“Isn’t there somewhere you ought to be?” a deep voice asked from inside the car. I hesitated. Even though there clearly was somewhere that I should be, I wasn’t quite sure how to answer that question.
I walked over to the passenger window and peered in. There was a large man seated behind the wheel. He had dark hair that was greying slightly at the temples, and a broad, stocky frame. Even though he was sitting down I could tell that he was at least six foot two. He had piercing grey eyes and a quizzical look on his face. What a sight I must have looked to him.
“You didn’t answer my question, lady,” he pressed on. I knew I had to say something.
“Um... yes, I do have somewhere I need to be,” I said tentatively, “but I have a feeling I’m going to be late.”
He raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. Then without speaking he undid the locks on the doors.
“Get in” he said, plainly. And for some reason unknown to even myself, I did as I was told.
It was difficult to get myself seated comfortably, as the ruffles of my ridiculous gown were riding up and fluttering with every movement I made. I blushed behind my frills, and didn’t dare look this stranger in the eye.
A few uncomfortable moments of silence passed, before he wound up the window – sealing us in a claustrophobic silence, broken only by the pattering of rain on the roof. I found myself becoming uneasy. Surely this was the part where he asked me my name? Or told me his name? Or asked me where I was headed?
Instead he sat there, gazing at me with those piercing eyes, unmoving – his leather-gloved hands firmly on the steering wheel. I held my breath.
“So then,” he finally said, still fixing me with an intense stare, “where to now?”
I swallowed, and licked my lips. The air in the car suddenly became stuffy, and the rain outside pelted down harder, bouncing in glistening droplets off the bonnet of the car. I knew I should tell him. I had to tell him...
“Not sure where you’re going, huh?” he asked, filling the silence and rescuing me from myself. I nodded in agreement. I must have looked so helpless and pathetic in my sopping wet gown and veil that I think he just decided to take pity on me.
“Well, I tell you what,” he continued, “how about I just start driving, and you can have a think about where you want me to go? I’m thinking that if I keep within a five mile radius of St Mary’s Church, we won’t have a problem?”
I was impressed. He clearly knew the area very well, and must have known that this was my wedding venue, as there wasn’t another church for many miles from here. Again I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded. He chuckled to himself and locked the doors of the car. Then he slowly pulled away and began to drive.
The rain was coming down harder still, and I could hear the distant grumble of thunder on the horizon. Thank goodness I hadn’t opted for an outdoor wedding! But then, did it really matter what sort of wedding I’d opted for? I wasn’t even on my way there! I was being driven around the block, aimlessly, by a strange man that I had never met before. The reality of what I was doing suddenly hit me. I was in the car of a complete stranger! This man could be anybody. And he’d locked the doors!
“You don’t have to talk of you don’t want to,” the guy said in a low voice. We turned down a narrow road that led behind a row of houses overlooking the park. The road was bumpy, and caused the ridiculous ruffles of my dress to ride up, baring my smooth thighs and silky garter. I tried to smooth down my dress but it was no use. Had he gone this way on purpose?
“It’s ok not to talk. I think I know what’s going on anyway. No need to explain.” He’d piqued my interest now, and he knew it. I glanced over to him and opened my mouth to speak, but I was hurled out of my seat. We had hit a particularly deep pothole, and the car rocked up and down like crazy. Stupidly, I hadn’t put my seatbelt on.
“Whoa! Careful there!” he cried, and to my horror I felt his hand press down firmly on my bare thigh, planting me firmly back in my seat. He didn’t remove it.
“Careful,” he said again, this time in a soft and almost sinister voice, “we don’t want anything unexpected to happen to you on your wedding day, do we?”
I was frozen in fear. He squeezed my thigh slightly – and slowly, oh so slowly he began to slide his leather-clad hand up my leg. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. All I could do was sit there while he snaked his hand further and further toward my most intimate part. It was only when we had to turn a sharp corner onto a narrow, dusty lane that he removed it and planted it firmly back on the steering wheel. I simply sat there, dumb and mute in the passenger seat, as we drove the dirt track down toward a secluded fishing lake on the outskirts of the town.
What was he going to do to me?
My question was immediately answered as he slammed the breaks on suddenly, leaned over and kissed me. It was a harsh, rough kiss – and his tongue practically forced its way into my mouth, exploring eagerly. I mumbled a cry of protest, but he just pressed his mouth against mine more firmly, muffling my cries as he thrust his hand up my dress and squeezed my little pussy.
I struggled, putting my hands on his chest and pushing with all my might. But it was no use; he was too big and too strong. His frame was too muscular... too toned... too athletic.
What on earth was happening? Amidst the horror of what was going on I found my hands exploring the taut contours of his chest, and to my disgust my pussy began to throb in his hand.
This was so wrong. I had to stop!
I fumbled for the door handle but it was no use. I was trapped.
“Don’t deny that you want this,” he growled, shifting in his seat and looming his big frame over me, hand still firmly against my pussy. He squeezed again slightly, and tugged my panties to the side. Then he rammed two of his fingers into my tight cunt without warning and I yelped.
But I didn’t tell him to stop.
He slipped them up inside me even deeper. The leather gloves felt so strange inside my throbbing pussy lips – oddly smooth and cold, like it was a sex toy, and not the fingers of a stranger.
“Don’t waste the ‘blushing virgin bride’ act on me, sweetie,” he hissed, his face just an inch from mine. “I don’t buy it, not for one minute. I think you’re dirty. Really fuckin’ dirty”
With those words he slipped a finger into my asshole. I squealed and writhed, but that only forced it up there further. It was a strange sensation – one I had never felt before.
He then proceeded to finger-fuck my pussy and asshole together, using his other hand to undo the belt on his trousers.
I felt so dirty and degraded, unfit to wear the white dress that was draped around me. But there was an uneasy part of me that slipped into the role so well. Why wasn’t I screaming at the top my lungs for him to stop?
He’d removed his belt, and started to unzip his fly, all the while pumping me with his fingers in the most disgusting of ways. I could feel my juices starting to make his leather glove slippery and slick.
Suddenly I was on my back. He had released the back of the seat, so that it dropped backwards and I lay flat. I made a start to get up but he pinned me down, pushing hard on my soft tits and crushing my chest so I could barely breathe.
Then, quick as a flash, he flipped me over and bound my arms together behind my back using his belt. I opened my mouth to cry out but shock and shame cut into my words. He had hitched up my dress and started to spank me on my ass, hard. The leather glove made a satisfying slap as his huge hand connected with my peachy skin. I opened my mouth to protest again, but this time something was forced inside it.
It was his other glove. The one that was slick with my juices – and I almost wretched as he gagged me. But for some reason my pussy began to quiver and pulse uncontrollably at the thought of what was happening to me. I was letting go completely now. Letting this complete stranger do whatever he wanted to me. I was powerless and completely at his disposal. And this became all the more apparent as I felt the tip of his cock press against my pr
otruding, wet pussy lips.
“You want this, don’t you bitch?” his gruff voice whispered in my ear, as he pushed my panties to the side with the bulging head of his cock. The car was cramped, and he was a large man, so he was hunched over me completely. I could feel his breath on the back of my ear and I shuddered with disgust and delight. He was right, I did want it. But I couldn’t speak to answer yes or no.
“You want to feel the cock of a stranger inside that creamy little pussy don’t you?” he continued, teasing my willing hole with the tip of his swollen rod. “You want me to fuck you brutally, like an animal, on your wedding day. Fucking despicable!”
He teased my asshole with his finger as he dipped the head of his prick inside my pussy. It wasn’t much. Just enough for him to feel my pussy beginning to quiver.
He chuckled to himself. He had me right where he wanted me, and he knew it.
“So little bride,” he whispered, his lips practically touching my ear now as he hunched his heavy, sweaty form over my shaking body, “You want one last taste of strange before you tie the knot?”
All I could manage was a brief, restricted nod. I wasn’t sure he had even seen that. Either way, he didn’t care. He just rammed his stiff prick deep inside me without warning and began pummeling me.
There was no easing in. No slow, sensual build up. He just shoved his dick in me and started to pound, hard and brutal – so that my head knocked against the back seat with every thrust.
“Dirty... little... bitch,” he grunted with each thrust. I felt his balls slapping against my pussy lips as he slammed me from behind, and my cunt began to tighten hard around his cock.
“What are you?” he barked, still punishing me with his huge member, “what are you?”
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. The glove in my mouth rendered me mute and helpless. But I had to try and answer him. I knew I was completely under his control.
“Mmmm, mmmmfffff” I mumbled through the glove, in an attempt to answer. He laughed a cruel laugh, and started to slap me across the face. Again the leather glove he was wearing gave a satisfying sound against my skin, but it made me feel so degraded. The slaps weren’t hard, just swift and frequent – smearing my make-up across my face. They made me feel silly and ashamed. And for some reason they made my pussy convulse uncontrollably.
Under the brutal fucking and the humiliating torment I could feel that I was about to cum.
“Mmmm, mmff mmfff!” I tried to cry, my ridiculous mumblings just spurring him on even more. I felt him swell inside me and I knew he was on the brink too.
“You gonna cum, slut?” he cried as he buried two fingers deep in my asshole, “then cum! Scream while I cum all over your dirty fuckin’ ass!”
With those words he pulled out and shot his creamy white load all over my bare ass – splashing my beautiful dress. He laid a few hard slaps on my ass cheeks, spattering the cum everywhere as I screamed into the glove, and squirted my juices all over the upholstery of his car and the underskirts of my dress.
I really was a mess. A delightful, battered and used-up mess. And I loved every second of it.
He undid his belt from around my wrists, and tentatively rolled me back over. Then he cranked the car seat back up to a sitting position. I removed the glove from my mouth and passed it to him in silence.
He started the engine and turned the car around, driving back the way we had come. Neither of us spoke. The rain was still pouring down outside and it filled the silence perfectly.
I shifted slightly in my seat. My pussy was still really wet from the brutal fucking I had just received and I could feel my juices trickling down the inside of my thighs. How was I going to hide this from my husband-to-be?
That thought was the deciding thought for me. I had just referred to him as my ‘husband-to-be’. I had to get to the church.
I turned to look at the stranger. “St Mary’s Church, please” I said. He smiled, and gave the slightest of nods. I knew I had the confidence in me to tie the knot now! The strange encounter had left me feeling warm and more satisfied than I had ever been in my life. I could blame my disheveled appearance on the harsh weather when I got to the church. Nobody ever needed to know! It was exciting having such a dark and passionate secret. I smiled to myself in this knowledge and relaxed in my seat. I knew I would get over my nerves in the end – all it took was a little faith, and depending on the kindness of a stranger.
ISABELLE BENT OVER
Intensity at the Handsome Stranger’s Apartment
A First Anal Sex Erotica Story
BENT OVER AND BEYOND EXCITED Story Number
by Debbie Brownstone
all rights reserved copyright 2014 by Naughty Daydreams Press
He was a sight to see, that was certain, and it was almost painful to look at him. His features were those of a fine sculptor’s work, made up of hard edges and defined bone structure. Those dark eyes beneath his impressive brow line were blazing and bright, almost piercing, and any woman they fell on in the room seemed to buckle under his spark. His stature was absolutely oozing sex appeal. The way his arms were built, toned and limber, gave an unspoken suggestion of sexual capability—just the way he stood implied that he was fully prepared and able to lift a woman completely off the ground and fuck her silly.
And then there was her. She was delicate, though not quite demure, and her figure was the envy of any woman there. Her frame wasn’t overtly sexual, but it absolutely screamed femininity. The way her torso curved from shoulders to breasts to waist to hips was utterly delicious, and her face was unconventionally beautiful. Long tresses of dark blonde hair cascaded around her cheeks and over her chest, and she sat comfortably with legs crossed on a puffy lounge pouf.
His name was Carter. Hers, Isabelle. Any third party would have thought a pair like that ought to couple up. From the moment those two were in the same vicinity, nobody approached either of them, knowing they wouldn’t have a chance with such impressive competition. And maybe it was the stars aligning or the universe balancing, but they did meet eyes. Twice. He approached her. The waiter was flagged down, and he bought her a drink, and they exchanged pleasantries. And anyone looking on could have been nothing shy of absolutely aroused at the idea of their hands crawling over bare skin and their mouths lingering inches apart and their limbs entwining.
So when he got to his feet again, held out a hand to her that she accepted graciously, and they walked arm-in-arm out of the lounge, everyone thought it was as it should be.
“I have a car,” he said. She nodded as he flagged down the attention of the valet, and when the sleek black vehicle pulled up in front of them, he held the door open for her.
His hand crept up her thigh as he drove, skimming the hem of her black cocktail dress, his nails grazing her skin temptingly. He was gritting his teeth with the anticipation of what was to come, and she was clutching her purse so tightly that her slender fingers were white. The car was saturated with sexual tension, and both were ready for one another by the time he pulled up in front of his townhouse.
He was the perfect gentleman as he guided her to the front door and invited her inside. His hand cupped the small of her back respectfully, and even as her inner thighs raged with utter lust, she maintained her composure.
“Would you like a drink?” he offered.
“That would be fabulous,” she replied.
“Red wine?”
“Wonderful.”
Their pretensions may have seemed characteristic for two people like themselves, but they were no less human than anyone else in that moment. Beneath the calm masks they wore on their faces, there were feral animals clawing and scratching and biting at their insides with such vigor that it was almost unbearable. Isabelle accepted the wine coolly, and Carter joined her on the couch with a second glass in his hand. They simultaneously sipped.
And then they lost control.
The glasses slipped from their hands and rolled to the carpet, grape liquid splatterin
g over the couch cushions and the floor. Her nails burrowed into the back of his neck as she clutched him to her, and their lips met with intense ferocity. He bit her lower lip, tugging on it, caressing her tongue with his, and they collapsed together against the back of the couch. She slung a leg over his lap and straddled him, taking care not to break their carnal kiss.
Carter dipped a hand under Isabelle’s hemline, brushing his fingertips over her panties. She gasped. He reveled in the reaction, rubbing more earnestly. His fingers played with her folds through the silken thong, and she purred into his mouth appreciatively. It was too sensual for her to take; it took every bit of her being not to desperately beg him to fuck her stupid.
Practically salivating for him, she reached down to grind her palm against the crotch of his pants. He was hard already, but he seemed to expand exponentially beneath her touch. Isabelle wanted him to continue touching her, to rip her panties right off her hips and take her on that wine-soaked couch, but she wanted to see just what she could do to this man. Shimmying down to kneel on the floor before him, she began fiddling with his button and zipper. He sprang free from his fabric confines almost at once, but he didn’t seem satisfied with that; lifting himself up slightly from the couch, he eased his pants and boxers over his hips and allowed them to collapse in a bundle at his ankles. She tugged them off of him entirely, throwing them to the side, and dove for his cock.
The initial thing she was struck by was the way he tasted. It wasn’t musty or salty with sweat like so many previous men had been—especially during her younger college years. He was almost sweet, like raw honey, and he practically reeked of sexual musk. She took the thick, round mushroom cap between her lips and suckled appreciatively.
Carter’s mouth opened slightly as he watched her, those piercing eyes focused so intently on her that she was sure they would burn holes into the top of her skull. Her fingers curled around him and began stroking the entire length, and she swirled her tongue over the head and flicked it across the frenulum in equal rhythm with her strokes. He groaned, then, a delightfully wild sound that shot an electric zing straight down her spine to her pussy. Unable to hold herself back, she found her fingers slide into her thong and trace lines and curves over her clit.
XXXCiting Strangers: Ten Sex with Stranger Erotica Stories Page 6