William puffs out his slim chest. ‘Oh, you still reckon you can suck cock as well as a gay boy, do you?’
‘Sure. How hard can it be?’ I say, turning to walk over to the box, not looking back at William, just hoping he’ll follow me.
‘You are such a dirty bitch,’ he says, appearing right at my shoulder, and my heart leaps.
I don’t reply. I push aside the heavy velvet curtain that the box protrudes from. And once we are ‘backstage’ I see exactly how it works.
The box has no back to it. So it’s more like a sort of cubbyhole. Inside it is a small firm cushion for the person inside the box to kneel on. And if a person were kneeling on that cushion, facing the wooden wall of the box, the small hole would be at about face height. In fact, to be really strictly accurate, it would be at mouth height.
Still not speaking, feeling the tension in the air, I drop onto my knees. Oh God, the buzz hits me straight away.
I look over my shoulder at William. He has an odd expression on his face. ‘Are you really OK with this?’ I ask, not really knowing what I’ll say if he tells me he isn’t.
‘I don’t know,’ he says, biting his bottom lip. ‘It’s just, it’s not very ethical, is it?’
‘I guess not. But then, when did you last worry about ethics when it came to sex? I mean, you’re always joking about getting straight guys drunk and shagging them.’
‘Yeah, but that’s just a fantasy, Lou. I don’t actually do it.’
‘You don’t?’
‘No!’
‘Oh.’ I look at William for quite a long time then, so long I actually start to worry about Mark and his revision timetable. ‘Are you really not OK with this?’
William seems to have a change of heart then, because he sort of micro-smirks and then says, ‘Nah, not really. Well, except that I’m worried that after this everyone will think I can’t suck cock for toffee. Do you want the cuffs?’
‘What!’ I sort of splutter, because that really blind-sided me. ‘Cuffs?’
‘Yes, uh, some people like to be, uh …’ William’s voice kind of drains away along with the colour in his face.
It’s weird. William and I are really close. Tight. I’m closer to William than I am to Mark. I could tell William anything, despite his occasional screams of ‘Ooh, you breeders!’ Which is a bit rich really seeing as how William is all for a bit of heterosexual action when he can get it. Really, he reserves that squeal for when I tell him about something a little too risqué even for him. I’ve always been the slightly more adventurous one out of the three of us, which, I think, he sees as upsetting the natural order of things. But, see me kneeling in a glory-hole box at a gay orgy right now for details of my spirit of sexual derring-do.
However, despite all of that, all that sexual camaraderie, this is maybe a bit too far. That line I talked about – the one that stops us all sleeping together. It’s here too. Drawn across the sand. The idea of William putting the cuffs on me. A bit too much. But I really want them. So I have to screw up every ounce of my sexual courage to say, ‘Actually, yes. That would be good.’
While I kneel in the box, my knees quite comfortable on the soft padding and my lips just a breath away from the ominous hole, William straps my wrists together behind my back with something that feels firm and restrictive and comfortable all at once. I can’t help sighing while he does it. It feels so good. So right.
I’m not really very with it when William says, ‘OK, Lou, I’ve really got to go now. Mark, etc.’
‘Yeah, um, before you do though, I need a favour.’
‘Another one?’
‘Yeah, look, take the condom that’s in my pocket. I want you to give it to James.’
‘To James, why?’
‘Just do it.’
William is actually quite well behaved as he roots around in the pocket of my jeans for the condom while my hands are tied. When he snags it and leaves, with a gentle goodbye of a finger trailing on my shoulder, my heart is banging like a drum and my clit is throbbing in perfect time with it.
My lips suddenly feel dry. I lick them in anticipation. Then I wait.
For quite while nothing actually happens. I listen to the faint thrum of the Rammstein playing in the hall and wonder if anyone will actually come and use the box, feeling faintly disappointed that I’m not much of an attraction.
After, I guess, five minutes though, I hear sounds in the room outside and without any warning I feel the unmistakable soft force of a rubber-coated cock pressing against my suddenly dry lips. I open my mouth and suck.
God, it feels amazing. Hard to explain. The anonymity. The bondage. And the fact that the room on the other side of the wooden wall is now full of people. That unique mix of power and subjugation is like a head rush. I use every wile I have. Every last trick of lips and teeth. When my mystery man comes, he groans loudly and falls against the wood so hard it shakes.
One down.
There’s another hard cock jutting through the hole before I even draw breath.
I open up my mouth again for the next one, cutely jacketed in bright blue and, as I do so, I tug a little at the restraints holding my hands behind my back. God, it turns me on not to be able to use my hands while I’m being used like this. It makes everything so much more arousing.
My clit is burning as I let the new cock force its way inside and jerk roughly in my mouth. This guy is much more forceful. He doesn’t let me play artful games, but thrusts hard through the hole. In and out. Fucking my mouth. I hold still and let him. Squirming with pleasure when I hear a distinct and masterful snarl.
Three follows, then four, then five. My wrists get sore, and my jaw starts to ache, and my cunt gets wetter and wetter.
I’ve just finished number six, when I start to wonder where the hell William has got to. I can’t see my watch so I don’t know how long I’ve been here. There’s a part of me that’s worried, but a bigger part that, despite my aching neck and jaw, kind of hopes he never comes back.
And then – lucky number seven – in through the hole comes what I’ve been waiting for. And I’m going for gold.
I pause for a moment to look at it. It’s beautiful. The last part of James that I get to study in depth is every bit as pleasing to behold as the rest of him. It’s so big and thick. I never knew I was a size queen, but James doesn’t disappoint on that score. He’s going to be more than a mouthful.
He’s also got this little kink in his cock. It bends over to the left. It’s nice. It’s quirky. Makes it more real – him not being dildo straight and perfect. It doesn’t hurt that the whole thing is clad in golden rubber either. I pause maybe a moment too long looking at its golden glory, because there’s a knock on the wooden wall above my head.
James. I open my mouth and suck.
James’s big hard cock is filling my mouth, thrusting hard, mercilessly using me. I can hear some faint groaning coming from the other side of the wall. Him. Too faint to recognise, but it’s got to be him. I’m so wet, my clit feels like it’s burning. I tug at the restraints that hold my wrist, both frustrated and fiercely aroused by not being able to touch myself. As James keeps on going, holding out for longer than anyone else has tonight under my cock-sucking prowess, I squeeze my thighs together. Over and over, setting up a strong pulsing rhythm. I squirm around on the cushion, ignoring the protests from my sore knees and find a way to get the pressure on my clit just right, even without my hands. I concentrate on the way James is forcing his way right down my throat, the way my lips are stretching around him, going numb. The way he has no idea that it is me, William’s friend, so quickly dismissed, that is making him feel this intense pleasure.
James starts to move faster, jerking like he’s not in control. I suck as hard as I can, using my tongue to massage the underside of his shaft. I squeeze my thighs harder together. Twist a little. Feel the pressure just right and there it is. James is spasming hotly under his rubber sleeve and I’m coming so hard I don’t know which way is up.
<
br /> I don’t know if I could have taken another cock after that. So thank God that the hole goes dark for a minute or two after James withdraws.
And then I hear a sound behind me, and look over my shoulder to see William, reaching over to unfasten my wrists.
‘Bloody hell, William, you’ve been ages.’
‘I’ve been less than an hour.’
‘Well, it seemed like longer.’ I pull my arms free, struggling to move, not knowing what part of me to massage first. I scarcely even get my wits together before William practically yanks me out of the box, through a side door behind the curtain and directs me down a flight of stairs to the kitchen.
Gracie looks up as I walk in, tottering gingerly like I am eighty years old. ‘I’m not even going to ask,’ she says as I collapse into a chair. ‘But if you think you’re getting paid for today …’
I’m not listening.
A couple of hours later I try to make amends to Gracie. My body feels rather more alive after two gin and tonics and about a hundred vol-au-vents. My jaw actually does still work, despite early reports of it completely seizing up. Flaky pastry has brought it back to life. Eventually I struggle over to the pre-war dishwasher and start loading champagne glasses in and out, all the time feeling hot flares at the memory of James and his spectacular cock in my mouth. Oh yeah.
At about 1 a.m. this guy called Sebastian, apparently the host of the party although it’s the first I’ve seen of him, appears in the kitchen to slather us with congratulations. Either it’s gone extremely well or he is extremely pissed – possibly both. Sebastian invites Gracie, me, the chefs and Gracie’s other galley slaves up to the hall for a final drink. I raise my eyebrows at Gracie because of the whole no-women thing, and she just mimes ‘too much to drink’ with an invisible glass to her lips.
In the hall, I approach William, who almost jumps out of his skin. ‘Hey, Lou, what you doing up here?’
‘Heh. We’ve been allowed above stairs. Where’s James?’
‘Um.’ Suddenly William looks awfully shifty.
‘Has he gone home?’
‘Uh, yeah. That’s it, yeah, he’s gone home. Busy day tomorrow or something.’ Which would be perfectly plausible if it weren’t for the look on William’s face.
But I don’t worry about that too much. ‘Oh, right. Did he say anything about my blow job? Best ever, right?’
But before William can answer me, someone appears at his shoulder. Someone who changes everything.
‘Hey, Lou,’ says Mark.
William glares. ‘Mark.’
‘Mark. What are you doing here? I thought you were at home, revising?’ Two and two are rapidly making four in my head.
‘Um … Oh,’ says Mark, reddening a bit.
‘But you’re not, are you?’ I say to Mark, then turn to William. ‘So you didn’t have to go and let him into his flat, did you?’
‘Uh.’
‘Did you?’
‘No.’ William looks at his shoes. But he’s smirking.
‘So, what? You set me up. Why?’ And then something else dawns on me as I cast around the room. ‘James was never even here, was he? I thought it was weird. I thought he didn’t seem the type.’
Mark and William look bashfully at me. Then Mark says, ‘He was here.’
I shake my head. ‘Don’t lie.’
‘It’s true,’ says William. ‘He was, but he’s gone now.’ They’re both smirking. I honestly don’t know if they’re lying or not.
‘OK, well, was it him then? Was he the one with the gold condom on?’
William reaches out and touches my shoulder. ‘Well, honey,’ he says gently, ‘the fact is, you thought it was him. So really, what difference does it make?’
A Stranger, and Yet Not
Teresa Noelle Roberts
I STOPPED PACING long enough to glance at the clock. They’d be home soon, my boyfriend Gary and his friend Matt.
His best friend from high school, whom I’d been hearing about for ages, but had never met because he’d been teaching in Japan until recently.
The stranger I was about to fuck.
In the eighteen or so months Gary and I have been together, we’ve spent a lot of time talking about fantasies – and playing them out whenever we can. I’ve dressed up like a cat-girl and a naughty nun for him. He’s played pirate for me. I’ve taken one of those strippercise classes and then performed for him. They wouldn’t let him take the strippercise class, but he gamely bumped and grinded for me anyway, and I stuffed dollar bills in his underwear. We had a threesome with a bi girlfriend of ours – Gary’s fantasy, but I liked it as much as he did. (Unfortunately for us, she met Ms Right shortly afterwards and became happily monogamous.) I’ve fucked Gary in the ass with a strap-on. He’s fucked me in the ass with what the good Lord gave him.
But a few favourite fantasies haven’t seemed practical as anything other than hot whispers in the dark. I’d be glad to try the sex-under-a-waterfall fantasy if we ever find the right waterfall, but it’s going to require a tropical vacation. The mad-scientist one requires a few too many props, and ideally a lovely demented assistant (see the ‘my adventurous bi friend fell in love and is having all her adventures with someone else now’ whine, above). And Gary’s willing to let me dress him in women’s clothes, but he’s six foot three and craggy featured, with a beard we’re both rather fond of, so the dream of transforming my lover into a girl for a night of clubbing and semi-public teasing isn’t going to happen.
And then there was my faceless stranger.
Ever since I was a young teenager, full of hormones and not sure what to do about them, I’ve masturbated to fantasies about being made love to by a stranger.
No, being fucked by a stranger.
No, that’s still not right – being taken by a stranger. It’s not a rape fantasy, because I’m all kinds of willing and excited, but there’s an element of being overwhelmed, by him and by lust, of him making sure I’m too swept away by sensation to have second thoughts or ask silly questions such as, ‘Who the hell are you and why don’t you have a face?’
Now, Gary could see why that fantasy was hot for me, could see it well enough that we both had fun with him playing a masked man. No matter how hard he tried to act like a mysterious stranger, though, Gary’s familiar body, familiar touch, familiar voice would always break through the illusion. Definitely a fun sexy game – and he looked damn good in that mask – but not quite the fantasy. Yet actually finding a stranger wouldn’t do for a whole number of reasons: diseases, psycho-killer potential, the general sordidness of either putting an ad in the personals section of the alternative paper or having Gary walk up to someone in a club and saying, ‘You look like a likely candidate. Want to fuck my girlfriend?’
Then Matt let Gary know he was coming back to the States for an extended visit between semesters, said he hoped he could swing a visit, finally get to meet me, etc.
And Gary remembered that Matt was, among his other sterling qualities, an amiable pervert. Loved sex, loved women, loved erotic adventures, the kookier the better. (When I say, ‘Gary remembered that …’ etc., what I really mean is ‘Matt was telling Gary about his recently ended relationship with a neighbour in Tokyo, who liked dressing up like a schoolgirl and pretending he was a tentacled monster, and it dawned on Gary that …’)
So Gary made a suggestion, and Matt accepted – eagerly, if Gary was to be believed – once he figured out that a) Gary was serious and b) so was I.
Fantasy-fulfilment problem solved.
Matt was a stranger to me, but not to Gary. They trusted each other implicitly. Back in the day, they’d dated some of the same women, though not at the same time, and Gary had gotten a pretty good idea of Matt’s good and bad qualities. The bad quality, from most girls’ point of view, was that he was pretty much incapable of monogamy – but at least he was always honest about it. All to the good on our end. The good qualities, apparently, included being Captain Condom. The boy played hard and w
ild, but he played safe.
I wasn’t going into this completely blind. At Gary’s insistence, I’d been reading the blog Matt kept of his life in Japan, getting a good feeling for a guy who was adventurous, observant, smart and witty – just the kind of guy I’d expect Gary’s best friend to be. He cared about his students, enjoyed watching the neighbourhood cats bask in the sun, had gotten friendly with the elderly artist next door (as well as with Tentacle/Schoolgirl Woman, but he didn’t go into those details in the blog, just mentioned occasional dates and the eventual amicable break-up). I’d seen a few of the emails and IMs that had gone back and forth, setting the visit, and the fantasy, up, although not enough to give away all the details of their ‘evil’ plan. He seemed like a good guy, a fun guy.
An imaginative guy, if the emails were any indication.
Yum.
But I still hadn’t talked to Matt directly. Still didn’t know what he looked like, other than Gary’s assurance that I wouldn’t need to put a bag over his head.
A stranger, but a stranger I could trust with my body. And with my heart, because let’s face it, part of the reason we hadn’t wanted to take out a personal ad or try some other way to find a random playmate was the potential for things to get strange emotionally, even if the guy was perfectly decent. I can’t claim I’ve always been in love with the people I’ve slept with, but there’s always been friendship. At least Matt and I were connected through Gary. Vicarious friendship, or whatever you want to call it, made it less scary, but my brain kept saying it still should have scared me.
The rest of me didn’t want to listen to my brain, at least not right now. I was apprehensive about whether it would go smoothly, whether it would be fun for everyone or one of those awkward abortive experiments, but that felt more like social anxiety, only a little worse than I’d be jittering about making a good impression on Gary’s best friend under more usual circumstances – with all my clothes on, for example.
Instead of being anxious, my heart was racing with excitement, my cunt was dripping with anticipation and my nipples were so hard they ached. I’d expected, as Gary left to collect Matt at the airport, that by this time I’d be half-tempted to put my clothes back on (my fantasies always began with the stranger clothed and me naked – maybe my hindbrain couldn’t figure out the taking-off-clothes-in-front-of-a-stranger part – and so Gary suggested I start out naked for this), run out the back door, grab my car and head for the hills. Instead, I was half-tempted to grab my favourite vibrator and get started on my own, just to keep from going out of my skin with need.
Sex with Strangers Page 5
