Stories to Make You Blush: Seven Naughty Tales

by Marie Gray

  It was at that point that she finally allowed herself to consider another possibility she hadn’t dared to look at before. What if, as Martin had suggested, she did have an admirer? Some timid man who had been watching her from afar, who was now incapable of keeping his feelings for her locked away any longer. “I mean, hey, I’m not bad-looking! Just because my husband doesn’t seem to desire me anymore.”

  Michele let herself drift into reverie. Comfortably ensconced in her armchair, she began to replay the fantasy she had been entertaining since adolescence…. Walking by herself along a deserted path, on a summer’s night…the stranger moving slowly toward her. She hadn’t seen him and had no idea he was there because he was careful to keep his footsteps synchronized with hers. Tall and thin with short, dark brown hair, he wore loose-fitting faded jeans and a white shirt. His wild eyes stared rapaciously at her back, shoulders, and legs. His bare feet sunk faster and faster into the moist dirt as he increased his walking speed to finally overtake her.

  It was too late to run when she finally realized he was there. His arm was wrapped around her throat and a hand covered her mouth. He dragged her effortlessly into the bushes running along the path, where they would be safe from discovery, then pushed her body against the trunk of an old tree. Her dress ripped on contact with the rough, dried tree bark that sank painfully into the soft flesh of her breasts. Her arms were soon being solidly attached to one of the branches, and all the while, not a word, not a threat was uttered. She could feel his penis pressing against the small of her back. He was huge, and as hard as the tree trunk she was tied to.

  Michele was so transported by her fantasy that she barely realized she had started gently fondling her breasts, belly, and thighs. The stranger brought his mouth to her ear and whispered a warning that he would have to gag her if she cried out. There wasn’t anybody to hear her anyway. He yanked up her dainty little dress and ripped off her panties in one go. Down in her lower belly, she felt that familiar pressure beginning to build. It was half pain and half pleasure, a heavy warmth that spread wetly downward while delicious little shivers traveled over her entire body.

  In a daze, Michele pulled off the cumbersome dressing gown as her imaginary lover lifted her by the hips, forcing her to stand right up on tiptoe. Brutally spreading her thighs apart, he began roughly kissing her on the back of her neck, biting her shoulders and rubbing her with his stubbly chin.

  Dizzy with arousal now, Michele reached one hand between her legs as the fantasy man shoved himself inside of her with all his brutal strength. He continued to bite her, muttering words that were urgent but unintelligible. There was a look of feverish agitation in his eyes as he ripped the top of her dress apart and grabbed both of her soft white breasts. His cock was plunging in and out of her with a terrible urgency.

  Stunned by the intensity of this fantasy, Michele began frantically rubbing her swollen pussy. Her fingers knew how to conquer all of those tender areas by heart, and they pursued their goal with a vengeance, massaging the moist pink flesh, then disappearing inside of that hot wet opening until she came.

  ***

  It was already noon when she arrived at her office looking a little haggard. Sonia, her faithful assistant, seemed stupefied to see her. After quickly explaining that she simply had too much work to just stay at home, Michele grabbed her mail and headed for her office. The mail consisted of the usual stuff: Christmas cards, bills that always came too early, and advertisement pamphlets. But there was also a plain white envelope with no return address on which only her name was written. That writing…she was sure it was the same writing she had found on the tiny card that had come with the flowers this morning!

  As she ripped open the card, she was both excited and curious. On a plain white sheet of paper was written: “My dearest Michele, I hope the flowers pleased you. I am watching you and wanting you. I can’t wait forever.”

  Once again, there were no initials or signature. Nothing. And it wasn’t Martin’s writing, she was sure of that. She went to Sonia’s office immediately.

  “Tell me something, Sonia,” she asked her. “How did this envelope arrive?”

  “I don’t know. As a matter of fact, it was on the floor when I arrived, as if someone had slipped it under the door. One thing I do know: it wasn’t delivered in person. I would remember.”

  Sonia suddenly looked concerned.

  “Why, is something wrong?”

  “No, no. Nothing’s wrong. It’s just a little strange, that’s all.”

  She returned to her desk and shoved the envelope into her bag so she could take it home and compare it to the writing on the other card.

  That evening, as she compared both envelopes, she could see that the writing was identical.

  ***

  Thursday, eleven-thirty.

  Michele tried to work but her heart wasn’t in it. Her office was a real mess and she had been putting off the reorganization date since the fall. Making an instant decision to rectify the situation, she called Sonia in to help her. Only when Sonia closed the door to Michele’s office did they both see the parcel resting against the wall.

  Michele was certain she had never seen this box before. It was white and rectangular, a typical department store box, but there was nothing to indicate who might have sent it. She unwrapped it nervously and stared at the contents open-mouthed. Two magnificent lilies had been placed over the tissue paper. She hesitated a second or two before lifting the paper with slightly trembling hands. Carefully folded in this anonymous box was a superb white lace negligee with delicately embroidered trimming and tiny satin straps. And, as she suspected, there was a little white card sitting at the bottom of the box. But this time, the only message written was: “Soon, my love.” Nothing more.

  Sonia had a little smile on her face but Michele was totally perplexed once more. How had this package arrived at her office? This whole situation was becoming a slightly disturbing treasure hunt. If her husband was responsible for this puzzle, then the only plausible explanation was that he wasn’t out of the city after all.

  But why so much mystery? This was not the kind of thing that would usually amuse him at all. But if it wasn’t him, then someone else was waiting in the wings. “I’m stumped by this!” she said to herself. “I’m not the heroine of some soap opera. I’m Michele Blake, an ordinary woman married to an ordinary man, leading an ordinary life. It’s just that my husband got it into his head to try something a little different, that’s all.” But she didn’t really manage to convince herself of this.

  “Hmm…your husband has good taste.”

  Sonia’s expression was mischievous, and even, Michele thought, a little envious. She gave her boss a sly little wink and then both of them got back to work and forgot the incident.

  As soon as Michele arrived home that evening, she slipped on her present. It suited her to perfection. Martin—she was now convinced it could only be him—knew her body better than she thought. This negligee was sublimely feminine, soft and light. For the first time in ages, she felt sensual, almost desirable. She was extremely curious to see where this little game would lead, and fully intended to play her part to the end. Martin had left no number where she could reach him, so Michele had no choice but to wait impatiently for his call.

  But the telephone didn’t ring once all night.

  The next day was Friday and nothing unusual happened. There were no parcels or phone calls, and no surprises to break up the monotony of the day. She was a little disappointed. She had been wondering what Martin’s next move might be, and she had to admit that she was starting to find the special attention exciting. Had he thrown in the towel already?

  She had no desire to go out that night, so she spent the evening at home. After a lovely meal complemented by a fine glass of wine, Michele simply allowed herself to drift into the pleasure of being alone. She adored this cozy feeling of intimacy, independence, and freedom. Looking out the window, she could see lazy snowflakes floating about. Everythi
ng was calm and still: a perfect winter scene. The outside noises were muffled by the thick snow that had been accumulating since the beginning of the day. The wine was making her feel very relaxed and she decided to put her negligee back on…but something was missing. She put on some music to suit the mood and then, to her great pleasure, her imaginary lover returned to haunt her. Always the same man, the same dream lover she had created so long ago. He came up behind her and wrapped his arm around her neck the way he always did, but this time he was right there in her home. In one brutal yank, a fisted hand ripped the negligee from her body, the same merciless hand that threw her face down onto a pile of cushions. He threw himself on top of her and pinned her to the spot, immediately raising her pelvis with the help of nearby cushions. And then, with no prelude at all, he invaded her with his fingers and tongue. The rough skin of his hand chafed that most tender region of her body, and the famished mouth devoured her. The pain was exquisite, the fear delicious, and the pleasure unbearable…and then he stopped abruptly and got to his knees. Pulling his jeans down around his thighs, he drove his member brutally inside of her, tearing and bruising her delicate flesh. The furious thrusting got deeper and harder as he slid in and out of her wet pussy with ease. He was huge and she felt the tender skin of her lips stinging under the assault. He knew he was causing her pain and enjoyed every second of it. Tearing into her, he grunted quietly as he drove his cock faster and faster until she exploded with pleasure. That night, her body once more swathed in satin and lace, Michele fell asleep with no trouble at all.

  Saturday morning she was awakened by the phone. It was Martin.

  “Hi. Am I waking you?”

  “Yes, but that’s okay. How are you?”

  “Not bad. The shoot’s going well and I think I’ll be able to come back on Monday. Have you thought about us? I really miss you, Michele.”

  She said nothing, so he continued, “I was wrong. I wish I had never said those things to you.”

  “Me too, Martin, I’m really sorry. But we’re going to have to really talk if we want this thing to work out. That would be great if you came back Monday.” And then, with a tiny note of sarcasm she added, “So…the shoot’s going well, is it?”

  “Yes, it’s going fine. Listen, I can’t wait much longer, I…” His breathing was eloquent to her. “I want you.”

  When was the last time he had said anything like that to her? He had to be her secret admirer, she was certain of it now.

  “I want you too.” And then she tried to make him open up by saying, “And if you could see me now, you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself back.”

  “Yes, I can picture you right now in your cute little nightgown….Don’t say anymore, it’s hard enough as it is!”

  “Okay, if that’s the way you want to play it…good night, my love.”

  “Bye. See you Monday.”

  Nothing more. He had made no allusion at all to her new outfit, at least nothing conclusive. He was stronger than she had thought. She had to admit that for the time being, he was leading the game. But she certainly wasn’t going to let that be the case for much longer.

  It was close to ten o’clock when she arrived at the office. She liked working on Saturdays; the place was always calm and deserted, and the telephone, except for her own personal line, was hooked up to the answering machine. She went to work immediately and didn’t stop until almost three o’clock when hunger took over. A sandwich at the little corner restaurant would solve her problem, and it made her mouth water just to think about it. Her personal telephone began to ring just as she was about to leave.

  “Hello?”

  “Michele.”

  “Yes. Who is it?”

  “I’m watching you.”

  A hoarse, low-pitched voice and heavy breathing…it wasn’t Martin’s voice. A truly unpleasant shiver gathered force inside of her and rushed up her spine.

  “Who is it?”

  No answer, only heavy breathing

  “If that’s you, Martin, stop your little game. You’ve won, okay? You’ve outdone me.”

  “So, Martin must be your husband’s name? Tell me, Michele, does he look at you the same way I do? Does he desire you as much as I do?”

  “Okay, that’s enough. I’m hanging up. This isn’t funny anymore, Martin.”

  “Martin should have seen you last night. That little negligee I gave you really suits you. I like white. It’s so pure, soft, and gentle. But you don’t like men who are too gentle, do you, Michele? I’m kind of the opposite of that myself, and I can give you what you’ve been dreaming of for so long now.”

  Her heart nearly stopped beating. She was frozen on the spot. Last night? Last night?

  “Don’t be afraid, Michele, I don’t wish you any harm. You excite me, Michele. When you touch yourself the way you did last night, I get unbelievably turned on. If I even think of you, I get so big and hard that even you wouldn’t be able to handle it. I want to watch you come. You’ve never had a man touch you the way you’d like, huh Michele? You deserve better.”

  CLICK!

  She had certainly had enough of this now! Her hunger had vanished and the only thing she wanted to do right at that moment was get the hell out of there as fast as possible. If it was Martin, he was definitely going too far. She wondered what he had been up to for three days! Had he been watching her? And why didn’t he come to sleep at the house if he wasn’t shooting? This little game was definitely not fun anymore. And if it’s not him, she wondered with increasing alarm, then what? It meant she certainly wasn’t safe. Not at all. She turned to look out of the window and saw that the light morning snowfall had turned into a storm. Not again! Well, she could forget the sandwich. She decided to go home and lock herself there until tomorrow. If Martin called her tonight, she was going to tell him loud and clear that he was going just a little too far. Seeing how anxious she was, he would surely abandon the game. If he denied everything and insisted it wasn’t him, she would call the police.

  She was feeling better already as she left the building. But what a snowstorm there was now! She listened to the car radio as the newscasters strongly suggested that people go home before the weather situation worsened. They predicted the wind would lift and that twelve to fifteen inches of snow would fall before the morning. What a crappy storm! she thought to herself. She actually loved the snow, but this was the third storm in two weeks! No one needed to convince her to return home. She ran a few errands on the way, through traffic that was getting worse by the minute. Night was falling, and it was with great relief that she finally parked the car in front of the house.

  Waiting on the doorstep, almost buried in the snow, was another bouquet of half-frozen white lilies. She hurried inside, tore open the inevitable little envelope and checked the card, which read: “Sorry I frightened you, Michele. I don’t want to scare you. I just want to possess you. Once, just once. You mustn’t be afraid of your fantasies.”

  Ah! There you go! Relief after fear. She clearly remembered now that Martin had once reproached her for not sharing her fantasies. He said it was normal and healthy to have them and that if she just talked about them openly, it would give him some idea of how to please her better. But there were some things that Michele just considered too personal and her fantasy life was one of them. Martin was a gentle, patient man, and that’s why she loved him. But one day, he had been so insistent about hearing her fantasies that she had decided, in the hopes of avoiding an argument, to try and state her point of view. She had simply explained, “What if, say, one of my fantasies involved being ‘attacked’ by a stranger? That could end up troubling you because you’re a gentle person and you might wonder why I loved you and not someone more aggressive. You might also think I was a bit strange. Most women fear rape, but some women do fantasize about it in a perverse sort of way. I think some fantasies should remain secret. Would it really be exciting to be attacked by a stranger? No. And what would be the point in talking about it anyway? It would just make me
uncomfortable, and would totally confuse you. That’s it; let’s drop the subject, okay?”

  He seemed to accept her point of view and never broached the subject again. She didn’t know how to tell him that all she wanted was for him to be a little bit more aggressive in bed sometimes. Stronger, more passionate, more brutal.

  Except that Michele was having trouble believing that her husband, who liked to think of himself as “correct” and conservative, could display this much imagination. At this point, she was desperate to believe he was capable of it, but the troubling doubts still persisted. This kind of behavior was so unlike the Martin she had known for so long! He would never get it into his head to do something so unpredictable, so sexual. Not her Martin. But then, who could it be?

  The storm raged down in all its terrifying splendor, one of those storms you can only see in this part of the world, and not every year, either! The whole works were supposed to come down during the course of the next few hours: snow, hail, freezing rain, thunder, lightning…all complemented by hurricane-like winds. Michele wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else right now but here at home. She was happy here, all bundled up in her nice warm dressing gown. But a storm this violent always made her nervous. Excited, but uneasy at the same time. She might have trouble sleeping. Nothing a little glass of wine couldn’t cure, of course. It would at least calm her down.

  Hours went by and Martin never phoned. She finally gave up on hearing from him and went to bed.

  She had been deeply asleep when someone grabbed her hair with seemingly superhuman force, and a gloved hand clamped over her mouth. Michele thought she would die of fright. After the initial flood of adrenaline, her terrified heart started up slowly again and then began pounding so frantically she thought it might smash through her chest. Her thoughts flew wildly as she tried to grasp what was happening. A dream couldn’t be this realistic! When she finally understood that it wasn’t a dream, she tried to scream at the top of her lungs, but no sound emerged. Her cry stayed mute even though it ripped through her throat.