For as long as I can remember, I’ve had this bizarre, twisted fantasy. The roads leading to it were different, but the end result the same: a stranger fucking a very willing me in my bed in the dead of night. I would never see much of him. Perhaps the strangers intent had been rape but instead he’d happened upon a half-naked horny girl……(me) one who was already wet, already willing and able. These fantasies have roots in a time when I didn’t fully understand the mechanics of sex but I knew I wanted it. Before I even knew how to pleasure myself properly, I had firm belief that this rough stranger could please me.
I’d wondered how I could live out this fantasy…make it reality and yet still make it safe despite the underlying danger in it. Even if I’d spoken to the man before online I still wouldn’t *know* him and be able to trust him. Trust that it would be just him that night. Trust that he wasn’t a complete psychopath. I came close once to setting something up but I chickened out at the last minute. I don’t think I could safely pull this off without involving a third party. A third, trusted party who would vet the stranger and who would keep a far-away eye on the scenario.
I pictured myself waiting for the stranger in one of those picnic pavilions we have here in parks. Sitting on the top of a picnic table, facing away from wherever he would be coming in. I would be wearing a summer dress and nothing else; easy access to a shaved cunt and braless tits just about to pop out of the top of the dress. I would hear his footsteps and not see him. I would feel a heady mixture of equal parts fear and arousal take over my body. My body would be humming in anticipation of his touch as his footsteps drew closer. He wouldn’t say a word to me. Just come up to me and……
(you finish it…..)