Who Wants to Tell Me a Story

Every once in a while I like to look at Craig's List Casual Encounters listings. I get a kick out of looking at the entries - then I saw one that intrigued me:

Who Wants to Tell Me a Story - w4m Want to turn me on with stories of your fantasies? I'd love to hear your weird or dark sexual thoughts. Married mom, we can't meet but need something to help spice up the day.

Well now, I think to myself, this could be fun to do. The worst thing that could happen is I get spam in my mailbox; probably will never get a response but why not?

So I wrote up the following quick piece of nastiness:

You call me; you want to get back together. I tell you let me think about it, things got stormy towards the end and I'm not sure I want to relive the past. You ask me to consider it, you know things would need to change and you are willing to give it another chance.

After a couple of days I send you an email saying that I'm prepared to explore the idea of us becoming a couple again, but I have some conditions. If you are ready, we should talk. You reply almost immediately, maybe a bit too eagerly. I like where this is going, I respond suggesting a time and place to meet in public.

We meet in a local joint for coffee; get a booth in a quiet corner. A bit of talk and then I bring the topic around. I tell you that I'll agree to take you back, but there are some ground rules. Things will be different, no more drama - you want to see other people, tell me. No more sneaking around, no more 'he is just a friend'. I tell you I'd like to watch you with other guys - maybe join in...

That gets your attention- I see you sit a bit straighter; but you aren't arguing the point. Well dear, the next item on my list is going to be a dilly; you'll either march right out of here or decide you are in all the way.

The waitress comes by and freshens our drinks. I wait for her to move on and then add the next piece. "By the way - from now with sex, it's any time, any place, anyhow. You say no, I leave and this time for good. Oh and by the way, you are a full partner in this; you will either come up with ideas of your own or the deal is off."

So far so good, you aren't angry nor are you arguing. I press on. "You know I have a kinky side, which was one of the reasons you wanted out. And while you kept telling me the only reason you were flirting with other guys was to piss me off, I wonder if that is really true. And I'm intrigued to see what dirty nasty fantasies you have. So this is where you need to make a decision; either accept my conditions or forget about my taking you back."

I'm surprised, you agree quickly; the idea seems to excite you. Maybe after you walked out you found that vanilla sex is nice, but it gets boring. I think deep down that's why you sought me out, wanting to give it another try. This time now it's in the open, the sandbox is open for both of us to play...

I gambled you would say yes - and you did. And frankly I need to finish my cup of coffee - no sense giving the wait staff a show of my 'excitement'. Besides now I see you are greedy to start - wanting to jump right in - but to make you wait a bit makes it so much sweeter.

I finish my coffee - a good thing as my pants stopped telegraphing my need to have you; that hasn't been a problem since high school days - we leave the joint.

I get you to your car, you turn to me. We grab each other and mash our lips together - oh but you taste so good. Smell even better - your soap, your shampoo, your scent all come through in a wave - I want you, need you. I'm glad I parked my car next to yours - it's become another awkward situation trouser wise. We head to my place - you in your car, me in mine. We get there - get inside - oh sweet walls. Same grabbing but this time we can touch, grope, feel with abandon. Mmmm - delicious. That is when you announce you need to pee. Typical - we did meet at a coffee place, I had coffee, and you had iced tea. I smile, tell you that you had agreed to the ground rules - and I want to watch you. You blush - a bit shocked - and I remind you of the consequences of saying no.

Yes you call me a bastard, but you do have to go. So off to my bathroom - I can tell you need to pee; you are starting to actually squirm, your hand on your crotch as if you are trying to stop a flood. I walk behind watching you wiggle down the hall, my cock tent poling my pants again. We get in the bathroom, you are red faced but don't want to piss your pants. You turn towards me, pull them and your panties down to your knees and sit on the throne.

I always loved your pussy, I had spent hours kissing it, licking it, adoring it; I love wearing your perfume on my face and the taste! I kneel in front of you, transfixed on your honeypot as you sit on the toilet - I tell you to keep your legs spread. Your pussy is trimmed but not shaved smooth, you remember I like a woman, not a little girl - I feel my cock begin to ooze pre-cum. I pull your pants and panties down to your ankles.

You must have needed to go, as soon as you sit the pee flows out. You are flustered, embarrassed, red faced but also very turned on. I'm on my knees in front of you watching, reach up under your blouse, and cup your breasts. You sigh - open your knees even more and slide your bottom to me.

Too soon your stream stops - you automatically reach out to take some tissue. I tell you to stop, and then tell you to stand up. We are both in a bit of a daze, and you do. You are standing in front of me, over me - drops of your champagne glisten - your lovely pussy is level with my face, my mouth - I stick my tongue out and lick - hmmmm. Pure distilled you. My cock throbs as I reach around and grab your beautiful ass, bringing you closer into me. I gently lick first the outside of your lips, savoring the flavor. I begin to part your lips with my tongue, dig a bit deeper. I lick your urethra; clean it, lave it with my tongue, cherishing your essence. I stroke your clit with my tongue tip and you come, more of your essence entering my mouth. I look up; see that your hands are squeezing your lovely twin girls. I bring my right hand into cleft of your ass, press my middle finger against your anus - you come again.

This time your thighs grip my face; I lick oh so gently your clit as I press my finger against the ring of your ass. Your delectable juices begin to pour into my mouth; you jerk against my face, your knees being to sag, I feel your thighs trembling against my face...

You like? Dirty, dark and weird enough? Want more - you need to respond back. I like to think that you are reading this - your hand under the waist band of your panties - gently rubbing your hot, slick and delicious pussy...

And yes there are ground rules. Total anonymity for both of us. Strangely enough I understand - reading your ad you have a husband; I have a wife, we don't want this to get out of hand. We never meet; we never share our names or any part of our lives.

I will write stories, and that is what will be important. Continuity will change; in one story you may be a thin red head, the next a plump and gorgeous brunette. The story will be what is important - we will never meet so it is not important what I say we look like, what we do or whatever. It will all be fantasy - an erotic sandbox.

And the stories will be kinky. And I want to know what you want to read about.

Yours, nicenastymann.

So I responded to the listing. I sent the email to the craigslist account. I was drinking when I read it, and had done a few more shots while writing the story you see above. I almost forgot about it over the next couple of days - well like I said almost forgot about it.

After a week I got this email.

OMG nicenastymann. I got a number of responses. A lot of them were a line or two and then a picture of the guys junk. Yuck. And of course asking for me to send pictures back.

Yes. Send me more! I don't care what about. Let me try to shock you - I like EVERYTHING!! And how did you guess about my needing to play with myself as I read your story about 'us'? My hand, my vibrator and some other toys has been in and out of my pussy since I got your email.

Can I tell you that my poor husbands cock has been getting a workout since I got your story?

Call me 'Jane'. Call yourself 'Dick'. And I have had two fantasies lately that I'm going to challenge you to write me about. One involves me as the 'entertainment' of a party; the other is where I play with a man's cock an balls for hours, keeping him on the edge but denying him from cumming.

Well. Clearly there will be more to come!