*Hello Redditors! I know this may be a longer post for this subreddit, but I think you’ll appreciate the plot, especially when you see where it’s all headed. Constructive feedback is welcomed. Enjoy!*
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“Wait … someone that I ‘know well’ wants to meet up and fuck … and they don’t want me to find out who they are?”
Robin felt her face blush bright red with a mixture of embarrassment and confusion. It’s a good thing that she waited until she’d walked back into her apartment to tear the ornate gold-foil seal off the envelope and read its contents.
(Her nosy old neighbor Mr. Jenkins had been shuffling past the complex’s wall of mailboxes and probably would have plucked the letter from her hands if he’d seen the look of shock on Robin’s face.)
The heat subsided from her cheeks and she turned the letter over to see if there were any details included on the back. None. Just the few paragraphs on the front and the oddly formal envelope without a return address.
“This has to be some kind of prank,” she mumbled to herself. “They can’t seriously expect me to … I mean, does someone actually think I would … “ She was at a complete loss for words.
Robin sat the rest of her mail down on the table—two bills with the words “OVERDUE” and “LAST NOTICE” stamped in bright red ink on the outside—and took a seat.
This letter was not one of the random “Hot Singles in Your Area” ads that always popped up while she was watching porn. Whoever had sent the letter to her mailbox—or paid this sketchy “Acquainted” company to send it—must actually know her. The detail about the “generous gift” was simply too specific to be a random guess.
Her skin crawled a bit knowing the mystery man (or woman, come to think of it) knew her address. She re-read the letter again to take her mind off this uncomfortable thought.
“Dear Ms. Robin Evans,
You are receiving this correspondence on behalf of someone you know well. This person cares about you deeply but is conflicted about their desires to be intimate with you, so they have sought the assistance of our relationship management firm, The Acquainted.
Our staff of talented experience planners make it possible for consenting adults to be intimate without the fear of disruptions in their existing relationships. We do this by organizing all physical interactions and making sure they are anonymous. So far, we have successfully coordinated hundreds of wonderful experiences for hosts and their guests.”
“‘Coordinating wonderful experiences’ sure is a fancy way of saying ‘helping people bang their family friends and coworkers,’” Robin thought out loud. She kept reading.
“We obviously cannot disclose the identity of our client, but you can rest assured that it could be just about anyone in your life, barring blood relations. They could be someone you’ve known for years or a more recent acquaintance. Depending on the particular experience your host has in mind, there could even be multiple acquaintances who would be participating in this experience.”
“Wait,” she said out loud. “Like an orgy!?” In her shocked state, Robin had missed that last line the first time she read the letter. She tried and failed to imagine a gangbang with people she knew all lined up to fuck her. To be fair, she had trouble imagining being with multiple people at once in general. All of her sexual experiences up to this point had simply been with one guy at a time.
This was insane. *And yet, it was interesting …*
“The Acquainted can, however, offer the following guarantees:
* As stated above, you are not related to the host.
* The host is of legal age, sound mind, and they fully consent to this experience.
* The host has passed a rigorous set of medical examinations, is free of all sexually transmitted infections, and is in good physical health.
* Either you or the host will be provided with contraceptives by our staff doctor. The specific contraceptive method to be used will be chosen by you, the guest.
* No photos or videos will be created of this experience. It will exist only in memory.
* You will have access to a phone with pre-programmed and pre-approved contacts at the location of the experience. We ask that you only use it in an emergency.
If you would be willing to join your host in this experience for a night, they would be happy to offer the following generous gift: The payment of all the expenses you will incur in your final two years of college at Broadmoore School for the Performing Arts.”
Robin’s eyes automatically flitted to the bills sitting ominously in the middle of the table and then back to the letter in her hand.
“If you would like to accept this invitation, you can simply visit our website (theacquainted.com) and enter the credentials included below. If you wish to decline, you may discard this letter. We only ask that you please burn or shred this document due to the sensitive nature of our business and the arrangements discussed herein. Do not discuss this letter with anyone.
We appreciate your time, consideration, and privacy. We hope to hear from you.
Sincerely,
The Acquainted”
Immediately below the signature line were two words handwritten in dark, blue ink. The first was her username: REvans. The second was her password: BroadmooreClassof2025.
“Of course they would use my anticipated graduation year for the password,” she thought. Once again, way too specific to be a scam like the hookup spam that used to plague her phone’s inbox before the FCC cracked down on those texts a few years ago.
Robin set the letter on the table and got a glass of water. Her calico cat Pumpkin emerged from wherever he had been napping and rubbed against her leg as she leaned against the kitchen counter. She brushed the stray fur off her leggings and gave the cat a scratch behind his ears.
“Who do we know that would have sent that letter, Lil Pump?” she said softly. “Who knows about Broadmoore and my scholarship situation?” Pumpkin purred and strolled back into the living room, obviously too busy to be concerned with the letter. He sprawled out in the middle of a stray sunbeam that was peeking through the curtains.
“Yeah, I’m not sure either.” Robin walked past her furball of a roommate and into her room. She used the lint roller to catch the few remaining hairs on her yoga pants before peeling them off her legs and throwing them in the now-overflowing laundry hamper. She pulled her oversized workout shirt and sports bra off and added them to the pile.
Robin glanced in the full-length mirror on the back of her door. “Someone I know must really want to see this view,” she thought. She was a second-year dancer at Broadmoore, and she had a slender, athletic build that was common among her classmates.
Her hands perched on her waist as she rotated her hips back and forth, trying to find her best angle. Her perky b-cup breasts bounced as she rocked back and forth. *Who wanted to feel them?* Her dark brunette ponytail bobbed along to the back-and-forth dance. *Would the person who arranged the letter want to hold her hair tightly in their hand while fucking her from behind?*
Robin’s fingers traced down her toned stomach and inched down below her bellybutton. Her mind drifted to some of the men in her life who might want to place their hands in the same spot. She fell backwards into the pile of blankets on her bed and began to imagine how The Acquainted might pair her with Mr. “Hard Ass” Harding, the stern-yet-charming Broadmoore instructor who had been her ballet teacher last year.
(He had earned the nickname because he was known around campus for pushing his dancers to their physical limits during class. Robin’s friends also secretly agreed that his firm ass was a constant source of distraction in the studio.)
Hadn’t he always looked at her a few seconds longer than the other dancers during warmups? Robin had caught him staring a few times in the room’s floor-to-ceiling mirrors as she was bending over to stretch.
Laying in her bed, Robin’s fingers began to dance along the soft, wet edges of her pussy. *Was this what Harding had been looking at those times? The warm folds hidden just beneath her tights?*
She had touched herself like this a few times before while thinking of Mr. Harding late at night. Her hectic schedule as a student dancer and part-time babysitter often made it difficult to manage hookups. At the end of the day, she would fall into bed physically and mentally exhausted, though parts of her body and brain were obviously still brimming with sexual energy.
Her fingers rested on her clit and began making tight circles that caused her toes to tingle like she’d been dancing en pointe all day in a worn-out pair of ballet slippers. It would make sense that Harding would need a third party like The Acquainted to act on his urges, given the taboo ethical boundaries that a teacher would have to cross to sleep with a student.
The lengths he’d have to go to fuck her.
She pictured herself sitting blindfolded on a bed in a luxurious hotel somewhere—that was how The Acquainted would set it up, right? He would enter the room quietly, his cock already straining against the front of his khaki pants, swollen with anticipation.
He’d walk over to the bed without a word—it’s anonymous, remember—and caress Robin’s face before slowly guiding her down onto her knees. Her senses amplified by her limited view, she would hear little details like his finger against a button and every little metallic *click* of his zipper being lowered right in front of her. His thumb would gently trace and separate her lips. And then he would slide the head of his cock into her mouth.
Robin would breathe faster, her bare breasts rising and falling as Harding’s fantasy unfolded. She would reach out and grab his fantastic ass so she could pull him closer. Into her mouth. Down her throat. Inch by inch. She wouldn’t be able to see his eyes roll back from under her blindfold, but she’d know he was enjoying himself from his labored breathing.
Once she had lapped up every drop of his precum and replaced it with her own drool, Harding would take her shoulders and position her on the bed. Face down. Ass up. He’d pull down the red, lacy underwear that The Acquainted had provided specifically at his request. Then he would grasp her ankles and pull her long legs apart. Wide. He wanted to see what she’d hidden from him during all the times they were in class.
Harding’s strong hands would raise her hips so her back was arched … hands that had touched her body before, but only to correct her form in dance class. Now they were on her pussy. Inside her pussy, loosening her up in preparation for his massive cock. The cock covered in her spit.
Back in her own bedroom, the thought of Mr. Harding taking her from behind was almost more than Robin could bear. She began shivering on her now cum-stained sheets, her fingers dripping. She plunged them into her pussy as she imagined a thick, hard dick pushing between her tight lips and filling her up. Again and again he would push his throbbing shaft into her, gripping her toned ass to make sure he was driving in as deep as possible.
With a deep sigh, he would empty his balls inside her. She’d feel the warm rush just above her stomach as his cum mixed with hers and both began to dribble down the edges of her quivering pussy. He would thrust once or twice more for a good measure, emptying his cock and listening to Robin moan. *Would he think of those sounds, of her voice cracking with ecstasy, the next time he said hello in the hallway outside the studio room?*
Mr. Harding would then take a step back and admire the work they’d done. He’d take in the image of Robin’s ass in the air and their milk-white puddle on the bed below her. This was the sight he had wanted to see. The sight he’d envisioned. Why he paid The Acquainted so much money and was willing to cover the costs of Robin’s schooling after her scholarship fell through so unexpectedly.
It was worth every penny.
—
Robin awoke in her own bed with a dazed smile on her face. Glancing into the living room, she saw that Pumpkin was still dozing but that he had traveled a few feet to keep up with the sunbeam’s gradual path across the room. Evidently she had curled up in the blankets and slept like a rock for a few hours.
Still groggy, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand. She had a handful of text notifications on her home screen, the most recent of which read, “Hey, just checking to see if you are still up for babysitting the girls tonight. Let me know when you get this ☎️😃”
Robin sprang out of bed—her babysitting job for David! She had almost forgotten that she’d agreed to watch his kids while he went on another date tonight. After frantically looking at the clock, she realized she only had an hour to get over to his house. She sent a text apologizing for her delayed response and sprinted into the shower.
She quickly soaped up her body, washed her hair, and rinsed away the suds. Her mind traveled back to the letter sitting in the other room on the table. She momentarily questioned whether it, like her evening of passionate sex with Mr. Harding, was just a figment of her imagination. Would she be disappointed or relieved if the gold-sealed envelope had ceased to exist after she woke up?
As she headed out of her apartment, she spotted the letter right where she’d left it, next to the bills. Those damn bills. At least she was going to make a little money tonight. She quickly typed a message to David that she was on her way and hit “send.” She smiled at the emoji from his earlier message, and then the realization hit her. There was a chance—a very real chance—that David was the one who had sent her the letter.
Especially after what happened that night two months ago.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/p38vjh/someone_i_know_secretly_wants_to_fuck_me_and_i