THE STRANGER, a short story by Sisyphus. Date added: 2011-01-25. Times viewed: 5986.
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- Intro: She invites a stranger to her cabin to her her erotic stories and they lose control turning fantasy into reality
I was sitting in a corner table in our local café writing in my notebook when he walked in. He stood at the door, looked around. Our eyes met then we both quickly looked away. He then went to the counter where it was self-serve coffee, ordered a croissant and sat down at a small table next to the wall on the other side of the room. Again, our eyes met briefly. I went back to my writing and he opened the book he was reading.
I had never seen him before and it is rare when anyone other than someone from the town comes in the café. He was probably in his forties or early fifties with longish grey hair, a beard, jeans and a dark blue turtleneck sweater, but there was something intense about the way he looked around the room—something in his eyes. He definitely looked intriguing. I was curious. Who was this good looking stranger?
I was writing intently in my notebook, occasionally looking up and seeing him reading. A few times, he looked up and our eyes met. The café was empty except for the two of us and Jeff, the owner, busy behind the counter. I was working on one of my erotic stories, but my mind kept drifting to the stranger, wondering what it was about him that fascinated me? Maybe I was just lonely, or horny, or just curious, I don’t know but I wanted to meet him. I am somewhat shy and it is not my nature to just go up to a man and start a conversation.
After awhile, I put my pen down and got up to get a little more coffee and noticed he looked up at me. I liked the way he looked at me. Again, our eyes met and he smiled. I was wearing tight jeans and a t-shirt and am in very good shape because of the physical work I do as a gardener for some of the rich people around here. I had taken off my baseball cap that I wear when I am in the sun and my long blond hair came down passed my shoulders. I was tan and knew I looked good. I went back to my table, took a sip of coffee and started writing again.
“What are you writing?” he asked from his table. I looked up surprised he was talking to me. I didn’t want to tell him what I was writing—not that I am ashamed to be writing erotica but I didn’t think it would make a good impression.
“Just stuff,” I answered.
“Why don’t you bring your coffee over here?” he asked. I’m not from around here and am curious about this town.”
“Sure,” I answered and sat down with my mug. “What are you reading?” I asked.
“The Birth of Tragedy,” by Nietzsche, he answered, keeping the book opened.
“Listen to this he said and read, “Truth is whatever is life-affirming; false is whatever denies or impedes growth.”
“Interesting,” I said. “So you like to read philosophy.”
“Yes and history,” he answered. “But I like this idea that what ever is life-affirming is true and I would add, good.” He paused. “You were writing so intensely and passionately, I was curious about what you were writing.”
“Yes, I always write intensely and passionately,” I answered, smiling and looking into his blue eyes, noticing the twinkle.
Is it a journal?” he asked. “I’m a writer too, so I was curious.”
No, it’s not a journal. Are you always so nosey?” I asked, wanting to rev the conversation up a notch.
“No, not always,” he said. He closed his book, took a sip of his coffee, looking at me over the edge of his mug. “But I liked seeing your intensity. You looked so passionate when you were writing.”
“Really, you noticed that,” I responded, looking into his eyes, even more curious about him. “So you’re a writer. What do you write?” I asked.
“Historical novels for young adults and poetry,” he answered.
“Interesting,” I responded, nodding. I liked the way he smiled at me and how he looked into my eyes when he spoke, like he was trying to know who I was.
“Why won’t you tell me what you’re writing? If it’s not a journal, what is it?”
“Well, I guess I am afraid you will get the wrong idea if I tell you,” I answered.
“Come on, tell me. I won’t get a wrong idea. I am not a judgmental person,” he added.
“Erotica,” I answered, bluntly.
“Cool!” he answered and smiled. “That’s great.”
“I was afraid to tell you because I thought you might think I am a frivolous kook!”
“Frivolous,” he repeated and laughed, throwing his head back. “Why would I think erotica is frivolous?” He took a sip of his coffee and leaned forward, closer to me. “You don’t look like a frivolous person,” he added. “And I’d say good truthful erotica is life-affirming,” he laughed, “and Nietzsche would agree,” he added.
“Really!” I responded, surprised. Suddenly, I felt myself relaxing and getting really turned on by the way he said that and how he looked at me. I was silent. I took a sip of my coffee, looking at him over the rim of my mug. I didn’t know what to say. It had been so long that I’ve had a conversation with a man, let alone a man like him.
“By the way, my name is Tristan, what’s yours?” he asked. He smiled, looking into my eyes.
“Sharon,” I answered. “Glad to meet you,” I added, extending my hand to shake his. When he took my hand, his grip was firm, yet gentle. I was feeling fascinated and excited and wanted to get to know him better, something was stirring in me that I only felt when I was writing or reading erotica.
“So what brings you to our fair town?” I asked.
“Good question,” he answered. “I don’t even know where I am. I just took off this morning and started driving. I just needed to get away from my routine. I was in a rut—so I hopped in my car and just started driving—completely impulsively and spontaneously.”
“Wow that’s so cool. That’s kind of how I ended up in this town about fifteen years ago and been here since.”
He nodded, looking intently into my eyes like he was trying to figure me out.
“I was a screenwriter in LA and was getting pretty successful, but I got pregnant and had a daughter but knew this guy was not the father type and I knew I didn’t want to raise my daughter in tinsel town, so I got up and left. First I went back to my parents and couldn’t take that and then went searching for the right place. One day, I drove through this town and liked it. I always follow my intuition and bought some land from savings and an inheritance from an aunt. That’s it in a nutshell.”
He nodded and smiled, looking into my eyes. We were both silent.
“Oh and I built my cabin myself,” I told him. “It’s just outside of town.”
“You did,” he said, surprised. His look revealed how impressed he was.
“Yeah, I found salvaged doors and windows and read building books and in two years we moved in—though it wasn’t really finished. Keira and I lived in a small trailer while I was building and I home schooled her, now she’s finished college and working as a journalist in DC.”
“Impressive,” he said. “Sounds like you have lot of guts.”
“”Maybe, all I know is I wanted freedom. I didn’t want an ordinary job. I wanted to live outside the main stream and I wanted my daughter to grow up and not be caught up in all the crap. After LA and seeing how my parents and their friends lived, I wanted out of the whole shebang—the malls, the shopping, the whole materialistic way of life. I wanted something different for my daughter.
“So you built your own little Shangri-la.”
”Right. It’s pretty small and funky but comfortable,” I said. “A work in progress.”
“Sounds like we have some things in common,” he said. “I live in a cabin off the grid about three hours from here.”
“Really, off the grid—that’s so cool.”
“Yes, I haven’t had an electric bill in eight years,” he added.
After an awkward silence, I took a deep breath and decided to be bold. I glanced over at my notebook at the corner table and turned back to him. I took a deep breath. “Would you like to hear some of my erotica?” I asked, not believing I had the nerve to ask him.
“Here?” he asked, looking surprised at my question.
“No, silly, back at my cabin,” I said. “I live five minutes from here, unless you are in a hurry to get somewhere. Since you're a writer, I would like to read some to you to see what you think.”
”That’s brave of you, inviting a perfect stranger back to your place to read erotica,” he said, looking into my eyes.
“Maybe,” I said. “But I can take care of myself,” I added, taking a sip of coffee, my eyes looking at him over the edge of my mug.
He was right. What was I thinking? But I always follow my intuition and it felt right. It also felt exciting. I think I saw the opportunity to live on the edge for a change. Not play it safe. It’s not everyday that an interesting good looking stranger comes into your life. I needed something exciting. Something to shake me up and there was something about this stranger that made me want to know him. I was feeling things I hadn’t felt in a long time. I was attracted to him and I just had to follow my instinct—even if it was dangerous.
We finished our coffee and took our cups to the counter. I could feel his eyes on me as he followed me out the door. I knew my ass looked good in the tight jeans and I wasn’t wearing a bra. I turned around to look at him and could tell he liked what he was seeing. The way he looked at me made me feel sexy and I think I wanted an adventure—why not. I suddenly felt seductive and the way he looked at me turned me on. I had a feeling this might get pretty hot. My truck was out front with all my gardening rakes and shovels in the back. He drove a grey Subaru that was parked right behind me.
“Follow me,” I said, climbing into my truck.
“Lead on, Sharon,” he smiled. “I won’t let you out of my sight.”
I kept my eye on him in the rear view mirror, thinking how life is full of surprises, opportunities that suddenly appear and it is up to us to grab the brass ring or to let it pass and live with a lot of if-onlys and regrets. Driving home, glancing at him in back of me, I tried not to have any expectations and to just go with the flow—a real challenge, but I’ve learned not having expectations avoids disappointment and sometimes leads to delight. I had no idea what would happen, if anything, but here I was bringing a stranger to my cabin to read erotica to him.
He followed me up the long dirt road that leads to my cabin. When we got out and walked up the overgrown path, Samson, my golden retriever, came running up to me, his tail wagging. He sniffed Tristan while I petted him. We then continued to walk up the path past the fenced in barnyard and small barn where my horse, Gypsy stays with my two goats and six chickens. Gypsy came over to the fence to get her nose petted, the rooster lifted his head and crowed protecting his harem and one of the goats looked up and went back to nibbling some hay.
"This is my family now that my daughter isn’t here,” I said.
“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you,” he said, looking at my animals.
“I don’t know about that,” I answered. “But maybe I am,” I added, smiling, giving him a little wicked grin. “You’ll find out.”
When we entered my cabin, he saw how small and funky it was—just one room with a kitchen area, a small bathroom and a loft where I sleep. A ladder led to the loft and just below the loft an old wood stove. Two old, really comfy chairs and small couch sat on one side of the cabin with book shelves on the wall. I had lots of plants and bird feeders hanging outside on the window. My laptop was on the table by the window and the afternoon sunlight poured in making the room glow.
“Small and cozy,” he said, looking around. “I like it, though. It’s amazing that you built this all by yourself.”
“Well, I had help with some of it—the plumbing and electric had to have a licensed person, but I watched and did a lot of it,” I said, proudly.
“How about something to drink,” I asked. “I have some beer, tea, water.” I opened the cabinet under the cabinet and bent down, “And some Jack Daniels.” I laughed. “I don’t usually drink the hard stuff but every once in awhile I take a little nip.”
"How about a beer,” he said. “No glass. The bottle is fine.”
"Cool, I’ll have a beer too,” I said. I went to the refrigerator, got the beer and opened it. I handed one to him and we clicked bottles. “To life affirming truth,” he said, looking into my eyes.
I laughed at his reference to the quote he had read earlier. “I’ll drink to that,” I said. We both took a big drink and both let out a loud “Ahhhhhhh!” We smiled at our common response to the cold beer, our eyes fixed on each other.
“So, do you want to hear one of my stories?” I asked, though I was definitely nervous, not sure what he would think or what would happen.
“Isn’t that why I’m here?” He smiled, looking into my eyes.
I nodded and took another deep gulp of beer. “Well, here goes.” I said then went over to my little filing box on the floor by the table and pulled out a folder that had a stack of stories. I glanced at him as I thumbed through the pile, pulled one out and nodded. “Hmmmmmm, you might like this,” I said, sitting down so that I was in front of him rather than in back of the table. I looked down at the first page then at him and took a deep apprehensive breath, clearing my throat.
“I want you to know I’ve never read these stories to anyone. You’re the first one,” I added. “In fact you’re the first man I’ve had here, like this—I mean other than the plumber or electrician.”
“I’m surprised. Such a pretty woman, I’d think guys would be beating down the door to meet you.”
“Thanks, but I like it this way?” I said. “Besides the guys around here are either married or they’re drunks and usually both.”
“Well, I’m flattered and honored that you are opening up your home to me. It’s not everyday I get to hear erotica read to me by such a beautiful woman.” He looked into my eyes, smiling like he knew why I wanted to read to him.
I blushed when he said, but the thought that I might also be nuts crossed my mind-- still there was definitely sexual tension. “Well, here goes,” I said again, taking a big swallow of beer and cleared my throat. “It’s called, “The Pick Up.”
“I’m all ears,” he said, sitting back in his chair, his hand on the beer bottle.
I looked at him, cleared my throat again then started reading. “The Pick Up,” I repeated.
It was a Friday night and I was horny. I decided to go on the prowl and see if I could pick some guy up and bring him back to my bed. I knew it was dangerous but that added to the excitement. I got dressed in the black dress I bought for such occasions. It was tight and came mid-thigh. It was cut very low in the front and barely covered my tits. The push up bra I wore revealed a lot of cleavage. I put on a pair of high heel, black shiny boots that came just below my knee. I looked at myself in the mirror and said if this doesn’t hook me a man, nothing will. I put on a small black beret that added to the look. My long blond hair came half way down my back. I know what men like in women and I like showing my body off. I was out for the kill.”
I glanced up to see how Tristan was reacting. I was nervous and took a sip of my beer. He was looking at me intently, listening, with a slight smile. I cleared my throat and continued.
I drove to my favorite bar called “The Pink Flamingo.” It was the place to go to meet people on the prowl. It was dark and usually had a good band. I sat at the bar and ordered a Dirty Martini. The place was crowded with people dancing, grinding away with the music. I sipped my drink and looked around to see if I could see anyone who looked interesting. I turned around on my stool, leaned back so that my tits stood out. My legs were crossed and the black dress was high on my thighs. I knew it wouldn’t take long to lure some horny guy—someone as horny as me.
Just then I saw him and he saw me. He was standing on the other side of the room with a glass in his hand. Our eyes met and he smiled and lifted his glass to me. I smiled back then turned around on my stool to face the bar. I took a sip of my drink and then turned and glanced back at him and smiled again. I wanted him and was luring him to me. He came and stood next to me. He was tall with deep blue eyes and a dimple when he smiled. He had long brown hair and an earring dangling from one ear. He wore a tight maroon t- shirt and tight jeans—just the kind of guy that turned me on.”
I stopped reading again. “Does this surprise you?” I asked.
“No, not really,” he answered. “It’s giving me a little insight into you,” he added.
“Insight? Really?” I questioned, wondering what he meant. “I can’t believe I’m reading this to you,” I said. “I’m really shy. I don’t know what got into me, to do this.”
“You’re a writer and you want to be heard,” he said. “Keep reading.”
I nodded and smiled. I looked down at my story and took another sip of my beer and continued.
“Can I buy you another drink,” he asked.
“Sure,” I said. “I bet you want to get me drunk so you can fuck me.”
I glanced up at Tristan to see if he reacted, but he just looked into my eyes with that slight smile. I wondered what he was thinking but then went back to reading.
“I didn’t expect you to be so direct, but I think that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
“Maybe,” I said, smiling coyly. “And why are you here?”
“To meet someone like you,” he said.
“I see. And do you like what you see?” I asked.
“I do. You’re hot looking,” he said.
“I could say the same about you.”
He ordered us two more drinks then put his hand on my thigh and was inching it up towards my crotch. “You don’t waste time, do you?” I said.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.
“No, I like it. I’m getting hot with your hand there.” I said.
“Me, too,” he said, looking at my tits barely covered by my dress.
Our drinks came and I took a big sip of the Martini and he took a big sip of his scotch.
“Should we tell each other our real names or make up names?” I asked.
“Names don’t matter. We’re not interested in a relationship, are we?” he said and smiled.
“No relationship. You know what we want,” I said.
“Right.” he said and smiled at me.
I was getting drunk after two drinks and leaned into him, my tits against his arm. He had his hand up my dress, gently squeezing my thigh. It was close to my pussy and he knew he was tantalizing me. I reached over and rubbed my hand up and down his cock. I could tell he was big and I was going to have a work out tonight.
“Come home with me,” I said.”
“Let’s go in the alley,” he said. “I need to fuck you now. I’m so horny.”
He grabbed my hand and we went outside and down an alley next to the bar. It was dark. He pushed me against the wall, lifted up my dress. I wasn’t wearing panties. I wanted him. I grabbed his balls and then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock out. “Fuck me,” I said.
While I was reading, I opened and closed my legs, my pussy tingling, my breathing getting faster. I was getting hot. I didn’t think this would happen. I looked at Tristan. His sat back in his chair with his legs straight out and I saw the bulge in his jeans and knew my story was getting to him. I liked that he didn’t try to hide his erection--seeing it got me even hotter.
“Where is this heading,” I thought, grabbing my beer and took a big drink, feeling a sudden need to touch my pussy, to relieve the intense craving that was building between my legs. I could not believe how horny I was getting from my story and reading it to a stranger in my cabin.
“Keep going,” he said.
I glanced at the bulge in his jeans, our eyes meeting. I shifted in my chair and stretched my legs straight out like his, spreading them so that my legs were on either side of his legs. He looked at my crotch then back at my eyes.
"Okay, here goes,” I said, again glancing at the bulge in his jeans then continued, my pussy on fire.
He quickly turned me around, lifted up my dress. I bent over with my hands on the wall, my pussy dripping. He took his cock and moved it up and down my slit and then rammed into me as hard as he could. “Oh god, fuck me. That’s it, fuck me hard,” I screamed, not caring if anyone heard me. Fuck me!”
My words were getting me so hot. My pussy was driving me crazy. I spread my legs wider, opening and closing them, feeling the seam of my jeans pressing against my pussy. He was biting his lower lip, his eyes on my crotch as my legs opened and closed. I looked at his cock bulging in his jeans then back at the page. I was having trouble concentrating but I forced my self and continued.
His big cock was ramming into me and the juice from my cunt was dripping down my thigh He whispered in my ear, “Do you want me to stop?”
“No! Keep fucking me, you bastard. I want your cock in me. Give it to me harder!”
He grabbed my tits while he continued fucking me and whispered in my ear, “I love your tight cunt.” His breath on my ears and his dirty talk was driving me crazy and I screamed, FUCK ME! FUCK ME! CUM IN ME! FUCK ME HARDER!”
When I shouted out those words, suddenly, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I lost it. I threw the story down on the table. I stood up, our eyes met. I took a step, straddling him, his hands grabbed my ass and pulled me down hard on his cock,grinding into my pussy. We didn’t speak-- our grinding getting harder. Suddenly, we both lost it. He lifted his ass off the chair, pushing his cock harder against my pussy. He then fell back and I slammed down on him, my pussy rubbing hard against his cock. I had never been so horny. We were humping each other harder and harder, fucking through our clothes. Suddenly, I felt my body tense and tremble and a huge orgasm sweeping over me. I couldn’t believe I was going to cum in my jeans but the way I was rubbing my pussy against his cock took me over the edge.
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhfuck I’m cummmmmmming!” I screamed, my nails gripping his shoulders, my head facing the ceiling, his hands squeezing my ass as a huge orgasm rolled through me. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhh I’m cummmmmmmming, I’m cummmmmmming,” I screamed and collapsed on his chest.
He was still humping me and I had another smaller orgasm. I shuddered then felt him lowering me to the floor. He spread my legs and continued humping me. I wrapped my legs around his back, holding him tightly. I then got my hands on his chest and pushed him off of me. I stood up and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the ladder to my loft, our hungry eyes locked on each other.
He followed me up to the ladder to the loft and we wrapped our arms around each other, our tongues swirling around each others mouths. As we kissed, we stumbled closer to my mattress on the floor. He reached down and started to unbutton my jeans while I reached for his, our mouths devouring each other.
I stepped back, squirming out of my jeans, pulling off my t-shirt off and fell down on to the bed, my legs wide apart. He tossed his jeans across the room. I saw his hard cock as he crawled towards me, my arms reaching for him.
He took his cock and started moving it slowly up and down my wet pussy, overwhelming with the need to have him deep in me. I needed it, but he was teasing me, moving the tip of his cock against my wet pussy, driving me insane.
“I want it! Give it to me, ohhhhh give it to me. I need it, I need it,” I cried. “Fuck me! Fuck me! Don’t tease me!”
He smiled and suddenly rearing his hips back, his eyes looking into mine, thrust forward, his cock opening me, filling me, my mouth wide open, my silent scream caught deep in my throat, no sound coming, as he drove deep into my pussy. It had been such a long time that I had a cock in me that the sensation rippling through out my body was both painful and thrilling at the same time. He pulled out and rammed deep into me again and again, each time going deeper and deeper. Now I was screaming ‘OHHHHHHHHHFUCK OHMYGOD FUCK ME FUCK ME!” I thought I’d pass out as he filled me with each hard thrust.
He then surprised me by rolling over on his back, pulling me on top. He was still in me. I sat up, straddling him, his cock deep in my dripping pussy. I put my hands on his chest and lifted myself on my knees and came down hard,
“AHHHHHHHHH!” I screamed, as he filled me.
“RIDE ME! RIDE ME!” he yelled.
I rose up and came down hard then rose up and came down harder and harder again and again, my tits bouncing, my hair flailing, my whole body trembling as he lifted his ass off the bed, lifting me and I came crashing down, his cock so deep in me, my clit rubbing his cock, “OHHHHHHHHFUCK!” I screamed. “I’M CUMMMMMING. CUMMMMING OHHHHHHHHGOD! I’M CUMMMMMING! OHHHHHHHHHFUCK THIS IS SO GOOD!” I was out of my mind, whole body in convulsions as an intense orgasm swept through me when suddenly he flipped me on my back, got up on his knees between my wide open legs, looking down at me and without hesitating thrust his cock deep into me and another orgasm swept over me, and another. He pulled out and rammed into me again and again. I loved how rough he was, how savagely he was taking me. And when I felt him tense, knowing he was about to explode, my pussy muscles gripped his cock, wanting his cum to fill me. He pulled out and thrust again, screaming, “OHHHHHHHHH FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME with each thrust and suddenly his cum gushed deep into me, yelling I’M CUMMMMMMMMING!”
His screaming and the warmth of his cum gushing into my pussy before collapsing on me was exciting and soothing and all I wanted was to hold him in me, my arms and legs wrapped around his body, both of us panting and gasping, not sure where in the world we were.
When he rolled off of my body, lying next to me, we looked up at ceiling, sunlight pouring in through the skylight over the bed. We were still breathing heavily, slowly coming back to earth. Neither of us spoke. After a few minutes of silence, I got up on my elbow and looked down at him. We smiled.
“Well, I guess you liked my story,” I said.
“I did, but I like this story better,” he answered, grinning at me.
“If you stick around for awhile and behave, maybe I’ll read you a bed time story,” I said.
“If it’s anywhere like the last one, I don’t think we will get much sleep,” he said, smiling at me.
“I’ll take my chances,” I answered, laying my head on his shoulder. We lay quietly and within a few minutes we both fell asleep.
(to be continued)
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