Sex with strangers…

4 min read

photo: SexArt

Sex With Strangers…

It was always busy on George Street on Saturday nights. As I made my way along the thronged pavement, I shivered and wished I’d worn more clothes. It was at least -2 with a wind chill making it feel positively baltic, and the tiny dress, stockings and heels I’d thrown on were not fit for this weather. Thank god I’d finished it with a small fur cape which helped shelter my bare shoulders from the biting wind.

I smiled to myself as I thought about how I looked in the matching bra and knickers set I’d chosen. Blood red in colour and lace. The plunging bra showing off an ample cleavage, and a tiny little pair of Brazilian panties that cut over my round spankable arse cheeks.

Every now and then I’d look up, catching the odd stranger’s eye. Normally men. I loved eye contact. It gave me a real buzz. My eyes had gotten me into all sorts of trouble in the past. And I loved trouble!

As I made my way out of the cold into the heat of the bustling eatery, I headed straight for the bar and took up position near the walkway to the restrooms. A perfect spot for eyeing up victims. I ordered a gin and slimline tonic, fresh lime and ice. A double. I needed it. I hadn’t been fucked for weeks and I was hungry. My last encounter had ended badly when the man I had engaged with got angry and aggressive. I had been petrified, naturally, but a small twisted part of me really enjoyed it. The danger. The risk. It was so fucking sexy.

He was an older man. Married with three children. We had struck up conversation in a supermarket in St Andrews Square, of all places. The moment we locked eyes as we both picked up an avocado was the game changer. It became apparent there was a very real, instant physical attraction, and that had led to an extremely frantic and exciting fuck up against a wall in an alley running off Frederick Street. Our bags of groceries lying at our feet as his balls slapped angrily against my arse. My face pushed hard against the cold stone of the building. His hand covering my mouth to keep any stray screams and whimpers at bay. When he tried to put his dick in my arse, I told him to stop. But he didn’t like that and tried to do it anyway. I managed to squirm myself free of his hard cock but he caught my hand and tried to pull me back. As I pulled my jeans up and buttoned them shut, he grabbed my neck with a menacing sneer on his face. I calmly picked up my shopping bag and walked quickly to the main street, hailing the first cab I saw. What a dick head!

A gruff voice snapped me back into reality. A man. Tall, dark hair going grey at the temples. Difficult to put an age on him but maybe mid-40s — not that much older than me. No wedding ring. He was dressed well, in a tailored shirt and moleskin trousers. And the smell. Oh, the smell. If I could have eaten him there and then I would have. Freshly showered and adorned with a musky cologne. Clean, straight teeth and big hands. Fuck. They’d do some damage.

“You waiting on anyone?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied. “My girlfriend is on her way. She’s just having her hair done and she’ll be here in half an hour.”

The look on his face when I said the word girlfriend was priceless. I’m pretty sure he got an instant hard on. I looked down at his crotch but it was hard to tell if his cock was twitching. His eyes told me he was surprised, but pleasantly so.

He paid for his drink and wished me a good evening, returning to the corner where his three companions stood cradling pints of fancy European beer in big goblets. He glanced over to me and smiled and I blushed. I wanted him.

Ten minutes passed, and a text came in from Laura, my girlfriend, to say she was running late and would be 15 minutes later than agreed. I was okay with this. I could stand and eye-fuck my friend in the corner. As I finished my drink, the smell that had stimulated my nostrils earlier re-appeared, but as I looked up he was nowhere to be seen. I felt a warm flat sensation on my buttock and quickly realised that a hand was circling my arse cheek round and round, over and over. It was him. The bar was standing room only, as the place was packed. No room to swing a cat.

I turned momentarily to glance at his face as he continued to massage my arse with his hands. We smiled. Suddenly and without warning, I felt his fingertips travel downward, under the hem of my tight dress, and push upwards into my lace panties. I heard him grunt. And sigh heavily. I was frozen to the spot. Afraid to move in case I made a noise or someone could see. So I stood as still as a statue, moving only slightly to part my legs a little and give him more access. His thick warm digits rubbed slow and hard over my bulbous clit and I struggled with all my might not to grind myself into his hand. I struggled to stay silent. Desperately wanting to tell him to put them inside me. To fuck me hard with his big strong hand. But as if by some sort of divine intervention, I felt a hard fleshy finger enter my pussy and I flinched with the force at which it was done. He read my fucking mind!

I was enjoying this much more than I should be. This liaison with a stranger. This silent sexual encounter with dozens of people inches away from us. I could smell my pussy juices wafting from down below. I was dripping wet with excitement. He knew from my wetness that I liked it. But as quick as it had started, Laura appeared at the door and with all the composure I could muster, I wriggled myself free from his hand and adjusted my dress and panties discreetly.

I calmly walked across the room and greeted Laura with a smile and kiss on the cheek. She looked absolutely incredible. She always did. My male admirer must have been wondering what was going on; what kind of woman allows a man, a stranger, to do that to them in a busy bar? Especially when they’ve got a beautiful girlfriend… the truth is I have no fucking idea.

All I can say is I like sex with strangers.

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