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The Stranger :Chapter. 2

A writer of erotic stories invites a stranger to her place to read him.her stories
When I woke up, it was getting dark out. The last remnants of sunlight were coming through the skylight. Tristan was still asleep. I glanced over at him, studying his face as he slept, noticing the way his nose curved, his lips, his long grayish hair and beard. Having a man in my bed was so strange after all these years. A few hours ago he was a stranger. Now, what was he? What would he become, if anything? What was happening to my safe, quiet life?

I got up, slipped on my jeans, but not my top and climbed down the ladder to go to the tiny bathroom. I threw water on my face, looking at my eyes, my tousled hair. I was excited that Tristan was up in my loft and that I had the nerve to invite him here. “I don’t believe this is happening,” I said to myself, looking at myself in the mirror. I brushed my teeth and leaned over, spooning water into my mouth with my hand as I rinsed then spit it out. “Where is this heading, Sharon?” I asked myself. I often talk to myself like that. Just then I heard his footsteps in the loft. I heard him coming down the ladder and within a minute he was standing at the entrance of the bathroom.

“Mind if I join you,” he asked, glancing around.

“Sure if you think both of us can be in here at the same time, it’s pretty tiny,” I said.

He stepped in and kissed me. Both of us had on only our jeans and no shirts. He put his arms around me, my breasts crushed against his chest.

“That was a nice nap we had,” he said. “We really conked out.”

“We did,” I nodded, looking at him. “This is pretty weird. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“It’s weird for me too,” he said. “When I took off this morning with no idea where I was heading, I never thought I would end up here with someone like you.”

“I’m usually very shy,” I said. “I keep to myself and live a quiet life, this is so unlike me.”

“Me, too,” he said, both of us looking at each other, not quite sure what to say.

“Hey, how about a cup of tea,” I suggested.

“Great! I could go for a cup of tea.”

I squeezed by him and went into the small kitchen area to put on the tea. I grabbed a flannel shirt from a hook near the back door and put it on but didn’t button it. Tristan was on the other side of the cabin looking at some pictures on the wall. He then came over to me and put his hands on my hips.

“I feel lucky that we met,” he said.

“I think we’re both lucky,” I responded, smiling at him.

“Well, it might be luck, but it’s not what happens to you, it’s what you do with what happens, that counts,” he said, moving his fingers through my hair, now no longer in a pony tail. “When opportunities present themselves, you have to seize the day!”

“Well, Mr. Philosopher, it’s not always easy. It’s scary to do that,” I said.

“I know,” he said, nodding. “I was just thinking how my life has changed suddenly by taking off this morning like I did. I just took off with no idea where I was going. I just drove and ended up in this town and that café and we met.”

The teapot whistled and I poured two mugs over the tea bags.

“Yes and now here I am with a stranger in my cabin and my tits exposed. I never thought this would happen. I think I write erotica because it’s safe. I can fantasize about things that would never happen and then look what happened today.”

“Right, life’s little twists and turns,” he said, pausing, looking into my eyes, “Your story surprised me.”

“Wait until you hear some of the other stories,” I responded, chuckling. “My imagination is much wilder than I am.”

“Some wise woman once said to me, ‘Life has more imagination than the mind.’ Maybe that means you want to be that wild but you’re afraid.”

I was stunned by that idea, thinking about his words. I took a sip of my tea and looked him in the eyes, “Yes, I think I do want to be wild, but I frighten myself.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I don’t understand why I write what I do? Why do I fantasize about being picked up in a bar or ravished? What does that say about me?

“Those are honest questions,” he said.

“The story I read to you, “The Pickup,” I wouldn’t dress like that or do what she did to pick up a stranger.”

“But you did. You picked up me in the café,” he said.

“Hmmmm--that’s right, but it’s not the same. I didn’t dress up in order to lure a man,” I answered.

“I don’t know about that,” he said, a smile coming to his lips. “You looked pretty sexy in those tight jeans and tee shirt without a bra. Maybe you do try to seduce men with your body and don’t realize it,”

“I like how I look and feel in tight jeans. I like to feel sexy. And maybe you’re right. I was attracted to you and I was writing an erotic story. I was turned on by how you looked at me, but it was very hard for me to invite you to my cabin. I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“You followed your desire, your urge and overcame your fear and went after something you wanted. Maybe you’re tired of living a fantasy life and when we met, you grabbed the opportunity.”

“You’re right. I am tired of fantasizing and wanted something to happen but there’s never any opportunity around here.” I paused, looking at him. “Something clicked when I saw you but it’s still hard to explain, maybe it’s because you’re a stranger. I don’t know.”

He smiled. “Well, I’m glad I just happened to stop at that café and you decided to be brave and offer to read me your story.” He took a sip of his tea. “You made this happen, Sharon. You could have suppressed your desire and said, “Nice meeting you, stranger, finished your coffee and come home like you do everyday.”

“I guess. It still feels strange, but I think I like it,” I said.

We were both quiet, sipping our tea and then I remembered a story I thought he would like.

“This reminds me of a story I wrote. Would you like to hear another story?” I asked.

“Sure, but if it’s like the other one, I’m not sure you’ll get to finish it.”

I laughed then picked up my folder and thumbed through the pile. Before I read it, I got up to pour both of us more tea. I glanced at him while I was at the stove and noticed how he was looking at my body. My tits were barely covered by my flannel shirt and I know how my ass looks in the tight jeans. When I came back to the table, I smiled. “I like how you look at me,” I whispered, leaning close to him.

“I like how you look,” he whispered. “You’re very sexy.”

I laughed when he said that and I may have blushed, but I liked hearing he thought I was sexy.

“So what’s the name of this story?” he asked, glancing at the pages in my hand.

I took a sip of my tea and looked at him. “I’m almost embarrassed to read it but I want you to hear it.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. I won’t judge you, in fact I am fascinated by you.”

“Fascinated?” I responded.

“Yes,” he answered, smiling, motioning his hand for me to read the story.

I looked at him and then down at the story. ‘Okay, this is about what we were talking about, getting what you want.” I paused. “It’s called, ‘Ravished.’” I looked at him then cleared my throat and took another sip of tea.

Caroline was in her senior year at the College of Art and was a painting major. She had access to the studios at anytime and spent most of her waking hours in the cozy corner of the big studio next to a large floor to ceiling window. It was on the north side of the building and she loved the light that came in. She also spent a lot of time in her studio because she had a huge crush on her teacher, Jonathan Lockhart.

He also spent a lot of time in the studio since his divorce. He was a developing a good reputation as an artist and was preparing for a show at the Peterson Gallery, a prestigious place to have a one-man show.

Though he had a studio at his house, since the divorce, he could not afford another studio so he used the college. Caroline loved being in the studio with Jonathan and valued his comments on her painting but more than that she wanted him. When he stood next to her looking at her painting, she wanted him to grab her and fuck her on the floor. They would talk about color and shapes and how the lines intersect and what were her plans and how much talent she had, but everything was intellectual. She tried suppressing her lust and pretended that their relationship was teacher-student, nothing more, but the more she suppressed, the hornier she got. He was in his forties, graying slightly. She was twenty-two, a student, someone teachers were not suppose take advantage of.

Caroline was determined, however, to have him cross the line and fuck her. She became obsessed and could not wait to get to the studio every morning, knowing he would be there working on his show. She stayed late at night and he was impressed with how serious she was as a painter but had no clue how serious she was about seducing him.

She knew she had to be more aggressive to get beyond the platonic, intellectual relationship. She started wearing sexier clothes--short mini skirts with low cut blouses, tight low cut jeans with tee shirts without a bra. When he stood next to her, she stood closer than usual and pretended to accidentally brush her tits against his arm. It was late spring and the days were getting warmer. She wore tight cut off jeans or short shorts that barely covered her ass and her bikini top which barely contained her tits. She knew it was daring but hoped it would break down the teacher-student wall. She often caught him looking at her body and would smile at him, letting him know she liked how he looked at her. She thought she was breaking through his reserve but knew she he had to be brazen to get him to lose control and take her like she wanted.

I stopped reading and took a sip of tea. We smiled at each other then he took a breath, nodding. “Interesting story,” he said. “It gives me insight into how some women think.” He was tugging on his beard as he thought. “I like the story,” he added, “I think I’m a lot like Jonathan, kind of reserved.”

“Really,” I questioned. “Reserved?” I laughed. “I don’t know about that after this afternoon.”

He shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

“That’s interesting, because though I’m not like Caroline I would like to be,” I said.

“You mean you’d like to be more daring and seductive,” he asked.

“Yes, but I’m too afraid,” I answered then shrugged my shoulders. “I’m not sure I’d know what to do if some guy came on to me.”

“I think you’d follow your intuition and handle it,” he said with that knowing smile on his lips. “Like today.”

“Maybe,” I responded, nodding feeling uncertain then looked down at the pages in my hand. “Well, here’s more of the story,” I said and continued reading.

One night Caroline brought a bottle of wine to the studio, got two glasses and walked over to Jonathan’s side of the studio. It was late and all the other students were gone. She wore a short tight denim skirt that covered very little of her thighs, a small peasant blouse that was low on her shoulders and revealed a lot of cleavage. She wore no bra and knew her tits were visible through the thin material of the blouse. “If this doesn’t get him to fuck me, nothing will,” she thought.

Jonathan was painting and Caroline stood next to him, holding the wine. “Let’s get drunk,” she said.

Jonathan stopped painting and looked at her. “Caroline!” he said. “What are you saying?”

“I said, let’s get drunk and fuck.”

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked.

“Come on, Jonathan. I see how you look at me. Stop pretending you’re this damn high and mighty art teacher and I’m just your student."


“Caroline, this is crazy, I can’t. We can’t,” he said, shocked at her behavior.


“Who says we can’t. Admit it, you like me and you like my body. I see how you look at me. So why can’t we be more than teacher and student. I can tell you want to fuck me."

Caroline poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Jonathan. “Come on let’s get drunk and do it. Let’s fuck like wild animals.”


“I’ve never seen this side of you,” Jonathan said.


"That’s because you wouldn’t look, but I’ve been seducing you for weeks and I see how you look at me and like what you see,” she said. “Admit it Be honest.”


Jonathan took a sip of wine and looked at Caroline smiling at him. She took a sip of her wine. “Admit it, I turn you on. You want me but think it’s wrong to fuck a student and that’s stupid. Admit it, you want to fuck me.”

 Jonathan was silent. He looked Caroline in the eyes and then looked at her tits, noticing the nipples practically piercing the thin blouse. Caroline watched his eyes and smiled. “You want to grab my tits, don’t you Jonathan? Come on, be honest with yourself. You’ve wanted to fuck me for a long time haven’t you?”

“Caroline, I have to admit it, I do find you attractive,” he said.

“No you find me more than attractive. I make you horny,” Caroline said. “I see how you look at my ass and then you look away when I turn, admit it, Jonathan.”

“Yes, I find you sexy and I admit it Caroline, if I weren’t your teacher, I’d want to…ah, fuck you, ”he said clearing his throat.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Now we’re being honest.”


They finished one glass of wine and then another. They sat on the bench Jonathan had in front of his canvas where he’d sit and study his work. Caroline then took out a joint, lit it and passed it to Jonathan. Let’s get stoned.”

I stopped reading and looked at Tristan. “Would you like to get stoned?” I asked. “I have some pot.”

“Sure,” he said. “I haven’t smoked in years, but I would like to, why not?”

I opened up a small metal box and had a joint already rolled. “I keep this stash here for inspiration,” I said. I lit the joint, took a hit and passed it to him. He coughed and looked at me.

“Are you trying to seduce me like Caroline?” he asked.

“Maybe,” I answered, smiling, looking into his eyes and took a deep hit of the joint, “Ready to hear the rest of the story?”

It was dark out and I had some candles on the table and lit them. I moved the pages closer to the candle light. The pot was taking affect and I stared at the flickering flame of the candles for a minute before I continued reading.

The combination of wine and pot relaxed Jonathan. Caroline sat next to him on the bench and kept her thigh and arm pressed against his. The wine was finished. The joint was s smoked. Caroline reached into her pocketbook and took out two candles already in candle holders. She lit them and placed them on a small table next to the bench. She then walked over to the light switch and turned out the light. When she came back she stood in front of Jonathan and straddled his legs. She did not sit down but stood over him, her legs wide apart. He looked up at her as she looked down at him with a devilish smile. Her short tight skirt was high on her thighs. She leaned forward so that her tits were at eye level, practically falling out of her low-cut blouse. He looked at her tits and her legs straddling his, hovering above his cock straining to burst through his jeans.

“You want to fuck me now don’t you?” she said, looking into his eyes, a devilish smile on her lips. 

“Yes,” Jonathan said.

Caroline sat down on his lap, her pussy against his bulging cock. “I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you want to do to me.” She rubbed her pussy up and down Jonathan’s bulging cock straining his jeans and looked him in the eyes then moaned in his ear as she leaned forward, her tits pressed against his chest.

Suddenly,Jonathan grabbed Caroline’s ass, “Okay damn it, I want to fuck you. Is that what you want to hear?” He started pulling her against him, thrusting his cock harder against her pussy. “I want you!” he said, tightening his grip on her ass, squeezing it. “I’m going to fuck your god damn brains out,” he added.

Suddenly Caroline stopped rubbing against his cock and pushed his hands away from her ass. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked. She then got up and backed away pretending to be frightened. 

“What’s wrong?” Jonathan asked, surprised.
 

“We shouldn’t be doing this Mr. Lockhart. You’re a teacher. And I’m just an innocent student. This is naughty.”

Jonathan was stunned at this turn of events but his cock was so hard and the wine and pot had broken down his reserve. He stood up and had an angry look as she backed away.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “Damn it, you’re a cock tease."

“I’m sorry. Mr. Lockhart, I didn’t mean to get you so worked up. I didn’t know how I was dressed would make you so horny,” she said coyly.

Caroline backed up and Jonathan moved forward. “You’re a tease.” He moved towards her and grabbed her wrists, “And now you’re going to get what you deserve.”

“I wasn’t teasing you. I just thought you’d like to have some wine and get stoned with me."

"Caroline, don’t play games with me. You want it. You want me to fuck you.”

Caroline had never seen this look on his face or the tone of voice, but this was exciting her. She was getting what she wanted. 

Jonathan grabbed Caroline’s blouse and pulled it down so that her tits were exposed. He then pulled him to her with his hands firmly on her ass and ground his cock into her pussy.

Caroline liked teasing him, getting him to lose control and felt her wetness dripping down her leg. She wanted to drive him crazy and moved her hands between their bodies and grabbed his balls through his pants. “I want your cock!”

Suddenly, they were on the floor. Jonathan spread her legs, realizing she wasn’t wearing panties. He quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, lowering them over his ass. She saw his hard cock spring out, saw it and reached for him, wanting him to just take her and fuck her brains out.

Jonathan hovered over her, his face was above hers, looking into her eyes with a fierceness she had never seen. “You’re a god-damn cock tease and you’re getting what you want, aren’t you?”

“Yes, oh, yes, I want it bad. Fuck me! Fuck me! RAVISH ME!” she shouted.

Just then I looked up at Tristan and he looked at me. My mouth was open. I was breathing heavily. My pussy was tingling. I put the story on the table. I could see his cock bulging in his jeans. I spread my legs wide apart, the seam of my jeans tight against my crotch, our eyes fixed on each other. I bit my lower lip and put my hand on my mound and started rubbing my pussy. I could not believe I was doing this but I could not stop I was so hot. I wanted to be ravished. He saw my hand and he started rubbing his bulging cock through his jeans. My flannel shirt was open, my nipples were hard. Without having to say a word we had become Caroline and Jonathan.

Suddenly, he stood up, grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the chair.

“What are you doing?” I asked. He looked into my eyes. “What are you doing?” I repeated.

“What do you think I’m doing?” His hands were tight on my wrists and he suddenly pushed my back against the ladder to my loft and held me there. The ladder was angled steeply and he had me lying back against it, spreading my legs rubbing his cock against my jean covered pussy.

“I want you!” he said grabbing my ass. “You can’t read a story like that and expect to get away with it. You’re going to get what you deserve, you cock tease.”

“He held my ass with one hand, unbuttoned my jeans, roughly pulling them down. Squirming out of them, he got them over my feet and tossed my jeans across the room then grabbed my arms, holding them above my head, gripping my hands, pressing me against the ladder. I wasn’t wearing panties.

“I’m giving you what you want,” he said, spreading my legs wider apart and grinding and sliding the length of his hard cock up and down my slippery wet pussy, the head of his cock rubbing my clit, driving me insane.

He then put the head of his cock on my pussy, moving the tip up and down, teasing me then slowly entering me with short hard thrusts then pulled back, holding his cock just above my pussy, driving my hunger for it higher. “Don’t tease me! Don’t!” I screamed arching my back, squirming wanting his cock more than anything, my whole body reaching for it. The more I arched my back wanting him to take me, the harder he held my arms against the ladder, keeping his cock just out of reach.

He smiled into my eyes, knowing he was driving me insane. “You want my cock, don’t you? You want it bad, don’t you, don’t you? Beg for it.”

“Stop teasing me you bastard. Fuck me!” I yelled, straining to reach his cock.

“You really want it, don’t you?” he said again, keeping his cock on the edge of my pussy, then started moving it slowly up and down my wet swollen pussy lips.

“You’re driving me crazy,” I yelled. “Fuck me! Fuck me! Take me! I can't stand it!”

He then lowered me to the floor. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my ankles locked on his ass, pulling him into me. With his hands on my ass, lifting me off the floor, he rammed his cock into me, forcing me back to the floor. “Oh yes! Fuck me! Fuck me! Harder! Harder! Fuck me harder” I screamed.

I was out of my mind. I had never been fucked like this and this is what I wanted, needed, fantasized, wrote about and now it was happening. I was being ravished. With each thrust, I screamed, “Oh, my god, I love it I love it! Give it to me! Fuck me harder!”

Just then I felt his cock expanding in me. My pussy gripped his cock and I felt him thrusting faster and harder, his body tensing, his cock swelling with each thrust, filling me even more then suddenly I felt my orgasm sweeping over me as wave after wave hit me, sending electric shocks through out my body, causing me to shudder and tremble in violent convulsions that kept coming and growing in intensity. My mouth was wide open but now no sound escaped as I held my scream back until I could not contain it and then as the last wave crashed over me, my screaming voice filled the room, “Oh, yes, yes oh, fuccckkkkkk! OHHHHHHHHH YES!!"”

My pussy gripped his swollen thrusting cock and he exploded in a huge orgasm, yelling “Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!” with each savage thrust, exploding and shooting hot gushes of cum into my tight pussy, flooding me, his cum spilling out onto my thighs.

I could not believe how intensely I came as his warm soothing cum filled my pussy. I was spent and he collapsed on me, his cock still deep in my pussy. Neither of us could move. We were panting and gasping for air. Finally, he rolled off of me and lay next to me on the floor looking up at the ceiling. We couldn’t speak.

“Wow, that was wild,” I finally gasped.

“See what you started by reading me your story,” he said, “This is your fault.”

“No it’s not,” I said. “You’re just a dirty man who takes advantage of young writers.”

“No, you’re a horny woman who seduces men with erotic stories.”

I was quiet for a minute, “Maybe you’re right, but maybe I should be more careful who I read to. You’re a pretty dangerous guy for a girl to bring home.”

“Maybe we should both be more careful. We could turn this cabin into an inferno of lust.”

“Hmmmm, I think I’d like that,” I said.

“So would I,” he added, grinning.

Suddenly, we were quiet as we lay on the floor. Both of us were wondering where all this was leading. Did I want him to stay? Who is this man? What did I want? All these years I’ve been alone, independent, free. Should I let him stay here where we could live out our sexual fantasies? Is this real, crazy or what?” I looked over at him and wondered what he was thinking. I took a deep breath. “Where will this end?” I wondered. Both of us were quiet as we lay on the floor in the light of the flickering candles. “Where will this end?” I repeated to myself, looking at Tristan, knowing he was probably wondering the same thing.

(to be continued)

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