Amber's First Apartment

"How does that feel?" he asked me. I didn't know what to answer with.

"Why don't we try one last thing," he said and reached out for the blindfold. He started putting it over my eyes when I took it over and helped put it in place myself, since he wasn't good at dealing with my hair. This was so weird. A total stranger, an old man, had walked into my apartment and gagged and blindfolded me. Well, with some cooperation. This was the most impulsive thing I had done in my life. I was starting to feel excited, actually, and it was a complete surprise.

"Why don't you put your hands behind your back?" he asked me.

"Umm why?" I asked nervously. Or at least I thought I did, it didn't sound like it at all. It was all entirely muffled. But I think he understood.

"Go on, put your hands behind your back," he insisted.

I knelt there quietly, supporting my weight with my hands and I thought about getting out of all this. His voice was there but I could see nothing and it was scary. He was asking me to do something I was unprepared for and didn't think would ever happen. But then he just waited quietly and I said nothing. I felt foolish not responding. Almost a minute later I adjusted myself so I could rest my chest on the backrest. His silence was a blackmail of my willingness and maybe eagerness.

Mentally kicking myself, I did as he asked and put my hands behind me. Within seconds he tied my wrists together with another pair of tights. It felt firmly taut.

Once he was done I heard him walking around me. The creaking boards reminded me of Daddy Mike doing it that one time, but this was nothing like it. I started getting worried and honestly I thought I could get out of the tights if I wanted to - they were just legwear - but when I explored the possibility I was surprised at how firmly they kept me in position.

That's when I felt fear and my confidence deflate. My breathing got erratic and radiated confused excitement. This was new territory for me and he was a stranger. God, I placed myself at his mercy. It felt erotic. What was he going to do?

"Amber," he started, "Amber, You made a terrible mistake letting me do this," he said ominously.

Oh shit. That tone. I started breathing loudly at the sound of that. Where was he going with this?

"I could do ANYTHING to you," he threatened.

Jesus, it was just supposed to be a glass of wine and a conversation. And then there were those dildos, the impossibly large one. Why didn't I tell him to leave then? "Let me out," I tried saying but it didn't register as recognizable. The gag was too good in silencing me. I wondered if even a scream would get through. He stood behind me and put his hands on my hips. Feeling scared, I didn't want to admit to myself that it felt good. I recanted that thought in my head when I heard him unzip himself. Oh shit, I thought.

He hiked my dress up and rested it on the small of my back. My heart was beating fast and I was wondering if this is the moment that I get raped. The moment when a series of bad decisions and lack of judgment burned me irreparably. I should have stayed in school. My hands were resting on my ass and I felt him lean into me, press his stomach against my hands. Squeaking in protest, I made my hands flat to push him away. That's when his cock ended up in my hands.

"Go on, stroke it for me and maybe I won't do anything bad," he told me.

Was he serious? Feeling like I didn't have a choice and feeling horny beyond prior experience, I started to do exactly that. It was so scary that it spilled over into horniness and I was nearly hyperventilating from the anxiety - the excitement - whatever it was.

"You're such a naughty girl for letting daddy come over and tie you up," he said. No shit, I thought. It was sick. Why does everyone call themselves a daddy in front of a young girl? But Jesus, it meant I was a downright slut. I was already getting nailed on the side by one daddy, and now this? Neither was attractive and I had such better options. And now I was tied up and stroking another middle aged married man. This one didn't even have to blackmail me, I invited him over. Yeah, I was a whore. I wanted him to leave but I was lying to myself, I really enjoyed this. He pushed my hands away and pressed his cock against my asshole through my panties. I gasped.

"Do you see what I could do to you?" he asked me.

"Mhmhm," I responded. Oh my god, he meant it.

"I can do anything to you and you couldn't stop me," he said quietly and smacked my ass cheek so hard I screamed. Or thought I did because it sounded so quiet through the gag.

Panic set in.

Gagged, my scream would do nothing. My fears bred insanely, mind racing. All kinds of fears. They snowballed in intensity. Rape was the smallest fear by far because terrifying thoughts invaded my overactive mind. The danger mushroomed into consuming all rational thought, replacing them with scary possibilities. He could pummel me with a meat hammer until I passed out from pain. He could pull my hair out one strand at a time until only my bloody skull and my tears remained. He could scoop my eyes out with the large Vietnamese spoons I got as a move-in gift. He could grab my ceramic kitchen knife and slice my tits off one strip at a time and my cries would be unheard and I'd suffer for hours without anyone knowing. Fuck. I couldn't get out of these restraints. Jesus, what had I done? Only seconds went by.

Hope put an end to my fears. Hope that mercifully he could hear me beg. Oh yes, I'd beg him to in order to save myself. I'd beg him to fuck me instead. I'd thank him for it. I'd call him daddy, uncle, grandpa, pastor, coach, whatever he wanted. My hyperventilation turned into shaking by now. Maybe he'd hear me out, maybe he'd agree. Yes, of course he would. He'd have to. I'd try really hard to make a good case for mercy. My mind was still racing and only few more seconds went by.

Positive wave of thoughts overcame the feeling of danger. My life depended on my compliance, and surely I'd succeed. And he'd spare me all that agony and pull my panties down and fuck me and there wasn't anything I could do about it. He could fuck me without a condom. He could impregnate me. Anything. Even his dry cock in my asshole tearing skin was better than the alternatives, and I wanted those over worse options. Anything but the worst. The fear of this unknown, the willful submission to it was so hot. And the fear was so paralyzingly and genuinely scary. It was so real!

And so it felt equally disappointing when I heard him zipping up. He undid my gag and got up in front of me to remove the rest. I had drooled and he kindly wiped it off with his sleeve.

"Did you like that?" he asked.

Oh my god, what a letdown.

Please, no.

The danger deflated so fast and he was a paper tiger after all. He induced a new state in me and the height of it I'd never experienced before and this intense feeling was vanishing before my very eyes. Urges were there and they needed satisfaction. I had to stop him before he untied me so I blurted it out as fast as I could.

"Please fuck my mouth daddy," I begged him.

Startled. That's what he was. To him all of this was non-sexual. Even his cock pressing through my panties wasn't entirely sexual to him. To my surprise, he actually wasn't expecting sex visiting me. Even the dildoes were conversation props. No no no, I thought, don't fail me now. Please. I opened my mouth and with a surprised look on his face he unzipped himself and I couldn't wait for it enough. I leaned over and started licking it, whispering "please," ... "please..."

The moment of danger was fading fast and I wanted to experience it with a cock in my mouth while it was fresh on my mind. He put it in and I started sucking it like my life depended on it. But no, I wasn't begging for his cock, I was trying to prolong the earlier danger fantasy and in my mind I was begging for him to spare me, that I'd do anything. His cock was entirely shaved, thinner than Daddy Mike's but longer. It could get in deeper without irritating my tonsils.

He pulled it out and zipped himself up after just a few seconds and then untied me. Oh god, what a colossal disappointment. He didn't want me. He wanted a dominant toy for his girlfriend on the side and I failed his test. I tried touching his cock through his pants but he made it clear he wasn't interested.

"Think I better head home," he said gently and packed up while I stared in disappointment.

After he left, I went to bed unsatisfied and sobered up. Out of frustration, I grunted loudly into my pillow. Then the wild horniness got replaced with dread, with me appalled at myself and my impulsiveness. God, I put a stranger's cock in my mouth, I begged for it. It didn't last long, but it was so risky. What was the matter with me? Disappointed and disturbed with myself, I went to bed.

Next day I realized my inbox blew up overnight as I forgot to delete the ad.

The flood of emails from strangers reminded me of that crazy hot moment when I was tied up in an unknown situation. Abstractly, I thought how each note was potential, a seed of a reality that would never happen unless I acted on it. The possibilities didn't exist until I willed them into being. Shame the other night fell apart, and shame on me for trying it.

Mostly I ignored the responses. During the slow parts at work I went ahead and glanced at some that didn't have attachments as they were safer to open. That second guy who I thought worthy of conversation again wondered if I'd be up to hang out tonight. He offered a coffee place, bar or a restaurant nearby as choices to meet. But no, I was done with this. I put my phone away and went back to work.

During another break I got another note from him. His wife was out of town - again with the married men thing I thought in annoyance - and he offered to split dinner. That last part was weirdly reassuring in the sense that he offered a neutral ground and he wasn't a freak offering to buy my attention. But all the same I was done with exploring.

Work picked up for awhile. By the end of my shift, I thought about that dinner offer again and thought it'd be polite to decline so he's not left hanging. After all, I had prior plans with my boyfriend.

As I was wrapping up a chore filling in for a missing barback, I paused to think about my boyfriend's plans which involved me schlepping myself uptown to his place. He wanted to go to the bland neighborhood bar and eat overpriced wings out of a paper plate and afterwards watch TV after his roommates went to sleep. Yeah, there were more glasses to clean, I thought, so I texted my boyfriend that I'd join him very late because of it. Splitting a coffee with that nice man sounded innocent enough, and besides, it was his last night to himself.

Did age difference really matter to me? Was I a creature of repetition or did I like new things? My brain shut off. It wasn't late for coffee, was it? Yeah, who was I kidding. At home, I put on leggings and a cami and was planning to put on a hoodie before going out to the coffee shop.

Then I didn't.

Half an hour later, I buzzed him in my place and my brain started turning back on. Out the window went the idea for a coffee or dinner. Shortcutting all sensibilities, I reasoned that he obviously didn't mean harm if he offered to meet somewhere neutral, and I was still trying to establish whether I was attracted to older men. As impulsive as this was, the idea sold itself to me as an innocent meetup, and I was tired of working at a bar just to go out to another one afterwards. Unwinding at home in my comfy clothes sounded better.

However, that didn't happen either. By the time I heard a knock I was wearing an outfit I wouldn't be caught dead in. Short pink skirt with white thigh highs, linen-colored lace-up wedges and a lacy white camisole. If the colors weren't so loud, maybe I'd dare to walk outside in this. But, no. Hell no. Not with this radioactively red lipstick.

He knocked on the wrong door, at my neighbor's, and looking at him through the spyglass I was thinking that this man didn't go out much. Didn't seem worldly. He had curly hair, the unkempt kind. After an irritating minute of knocking he tried my door and I opened it up a crack and let him in. Just in case, I didn't want my neighbor seeing me, given my outfit.

"Hi, I'm Chuck," he said.

With a cracked voice I gave him my name.

"Do you dress like this every night?" he asked me abruptly.

I giggled, "No, I have a date with my boyfriend later." Of course it was a lie, I wanted to provoke him into admiration because he was the second person to see me wear something like it ever and it felt like I held power over him.

"Would you like wine?" I asked him, thinking of the recorked bottle from yesterday.

"Oh, no thanks," he said, "but do you have a beer?"

Annoyed that I'd let that bottle go to waste I nodded and said "sure, have a seat," pointing at the couch. While I went to get one out of the fridge he sat down, on the proper side. Good sign so far. It was a twist-cap and I opened it up using the hem of my camisole. He stared at my bare abdomen and his eyes flattered me, so I took my time doing it. I handed it off and then sat down next to him.

"Aren't you going to have one?" he asked me, uncomfortable at being the only one drinking.

I stared at him for a few moments and he got a bit nervous about holding the lone beer. My thoughts were starting to form into a tornado or randomness. He was nothing but an email until I willed him into reality. Looking at him, I was sure I was not attracted to him. He was just completely unpresentable - I couldn't imagine what his wife must've looked at day after day. That attire. The shoes. Inviting him over was a mistake and then I thought of my other mistake and how it was unpredictably enlightening despite the fact. Lost deep in thought, I stared and stared. The tornado went up to an F4 and it was picking up speed. My boyfriend was expecting me soon and I needed to change because I was dressed like Daddy Mike's wildest hooker fantasy. Number 94 bus was within circulator's walking range, but the last timely run was within the next twenty minutes.

"Can I blow you?" I blurted out.

Jesus, that was forward. Where did that come from, I lied to myself. In truth I knew exactly where it came from - I was still so horny from yesterday and didn't have the patience for a long conversation only to have it go nowhere. And I had a party to go to afterwards so time was ticking.

He was startled. "Uhm, ... sure."

Right away I leaned over and unzipped him, fishing his cock out. Within seconds I had it in my mouth but he was flaccid for a whole minute. Thinking I was doing something wrong, I stopped and told him to enjoy his beer. Regrouping, I then went back to sucking it into hardness more carefully, more attentively. It was uncut. More grip, less wet. I was focusing on closing my lips tight, minding the teeth, minding the teeth, always minding the teeth. Tongue here and there. Ball suck. He sprang into a nice mouthful, average size but filling. Holding his foreskin down I sucked and hated myself for having an opinion on his size because it felt like I was doing this too regularly. But best of all, he didn't trigger my gag reflex no matter how deep I tried going, so deep I went. In mere moments he was breathing loudly. His right leg was soon shaking uncontrollably.

"Uhhh... I'm gonna cum," he warned me after a few minutes.

I kept going, sliding my mouth up and down on his cock, swirling it in place. This was so wild. His homely wife was out of town and I was blowing him. I imagined the other guy from last night fucking my mouth furiously while I was tied up. That's what I retroactively wanted to happen, and so I really went deep on this guy. Deeper than before. Mr. Curly hair was just at the right place at the right time and he might hit the spot.

Chuck came quietly, just exhaling unnaturally as he shot cum in my throat. Once he was done, I got up and spit most of it in my kitchen sink and then rinsed my mouth with tap water.

"You don't mind, do you?" I asked him, not wanting to sound rude about it.

"Uh, no, god no," he replied, hazed.

I sat back down next to him and I guess we could talk now. He was silent for a dozen heartbeats, still in a post-orgasmic haze. He zipped himself up and took a first pull of his beer, then asked me the most uncomfortably direct question he could.

"Not that I didn't appreciate that in the slightest, but, uh ... do you do this sort of thing often?"

"My first time," I lied. It was sort of true, it was my first time to completely suck off a stranger within minutes of meeting him. I didn't want to scare him with other details.

"Wow, but I mean, that was wonderful. It's just it wasn't what I had in mind tonight," he defended himself. He clearly didn't do this sort of thing and was taken aback by the speed with which I jumped him.

"Uh huh. Sure you didn't want a young girl to suck your cock while your wife was out of town?" I challenged him playfully and smiled.

"Uhh..."

He was really talkative after that. It was as if I served him vivarin. He wanted to know everything about me, all the risks I took, things I did. Where was I from? It was kind of rude, but I guess he got spooked about taking a risk with a promiscuous stranger. He was completely dumbfounded as to why an attractive young girl would do such a thing. I assured him best I could that my impulsiveness was rare and countered with wanting to know about his wife and where she was. He explained she was visiting her sister, having taken the kids along. His wife never dressed like me and he braved touching my leg, running it over my nylons. She'd be home in the morning and it was unlikely he'd have time to himself much after that.

"Gosh, I wouldn't mind doing this kind of thing again," he said.

At that I leaned over and assumed he wanted another blowjob. His belt was off in an instant, but then he gently pushed me away.

"Oh Jesus, I really can't twice in a row," he said apologetically, "thanks, ... I uh, meant some other time."

I tried straddling him, thinking a lapdance might stoke him into life, but he was more fascinated at seeing my panties after my miniskirt rode up than actually interested in me riding his cock. Think he was freaked out about my boldness but he again protested that he couldn't get it up a second time.

But, he wouldn't be available another time. The rejection was unnecessary because I could have found out his capabilities on my own. Disappointed, I told him I had to go to a party now, so I finished his visit for him. After he walked out my door, I glanced at my watch. He'd only been over for fifteen minutes, his beer still almost full. He looked relieved on his way out, and honestly so was I. Staring at a reflection of myself in my hallway, I asked myself out loud, "Who are you?" and then changed into comfortable jeans and a sweater fast because I could still catch the bus.

My boyfriend's party was lame, but I was a good sport about it anyway.

Four of us were watching TV together, my head on my boyfriend's lap. He was a good person, respectful of my time and boundaries and I felt it was time for me to make a move. We had a quilted throw over us and my awful right hand got testy and started crawling onto his crotch. During the louder scenes I unzipped his pants and ran a few fingers inside and touched his cock through his underwear. His hands ended up on my ass and were fondling both cheeks lovingly. After the first bridge blew up, one of many, I had my entire hand inside his pants, stroking it slowly through the cotton fabric. After the movie his roommates wanted to watch either a boxing match or Fight Club but retired to bed after not reaching consensus.