- Frustration -
We started as pen-pals, sharing our love for reading and writing dirty stories and fantasies. We happened to click over our shared kinks. Missy and I met on a popular online platform for erotica about a year ago. As it turns out, her ex-husband couldn't handle her sex drive- she was bored. My wife can't handle mine- I am bored. Our online interactions attempt to fill that void- giving us an outlet while also staying safe and free from the drama and dangers of society.
There is something that dirty, online messages give us that porn cannot- a thrilling sense of influence, intimacy, and power. It gives us the desire to provoke a physical response from someone that is in another country. It's not pre-recorded, it's all very real and intimate, at least to me. Knowing that what I say is going to make someone aroused and knowing that distance is the only thing standing in the way of us, is thrilling.
There's always the element of risk that the person I am talking to isn't the same person in the photos. But maybe that risk also adds to the thrill. There's also the risk of my wife finding out. She knows that something is causing my increased libido and I have also been spending more time on my phone and laptop lately. We have sex occasionally, but I cannot perform without fantasizing about Missy. Missy is like a mind-virus, feeding on my sexual frustration. It is all a dangerous game and that in itself, is sexy. Everything about her is sexy.
Missy is a 5-foot-5, mature, dirty blonde goddess with perky tits and a tight, shaved pussy. She has fantasies of being publicly used by horny, powerful men, truckers, executives, politicians, married strangers- everyone. The more we connect, the more I realize that our kinks align. She joked that if we were to really have an orgy, I would get first go at her. To me, this is not just a joke, but a goal that must be accomplished. She is a sexy little slut, and I need more of her.
The daily releases have escalated into a daily tease. Unsatisfied by my self-pleasure, I grow tired of checking her profile, obsessively waiting for a new dirty photo to appear. I am tired of knowing that my sexual soulmate is waiting for me, available and dripping wet with desire, while I lie here with full, neglected balls.
Of course, we always want what we can't have. My lust for her has grown stronger over time. I have become obsessed with her- wanting to fulfill her needs every single day but the distance makes that impossible. I hunger for her flesh. I have the thought of sucking her nipples, slurping up her sticky essence, and tying her up with strings of pearls, one thing that she is known for wearing. I want to both dominate her and lend her out. I want to watch her get filled by strangers, in public, before cleaning up the mess myself. I want to own her.
But alas, talk is cheap- I need to make this happen. My thirst for her, my sexual greed and selfishness, has driven me to a breaking point. I need her- to make her mine. I will have her.
- Fear -
I have saved up some money and plan to visit her; she just doesn't know it yet and neither does my wife. I work for a large biotech company, so I already travel frequently. It's pretty easy to pass this off as a business trip and I happen to have some vacation time saved up. I think most will agree that travel and sex are two of the best ways to use our time off from work.
I learned a lot about Missy over the last year and have a rather good idea for where she lives. If I saw her, she wouldn't recognize me as we have avoided exposing our faces in photos. This will be a clever way to ensure that I have been talking to the person in the photos. At least the body should match. I could recognize those breasts in a lineup.
Call me hypocritical for not revealing myself, but I cannot risk being seen on the site by family, friends, or colleagues. Unless I can be identified by dick photos, I am going to be fine. She says she works at Waterstones bookstore in Ashford, England, which is probably where I will make my appearance. There are hotels near the store that will be perfect. I have always wanted to visit England, especially the pubs.
The plane tickets are expensive, but I buy them. The hotels are cheap, so I reserve a few nights. Making these large purchases frightens me. Dropping several thousand dollars on something non-refundable, I feel obligated. This is quickly becoming very real to me and my wife has no idea. My heart is racing as I finalize the purchases.
Over the next week, I grow nervous as the day approaches. I am determined to see this through but what if it does not go as planned? It likely won’t. Cyberstalking somebody and eventually meeting them, expecting them to sleep with you? "Unlikely," I think. What is my fallback plan? To enjoy England- and what? I do a Google search to check if brothels are legal in the UK- they are not. At least the food is good and maybe I can make some friends.
The day comes and I am packed and organized yet still frazzled. The long flight is both freeing and scary. I keep reminding myself that I haven't done anything yet. I am just on a vacation and there is nothing dirty about that. I keep my mind busy with my writing, creating short stories to make the long flight bearable. I create a micro fiction where I am a pirate captain and Missy is the ship's wench, an object of release for the ornery crew members. Missy Misfortune, I call it.
"The crew had bent Missy over a powder barrel, her arms tied down over the top of the barrel with an old, dried-up rope. They took turns on her, starting with the captain and his quartermaster, followed by the specialists. By the time the deckhand got to her, Missy was covered in dirt, sweat, and semen. She smelled of rum and grease, but it didn't stop the desperate, horny young marauders from plundering her cunt and pillaging her ass. She knew she had no choice; she was their property, but deep inside she enjoyed it. She knew she was valued and desired."
The lady sitting next to me reminds me of Missy. They are of similar age and body type. I have certainly glanced over at her exposed legs several times. She notices me typing away, grinning as I type.
"What are you writing there?" she asks.
She has no idea what is going on inside my fucked up little imagination. She would have to read her Bible if she found out.
"It's a story about pirates," I say.
"Oh, you are a writer?" she asks.
Great, she's interested- shit.
"Sometimes. I just like to let my imagination run free," I say, quietly.
"Oh, that is wonderful. I am actually a writer myself. Would you mind if I took a look?"
"Uh, sure- why not?" I reply. This should be interesting.
The lady reads the story, seemingly unfazed by the content.
"You need to be a bit more descriptive, especially when describing the crew members and their actions. You want to really drive home her experience," she whispers, smiling as she hands back my phone.
"Oh, yeah that is a good point. Thank you very much," I whisper back. I go back to typing.
The rest of the flight is enjoyable. After several revisions and peer reviews from my new mentor-girlfriend, I submit the story. This is probably one of my better micro fictions and I am excited to see what Missy says.
- Deception -
I take an Uber to my hotel. I don't think I want to learn how to drive on the opposite side of the road at this point in time. The hotel is only five minutes from the airport, which is also five minutes from the bookstore. I may not have to travel much at all- how convenient. Late into the night, I sit in my hotel room munching on some cuisine from a local micropub and bantering with colleagues on my laptop. There have been no messages from Missy today- how upsetting.
I awake the next morning- it's Monday. The jet lag is mostly gone, and I enjoy some sausage, toast, and coffee at the hotel. There are some things in England that appear identical to the US and a corporate hotel breakfast is one of them. It's delicious; however, there is something about beans with toast that doesn't seem right to me.
I am going to scope out the bookstore today. I need to see if Missy is even real. There is also a movie theater close by, or "the cinema" as the Brits would say. Perhaps I can work in a movie date, though I am not sure how she feels about an actual date with me, especially after stalking her and going to such extreme measures.
My plans are already thrown off by the bookstore. It is bright and cheerful, quite the opposite of what I had imagined. I pictured a dark, vintage library, a place of secrets and mystery. I planned on taking her into a dark reading room and bending her over an old mahogany desk. But this feels more like the Barnes & Noble stores that we have in the US. It's a smaller shop with a family-friendly vibe.
"Hey, welcome in, mate," says an elderly man from the counter.
"Hello," I reply.
Surely that's not Missy. Fuck, I hope not. I'm bi-curious but not that curious. I continue to browse the book selection, keeping an eye out for other staff that may appear. A young lady appears from the back of the store. Is that her? I would be ok with her.
"Hey George, do you know where the Stanley is?" she asks.
"I don't know, love; it should be with the tape. Have you asked Melissa?"
She sighs. "I will, thanks," she says, looking around briefly before returning to the back.
Melissa? Could that be Missy? My heart begins to beat faster as I flip through a vegetarian cookbook. I hear cauliflower wings are tasty, but I can't get myself to try it.
"It's right here, Maisie," says a lady walking out from the back room, appearing impatient. She grabs a box cutter from the register area and hands it to the young woman.
That has to be her, I know that body. Those breasts, the dirty blonde hair, and that blue denim skirt. Oh yes, she is very real and very sexy.
I wait for George to leave the room before approaching Melissa.
"Excuse me, ma'am," I say, approaching the counter. She looks at me, appearing confused.
"Yes?"
"Do you know where I might find some romance novels? Like, really spicy stuff?"
"Well, we have a romance section over there in the corner," she says, pointing at a shelf near the back of the store. "Do you have an author in mind?"
"Not really, I am just looking for something to read at my hotel. Something really dirty," I say, smiling at her.
She looks at me suspiciously; my accent is an obvious clue.
"We don't have anything dirty here, but An American in London is quite a nice story," she says, winking back and pointing towards the Best Seller table.
Fuck, does she already have me figured out?
"I'll give that a shot- thank you," I say. I walk over, retrieving the suggested book.
"Where are you from, love?" she asks.
"Uh, America. I am here to meet a friend."
"That's a long way to go to meet a friend. They must be special to you," she says, looking curious.
"Very much so," I say, placing the book on the counter. While we complete the transaction, I see her figure, glancing at her perfect breasts and up at her pearl necklace. "I love your pearls."
She pauses, looking confused again as she looks down at her pearls. "Oh, why thank you."
"Maybe I'll stop by again before heading home." I smile and grab the book.
"Sounds good, love. Enjoy your stay."
- Discovery -
I spend a few hours around town, shopping and talking to the locals. Settling down for lunch at a local pub, I check the website. There's a new message from Missy.
"Hey, what are you up to today?" she asks.
She's probing.
"Hi beautiful, I am just relaxing today, doing a little shopping and reading," I reply.
"What are you reading?" she asks.
Oh shit, this will give me away for sure. Should I lie?
"Just a romance novel that someone recommended." I grin as I send the message.
"What novel?" she asks.
I don't respond.
"What novel, James?" she repeats.
I don't respond.
She responds again: "???"
"You already know, don't you?" I say.
My body quivers in fear and excitement.
"Do I? Did you visit a bookstore today?"
"Nice pearls, Missy," I respond.
"James? I'm so confused!"
"Elwick Rd. Travelodge, room 412. 6pm," I reply.
Several moments pass. My heart pounds in my chest.
"Ok," she replies.
- Arousal -
That evening, I prepare carefully. I set out wine and cheese. I am well groomed, clean, and the room is comfortable and dimly lit. I put on one of my work suits and dress shoes. My chest burns with excitement and anxiety, but I feel good and confident.
A knock. I slowly open the door. It's Missy, the bookstore woman.
We stare at each other for several moments, overwhelmed.
"Come in," I tell her. She complies, quietly walking in.
She enters the room, continuing to stand quietly, glancing around the room and back at me. I gently take her purse, placing it on the entrance counter. With both hands I slowly open her coat, peeling it back and dropping it on the floor. She does not resist. I move in close, placing my arms on her waist. Our lips meet.
I don't love her. I don't really know her outside of our dirty and erotic conversations. This long kiss- this passionate act- is a greeting. It is unspoken approval. It is a welcoming act of comfort, desire, security, and trust. It is the manifestation of sexual intimacy seeded through months of bonding over our most personal, embarrassing secrets. It feels just as powerful as love. It is true vulnerability.
After the kiss, we look each other in the eyes and smile.
"You're beautiful, Missy," I whisper, gently touching her cheek.
"Thank you, James."
I take her hand and guide her to the bed where she sits down.
"Would you like some wine?" I ask.
"Not just yet."
She looks nervous. I get on my knees in front of her and take both of her hands.
"Did you come all the way here for me?" she asks.
"I did."
"Why?"
"I had to. I can't take it anymore. I need you," I whisper, moving in closer, my face inches from her lap.
"What did you expect to do? We barely know each other," she explains, quietly.
"I know enough. I know that we share incredibly special secrets and we don't judge each other for them. Because of what we do and what we share, I feel so close to you. I trust you."
"Oh James, I trust you too. This is just all so strange," she says, appearing worried.
"It's OK sweetheart. Let me take care of you. Let me please you. Will you let me do that for you?"
Missy nods slowly. I gently push her chest, guiding her back to the bed, her legs still hanging over the bed. She takes a deep breath. I remove her shoes, rubbing her feet and calves. I massage her legs, giving small kisses along the way.
"Just relax, Hun," I whisper.
I slowly slide down her stockings, kissing the length of her leg each time. I gently caress her thighs before gently loosening her skirt. She helps me pull it down.
My face moves closer, approaching her inner thighs. She smells amazing, like lavender and pheromones. Her scent hungers me. Arousal and excitement bubble through my chest. Adrenaline grows deep in my core. I slide down her silky panties, revealing that lovely, pink familiar lotus. She spreads, slowly and with caution.
"Ravishing," I say, moving close for my first lick. I savor the moment.
Missy gasps as my tongue touches her intimate part for the first time.
"You are so much more than I had ever imagined," I whisper, stretching my arms up towards her shoulders. As I continue to lick and explore with my tongue, I caress both of her breasts. Her body quivers and my manhood throbs.
"Oh my," she moans.
I wrap my arms under her legs, slightly lifting them and clutching her hips. I burrow deeper, my tongue vigorously exploring her delicious pink folds. As she slowly rocks her hips, I clutch her legs tighter. She grinds on my face, coating me with her wetness. Her moans increase, as does my hunger.
I part her lips, revealing her soft, wet hole, soaking with our fluids. I take a deep breath before proceeding to penetrate her with my tongue, tasting her vulnerable cunt.
"Oh fuck, yes!" she moans loudly.
"Mmm, Missy, you taste so good baby."
I worship for several more minutes, fulfilling my most eager desire. I don't expect her to cum like this, but I have wanted to eat her since we first met online. I selfishly continue for what seems like an hour, enjoying every second of her.
"Stand up," I say. She complies. "Take off your top. Take everything off." She complies.
Still on my knees, I kiss her pubic area and stomach. I relish every inch of her body, slowly moving up to her breasts. I lie on the bed. "Come here."
Missy climbs on, straddling me. I caress her tits as she grinds on me. I eagerly suck her pink nipples, which are now enlarged and red. She does not flinch at my use of teeth. She leans in further, allowing me to burrow into her breasts, worshipping both of them.
"Oh god, fuck," she says, grinding faster.
"Now suck my cock," I demand.
She complies, eagerly unzipping my pants and reaching in for my fully hardened cock. She looks down at the sticky leakage of precum oozing down the head.
"Oh my," she says.
She breathes heavily, touching her tongue to the tip. My cock pulses in her tight grip, more precum slowly leaking. She slowly takes me in her mouth. Her soft lips and eager tongue tease me from all angles.
"Oh fuck," I moan with guttural intensity. "Yes Missy, take it deep."
She complies, taking my entire length with several long thrusts. She worships my shaft, swirling her tongue around the head. Her saliva drips down, coating my balls. Gently clutching my testicles, she begins sucking them eagerly while stroking tightly. Her amazing technique nearly send me off, but I stop her.
"Get on," I say. She complies.
I fully remove my pants and she mounts me. As she lowers her eager pussy, she drips on me as my head parts her entrance. Her warm, velvety walls hug me perfectly. Our parts were meant for each other. A jolt runs through my body as my head glides towards her cervix.
"Yes! Fuck yes, James," she moans.
"Yes Missy, you're so fucking beautiful," I whisper.
I am ready and eager to claim her. She leans forward and I position my legs under her thighs, allowing me to lift her with my body and thrust into her with more control.
"Are you ready, Missy?"
She nods. I begin to rapidly thrust, deeply pounding her wet cunt. I latch onto her tits as I beat her raw little fuck-hole mercilessly. The sound of our wet flesh slapping against each other combined with our moans is something that I will never forget.
"Oh fuck!" she cries out.
"That's right, bitch," I bark. I continue to thrust hard and fast. I try to hurt her. I want her pussy to feel pain. The more I fuck her the more I want her and the more I want her to remember me. I clutch her waist and back as I roll her over, climbing on top of her. I spread her legs, allowing me to continue my deep, aggressive beating. Grabbing her neck, I continue to pound her hungry pussy as I squeeze. I make sure she can still breathe but I want her to feel it, to know that I am in control.
I slow down gradually, continuing with slow, deep, intentional thrusts. We both catch our breaths.
"You belong to me now," I say, staring into her eyes as I release myself.
"Huh?" she says. She stares at me quietly. Without blinking, I watch her eyes as my cock pulses, filling her inner walls with my seed. My cum coats her deeply. I try not to react to the most intense orgasm I have ever felt.
"I am yours," she says.
- Possession -
I wake up next to Missy and an empty bottle of wine. Our bodies are fully nude and pressed against each other as spoons. Her cold, smooth, exposed flesh brings instant arousal as I collect my thoughts, reprocessing what had happened last night. My hand traces the curves of her hips and legs. Her beautiful, experienced body fills me with excitement. The smell of sex covers both of us.
"Good morning, gorgeous," I whisper softly.
She slowly turns towards me, smiling and stretching.
"You're calling in sick today. We have a lot of fun things to do," I whisper. She nods.
"You are going to go home and prepare. Shower, change, and whatever else you need to do. You will wear a skirt or dress. You will not wear panties or a bra. Then meet me in the lobby in 1 hour."
She nods. She dizzily gathers her things and slips on yesterday's clothes. We share a long, passionate kiss before she leaves the room.
It is a quick hour, but I make it to the lobby early enough to get us breakfast. I sit at a table, enjoying a coffee and waiting for her return. The lobby is quiet and mostly empty. An elderly couple sit across the room, and a lone young man sits reading a newspaper over a bagel.
A silky black mini-dress approaches my table. The sexy short dress hugs her curves, and her breasts leave nothing to the imagination. She quietly sits at the table.
"Hello, Master James," she smiles.
"Missy, you look amazing," I say, eyeing a string of pearls wrapping around her neck and disappearing between her breasts. I wonder where those go.
We quietly enjoy breakfast and have a real, enjoyable, and honest conversation. We somehow switch to our public personas, talking as if we were simply friends at breakfast. Right now we are human. It is refreshing to know that behind the screen, behind the sex, and behind the role-playing, there is a sweet, caring, and intelligent woman. She is an amazing woman, deserving of happiness and love. Which makes our next activity a bit scarier, but I have no intention of cancelling my plan.
I stand up. "Let's go," I say, taking her hand.
"Where are we going?"
"You are going to drive until I tell you to stop," I demand.
"Yes, sir," she complies and we leave in her car.
I reach over towards her legs as she drives, lightly tracing her inner thigh up her skirt. My fingers reach her bare mound. She gasps.
"Just making sure," I say, pulling my hand away.
We proceed Northwest on M20 towards London until we reach a rural area. "Get off here." I point to an exit.
"Oh fuck," she says.
"Yes," I smile.
She knows what we are doing as we approach a large lot full of semi-trucks, or "artics" as the Brits might say.
The lot is calm and quiet except for two truckers, smoking and drinking coffee, and standing next to their trucks. No staff can be seen. I think we are safe. We park just outside a detached building, consisting of restrooms and vending machines.
"Go into the men's restroom. You will lean against the sink counter, facing the wall. Do not move, do not look at anyone, and do not speak. You will stay there until I tell you to move, do you understand?"
She nods, handing me her keys and opening the car door. She enters the restroom.
I walk towards one of the men by the trucks.
"Hello, sir. My wife wants to be used and fucked by strangers. Her pussy is wet and ready. Please proceed to the men's restroom for your pleasure."
The man pauses for a moment, stunned at what I just said. "Righto," he smiles and walks towards the restrooms.
I repeat myself for the second man, a younger gentleman. "Uh, no thanks, mate. That's a bit weird though innit?" he laughs.
"No worries, she will be there if you change your mind."
I knock on several truck doors, repeating my introduction. Most of the drivers appear to be excited or understanding. One of them threatens to stab me, but overall, it's a successful effort. There is now a line of at least a dozen men outside of the restroom. Old, young, fit, fat, tall, and short. As her owner, I cut the line and enter the building.
Missy is still standing there. An older bald man is fucking her from behind while she sucks the cock of a tall, younger man standing next to her. I kneel down next to her and begin to capture a video on my phone.
"You have quite the queue, Missy," I smile.
"Oh fuck- oh," she moans as her large breasts swing below. I run my hands along her back. She clutches the sink faucet with one hand, stroking the young man with the other. Her black dress is pulled up, revealing her entire ass. The older man's short, girthy cock stuffs her, his gut and balls slapping her skin with each thrust.
"Oh, shit yeah, I'm gonna fuckin' cum, mate," says the old man, squeezing her hips as he spasms, giving his final thrusts into Missy. I zoom my phone in on Missy's dripping cunt as the man pulls out. A river of thick white cream runs down her leg. Next in line is a middle-aged man, thin and tall with a larger, shaved cock, already hard and ready. It's actually a very porn-worthy member if I do say.
"You're gonna like this one, Missy," I say, pointing the camera at her panting face.
"Uhuh!" she cries out in approval as the man shoves it in. The man immediately begins to rapidly thrust, squeezing her ass, followed by a loud, open-handed slap. Missy cries out in pain. The slap leaves a red hand-shaped mark on her left cheek. He removes his shirt and continues. His chiseled abs and shaved cock are quite sexy, I admit.
"Oh, fuck me, fuck me harder," she begs. The man does not stop. Beads of sweat drip from his neck. The bathroom is humid and warm, almost uncomfortable. The younger man standing next to her finally ejaculates. His large thick load covers the side of her face. It doesn't faze her; she is distracted by the porn dicking that is occurring behind her. I can't help but start stroking myself.
After the man finishes inside of her, he stands aside, continuing to stroke his cock and watch. I suspect he will want to go again soon. Third up is another large older man. He is chubby but very well endowed. His half-erect cock easily finds its way into Missy's rear.
"Ah fuck," she cries. The man looks at me.
"Keep going," I say.
He slowly begins to thrust. His growing hog stretches her hole wide and his large, swollen balls smash against her wet, dripping cunt with each thrust. Tears run down Missy's face.
"Are you doing ok?" I whisper into her ear.
She struggles but speaks. "Uhuh," she says, nodding.
"Oh, fuck yeah." The man releases a guttural moan as he fills her rectum with his seed.
The triple creampie dripping from her used holes makes for excellent video footage. I position myself next to her, allowing her to take me into her mouth. I gently touch her head as the next man steps up.
And the next.
And the next.
An hour passes by, but the queue does not shrink. By the time the first dozen men are finished, Missy is on her knees in a filthy pool of thick, mixed semen. Her pussy is finished, her red, swollen cunt and clit coated with the creamy release of strange men. My seed is long gone in her stomach.
An eager young man approaches with his long, curved, shaved cock and begins to fuck her face. Holding her head, he uses her mouth as his personal fuck toy, smashing deep into her mouth. Missy gags and coughs, but complies. The young man quickly explodes, filling her throat before pushing her head away, discarding her like a piece of garbage.
After the second hour concludes there are no more men. Missy lies face down, naked and wet, on the dirty restroom floor. Her hair is disheveled and her dress is torn and balled up, unsuccessfully used as a rag in an attempt to clean the dried cum off of her breasts and face.
I help her up. "How are you feeling, baby?" I ask.
Tears are still shedding and with an exhausted but relaxed look, Missy looks at me. "Amazing."
I walk her back to the car, naked and sticky. After several minutes of silence and emotional release, she appears to be back to her normal self. I cover her with my coat and we proceed to head towards the city.
- Arrangements -
We arrive at Missy's home. While she appears satisfied, I want to take extra special care of her today. This new, extreme experience may have been pleasureful but surely has caused some serious emotional exhaustion. I help Missy find a towel and gather a new set of clothes. We shower together. I wash her body, worshipping her amazing figure with a soapy shower scrub. The bubbly water trickles down her curves, washing away the erotic shame and leaving the natural shine of her wet skin and beauty.
Throughout the rest of the day, I serve her. She has given herself to me and she must be cared for and protected. Later that night, we have a romantic night of pleasure and fun. Her horniness is still apparent, but most of all her affection and trust towards me are strong. My gratitude and appreciation for having this beautiful goddess in my life cannot be put into words. While I am visiting, we go on a couple dates, watch movies, and have lots of sex. The only thing I eat are pussy and breakfast- they have really good sausages at the hotel. The parts of my trip not involving Missy are not important.
We agree to meet every year, despite our relationship status. I promise to fulfill her fantasies, and she promises to fulfill mine, regardless of who we marry or commit to. Perhaps we are not meant to be in a committed relationship together, but who knows what will happen in time? She is still mine forever and only I may lend her to the people of my choosing.
