Reset Password
Reset Link Sent
| Blogs > Dare2Bwild > Dares |
A story - Sex with a Stranger
|
A story - Sex with a Stranger She looked up, and there he was, staring at her with cool hazel eyes. She'd stopped for a cup of tea at a sidewalk café, had bent forward to adjust a package at her feet, casually and without thinking. And then glanced up, and froze. The stranger was looking at her. The slightest smile turning up at the corners of his face. His attention upon her. Upon the<b> cleavage </font></b>exposed as she'd bent down, the skirt pulled up over stockinged leg. She'd never felt so exposed, so naked, she felt a hot flush of embarrassment, felt her nipples harden involuntarily. For a second, she froze, caught like a deer in headlights, and then she reached up with one hand to cover her<b> cleavage. </font></b>How much had he seen? Had he seen her breasts swing freely in her blouse, untethered by a bra. Had there been a glimpse of a nipple. Oh that would be awful! She straightened up slowly, offering him a nervous smile. He nodded and smiled back, lifting his glass as if in salute. How much had he seen? She tried to take stock, becoming acutely aware of how her legs had parted as she'd moved, thighs opening with unconscious sensuality. The skirt pulled above one stockinged knee. Her heart was pounding, shocked at the inadvertent display. She straightened up, arching her back - did it make her breasts more prominent? Now that she thought of it, she couldn't avoid it. It was like an awkward moment with hands, where you don't know where to put them. But now, her full breasts, her hardened nipples... she'd never been so aware of them, or felt so awkward. It was as if she didn't know how not to display them, they were just so prominent. She pushed her knees primly together. Pulled her skirt down over them. One hand primly over<b> cleavage. </font></b>There, the picture of dignity. Look now if you dare, stranger, she thought. She smiled at him, primly. He nodded, and broke their gaze, going back to his magazine. Her salad arrived. She wondered if the waitress stared down her<b> cleavage. </font></b>She pushed such thoughts out of her mind. Instead, she picked at her food. The man who had watched her inadvertently display herself was sitting at the next table. She glanced at him. He didn't seem to notice. He sat comfortably in his chair, not slouched, not stiff, his body showed an easy grace. Well dressed in a suit and tie. Some sort of professional then. There was a brief case beside him. Tall, she thought, though he was sitting down. Nervously, she kept glancing towards him. Quick little looks, looking away again before she could be caught. Like nervous excursions behind enemy lines, rushing back with packets of information to be explored. Shoes, good quality. Hair, nice. Clean shaven. No companion, is he alone. His cell phone rings - a business associate? Wife? Lover? He smiles as he speaks, his smile is brilliant. She can't make out the words, but his voice is masculine, the trace of an accent. He ends the call, puts the phone down, almost restless... And looks directly at her. She's caught! She's been caught looking at him. Their eyes lock, and she cannot look away. He smiles. Is he enjoying her nervousness? Her shock? Or just enjoying being looked at by a beautiful woman? Nervously, she smiles back, at first tentative, lips pursed together. But then, blushing, nipples hardening, a kind of clenching down below, the smile opens, she shows teeth. "You are a very beautiful woman," he says. The only words he will speak to her. She wants to speak, but her throat is dry. She simply smiles and nods and breaks the connection, casually going back to her lunch. She finds she can't look at him now. She doesn't dare. Is he looking at her, stealing glances the way she did. Her thighs part unconsciously, hips arching forward in the chair as her legs curl under it. That part is unconscious. The moment when she casually pulls her skirt up to expose a glimpse of thigh above the knee... that part is not unconscious. Her nipples are hard, can he tell? She fights the impulse to undo a button of her blouse, to expose a little more<b> cleavage. </font></b>She licks her lips, does he watch her lick her lips? Does he think about what it would be like to kiss her? She's thinking about what it would be like to be kissed. She's wet, she realizes suddenly. There's something about the moment. She wants this man. She wants to be wanted by this man. He finishes his lunch, makes a phone call. She dares to steal a glance. He seems oblivious. She wills him to look at her. Her hand steals down to her blouse now, half consciously, no longer concealing but almost pointing, as if the carefully casual curl of her fingers is really to attract his gaze, to direct it to her breasts. But he doesn't look. He simply pays the meal, gathers his briefcase, stands... And then he looks at her, smiles, she smiles back, an electrical jolt going through her. But then the moment passes, and he walks off, down the street. Unsettled, frustrated, not really planning, but not wanting the moment to pass so unfulfilled, she abandons her lunch half eaten. Throws money on the table and walks after him. His back to her, unconscious of her gaze, she's free to watch him. To watch his casual stride, the broad set of his shoulders, the glimpses of the shape of his muscular ass covered by his pants, teasing from the bottom of his suit jacket. She feels wicked, like she's stealing, looking at him like this, gazing at him as an object of appreciation. He stops to look at a window display. She walks up, standing beside him, as close as she dares. It's all casual she thinks, just two people on the street stopping to look at a window display. But then, why does she stand so close, as close as she can stand without touching him? Why is she so aroused? She senses the turn of his head, a casual glance to see a stranger standing beside him. From the corner of her eye, she sees him freeze with surprise. He recognizes her, remembers her, did not expect to see her here, he does not know what to think. She looks up at him, smiles. There's a kind of gravity between them now, an attraction, drawing them together. In the back of her mind, she wants him to kiss her, to take her in his arms and crush her mouth to her. Instead, he smiles back at her, his gaze sliding slowly over her body. She basks in it. There's nothing surreptitious about his desire, she feels him undressing her with his eyes. She smiles back at him, nodding. And then she steps away, a little embarrassed. What was that moment about? Why is she acting this way? Why didn't she at least speak to him? Footsteps behind her. He heart leaps, she can feel it thudding against her ribs. The street is busy, there are all sort of footsteps. But she thinks she knows these footsteps, she's certain, he's following her. Will he turn her around, take her at the corner, kiss her passionately. Will she feel his hand on her shoulder, stopping her, turning her. Will his body press against hers. Her legs feel weak, wobbly. Her breath is coming fast. She reaches the corner. Stands for a second. The light is don't walk. So she turns, randomly, walking down the street. Footsteps behind her. Please let it be him. She can't look. Couldn't bear the secret humiliation of turning and seeing that it wasn't him, that he wasn't anywhere. She's breathless now. She steps into the first shop whose doorway beckons, not caring what it is, knowing only that the game has gone too far. She needs to get her bearings, to regain her composure, to free herself from this breathless lust that has taken her. The shop is air conditioned, the cool air caressing her, she feels the air slide along her skin, across her breasts, her neck, up her thighs. The relief is welcome. She stands in front of a table display, pretending to examine it. Slowly she becomes aware that there's someone standing there with her. Just behind her. She does not look. A body brushes against hers, she does not resist it, feeling the casual intimacy of contact. Then there's a hand on her ass, cupping her cheek. She stiffens, then relaxes, unsure of what to do. Her heart starts to pound all over again. She looks up. It's him. Of course, it's him. His face is inches from hers. Her lips part, her eyes heavy lidded. They kiss. Her heart almost stops. She feels a tightening between her hips, a sudden wet flush and knows her panties are soaked. She turns into him, her body almost pressing against his. His free hand moves up her hip. She catches it before it reaches her breast. The kiss is an instant, but it seems an eternity. She decides in that moment. Taking his hand, she draws him further into the store, towards the back. Searching, a back door, a stock room, a stairwell, a bathroom, anything at all, any place at all, away from prying eyes, a place closed or open, but private. There's a unisex bathroom. Perfect. She pulls him in, there's a weightless immense quality to him, he seems to float. Massive in his male presence, in his lust and desire for her, but simply drawn along. The door closes behind them. He swings her presses her against the wall, his body pushing against hers. His kiss when it comes is furious, devouring. Hand pushes under her blouse, his palm cool against her hot bared breast. His fingers squeeze her nipple, pinching cruelly and she gasps into his mouth. Her hands flutter, racing up and down his body, pressing against his arms, his chest, his thigh, feeling the shape of his body. Fingers wrap against the erection in his pants. It's huge, rock hard, she can almost feel the veins, learns the shape intimately. She wants more. Wants to see it, wants to feel his naked erection bare in her hands, wants to wrap fingers around it, feel it throb, feel the velvet texture. She moans between kisses. She claws at his zipper, pulling down the fly, even as he pulls her skirt up to her hips. His erection comes free, blissful and hard in her hands. She wants to look down at it, see it. She wants to kiss it, take it in her mouth, wants to run her tongue along its length, smell the scent of him. But their bodies are moving on their own, grinding together, arms wrapping around each other, mouths devouring. They pant and groan, lust running away with them, a runaway train of desire. There's a tension in the waistband of her panties, rising fast, she gasps. There's a sudden tightening around her hips, then the tear of fabric, and she gasps and almost comes with the realization that he has torn the panties from her body. She's naked below, wet and bared. Grinding, humping together, he drives his erection against her body, sliding against the fabric of her skirt, her inner thigh. Fingers wrapped around it, she guides it to her lips... she is so wet. Lifts a leg, tilts a hip to give it access. He seizes her thigh, lifts the other and then he's inside her, ramming deep thrusting violently. Her arms wrap around his shoulders, her legs wrap around his hips. He thrusts up deep inside her, and she pushes down on his cock, her weight swallowing the whole length of him, getting him deeper than she's ever felt before. They grind together, suppressing moans, kissing, her hand tears at his shirt, buttons flying, in her desire to feel his bare skin against hers... Her orgasm is almost immediate, a rushing tidal wave that floods through her body, causing her to go rigid against him. But his lust is explosive, he cannot stop to kiss, to relax, he thrusts against her into her again and again and her body welcomes him. The next orgasm comes soon after, a headlong plunge. And then she's rising to a new wave of pleasure. The sex is furious, desperate, consumed completely by the moment, by the intensity of lust. She comes again and again. Some part of her struggles not to be too loud, too frenzied, they're not truly alone. On the other side of that thin door is the shop, its inhabitants, a world full of people. But right now, in this instant, the whole world is his cock in her. She feels his orgasm beginning, the change of rhythm of his body, the hands squeezing her breasts, the stiffening that pervades him, his cock slams into her harder, his erection seems to swell inside her. Then she feels it, feels the low moan that begins, the glaze in his eyes, his orgasm, beginning, hers matching it. She feels him ejaculate deep inside her, wants it more than she's ever wanted anything. His orgasm is headlong, a rocket thrusting to eternity. She joins him in ecstasy. And for long moments, they go rigid, the thrusting shorter and more ferocious, every atom of their beings merged in that drive towards pleasure. Then its over. Holding each other tight. The slow deflating. Feeling his erection soften inside her, the relaxation of their bodies. He releases the grip gently on one thigh, she feels one leg touch the ground. Then the other. He holds her, as if not quite willing to let her stand on her own weight. He trembles, he feels so weak in her arms. She kisses his nick. They pant, coming down. The room reeks of sweat and sex by the time they part. Her legs are unsteady, but she can stand. He puts his cock away, zipping up his fly. There's a moment of regret in her. She wanted to look at it, to see it, to examine and enjoy it, even soft she wanted that and now its hidden away. Her skirt has fallen down on his hips. She watches him, he's unsteady, trying to fix his shirt despite the torn buttons. Part amused, part astonished. I did that? She remembers tearing his shirt in sheer lust, the buttons flying. Was that me? He kneels to pick up a scrap of fabric, offers it to her. She stares in incomprehension for a moment. Then recognizes it as the panties he ripped off her body. The fabric torn and useless now. "Keep it," she says, "to remember me." These are the only words she will speak to him. The take turns at the sink, trying to clean themselves up, to manage or domesticate the traces of wild sex, brushing hair, checking make up, adjusting clothes. She's ready to go. Still weak, still breathless, but sated now, his semen oozing between her thighs, body spent with orgasms, satisfied. There's a final kiss. And then they leave. |
|||
9/11/2013 6:12 pm |
I agree that sex with strangers is much more hot and sexy. Knowing nothing about them is a total turn on
| ||
|
  now waiting for some more. ty for sharing with us hugs VBecome a blog watcher sweet_vm
|
Become a member to create a blog
