticed that there were neckties on all four of the posts. This was really going to happen.

I heard him say something but I couldn't hear. "I'm sorry," I called back. "What did you say?"

He emerged from the bathroom, naked, his cock semi-erect. It was a beautiful, circumcised head that seemed to beckon to me, and I felt a familiar craving in my jaw as I wanted to take it in between my lips.

He didn't seem to know he was naked, for all the lack of modesty he displayed. "I said, can you come more than once or do you need to rest for a while afterwards?"

"Oh!" I said. "Um, no, I can come often I guess."

He smiled. "That's nice," he said, and returned to the shower.

I stood up from the bed and followed him into the bathroom. The shower stall was a glass door and I watched him as he soaped up his body. As he turned around I saw with amazement that he had the most muscular legs and his ass was tight and round. He was saying something to me but I was lost in my desire to touch him.

Taking a sip from my glass I glanced up to see him looking at me. He was grinning like the Cheshire Cat and said, "It's a good thing you can come more than once, otherwise you may be done before she gets here."

I was confused as to what he meant, but then he looked down between my legs where I had been playing with myself without even realizing it, sliding my fingers across my lips in a slow tease.

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bydrscar© 35 comments/ 119220 views/ 78 favorites

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