Have you ever dreamed of fucking a total stranger? I have. It’s my most common sexual fantasy. When I lie awake at night with Liam fast asleep beside me, and touch myself as I try to doze off, the image in my head is of a suited stranger taking a fancy to me in the corridor of a glitzy hotel. He’s dressed to the nines, like James Bond in a casino, but wearing one of those gorgeous old-fashioned masquerade masks so I can’t see his face. His lips, beneath the curve of the mask, are playful but wicked. His hands are strong and rough. As I strut past him in six-inch heels, sashaying in a way that I hope might catch his attention, he taps me on the shoulder…
I’ve seen him so many times in my fantasies, this man. The shoulder-tap is just the start of it. When I respond by turning to him, he whispers ‘sh’ before looking this way and that down the corridor to check that no one’s coming. Then he presses his palm to my mouth to keep me quiet, shoves me against the wall, and lifts my skirt so he can fuck me quick and dirty right there in the corridor.
Liam knows I have this fantasy. It’s the first one I ever told him when we were getting to know each other. He’s easy to open up to like that. For some reason, everything just felt right with Liam, even on our first ever date. With other men I’d have felt far too forward about sharing that kind of story. But with him? His cheeky grin and playful teasing made it feel so natural to share. That’s why, when he asked about my fantasy shag, I didn’t brush him off with ‘oh, you know: kinky but caring, with a powerful guy and maybe a bit of light spanking’ or something equally saucy but vague. I just told him directly:
“I dream of being taken by a masked stranger, in the corridor of a hotel. He’ll tap me on the shoulder, push me up against the wall, then unzip and plunge inside my eager cunt while I gasp with shock at the speed of it.”
Perhaps the reason I felt safe enough to tell him was that he’d shared a similar story of his own: wanting to kneel before a masked woman, kissing her feet and licking her clit while she gripped his hair tight and pulled him closer. And maybe the reason I felt safe enough to actually act out this fantasy was because… well… Liam didn’t greet me with shame or leeriness or jokes. He just looked me dead in the eye as I told him every detail, mouth slightly open like he was in awe of the picture I was painting in his mind’s eye. I’d imagined everything. The colour of the masks. The opulence of the hotel. The length of the hem on my dress—short, very short, almost enough to show the curve of my buttocks as I swung my hips when I strolled down the corridor. I even laid out for Liam the way the masked stranger would make me suck on his fingers, coating them with saliva before he slipped them inside my equally-wet hole.
He had some input into the fantasy too, of course: I love when he worships my pussy, so it was no hardship to start writing that into the ‘plot’ of the story I would play inside my head at night while I was masturbating. In fact, by combining his desires with my own the scenario got all the richer and more intense. The erotic roleplay story we constructed together was even more powerful than what we’d originally shared. And whispering extra moves and details to each other while we fucked made it more delicious too—we were now co-conspirators. Scriptwriters, maybe? For a porn film we couldn’t wait to star in.
Having done all this groundwork, and used the ‘masked stranger’ as a jumping off point for so much dirty talk, when the invite to a genuine, real-life masked ball dropped onto the doormat… well… it felt like fate! We sat down in front of the computer and shopped for those gorgeous Venetian masks like horny teenagers trying to buy condoms and lube. Flushed with excitement. Aching with anticipation. Desperate for the week of the party to roll round so we could act out the fantasy for real.
The night we made our role play story come true was the hottest of my life. I can say that with ease, because there was no detail I would have changed—even the moments of spontaneity melded perfectly into the masked-stranger scenario, and Liam played his role to utter, sublime, ridiculously hot perfection.
First, we get dressed up for the party. I put on a gorgeous figure-hugging sparkly dress, which drapes perfectly on my hips and bottom. As per my dream, it is short. I only need to bend over a tiny amount for Liam to see the pale, soft flesh of my bum poking out from beneath it. The neckline is high, to draw even more attention to what’s going on below. Liam looks dashing and almost intimidatingly handsome—clad all in black with a white skull-type mask to provide contrast to his outfit. I’ve always been a sucker for a man in a black shirt, but a man whose muscles fill that shirt with taut, hard, brute strength is the absolute peak of beauty. His broad shoulders make the cotton taut, as his semi-tumescent dick does the same to his crotch… I can barely tear my eyes off him as I try to adjust my mask in the mirror.
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He helps me put it on, while kissing my neck and letting me respond in kind. I adore doing this, and the fact that we’re genuinely getting ready for a party means I have an excuse to do it. We play like this briefly, but my blood is thumping hot in my veins and I can barely wait for what comes next. Kissing him in the mask does something primal to me. It’s like all my disbelief is suspended, and Liam has disappeared, to be replaced by this total stranger—one who’s stroking my back and gripping the meat of my arse through my sparkly dress. A man I don’t know from Adam, but who clearly wants me so badly he’s willing to follow me as I lead him to the wall of the hallway and nudge him up against it for a deeper, more passionate snog.
Then he flips me round and I swear my clit thuds—like a heartbeat. This is the moment that my whole masturbation scenario hinges upon. That shove against the wall. The intensity of feeling trapped by a stranger, with the knowing sluttery of understanding how willingly I am subjecting myself to his mercy. Even in heels I am on my tiptoes, kissing him back with fervour as he buries his hand beneath my skirt and rubs firmly at my clit through my knickers.
The next part is spontaneous, something so hot that I hadn’t even thought of it before, to wrap into my own personal daydreams—Liam hooks my left leg around his waist and reaches behind me, fingering me from the back while I press myself tight up against him. Something about it is so commanding that it makes my knees go weak and I almost topple over. Luckily he’s holding me so securely in his arms, and as our masks quite literally drop—clattering down onto the polished wood floor—he takes me to the sofa by the opposite wall and helps me get settled. Just in time, because the heat of the foreplay and the power of his intense gaze now we’re both unmasked threatens to have me swooning before I’ve ever had the chance to let him release the stiffening erection that’s tenting the crotch of his trousers.
The second he lies me on the sofa, my legs are wide open like a slut begging him to kiss me where my cunt throbs between them—I know exactly what’s coming next, and I can barely contain my excitement. He kneels between my legs and slides down my tiny black panties, exposing my hairy pussy and kissing the inside of my thighs, teasing me with what is to come. He loves that I don’t shave, and I adore that he loves that—it feels so much better when he buries his face in me, just like he’s about to… And then, in the low light of the corridor, he bows his head and starts to plant flickery, sucking kisses on my clitoris with his tongue. Oh. Oh. He is so good at this. I try to tune out the memory of how fabulously Liam has worshipped my cunt in the past, and instead remember that tonight he is a stranger—just a man I ran into in the corridor of a glitzy hotel at this masked ball, who happens to have an instinctive knowledge of exactly how to make me moan and squeal. I throw one of my legs over his shoulder, grab his hair with my hands, and all but hump against his face as he delivers me such targeted, skilful pleasure. As he flutters his tongue harder against my clit I cry out in a cross between ecstasy and angst—I’m close to coming but I don’t want to just yet. I need him to fuck me first. When he comes up to kiss me again, I can taste myself on his lips and feel movement between us as his hand makes its way with urgency to his own crotch.
Liam releases his rigid heavy dick from his tight black trousers, and removes his shirt at the same time—impossibly hard abs serve only to emphasise how marble-hard his dick has become to match, and I take it into my mouth, allowing myself to lean in to the role-play of it all. Telling myself in my head that this stranger must think me such a dirty slut, being so greedy for his cock, so grateful to him for choosing me as his target for this sordid liaison. As if he can read my mind, as I begin to suck, Liam puts both of his hands on the back of my head, like he’s making the most of the eager throat this strange, horny woman has offered to him on a platter. He’s moaning and gasping and dispensing such welcome praise that I redouble my efforts—he’s got length as well as girth and I try so hard to swallow as much of him as possible. All the while telling myself what a dirty girl I am, being facefucked by this semi-naked stranger in a corridor where anyone could walk by! The very thought of it makes my cunt gush, and Liam—in character as my hot stranger—murmurs “oh yeah… oh yeah… oh yeah” as if he’s daring someone to come and see what’s happening. And that makes me even wetter still.
It’s time, I simply have to have him take me now. I’ve always been proud of my perfect, pert bum, and I’m delighted by how much Liam… I mean ‘my stranger’ … appreciates it too. So I turn round, and bare it at him, arching my back and taking up position on the sofa. On my knees, with my back arched and my cunt presented to him like a dog in heat, I can check in just over my shoulder to see how he prepares me with his fingers before pressing the taut head of his prick right up against my slit. It feels so good, that moment—second only to coming, it’s my favourite part of sex. The slight pressure as the tight ring of muscle at the entrance to my pussy gives resistance, then the pop of his dick nudging past that and sliding in.
This stranger is now inside me. That’s how the narrative in my head plays out, commentating my wantonness as if a crowd of strangers really is whispering about this horny bitch in a hotel corridor and how quickly she let this suited man peel off her knickers and ravish her on the couch. He clearly can’t believe his luck that this pretty, horny slut is letting him take her right then and there! What a harlot! Who knows who might walk in at any moment? Anyone could see!
I kneel up slightly and lean back so it’s easier for this keen mystery man to kiss the back of my neck, and run his hands all the way up my body as he delivers firm, short strokes with his fabulous cock. I realise I’m not just moaning, I’m practically squealing at points as I make the most of feeling totally at his mercy. When he strokes all the way up from my thighs, past my stomach, to cup my tits as he slams it in, I am practically quivering on the edge of coming already. Liam always knows how to get me there, but this time I’m on my way so much faster than I normally would be—it’s the combination, I think. The psychological hotness of imagining him as someone I’ve only just met melded with the pure physical intensity of being fucked exactly how I like it, with everything converging on my own orgasm like a kind of magnetic pull.
We switch positions so that I can touch myself while he fucks: him gripping my thighs, then my waist, and my shoulders and arms and everything as I focus on rubbing my clit with wet fingers, and letting those ‘yeahs’ escape my open mouth between gasps. I am absolutely dripping now, hearing as well as feeling those tight, slick thrusts of his shaft plunging into me. I look up at him and the sight of his taut biceps and shoulders almost tips me over the edge too, I am getting off on the sheer power in his limbs and the memory of how he used that strength to shove me up against the wall of that low-lit corridor.
My moans start to get louder—and higher—almost as if the tone of them mirrors how swiftly I’m building towards that pleasurable peak. My fingertips busily rubbing at the aching bud of my clit and his iron-hard dick filling me up and pressing at exactly the right place inside, pushing my g-spot as if to nudge me closer and closer to coming. The sight of his body and the memory of him playing the masked stranger at the start of this wonderful evening. The memory of every wank I’ve had to this scenario, and the blooming rush of joy and horn and pleasure that comes when I recognise just how perfectly that dream has been fulfilled and … ahhhh… I’m coming. A cacophony of ‘yeah’s rise in duet with his guttural panting as I keep rubbing and he keeps fucking, riding out each and every spasm and wave of my climax. Twitching and gasping and utterly sated, my cunt pulses around his dick as he pulls out.
But he’s not done yet—oh no. My stranger insists on having his own fantasy fulfilled too. With a focused determination that makes my whole body resonate with sexy shivers, he rubs at his own fuck-wet cock as I continue to touch myself. Stroke after stroke—those muscles popped and straining at the fervent way he beats at his glorious dick until… ahhhh. His turn now too. Mirroring my own, he splashes the first load of cum all over my exposed pussy, then the next and the next. Draining himself—no, pouring himself out onto me as if marking his territory. I can hear the little grunts in the back of his throat as each wave of it hits, and watch his downcast eyes as he drinks in the sight of my wet, hairy pussy getting covered in the evidence of his own powerful orgasm.
Afterwards, the stranger is gone and my Liam is back. And I’m grateful for the soft kisses and full-body, skin-on-skin cuddles that he dispenses as aftercare. We murmur to each other in gratitude, congratulating ourselves on fulfilling this desire so powerfully. And even as we’re winding down I know that this day will live on. It will be in my brain forever, the memory of what we did tonight. And at the party I’ll be thinking of it as I watch my Liam—my masked stranger for-the-night—make small talk and drink with other attendees.
They’ll laugh with him and smile and I’ll join in the conversation. But it will be impossible to stop my mind wandering back to that fantasy. Remembering how he took me in the corridor, and the urgency with which he fucked me. When I go to bed tonight, as I touch myself in the darkness, I’ll imagine what those partygoers might whisper to each other if they’d happened to stumble on our scene:
Did you hear what she did with that man? What that wanton slut did with a masked stranger in the corridor? She lay there with her thighs spread wide as he painted her cunt with his spunk.
The End
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