Category: eroticliterature

For some reason, I kept having sexual fantasies about this one particular stranger. It was unusual for me, because my fantasies typically involve imaginary figures that I concoct in my mind. I had never had a conversation with him. He was a hulking figure. I saw him when I was walking trails and he was sitting under a large bridge. I wanted to ask him what he does when he’s there. Is it a quiet place to get away and take care of some business? A secluded spot for drug sales? But I’m shy, and I figured he probably didn’t want me all up in his business anyway, so I just kept walking. One day, however, he passes me close on the trail on his way to the bridge and somehow, in that brief moment, he reads me completely. He knows that I am horny as fuck, and that I desperately want him to touch me. He laughs at me, and continues to his spot under the bridge without saying a word. From then on, whenever I’m walking in the area, I plan my route so that I pass under the bridge. Some time goes by and I don’t see him, but then one day I look up and there he is, sitting in the shadows on a big concrete slab. He holds my stare, and we stay like that until he finally motions for me to come over and sit in front of him. I pause for a moment. I’ve been waiting for this, but part of me is terrified. I’m well aware of what the appropriate reaction is in this situation, and equally aware that I am about to do the total opposite. I walk over slowly and climb up on to the slab, until I find myself sitting in the spot he gestured to. At first he does nothing. We sit there in silence, until I take his hands and put them on my breasts, encouraging him to squeeze them. He laughs and moves his hands away. Then he runs his fingers very lightly up and down my arms, ever so slightly brushing his hands against the sides of my breasts. He does the same thing to my inner thighs. I start breathing deeply, and squirming. I try to push his hand down my pants, at which point he stops completely. I look at him, silently pleading, but instead of resuming he just tells me to take my clothes off. I hesitate. Someone could walk by at any moment without warning, and I had nowhere to hide. He doesn’t say anything else. He just waits, and it is at this point that I realize that it really doesn’t matter what the safe and reasonable response to this situation is, because I am going to do whatever this man tells me to. There is a sense of relief in accepting the situation as inevitable, and relinquishing control. I strip down to my panties and pause, meeting his gaze. He raises his eyebrows, and I take my panties off. I stand there awkwardly, feeling exposed and waiting for his next command. He tells me to lay down and get myself off. I oblige. The sense of vulnerability and humiliation from orgasming in front of this stranger turns me on so much it is almost painful. I get up and he motions for me to come closer, before gently pushing me to my knees and pulling out his dick. I give him a blowjob. I swallow, even though it’s not my preference, because it seems like the right thing to do. Then he tells me to get myself off again. The way my body works, once I’ve had one orgasm, it doesn’t take a lot for me to have more. They’re not exactly multiple orgasms, because they don’t happen back to back in rapid succession. But once I’ve had one, I can easily get off many more times. So again, I oblige. I am suddenly and acutely aware that this stranger has just been an idle viewer to my orgasm faces. I have always viewed the faces that people make when they climax as deeply personal and raw. In that moment, you experience a complete loss of control over the contortions of your own face. Now he’s standing by a bridge wall, and indicates that I should join him. I walk to where he is, and he abruptly shoves me against the wall and finally begins fucking me. I erupt. I am somewhat aware that I am being slammed against concrete, but I don’t care. After awhile, he turns me around. I put my hands on the wall as he fucks me from behind. When he’s done, he zips up his pants and walks away without a word, leaving me naked and trembling, blissed out and ashamed.