As I mentioned a few months ago, I am reading the Anita Blake series by Laurell K. Hamilton, which starts with Guilty Pleasures. Onto book the next book: Narcissus in Chains! I’m reading about 175 pages a week. Each week, I’ll be bringing you two posts: a review of the book and a related kinky post. This is my sexy story!
Two weeks ago, I started a story about anonymous sex, inspired by the fact that Anita is sooo not into it. Here’s the final(?) part! Let me know if you want more!
His mouth explores every inch of my body, taking nibbles where he wants to. I moan and writhe beneath him, holding onto his back and shoulders until he moves out of my reach. I put my hands up above my head, gripping the pillows, trying to do something to ease the need in my body.
It tickles when he touches my feet, and I am so self conscious about it. Thankfully, he doesn’t suck on my toes or anything, but his lips still brush across the soft skin there. And then I can’t feel him at all. I listen intently, but his weight is still on the bed, so he can’t have gone that far.
And then I hear a click. And another. What is that? And then it hits me. He’s taking pictures.
“W-what are you doing?” I whisper.
I can almost hear the grin in his voice. “You look so beautiful, and I want to remember this moment.”
I want to protest. I want to rip off the sleep mask masquerading as a blindfold and tell him to delete the photos and fuck off. But the reality is that even the thought of this stranger having my naked pictures turns me on more than anything else. My pussy is clenching with desire I’m so aroused.
“Does it bother you?” he asks.
I bite my lip, but I don’t know what to say. Logically, yes, it does. But my body isn’t responding to logic right now.
“You’re turned on by it, aren’t you?”
I nod, hesitantly. I don’t even know if he’s looking in my direction, but it’s all I can do. I can’t make the words get past my lips.
“What do you want me to do with the pictures, slut?”
A shiver runs through me as he whispers the words against my neck. My mouth is dry. I can’t speak, even if I knew what to say.
“You’re going to think of them all the time now, aren’t you? Every time your boss gets a text in front of you. You’ll wonder if he knows how much of a slut you are. When you get a boyfriend, you’ll wonder if he’s going to anonymously get a picture of you naked. You’ll have fun explaining that one, won’t you?”
“Oh no, please,” I whimper. I don’t even know what I’m begging for, though. I don’t have a boyfriend. And obviously, I don’t want my boss to see naked pictures of me, but I don’t think I’d get fired. Hell, I think my boss would love to see them.
“You don’t want me to send the pictures to anyone?”
“N-no,” I stammer.
“What would you do to make sure that doesn’t happen, slut?”
“W-what are you asking for?” There are a few moments of silence, and I can hear my heart beating hard in my chest, my blood thundering through my body.
“You’re going to get a text in a few days. When I send you a time and location, you’ll show up and you’ll get undressed, blindfold yourself, and wait for me. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” I whisper, and my pussy is literally pulsing with desire. I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on before.
“Good girl,” he says, and then he kisses my neck, and… he’s gone?
I wait a long time, the blood still thundering through my body, my heart pounding. I heard the door open and close. I know he’s gone. But I can’t make myself take off the blindfold. I don’t want to see the empty hotel room. My hands slide down my body, touching the places he touched. I get down to my pussy and it’s soaking wet. I am sure there will be a puddle on the bed when I get up. My fingers find my clit, still pulsing with desire, and I begin to gently rub on my clit, my body writhing on the bed. I fantasize that the mystery man is standing at the foot of the bed, watching me masturbate. I’m sure he’s not, but I wish it so hard. When I moan my orgasm, I slide the sleep mask off my face to look. And although the shadows in the room are deep, I am well and truly alone. I wonder how long it will be until I get that text. But I know that I will drop everything to show up and meet my mystery man again. Until then, my fingers are going to be getting quite the workout…
J R Vincente 