My new girlfriend is an exhibitionist. It was fun at first, but now I think I’m in over my head. [EROTIC HORROR]

I was longing for some spark in my life. I swiped on her on Tinder, tags like **“looking to try new things”**, **“soul-searching”** and **“adventurous”** setting off mini-fireworks in my head. I had previously gotten out of a long-term relationship, one that ended as drawn-out and miserable as watching the family dog wither away. My ex had cheated on me, and once I rode out the tide of my grief I was looking to get out there again.

Her name was Mona. Raven-black hair, pale skin covered in tattoos, eyes so hot they could start a fire. I knew she was out of my league… you could imagine my surprise when my swipe led to a match.

She messaged me not long after the fact. She was a woman who went after what she wanted, which was something I found very attractive. We messaged back and forth, something I had to reassure myself was really happening with how fucking hot she was. It didn’t make any sense to me. We texted for a bit, and when we seemed to hit it off, we talked on the phone. Her voice was smooth as silk and her compliments made my heart flutter. We talked for hours, and as we chatted into the night, we got to know more about each other.

I was a geek that spent the better part of my twenties tinkering with computers and coding websites. She was into cosplay, painting, and fucking in public.

She mentioned her interests nonchalantly, the last one taking me by surprise. It felt like a red flag, but I couldn’t ignore the rush of blood it gave me in more places than one. She just sounded so sweet on the phone. I laughed it off and tried not to sound apprehensive about it. It did sound a little wild for me, but I wasn’t stupid. She had to be a catfish, or after my credit card number. Part of me wanted to ditch the situation, but I couldn’t help but think of her profile pictures.

She was a walking goddess, and 100% out of my league. And probably fake as fuck.

But if she wasn’t…

We made plans to have coffee the next day. I figured if she was fake it would be easy to pick up on, and I would just responsibly make an exit before I got scammed. I was caught between the dilemma of fucking over myself, or possibly fucking her.

The next day, we met at a local coffee shop. I couldn’t believe when she actually walked in; her long black hair accented by a similar shade of sundress and flats. Skin pale as the moon with some of the coolest tattoos I had ever seen. She was shy, walking in awkwardly. An awkwardness that seemed to melt away when she saw me.

It was probably the best date I’d ever had. It felt like love at first sight, some bullshit you’d see in the movies. Despite my apprehension she was actually real, and unbearably adorable.

Our conversation was awkward and cheesy at first, but I soon found myself infatuated with her. I started to feel guilty, meeting her for coffee in hopes of a hookup. Her body was incredible, yes, but it wasn’t her petite curves that started to make my heart race.

The twinkle she held in her eyes. The way she tucked her hair before each sip of coffee. The animated motions she made with her hands when she talked about herself. The way she caressed her arm when she talked about herself.

This woman wasn’t just hot, she was beautiful.

We left the shop and decided to walk in the park, leaving the congested air for a fresh and flowing breeze. We talked about work, and day-to-day stress. She told me she was a social worker that focused on rehabilitation. She didn’t elaborate much, only saying there was more to people that meets the eye, and how most are often misunderstood. She told me stories of those she had worked with in the past, hopeless people that found faith in themselves and turned over a new leaf. It was astonishing, and through my amalgamation of infatuated lust, was a respect for her humble strife.

We came near a loop in the walking park, a spot where the concrete trail bordered a thick lush of woods. She remarked how it would be the perfect spot to slip away and relieve some stress. I felt nervous, and mentioned it felt like a little much. I liked her a lot, but it just felt so… taboo.

She kissed me then, and I’ll never forget the softness of her lips. She told me it was okay to be scared and she didn’t want to rush me, but she wanted to show me how fun it could be. I looked into her sparkling eyes, and wondered how I, or anyone could say no to just a taste.

We slinked away to the woods, deep enough to be out of obvious sight but close enough for the potential chance of being caught. I wasn’t into it at first, but as her kisses grew more passionate and her hand found its way into my jeans, I couldn’t help but look at the walking path still in view, throbbing so hard it hurt.

Her breath was seductive in my ear, one hand feeling the strength of my arousal while the other guided my hand to her breast. I was soon caressing it eagerly, my thumb softly searching across the soft fabric of her dress. Once I no longer needed instruction to touch, she left my hand there and reached underneath her dress and between her legs. Her breathing slowed and her grip on me tightened. I looked cautiously to the walking path, where another couple was coming around, unbeknownst to us.

My heart raced and I started to panic over being caught. The feeling melted away when I looked at Mona, her eyes closed as she started to disappear inside herself. I took it all in, hearing the increasing pace of her breathing, the wind on her hair, the porcelain skin of her neck and shoulders. Her lips parted in a whisper, and she asked me to finish for her.

I came harder than ever before. My view of the walking couple disappearing as my eyes involuntarily closed as I could only ride out the pulsating wave. Mona leaned against me as she got her own, and I was suddenly imprisoned in the agony of the moment. When it faded away we looked at each other, the haze leaving us breathing hard and blushing. I looked into her twinkling eyes and she smiled, I felt like a weight had been lifted.

This was the first of many risque encounters. Aside from the whole “being in public” thing we actually did take it slow, if only for a moment. There were days, sometimes over a week before we would meet up again, but it would always start the same. At least in the beginning.

Our next date ended in the same fashion, except instead of a stroll in the park after lunch, it ended in the parking lot outside the restaurant. Steam and kisses and my seat leaned back as she took me as far as she could down her throat. I listened to every exasperated suck of breath through the view of the bar and grill, people going about their meal without the inclination to look outside. Those who did, didn’t draw attention. The climax was just as good if not better than the last, my eyes forcing themselves to close again as she grabbed my hips and accepted everything. This time when I was finished, we changed places.

It was unreal, and I couldn’t get enough. Mona made it clear that she didn’t want a relationship, she just wanted to share these moments with me. Having left my long relationship before this, I agreed and just accepted the excitement while I had it.

The third was spent browsing the thrift store, deviously batting eyes at the changing room. Only to slip away and “relieve stress”, taking in the advantages of platform boots and a mini-skirt while keeping an eye between the wooden slats of the changing stall door.

It wasn’t the act of sex, but the thrill. A thrill we shared together, and all-or-nothing dice throw with the best possible payload. Muffling her breathing with a clasped hand and silencing my own against the shine of her black hair was better than any vanilla night out, and by the fourth I couldn’t fathom how I lived without it for so long.

The fourth consisted of a night out at a fancy restaurant, only to call for the check early and hail a cab (despite driving there myself). The need to perform lost in front of a potential audience only seemed to get worse with each consecutive time, as did the arousal.

Despite her name Mona was a silent lover but she was giving, every time trying to coax what she could out of me as quickly as possible. Her anticipation of the finish was hungry, greedy even, and she would feed off visible and audible cues to further propel herself to her own eruption. It was something I just couldn’t get enough of, like I had to starve in the days between it took until the next meet. But just as strong as the rush came to be, the abrupt clarity was tenfold.

Part of me wanted to stop. But I never did.

Even when I locked eyes with the cab driver in the rear-view mirror, stiffening as Mona collected everything on top of me. Grabbing fistfuls of my shirt as she pulled me closer, all I could do was watch the poor guy look away in discomfort. The thought of putting on a free show was suddenly replaced by a heavy veil of shame. Only to be dropped off at my apartment like it never happened.

I felt like I was going downhill and I couldn’t stop it.

Tossing and turning through the night alone, somehow still finding the nag of arousal when I close my eyes. Nightmares of eyes watching behind the pale silhouette of perfect curves and silent agony. Then waking up alone, sad and uncomfortably stiff. The shame was still there when I woke up, like a lingering haze much unlike the powerful wave granted from the public fuck.

I didn’t know what the hell was happening to me. I looked in the mirror and hardly recognized myself. In the dragging hours of my free time, all I can think about is when I can go again.

Which brings me to today. Or earlier, I guess. Usually I have to wait a couple days before hearing from Mona again, but today she texted me for a follow up the next day. This time she wanted me to go to her place. To make a movie.

It hadn’t dawned on me that I didn’t know where she lived until she texted me the address. I don’t know why, but I had a bad feeling about going. Like if I went out, I would be making a grave mistake. My mind seemed to conflict against itself, trying to decipher the proper course of action moving forward.

In the end, I grabbed my keys and headed for the door, freshly showered and groomed. The undying arousal was evident, despite the sick feeling that was brewing in my stomach. I started my car and left, heading for the destination I programmed into my GPS.

Mona lived on the outskirts of town, in a nice country home with lots of land. It looked like a nice place for peace and quiet, the entire property closed off by a thick forest as far as the eye could see. I parked and sat at the wheel for a moment, taking a look at the sky.

There was a full moon, and basking in the glow was Mona, waiting for me, leaning against her car. I got out of the car and she greeted me, a quick embrace with a peck on the cheek. She was wearing a black silk nightgown, a lack of undergarments immediately apparent with how thin the fabric was. She wore no make-up or jewelry, and I realized this was probably the purest I had seen her yet. No bells or whistles, just a thin layer of silk.

She led me by the hand, excitingly taking me to the backyard.

“We’re not doing it inside?” I asked, nervously.

“No. I have the perfect scene set for us. In the middle of the woods. I’ve always wanted to do it, and the moon is perfect. I have everything set up there.” She said, quickening her pace.

I thought of the concept, going at it in the moonlight in front of a camera. It sounded creepy, but the more I thought it over the more alluring it felt. I followed behind her, looking down her back to her accented curves, to faint reflection of her bare feet. I was starting to feel overdressed.

I looked at her house as we passed it; each window was dark and ominous like there was nobody home. The paint was peeling and the shingles looked battered, like there hadn’t been any upkeep in a decade. It looked like no one even lived there.

“Eyes on me, handsome. You’re not getting cold feet, are you?” She teased, tugging me along.

“Nope. I’m good.” I said, anxiously watching the approaching treeline. It was starting to feel chilly, but Mona didn’t seem to mind.

We slipped into the trees much like we did on our first date, but I couldn’t see much of anything. We talked a little about the film she wanted to make, one she planned on uploading to a few of the major pornographic websites. I mentioned I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have my face in it, and she assured me that she had prepared for that and everything would be taken care of.

I thought of one of those little masquerade masks, and it actually sounded silly and fun. I thought of the people who would click on the video, and for some reason the thought of other people getting off on our thrill filled me with an excitement just as pure and surprising as our first stint in the bushes at the walking park. I felt the rush of blood, and my pants seemed unbearably tight. Mona noticed my excitement, ran the back of her hand against it.

Mona led me to a blanket in the middle of the woods, one positioned where the ground seemed the most accommodating. The moon came through the treetops in bright slits, each of them shining on the blanket. Laying on the blanket was a goat mask, one that actually kind of made me jump once my eyes registered it. In front of it, was a nice-looking camera on a tripod. There was nothing but dark trees surrounding us, and the eeriness started to hamper my erection.

When we got to the blanket, Mona immediately started to undress me, unbuttoning my shirt and tugging it from the waistband of my jeans. The air was chilly and I tried to hype myself up by running my hand underneath her nightgown, but I felt like I couldn’t grasp the spark.

“What’s with the mask?” I said, gesturing to it on the blanket.

“I thought you didn’t want your face in it?” She said, pulling my jeans down to expose my briefs.

“Well, yeah, but I thought maybe it would be something like—” I started, and she put a finger to my lips.

“Shhhhh. This is a fantasy of mine, don’t ruin it. Plus, the algorithm will love it.” She said, grabbing it from the blanket. She handed it to me, and reached inside my underwear. Her hands were cold, but still amazingly soft. She worked my courage up with slow strokes and whispered in my ear.

“Put it on. I’m ready for you now.”

I did as I was told, pulling on the creepy goat mask before stripping the rest of my clothes. The mask smelt like clammy prophylactic, like it had been sitting in an attic for years. Mona turned the camera on, a little red eye blinking before she got on her hands and knees on the blanket, offering herself to me.

I’ll spare you the exact words of her command, but I definitely obeyed. The ground was hard and uneven, my knees pressing into exposed roots in the earth. I pulled back the veil gently, and watched the moon reflect off her perfect, tattooed skin. Seeing it ready for me dissipated my nerves, and once I felt her slickness, I couldn’t go back.

I entered harder than I planned, but I didn’t regret it. The collision of my hips on her soft skin brought the blanket into fistfuls in her delicate fingers immediately, and I took the cue that she wasn’t looking for a buildup. Our encounters were usually quick, but this time I actually had to stifle myself to ruin it early. When I tried to restrain myself, Mona backed into encouragingly, the softest whisper of ecstasy escaping her usually quiet agony.

In no time at all, I was huffing behind the mask, watching her fall more and more apart through the small openings that I imagined were on the bridge of the goat’s nose. She was really into what we were doing, and it drove me wild. I kept feeling the taunted buildup of my own pleasure, and found myself repeatedly slowing down to reign it back in. After the fourth time, Mona decided to take matters into her own hands.

She pulled off of me and pushed me to the ground, climbing on top before I could even situate comfortably. Once I was reinserted she leaned back and took it all, pausing only to let the nightgown fall from her shoulders. She bathed in the moonlight, looking just like the goddess I felt she was.

She started to ride, hard. I looked up at her from behind the mask, my own condensating breath huffing harder and harder as she tried to push me over the edge. I looked from her beautiful exposure to the red eye of the camera, and for a moment I wished this encounter could’ve stayed just between us. It just felt so right, I wanted to selfishly cherish it.

Mona tried harder and harder to provoke my climax, rocking her hips and taking me as deep as she could through her repetitive squeezes. She looked like she didn’t have long left herself.

After riding the edge for the dozenth time, I decided it was time to give her what she wanted. Without a word I reached up and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulled her close, and started doing the work. She collapsed and embraced me tightly, riding out her apex as I pushed us to the summit with my hips from below. I could barely breathe behind the mask, and I closed my eyes to push through the exhaustion to get us passed the finish line.

I listened to Mona come undone on top of me, the muffled mmf-mmf-mmf of her silent moans breathing into my neck as I increased the pace. Just as I was ready to selfishly explode, I heard something that made me pull away from the climax. Through Mona’s heavy breathing, I heard… someone else’s breathing.

My eyes shot open in their plastic prison, trying to squint while I reeled back from the edge. I looked over Mona’s shoulders and saw nothing at first, the images slowly trying to refocus through the encroaching orgasm. Then I looked past the camera, and locked eyes with it.

Almost out of view was someone on their knees, their mouth duct-taped and their hands bound with rope. They looked terrified, tears streaming down their face as a hand firmly grasped their shoulder. Standing next to them was a tall figure in a red robe, their face featureless save for wide lidless eyes and a horribly broken jaw. Next to them was another, then another, then…

The closest robed figure reached into their shawl and produced a curved silver dagger, one they ran straight into the throat of the person on their knees. Repeatedly.

“Oh fuck, what the fffff—” I bucked and tossed Mona off of me, and started to backwards crawl into the leaves. I pulled the slimy goat mask off and whipped my head around, suddenly seeing the shapes of at least twenty robed individuals.

“Wait, no,” Mona started, reaching for me.

“No, what the fuck, what the fuck—” I shouted deliriously, my eyes locking once again with the person being stabbed.

The robed figure ran the knife in again, and a wet gurgle echoed from the poor captive as they started to choke on their own blood. The robed figure made them look at me, even as their life started fading.

“Don’t go. We’re so close. We need this. I need this.” Mona begged, a hidden anger rising in her sweet, catching breath. It wasn’t until then that I saw it, the spool of rope, roll of duct-tape, and a dagger of her own next to the blanket.

I stared at all of them, Mona and her pale nakedness, the men in robes staring with menacing, bloodshot eyes. I wanted to say something, something meaningful, but in the end, I just screamed like a panic-stricken lunatic.

I scrambled to my feet and started to run, only having time to grab my pants and leaving everything else behind me. I screamed again as I bumped into another robed figure. One had been watching from behind the whole time, and was now grabbing at me with gnarled bony fingers. I ran past them, screaming as I went, my meat flopping painfully against my thighs as I ran scared.

I made it through the backyard, the sound of Mona’s shouts echoing as my eyes met my car in the driveway. My keys jingled in the pocket of my jeans, and I will forever be thankful that I grabbed them instead of my shirt. Completely naked and horrified, I turned the car on and floored it, angling the car awkwardly in a swerve through the front yard. I only got a glimpse of Mona and her subordinates emerging from the trees before I was peeling back out onto the road.

I called the police and explained what had happened, and they instructed me to head to the station while they sent a unit to the address I provided. I spent the entire drive looking in the rear-view mirror, expecting those ghastly bloodshot eyes to be gaining on me, but I never saw them.

Arriving at the police station with nothing but jeans was awkward but they were thankfully understanding. They questioned me thoroughly about what happened, and I gave them the same uneasy story multiple times. The police took the number and ran it, and it doesn’t belong to anybody. There’s no phone records.

They got me some clothes and water, and I stayed there until after they sorted it out. Hours later, a unit called in and said they searched the perimeter, and found no one inside the house. Apparently it was abandoned and hadn’t had an owner in over a decade.

When they searched the woods, they found no robed figures, no dead body, no Mona.

Only a bloodstain of heavy arterial spray.

I’m in a hotel now. I’m too scared to go home. I don’t know if they’ll find me there. I’ve just been sitting on the bed, scrolling through the texts left on my phone from Mona.

**Looking to try new things.**

**Soul-searching.**

**Adventurous.**

What the fuck. I close my eyes, and all I see is the haunted vision of that poor person duct-taped and tied up. That and the glaring red dot of the camera recording me.

I flinch at every creak in the night, and panic when my phone goes off. She hasn’t tried to contact me.

Worst of all… I miss Mona.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ykq0vt/my_new_girlfriend_is_an_exhibitionist_it_was_fun