A Stranger Fills a Need...

You sit at a baseball game, alone, watching in rapt attention to your local team. You don't see the stranger sit down behind you in the mostly empty stadium. After a time, you sense someone there, and turn to view a handsome man staring into your eyes. His gaze flusters you; you smile his way, then turn back to the game. 1/2 an inning later, you stand to stretch, turn again, and see an empty seat where the stranger had been. You scan the area but don't see him. His movements are silent, disturbing and compelling at once.

You leave after a satisfying game in which the home team did well, and won. You find your car in the vast parking lot. As you pull away to drive home, you notice what looked like the same man sitting in a nearby car, staring at you. As you leave the parking lot, you look in the rear-view mirror and see that same car following you out. Your warning signals are on alert, and nervously you drive home, with many glances behind you. You haven't seen the man in the car since you both left the stadium, but you remain anxious.

Your arrive at your house, drive into the garage and close the door behind you. Only when you are safely sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of red wine in hand do you relax, and laugh a bit to yourself, thinking silly thoughts about a strange man following you home.

You glance out the window with a sip of wine in your mouth, and almost choke on it: there is he, sitting in his car parked right in front of your house, looking directly into your eyes! You are frightened now, and reach for your phone to call...who? The police, a friend, your husband (out of town)? As you fumble with the phone and your own thoughts, you look again, and he is gone. You look up and down your street, seeing nothing but the mundane things which are always there.

You go to the front door to lock it, and as you do, hear something at the back door. You are shaking now, as you tip-toe toward the noise. You peak around a corner to see the back door, and feel him behind you! As you turn, he pulls your arms behind your back and pushes you forward. You stumble and begin to fall, but he holds you up as if a child. You feel his size and strength through the strong grip on your arms. You regain your balance and begin to scream, but a large, masculine hand stifles it, covering your mouth. As if in a surreal dream, time slows: you are able to be completely terrified and unable to think clearly, while at the same time smell his scent, feel his strength, taste his maleness covering your mouth.

He pushes you to the living-room, then easily bends you down over the back of the couch. Your head is now below your waist, with your ass in the air. You are able to think about the situation now, and know that you are about to be raped. You are a sexual woman, but smart enough to know that rape is not sexual. You are afraid of the pain about to come; dry, forced, angry...

Your silly efforts at sexual fantasy role playing have come back in an ironic way: wearing a dress at a ballgame to have men stare at you: exciting but harmless. Well, girl, it's not harmless now! I'm about to be raped! Fuck! You start thinking of the various articles you've read about this situation, and how to handle such a nightmare. Reason starts to come back as you think though a dialogue to wriggle out of this. But he always seems to be one step ahead of you: he talks first.

"Marie, I've been watching you for a long-time now at the baseball games, toying with the men around you, wearing short dresses and sometimes no panties. Your legs slightly open, beckoning those poor slobs to take a look. I looked, and liked what I saw. And now I am here, to take what you offered to so many..."

His voice wasn't what you expected. It was deep, measured, patient, strong, and oh, so very sexy. That thought surprised you. Being attracted to the voice of a man about to rape you. Then he surprised you again:

"Remove your panties, Marie, and let me see what you want me to see." He was going to make ME help him?

"Fuck you!" I said, angry now, and struggling hard to free myself from this absurd position. He chuckled softly, and held me in place. I couldn't move. He began touching my hair, then my neck, then my back, then...my ass. Softly, slowly, not at all what I expected.

"Remove your panties, Marie...NOW!"

His voice so dominant, so masculine. I pushed my panties over my upturned ass, as he moved my skirt up, onto the small of my back. He finished the job, pulling the panties down to my ankles. Without thinking, I stepped one leg out of them, so that the panties hung on one ankle. I remained bent over the couch, ass exposed to a rapist, and waited.

He gently touched my ass, caressing it, making love to it with a strong hand, the other holding me in place. Anger was replaced by resignation, and I simply went limp, waiting. He continued to caress my skin, softly, expertly. He slowly touched between my cheeks, probing. Deeper went his fingers, touching places which caused me to squirm. My movements actually helped him, as my cheeks opened more, allowing him greater access to what he wanted.

Then it began, and shocked me: I was aroused. I could feel my body responding to his touch. Damn, Marie, what the hell?! I couldn't help it. The feeling was a good one, despite the situation. He continued deeper, pushing aside lips, gently massaging beyond. I opened to him instinctively, wanting, needing more.

He felt my wetness, and knew I was his. He spoke again, with that strong, deep voice, controlling me with it, commanding me to be his: "Open your legs for me, Marie. Show me your wetness. Show me your beautiful pussy. Show me how you want me, need me."

I did as told, and spread my legs wider, exposing my pussy to a stranger, because he wanted me to...

Instead of man-handling my openness, he stood me up, keeping my back to him. I didn't struggle, knowing his strength. I felt his hands moving around my head, caressing my hair. No, not caressing, but placing a blindfold on me! I stood motionless, allowing him to fit it on just so. My world became dark, and full of dark thoughts...

He continued to work at me, removing my blouse with experienced hands, then my bra, then told me to step out of my skirt, once he pushed it back down below my hips. I removed my shoes but left my panties in place around one ankle, and stood in front a stranger, in my own house, naked and blindfolded, anticipating...

He took his time, I assume viewing my nakedness from behind. "Turn around Marie, let me see your breasts and pussy". I did as he said, turning to face him for the first time, seeing nothing, but hearing his breathing. "Very nice, my pet. Touch yourself for me. Show me your wetness, which I shall take for my own, soon."

His surety was mesmerizing; I touched myself, innately wanting to please him. I felt my wetness, and opened my legs wider. As I began to move my fingers over my clit, he said: "Stop, Marie. You are ready. Turn around, and bend over the couch again. I like that look for you, ass in the air, needing attention."

I did so, and waited for the stranger to take me, use me, make me feel wanton, make me cum.

He touched my ass again, but forcefully now, with both hands. He massaged my cheeks with hard movements, not caring that he could be hurting me. He felt me up, pushing two fingers into my pussy. I opened for him. Willingly.

He was naked now, as I felt his thighs against mine, and his hardness pushing between my ass cheeks. His hands pulled them apart, and I felt his cock enter me. One thrust, all at once, and I felt his size, touching where most never go. My wetness allowed it to happen easily, and it felt so good! So good...please, strange, mysterious, sexy man, fuck me, fuck me, fuck my wet cunt. Open me up and fill me with your cum. And as you do, I shall cum for you...

I will be yours, to do with whatever you want. Take me, use me, make me cum. And he did. Not having sight, my other senses were hyper: his male odor, voice, cock, firm hands holding my hips as he thrust into me. The overload was complete: I came; a long, rolling, shattering one as he continued to fuck me, pounding his cock into my pussy, enjoying my squeals to achieve his own pleasure. I plateaued: that sublime feeling of a long, continuous orgasm which a man can never know; wave after wave of pleasure over time, beyond description...as his cock continued to have its way with me, filling me, making me want it, need it...

As I continued to cum, I could hear him, as if he were in another room, surreal, talking to me, saying things which only fueled the fire of pleasure for me: "I love how your pussy sucks on my cock, Marie. So tight, so hot, so wet. I love fucking you, Marie. I love how you love it, wanting my cock in you. Beg for more, Marie. Make me know you love fucking. Let me hear what a slut you are for cock."

In the throes of orgasm over such a long period of time, feeling so full of cock, wanting it so badly, feeling so good, I simply couldn't talk. Too much sensory overload to talk. So good, so full... But he had commanded me to do so. I must please him, as he is pleasing me. So I tried: "I love your cock in me, ohhh, so good, fuck me, pull my hair, cum in me, oh my God that feels so good!" He grabbed my hair with an experienced hand: reaching up from below and grabbing a bunch at the base of my neck, pulling my head back. Another wave came over me; my legs quivered and buckled. If not for the back of the couch holding me up, I would have crumpled to the floor, taken, used, content. But he hadn't cum yet. I was ready to pass out, but my mystery man had such control-of himself as well as me-that he chose to fill my needs before his. Fuck me, this guy was the best!

"I'm getting close, Marie. Shall I fill your hole with my cum? Tell me you want it."

"Please cum in me. I want to feel it shoot against my walls. I want to taste some. Please, fuck me, cum in my pussy."

I felt a change in his rhythm. He slowed, enjoying the build-up. His thrusts were measured now, just as deep, pushing against my cervix opening, but now with anticipation. He let go of my hair and pulled my hips into him, pushing his cock deep into my wet hole. I was so turned on, knowing he was about to cum inside me! Fuck that was hot! I simply couldn't stop cumming myself; I felt like I was about to pass out. But I needed to feel him cum in me. "Do it; shoot your cum in me. I want it." And so he did. He stopped all movement, and began to cum. He growled like an animal, making me feel like an animal, too. We were mating, raw, visceral mating. He filled me with his seed, blast after blast. I felt it, and came with him, pushing back against him, needed to be filled with his hard maleness. So fucking PRIMAL! YES!

He slowly pulled out of my wet pussy. I felt his cum begin leaking out, and without thinking reached down and felt it as it dripped down the inside of my hot thigh. I brought it to my lips and tasted it, smelled the male of it. He let go of my hips, and he was no longer touching me. I felt a loss. I lay still, unable to move after such a long, powerful coupling.

Finally I raised up, removed my blindfold, turned, and saw...nothing. He had slipped away, as quietly as he had entered my house. No trace of clothes or anything else beyond his semen dripping out of me, to say that he had been here, taken me, used me, felt me respond to him, making me want him.

I moved as if a zombie toward my bed, not the shower. I lay down and held my pillow, not wanting to wash him from me. I could still smell him on me, and was...content.