6 comments/ 10671 views/ 1 favorites The Man By: wundering2 Russ and I had only been married for a short time when I felt it was time for him to abolish his sexual comfort zone. Through our entire courtship into marriage we had talked about fantasies in great detail. Russ was very much into watching me masturbate and even talked quite a bit about watching me suck on another's cock while he watched quietly in the background. He knows how much I love to spend time sucking cum from a hard erection, but I always felt it was some sort of betrayal doing it with someone else. I tried and tried to figure out how to get passed the jealousy because I knew how much it turned him on. Early in our courtship, because of our strong religious beliefs, we spent more time talking and light touching than any bare naked body on body intercourse. I never minded too much, Russ was an awesome kisser and I could kiss on him all day. The way he sucked on my lips, sucked on my tongue and he loved how I sucked on his tongue like it was his cock begging for more. I'd rub his hard on through his jeans and just die to want to lick and feel and taste him. Later in our courtship we pushed the envelope. After a passionate few hours of kissing and him sucking on my nipples I took a chance and unzipped his jeans freeing his errection. He was so soft and I could feel his cock throbbing. I took the pre-cum from the head of penis and sucked it off my finger. I thought I'd orgasm right then. I knew I was wet and I could feel my pussy juice soak my panties. I knelt in front of him as he lay back on the couch with his eyes closed and I spent the next hour sucking on his cock. My mouth could never grow tired of him. I wanted to taste his cum in the worst way. I could tell he was holding back. It turned me on that we were clothed except for his freed shaft and my freed nipple. With every turn and twist of my hard nipple it drove me deeper over the top of him. I wanted it all. I knew we were pushing the line of intimacy before marriage, but how could I tell him I wanted him to fuck me in the worst way. I love this man and dreamt about feeling his cock inside of me. I wanted to bend over and have him pump me from behind. As much as I was in love with him, I was in love with his sweet cum and I couldn't get enough. One weekend in particular a couple of months after we were married, we took a weekend getaway to a small village on the outskirts of town. Russ and I had always been pretty open with our sexuality. I could tell him anything and he shared a lot with me. I felt pretty sure I knew his sexual desires and how to turn him on. This weekend I wanted to do a little more exploring. I knew how much he liked to watch me play and make myself cum. I enjoyed putting on the show for him. The more I did it, the more creative I got. But this weekend, I wanted to see him in total ecstasy. That evening while in the hotel, I began with a little seduction scene that I usually do for Russ. Teasing, sucking on his lips. When things just started to get hot and intense, I stopped. I told him of a surprise I have and if he'd indulge me, it just may be one of his greatest experiences yet. Russ didn't like surprises all that much, but he trusted me and played along. We dressed and I took him down the street where we passed a small quaint looking pub. We were not drinkers, so he was confused, but we went inside. We sat at the bar for a bit, drinking soda, and looked around. Russ and I communicated a lot in instances like this with our eyes and I could tell he was curious what I was up too. I brushed my hand across his cock, kissed him on the cheek and told him I'd be right back. As I left, I watched him from a distance for a minute as another woman approached him. She stroked his hair and the back of his neck lightly and took him by the hand as they walked into a back room. The matron of the bar seated him comfortably in a dimly lit back room on a sofa telling him I would be with him in a bit. I watched him from the other side of the room as he sat quietly reviewing his surroundings. I whispered from the other side motioning for him to follow me. Not saying a word I took him to an upstairs bedroom where I sat him in a lazy boy chair in the corner of the room. I kissed him deeply, rubbed his cock, unzipped his slacks and whispered in his ear how much I loved him and to be patient, he'd have his turn. The room only had a small lamp in an opposite corner from Russ and he could see my motions and shadows from the soft light. The moon light from the window reflected on Russ's face so I could see his reactions. I slipped into a see thru night top leaving my panties to show and sat on the edge of the bed. A tall man entered the room. His body size was stocky and he was wearing only boxers. I loved a stocky body. We were briefly introduced by the matron earlier and he was my pick to entertain Russ for the evening. I was hoping by the time I had the night heated, Russ would join in and I could live my fantasy of having two cocks at once. I wanted Russ fucking my pussy doggie style filling me with his sweet cum while I sucked the cum from the cock of another. When Russ was finished I wanted his cock and cum mixed with mine. I loved the taste of us together. The man gently took out my breasts and began playing with my nipples and I slid my hands inside his boxers to feel his cock. He was of nice size, but not hard. I took my other tit in and sucked on my nipple, twirling my tongue for Russ's sake. The man slid his boxers off and took his cock in his hand slowly stroking my lips. I stroked the head with my tongue wrapping my hands around his ass to pull him in. I was so hot, wet and ready. I grabbed his cock and took in as much as I could tighten my lips around him – first slowly then almost banging him with my mouth. I rolled his tight balls in and out of my fingers, every once in while licking each one. I could feel the heat throbbing from his shaft as he was erect and hard. I loved a tight cock. One that was full and ready to explode. He grabbed my hair out of my face and held it as I pumped his hard cock in and out of my mouth, each time licking the cum off the tip. I glanced over at Russ. It was so hot to see him with his cock out, hard and watching him give himself a hand job. I was so turned on. I pulled the man over me and lay on my back while he fucked my mouth. My legs spread wide open inviting Russ to pump me. I grabbed the man's ass and pulled him in deeper, moaning. I reached around to rub my pussy when I felt fingers enter inside of me. Russ had taken my wet juices and I watched him suck me from his fingers. I had never been hotter in my entire life. Just before he entered me, I turned on all fours on the bed and sucked the man's cock in front of me. Russ slid his hot hard cock inside of me and fucked me from behind doggie style. Russ kept at it until he saw the man's cock shoot his wad all over me. Cum was flying. Russ lost it and filled my pussy with his sweet juice. I will never forget the look on his face standing there drained. Priceless. The man turned me over and gently spread my legs. He stroked the inside of my thighs when I felt his tongue sweep the inside of my pussy lips like a gentle comb sucking the cream from my pussy. His hands grabbed my ass pulling me in and I could feel his tongue reach deeper and deeper. I lay almost motionless enjoying the sensation of his strong muscle clean our juices from inside me. Shortly after, he kissed me on the hand and left the room. I watched him walk out and turned to look at Russ. I motioned for him to come lay with me and when he got up I could see he was hard again. I sat on the edge of the bed and sucked my juice from his still wet cock. He stroked my hair with every stroke of my lips over the top of him. That night we fucked like never before. The Man You may like to believe that this story is fantasy or a dream but may be surprised to know how desperately I would like to believe that too. My name is Stephen, I am 35 years old and moderately successful in that I own a small factory employing twenty men. I could easily expand but I am happy with what I've got and the extra hours required would only keep me away from my lovely wife Lisa. She is five years my junior and extraordinarily beautiful with that facial excellence extending from long blonde hair down to model girl legs. We have been married for ten years but selfishly avoided having children, not willing to suffer anything to come between us. On her birthday we drove down to the big city and spent the day with her selecting the new items for her wardrobe that I had promised to buy as an anniversary present. I was looking forward to the extra passion I would receive that night as my reward but the 'extra' had got to be quantitative because my wife gave me full passion every time. We finished off in a decent restaurant and after a delightful meal; I made my way to the gents leaving Lisa at the table. The toilets were completely deserted with all the cubicle doors standing open. After making use of the urinal, I was in the process of washing my hands when I became suddenly aware that someone was standing next to me. With a flash of annoyance I looked up into the facing mirror to see what kind of jerk would crowd me by taking the adjacent basin when there were a dozen others to choose from. The other man's hands were also under the taps as he stood in an identical pose to me but I was shocked to find that he was looking in the mirror at me. He was about my age with a strong face, very good looking but in a masculine way. His eyes seemed to be unusually direct. I straighten up and turned to face him as he mirrored my action. Close up his eyes were even more striking, brown and fathomless with a myriad of tiny gold flecks in the depths. There was a sensation of warmth radiating towards me. He smiled and time seemed to stand still. Then, as if in slow motion, he raised his hands to cup either side of my face, leaned forward and inserted his tongue between my parted lips. The 'kiss' was of only short duration but the shock and sensation went right to the core of my being. As I stood gasping for breath, he smiled again and moving his mouth close to my ear whispered, "I am going to have sex with you. Would you like that?" I have never been homophobic but while being able to allow that members of the same sex can love each other deeply, I have been unable to come to terms with the thought of gay activity. All that now changed as I breathed 'Oh Yes', knowing that I had never wanted anything so much in my life. Automatically my head turned to the cubicles but on looking back hopefully, I found that he was shaking his head patiently as if I were a child. "Later," he said gently. "I promise that I will activate in you a desire that has remained dormant all your life." Tears filled my eyes as I felt the most profound disappointment. His face was sympathetic but his tone more brisk as he said, "First you are going to introduce me to your lovely wife." Submissively I allowed him to take my arm and shepherd me to the door. Lisa glanced up as we approached, the smile on her face freezing when she saw that I had a companion. "Lisa - I would like to introduce you to...", my voice faded as I found that I had not a name to give. The stranger filled the gap, stepping past me, radiating charm. Taking my wife's hand in one of his, he covering it with the other and said softly, "My name doesn't matter - it is you two delightful people that we should talk about." Lisa smiled up at him, her expression unsure but intrigued. I think that she was about to speak but before she could he broke in saying, "Don't tell me - unless I am very much mistaken, you must live somewhere surrounded by countryside." This time my wife's smile was genuine as she asked delightedly, "How the devil did you know that?" Our guest did not answer, instead half closing his eyes in an exaggerated posture of concentration he said slowly, "I would also imagine that your house is over 200 years old and probably standing in at least two acres. You will have renovated it yourselves and are in the process of furnishing with good quality period pieces bought at auction." While we listened amazed, he surmised many more details, being wrong only about some ancient oak tree and an old fashioned well in the garden. Finally he stopped talking and it was only at that point that I realised he was still holding Lisa's hand. We both sat nodding stupidly too overcome to speak while he smiled complacently at his obvious triumph. Then, out of the blue, he said commandingly, "You must take me to see it." "I don't think that will be possible," Lisa said doubtfully, glancing at me for support while trying to extricate her hand. This put me into a difficult position because I felt that this was part of his strategy to find opportunity to be alone with me. There was an anticipatory tingle in my anus just at the thought. "It won't do any harm to show him round the house if he can get himself back to town. Is that all right with you?" I asked turning to him. For answer the man stood and headed towards the exit, his hand under Lisa's elbow hustling her along. In the lift she mouthed silently to me the words, "Are you sure?" but I just nodded. He had released her arm but she continued to stand unnecessarily close to him. In the car park he led the way unerringly to our car and once I had activated the central locking, he climbed uninvited into the back seat, pushing our packages on one side to make room for himself. The hour journey to the house passed in complete silence but I felt constantly under the scrutiny of our passenger and from the way Lisa fidgeted, I knew that she was aware of it too. Inside the house, I gestured to invite him to sit down and at the same time asked, "Is a whisky all right for you or would you prefer something else - a warm drink even?" On his confirmation that whiskey would be fine, I crossed the room to the drinks cabinet and poured spirit into two glasses and white wine into a third. As I finished, Lisa joined me - I thought to collect her glass, but instead she whispered urgently, "Why is he here Stephen? I don't like it - he's making me feel very peculiar." I had no answer and it was bad manners to whisper, so I picked up the whiskey glasses and turned away from her without replying. To my surprise, I found that he was still standing - there was a broad smile on his face and he was beckoning to my wife. Leaving her drink behind, she walked over slowly to halt a couple of paces in front of him. "How do I make you feel Lisa? Tell me," he said softly. Even from behind I could see that my wife's face had gone bright red. There was a long pause and then, "You make me go all hot between my legs," she said, stumbling in embarrassment over the words. "Why do you feel all hot between your legs, Lisa?" he almost purred. This time my wife's amazing answer was spoken without hesitation in a loud clear voice with me, her husband, standing little more than a yard behind. "Because I want you to fuck me," she said. I was shocked less by what she had said than by the language used. Lisa most frequently spoke of the sex act as 'make love', sometimes 'screw' and occasionally 'shag', there were times when she used 'get laid' - but never in all the time I had known her, had I heard Lisa use the F-word. The man was smiling confidently and moving his head slowly from head from side. "So forward and yet we haven't even kissed," he said reprovingly. As if just waiting for this cue, my wife leapt forward and holding his face as he had held mine, literally forced her tongue into his mouth. Lisa liked to neck and during a session with me reciprocated fully but invariably my tongue was the first invader. This was another established behaviour pattern that he had easily reversed. The kiss lasted a long two minutes before she broke off and stepped back to stand breathing heavily and looking at him as if to say, 'You've had your kiss - now fuck me'. He licked his lips thoughtfully as if savouring the last of the taste to aid his decision. "That was delightful but it hasn't convinced me," he said. "Your husband is here so I need to be absolutely sure. How do I know that is what you really want?" With an air of desperation, Lisa pulled up her dress and plunged one hand down the front of her pants to hold the thin material way from her body. "Feel how wet I am for you," she pleaded. He declined the invitation. "What I really need to know is how much you love my penis." The next moment my beautiful Lisa was on her knees in front of him frantically ripping open his trousers. His cock was long, heavy and with a shape of almost unbelievable perfection. I only got a glimpse because the next moment it was deep in her mouth. Lisa was no stranger to this because oral sex was a regular part of our sexual repertoire but she had never done it quite like this with me. I was used to licking and gentler sucking but she was eating him with a hungry ferocity. I was amazed at the way she was able to take a far more substantial cock than mine, so deep into her throat with complete abandon. I was far from happy because I did not want this development. The plan was going horribly wrong but I continued to watch and did nothing to stop it. I honestly do not know if he had taken complete control of my will or whether I still entertained hopes that it would be my turn with him next. When the time came, he pumped a great deal of spunk into her - more than she could swallow even though she tried valiantly. When it had stopped, she remained where she was, still holding him in her mouth and breathing heavily through her nose. The man looked at me over her head, as if suddenly remembering that I was there. "Do you still love your wife?" he asked. I had undoubtedly been hurt by what I had just witnessed but it could not possibly affect my underlying love. "Yes," I said proudly. "Then perhaps you would like to kiss her. Reassure the lovely Lisa - show her that you don't mind what you have just seen her do." His words reactivated my wife because she jumped up, grabbed my face and proceeded to kiss me as she had kissed him, her cum coated tongue probing deep into my mouth. I quickly became very aroused but the moment that my arms went round her, he intervened saying, "Enough - it's time for us to go upstairs." Obediently Lisa stepped away, leaving his semen plastered all round my mouth. Lisa led the way, he gestured me to follow and then fell in to bring up the rear. As I had hoped she took us to the guest bedroom. He stopped on the threshold, looked round appreciatively and said, "What an exceptionally charming room - however, I do think that the marital bed is the only fitting place for an occasion such as this." I think that I tried to revolt at that point but Lisa seemed so completely under his control that one glance from him was enough to make me meekly follow my wife to our bedroom. She had halted near the bottom of the bed, like a robot that finds itself temporarily without orders. I felt a hand trace sensuously down my back and tensed hoping for more but he only said silkily into my ear, "Perhaps you would like to undress your wife for me Stephen." I did as he asked but it felt strange removing her clothes for another man's benefit. All the time Lisa stood like a manikin with her eyes fixed on him, only moving her body slightly to facilitate the removal of certain garments. I left her panties until last and as I knelt to pull them down to her feet, I caught a whiff of cunt and had a close of up view of the nest of pale soft hair enclosing her vulva. It was only when I stood that she looked at me with what I took to be a smile of thanks. That intuitive knowledge of each other's thoughts had gone and instead her eyes glowed with happy anticipation of what was to come. At this point I turned to look at him, possibly seeking his approval. He was standing waiting, now naked. His penis was very stiff and I was amazed at the size. Earlier part of his shaft had been covered by her hand with the remainder inside her mouth most of the time - so although I knew it was big then, I had not realised the incredible size. Unbidden my wife had lain herself on the bed ready with her legs indecorously parted. The man strode forward, knelt between her open thighs and leaned forward until, supported by his hands on either side of her head, he stopped with the end of his prick a mere inch from her expectant twat. Looking over his shoulder at me he said, "You are the expert around here Stephen - perhaps you would like to put it in for me." I almost ran forward, fully aware of the humiliation implicit in this demeaning act but overcome with a compulsive need to touch that beautiful cock. My wife's quim was gaping open, the lips actually quivering as they blindly sought to embrace his engorged organ. With the back of my knuckles, I could feel her trembling as his cock slid past my fingers into her. Lisa started to cum the moment that he had entered her and from then on never stopped, rather her orgasms increasing in magnitude. Throughout the marriage I had proudly believed that nobody would be able to make her cum better than me - I was very mistaken. For ten long minutes I stood and watched until he paused and once more looked at me. "There is really no need for you to hang around here Stephen," he said. "Why don't you settle yourself down in that charming bedroom next door - you might like to dream about what I am going to do to you." Meekly I went - but not without a degree of eagerness because I was convinced that when Lisa had been satisfied, he would come through to me. I had expected to lie awake waiting for him and imagining what was taking place on my bed but I fell asleep immediately even though it was still early evening. Throughout a long night, I think I dreamt constantly what he had told me to dream. It was eight o'clock next morning when I awoke after a solid twelve hours sleep. My dreams had been so vivid that I lay luxuriating in the memory while accepting them as dreams. It was only after a few minutes when all the details retained perfect clarity instead of fading as dreams usually do, that I began to believe I was remembering real events. Still later, the logical fact that the remembered acts had not taken place in the bedroom, once more relegated the events of the night to dream category. Having dressed, I went through to the master bedroom dreading what I would find but a surge of relief flooded over me the moment I pushed open the door. Everything looked so completely normal. There was no sign of the man, Lisa lay asleep in bed alone and the only indentation in the pillows was the one where her head rested. Since waking, while struggling to decide whether my dream had been true or false, I had remained convinced that the events starting in the gent's washroom had really occurred but now I changed my mind. I almost laughed aloud. This was the real world after all and everything that had apparently happened was so fantastic that it could not possibly be real. Every single thing had to have been a dream. Walking to the foot of the bed I stood gazing fondly down, still trying to find a rational explanation for how I came to spend the night in the other bed. My very beautiful wife still lay with eyes closed and a look of utter contentment on her face. The duvet only reached up to her waist exposing those perfect breasts allowing me to see they were unusually full and the nipples seemed swollen. I was almost overcome by the realisation of what a desirable woman she was. In the midst of my reverie I found that Lisa was gazing up at me, eyes filled with love. "You're up early Stephen. What time is it?" she asked lazily but then, eyes flooding with excitement she said, "I've had a fantastic dream." There was a brief pause before, eyelids fluttering demurely down, she added in a lower tone, "It was really very very sexy. We were in town when this man....." At this point she broke off, staring up with frightened eyes at the expression on my face. Her hand snaked down under the duvet to between her legs and the next moment she had jolted into a sitting position, throwing the cover clear. I followed her gaze to where the tiny string of a Tampax emerged from her vagina. "It's the middle of the month - I can't be having a period," she said and the next moment, with a quick jerk had pulled the tampon clear. Removal of the blockage allowed a gush of semen to rush out and puddle between her thighs. Lisa looked up at me with a look of horror on her face pleading, "Oh Stephen - please tell me it was a dream." I could do nothing but shake my head helplessly. "God, I've just remembered - he made me take my diaphragm out," she said with despair. ** Significantly, neither the morning after pill or abortion or abortion was ever consider with neither she nor I even mentioning the options. Whatever was to happen seemed to have a dread inevitability. Lisa is now six months pregnant and we are waiting for the man to come back, possibly to claim his child. I know for certain that he will return, if only to fulfil his promise to me. [Note. Subsequent research discovered that there had in fact been a well in the garden until sixty years ago.] The Man Across the Room It was a Saturday afternoon and I was driving home from college to go home for the Summer. I was 20 at the time and was roughly 5'11. I was defined but not nearly as buff as the other guys on my floor. I had dirty blonde hair that eventually turned darker over the years. I always knew I was a little bit attracted to other guys, but it never occurred to me how much until I might him. He was tall, about 6'2, dark brown hair and stocked up like Brad Pitt. He was wearing a black polo and tan cargo shorts. I would say he was about 25 or so but I never asked him. I had stopped at a local diner for dinner while I was on my way home when I saw him. I couldn't keep my eyes off him. I admired his big arms and even took a look down at his bulge out of curiosity. "Must be HUGE" I though to myself. I had about a normal sized cock that went to be roughly 6 1/2 inches erect. He looked in my direction and I thought he saw me staring. I looked away quickly. I sipped me coffee I had ordered until I though he wasn't suspicious of me anymore. I looked back at him but he was still looking in my direction. I saw the look in his eyes. He looked curious and his eyes were full of desire. His eyes met mine. He was just sitting alone by himself and luckily no one was watching. We stared for a while, but then he winked at me, stood up, and walked towards the bathroom. I didn't know what to make of it, but my curiosity took the best of me and I got up up and walked into the bathroom as well. I saw him there, up close now. I stared at his muscular body trough his shirt, and then his bulge that I swear I saw it throbbing. "What we're you looking at?" He said. I gulped. He seemed more angry then the man I stared at across the room. "I don't know..." I paused. "Follow me" He walked into the nearest stall and I followed him in. He Unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. I was more nervous then ever. He pulled his pants down until his cock flipped right out of his briefs. He was already rock hard with veins pulsing through. It was atleast 8 inches and cut. "Well don't just stand there" I bent down on my knees hoping no one else was in the bathroom. I kissed the head and then went down his shaft. He sighed in pleasure. I wrapped my hands on his muscled thighs and then took his cock into my mouth. I licked around and started going up and down. He started to moan. He put his hands on the back of my head and started to move them up and down. I sucked harder and faster, he groaned out of pleasure and put his hands harder onto my head. "I'm gonna cummm!!" He yelped. I kept sucking and felt a load burst into my mouth. I sucked some more and swallowed the cum whole. The man stood up and then slapped his now limp cock on my face. He pulled his pants up and walked out of the stall. I followed him out but when I got out of the bathroom he was gone. I went home the next day and could not stop thinking of the man. I jacked off every night with him in my mind. I always lick off my cum the way I did his. It was about halfway through the summer and I went to the beach for a week. I went alone, and it was more of a way for me to meet more people. It was Saturday and I wAs walking on the beach when I saw him. The same man I adored from across the restaurant was now lying in the sand shirtless. I stared in disbelief but it was certainly him. Reluctantly I went up to him. "Hey" I said nervously. He paused and looked towards my face with near disbelief himself. "Hey, aren't you the guy from the restaurant?" He asked. I nodded. He stood up and shook the dirt off his board shorts. I admired his toned muscled abs and couldn't help but notice his limp cock swing when he shook. He then took my hand and we started walking. This initially suprised me at first, but we were heading to a hotel. I didn't bother to tell him that I had a hotel. We were about a block away when instead we turned and he pulled me into an alley. "My name is John by the way" he said. He grabbed the collar of my shirt before leaning in and started to kiss me. He pinned me up on the side of a building. We played with eachothers tongues before he started to take off my shirt. He pulled down his shorts and threw them to the side. He made out with me some more. He was completely naked now and once again could see his rock hard cock. I became hard instantly amd pulled down my pants. He grabbed my shoulders and flipped me around. I then felt his tongue licking my crack. He squeezed my ass and moved his tongue into my asswhole. I groaned out of pleasure. I then felt a jolt of pain and noticed he put his cock straight into my ass. "Oh yeah soo tight" he moaned with pleasure. He proceeded to go up and down. He grabbed my waist for support and pulled me in close. "Harder!" I yelled. I was suprised to see myself so horny. It seemed like hours before he turned me around and busted his warm load on my face. It covered it entirely and I licked the sides of my face and swallowed. He then bent down and licked the remaining cum off my face he put his shorts back on while I got dressed again. Instead of just walking away, he takes my hand again. We walk out of the alley. "I'm sorry I've been so silent to you" he finally says. "I never thought I would see you after the restaurant yet I hoped we would see eachother again" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was he really admitting that he was thinking of me this entire time while I was Doing the same. He hands over a card. "I'm sorry this was short but If you ever want to do this again or maybe even have a coffe sometime..give me a call" I took the card with his number on it and beogr he left I reached up and kissed him. I turned around and left with a smile on my face. I did eventually call that number. We meet every week and talk and sleep together. It's become a habit and has now budded into more of a relationship. I never knew that the man I knew today was the same man that I saw across the room. The Man Across the Street Rachel looked through her bedroom window to the street below and watched the storefront lights flicker on and then lifted her eyes to the first silhouettes of twilight spreading across the city, heralding the approaching night. Tonight there would be hours of hot, sleepless dark, lying naked on her bed, and pacing the floor feeling a mixture of loneliness and want in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps Rachel would return to bed and lie on her stomach, squeeze a pillow between her legs and feel its pressure against her thighs, rocking to it, thinking of the man in the window across the street. Hassan. There was one other alternative. She could seduce him and have him in person. Did she dare? She pictured his dark, hairy arms moving over her smooth white skin and imagined his mouth below the trim black moustache kissing her breasts, tasting her neck, licking her earlobes. She could almost sense the tip of his pink, hot tongue probing gently between her lips, tasting her, opening her, moving down her body, setting her belly on fire, awakening the flow of lava within. Hassan worked at the small grocery store on the corner where Rachel shopped for odds and ends and conveniences: when she was out of coffee filters or a loaf of bread. He had appeared across the counter a few weeks ago in late spring, suddenly, as if a tower had been built in the neighborhood at a moment's notice. He was tall and wiry, eastern looking, with thick black shoulder-length hair which he kept in a ponytail. He wore a horizontal thin moustache, thick long sideburns, and had beautiful coffee-colored skin. She wanted to eat his skin, taste it as if it was molded from marzipan made from almonds grown in deep in the east, somewhere near the silk road, where men with cocks as thick as horses rode their women to wails of ecstatic anguish every night. The first time Rachel saw him, Hassan had looked at her with a trace of a smile, as if he could see more than her face, her willowy figure, and her casual clothes. She felt like a mountain range under his gaze, her hills and valleys to be explored, her streams and rivers to be searched out. His eyes weren't lustful, but searching, mesmerizing, tantric in their insistence, as if Hassan could draw her soul to him with a look. She noticed he had a habit with each customer of taking their right hand in his, and giving them their change with clasped hands. He exuded a dark warmth to everyone, a leisurely easiness, as if he wasn't working in a store in the west, but a market in the east where all the world gathered for stories, to drink in the scent of the stalls, to greet friends and strangers alike. She felt his hand on her wrist that first time, and though she instinctively shrank from his exotic manly grasp, somehow his touch was a mixture of heat and electrical power, flowing from his body to hers. She felt the coins clink into her hand and heard his voice, as deep as a mountain lake, say thank you. "I'm Hassan," he said, too, as she left, adding, "Please come again." She looked back to see his brown eyes dancing in a face that didn't quite smile, and seemed to rivet her to the doorway where he would have his way with her if this was another time and place. Walking home to her one-bedroom apartment after that first encounter, Rachel felt a sensation of floating, as if instead of using her feet she had levitated home, and felt with it an awakening hunger. She saw once again his fingers grasping her wrist; his long, strong fingers with fine black hair growing sparsely on the back of his hand, as if the testosterone within him bloomed in great manly flowers, emanating into his deep voice, his hairy body, and the unknown manhood within his clothes. His eyes were penetrating and intelligent, not fleeting, but focused; not staring, but able to gain entry into her, to look through the gateway of her soul and to see the awakening curiosity and longing Rachel held for him. Where was he from? What were his stories? What did he look like naked? Did he have as big a cock as she imagined? What did it feel like to be held captive in his arms? A week after Rachel met him she'd idly looked out the window late at night, and seen a man in a window across the street. Hassan's profile was unmistakable, his strong frame outlined by bright lights within as he stared up at the moon and stars, which glowed dimly through the city lights. Rachel's lights were off, so she knew he couldn't see her. She watched his lanky form, staring in spite of herself as he opened his window and sat astride it, half in and half out, a cigarette glowing where he held it against his thigh in between slow, deliberate drags. She wished he would finish and go inside, turn out the lights of his apartment and cast his glance here, so that Rachel could turn on her lights and give him a show, stretching, stripping, bending and writhing, performing for him, luring him. But her hair stood on end thinking about it. Who knew what mysteries were locked within his tightly muscled body, inside his soul searching among the stars. Perhaps he was a wanderer, searching for the meaning of life, listening to the sound of each city, hearing its heartbeat and feeling its pulse, before moving on and seeking another throbbing city, his woman of the night. Rachel wanted to open her window and call out to him, to offer herself, but she resisted the urge. Eventually he had finished the cigarette and gone inside, and the lights had gone out, but Rachel hadn't performed for him. Instead, she'd slipped off her clothes, sat back in her bed across a plethora of pillows, and stroked her body, feeling his eyes penetrate her, imagined him whispering erotic eastern fantasies to her, feeling his mouth sucking her nipples, feeling his strong hands open her, his long cock thrusting up into her, until finally, panting, she had come in a torrent of ecstasy, breathing so hard she felt as if she'd run for miles and exhausted herself. Even so, Rachel didn't sleep. It wasn't enough; it wasn't satisfying. In the dark, the ceiling seemed to swim with long, hairy fingers, not scary, but intriguing, seeking to stroke and touch her body, to explore her texture, to knead the muscles under her skin and to awaken every sense within her, making her taut with desire without any further release. After that night, Rachel vowed never to go into the store again, but to put Hassan from her mind and rid herself of the temptation; to seal up the passion. Instead, she resolved to go to the gym and work out. Perhaps that would relieve the tension, the ache as if she had found a mysterious new door in her apartment, but was resolved to paper it over with a poster and forget about it. After all, it was foolish to dream; she and Hassan were from different worlds. He had expressed no particular interest in her, other than the searching gaze each time she went into the store. He was nothing more than a fantasy, an unattainable masculine fire that would burn out soon enough if only she channeled her feelings into other pursuits. At first it seemed to work, and the routine of exercise, work and friends loosened her from the grip of ferocious hunger. Although it was hot during the summer nights, she slept better and tried to think of movie stars whenever she masturbated, and not Hassan. It was inevitable, though, that she would need something from the store, and one evening she discovered that she'd run out of toothpaste. She considered going to another store, but still went to the small place on the corner, part of her hoping against hope that he wouldn't be working tonight, but another part of her giving in to desire. There he was, as usual, greeting her and squeezing her wrist with the same strength, jarring her soul and making her loins flow like the Nile. She almost told him that she lived in the building opposite, but something made her bite her lip and walk out with nothing ventured. That night, Rachel went to bed early, while it was still light, thinking about Hassan, wondering what she should do. She drifted off while reading Scheherazade, waking in the morning a little before her alarm sounded. She lay half awake, a little feverish and aware she'd been dreaming. She sensed the wetness between her thighs, and almost felt a lingering hand on her breast and a masculine mouth on her thighs, as if her dream of union had not yet reached consummation. It had been Hassan in her dream, and she'd lusted after his huge thickness, willing him to push its length deep inside her. There was no refreshment in sleep, and although Rachel got out of bed and went to work, all day the craving grew. She had to see him, somehow. She had to have him carnally, to bring her passion to a full and burning climax. So here she was, now, late that night, looking across to his room, where the lights were still off. Perhaps he kept them off, or was asleep, or maybe he was out with a lover, seducing her, or wandering the streets alone, gathering stardust, reciting eastern poetry to the night sky, watching the leaves of city trees fluttering black against the night sky, the call of an evening bird sounding in answer to his deep voice. Suddenly, Rachel was seized by an impulse to find him, to bare her body and soul and to have him, come what may. She threw on a sheer blouse without putting on a bra, slipped on shorts without panties, and pushed her feet into thongs. The night air was heavy and humid but not overpowering. It was hot enough to bead the perspiration on her neck and for a trickle to flow between her breasts. She paced across the street outside his building, wondering what to do. She had to get inside. She tried the apartment building door, which was locked, and she didn't know which suite number was his. She could guess if only she could get inside. It was on the third floor—the second occupied floor, since the first floor had only storefronts—the same as her building across the street. She couldn't press the buzzer to call him; at least she wasn't that desperate yet. What would she say? She checked her watch and found it was after midnight. She should slip back across the street and go home. Then an old man appeared from inside Hassan's apartment building and came out, holding the door open for her. Rachel nodded at him, feeling her pulse quicken with a mixture of panic and foreboding. Inside she could smell a trace of marijuana and air freshener mingled with carpet cleaner. She walked straight forward up a flight of stairs to the second floor, and then up another flight to the third floor. The hallway was dimly lit, and Rachel bit her lip, tiptoeing along, looking at the number on each door, trying to guess which one was his. It must be the second to last, since he wasn't on the corner, but next to it. Just as she reached the correct door, Rachel stopped in her tracks, seeing that it was open a crack, revealing a dark interior. The smell of incense wafted out, and as she watched, she saw the sudden glow of a cigarette in the darkness, and felt her heart beat almost to bursting and felt as if she could hear it pound. She was glued to the spot and waited, wondering if he had seen her. There was no sound or motion from inside. After a few moments, she slipped just out of sight of the doorway, and listened, wondering if she should go through with it. She closed her eyes, listening, trying to hear him breathe, trying to hear him draw in the smoke and blow it out—but she could hear nothing. When she opened her eyes, Rachel almost gagged with the fright of seeing Hassan in front of her, his tall, lean body observing her from the doorway, seemingly without surprise. "I—", she said, intending to make some excuse, but he put a finger to her lips, indicating her to be silent, and led her by the hand into the darkness of his suite, closing the door behind her, and seated her in a large comfortable chair. Her eyes slowly became accustomed to the darkness since a little bit of light leaked in from the street through his dark curtains. Hassan sat in a chair opposite her, smoking silently for a few minutes before he spoke. "I saw you down below a few moments ago when my uncle left. I recognized you—you've been in the store, haven't you. I've told you my name, but you haven't told me yours." "It's Rachel. I—". He cut her off again, his deep voice cutting into her sentence. "Let's not offer excuses at this hour. Fate and the night throws together many possibilities, some of which we seek, and others we don't. Many times we seize no opportunity, and the moment is lost as if a wave washes over us and there is nothing to remember. Such is the life of those who rest in the obscurity of the familiar and the habitual. But I sense that you are not like that Rachel, are you? For example, the first time we met, you bought garlic and chilies as well as soap, and I thought, well, here is a young woman who is clean as well as having a spicy life..." His voice smiled in an ironic way, and his last words lifted in such a way as to continue, while he took a long draw on his cigarette. "You remind me of a woman I met in Qila Shaikhupura one night as I wandered by the stone fort built by a mogul emperor along the river. In the same place, Alexander the Great fought one of his most serious battles. I could almost hear the sound of distant horses as I looked at the night sky above the water. There was no moon, but stars only, and the tobacco I held to my lips was satisfying as I gazed on the water." "Then as I looked across the fort, a woman approached, walking furtively but in my direction, slowly but surely closing the gap between us. It was not a place of prostitution, so I wondered what she was doing there alone. She came straight up to me like a phantom, but I recognized her the instant she removed the shawl from her face as a woman who often visited the marketplace where I worked in the daytime. She didn't speak a word, but pressed against my body, offering herself to me, begging me to take her there and then in the darkness. I had the feeling that she wanted to take revenge against some lover who had betrayed her, but I was glad to oblige. Neither of us said a word." "Against the stone wall of the fort I thrust her, taking her flesh, pressing into her ripe body again and again, feeling her tight thighs reach climax one, two, three times before it seemed her legs gave way, and I had to hold her in my arms against the wall. After a minute or two, however, she was off, like a female Djinn or spirit of the night, and was lost in the darkness. It was the last I ever saw of her. Now answer me, Rachel..." He took another draw on his cigarette and stubbed it out, apparently in an ashtray beside his chair, blowing the smoke upward. His smooth voice was utterly entrancing, and the way he spoke, Rachel felt unable to move under his spell. She too wanted to be taken, to be utterly possessed, laid and fornicated. "You're here for the same reason, aren't you? Yes or no, nothing else." He stood, and Rachel felt his presence, smelled his scent, not objectionable, but masculine, powerful and full. She nodded silently, unable to stem the catch in her throat, and stood to meet him, shivering even though it was warm, crossing her arms in front of her. "Well then. You shall have your wish," he said, and taking her hand roughly, led her through the shadows a short way and into his bedroom. Rachel saw that it was an inner room without a window. Inside there was a single candle burning, a large bed, a plush couch with large arms, and a huge dresser with a larger mirror. Incense was burning slowly on the dresser, and the scent transported her to places she'd dreamed of with silk cushions and Persian carpets. She already felt exposed and in his power, but almost immediately and without a word his large hands pulled off her top, ripped down her shorts and slipped off her thongs, leaving her utterly naked before him. He pressed her against the wall, her naked breasts, belly and legs feeling his hard frame. She could smell his skin which seemed as if he had danced in a mountain of exotic spices. He pressed against her, kissing her mouth with lips much softer than she expected, and his tongue, probing lightly, made her thighs water. She had expected something much more rough. He wasn't consistent—sometimes he was gentle, sometime rough, but each time he was gentle she wanted more roughness. Almost without warning, he lifted her up and held her in both arms, squeezing her skin for a moment before laying her out on the soft bed, and before she knew it he was astride her, tying each of her limbs to the four corners of the bed, first her wrists and then her ankles, with what seemed like silk scarves. She was utterly open and naked before him, and could not resist his will. In the candlelight she watched him strip, seeing the muscles rippling along his chest as his shorts and underwear dropped, and a long cock appeared, looming before her, glistening in the flickering dimness. She gasped, letting loose a moan half of fright and half of desire, feeling trapped, but not wanting to be unloosed before he had completely possessed her. The man bent down, holding down her wrists, and kissed her neck, licking the sweat from her breasts in round circles, avoiding her nipples. He licked first the outside of her breasts, and then her belly, alternating with frequency, moving his strong hands to grasp the sides of her exposed torso. Her erect nipples ached for his mouth, but still he would not suck them or even lick them. After some time, his tongue went down to her outer thighs and his warm breath moved between her legs, but he didn't lick her pussy, returning to her breasts and belly again and again. "Oh God," she started to pant, closing her eyes and opening them again, feeling his powerful hands holding her, his hot tongue licking her, and wanting more. "Suck me!" she finally said in a gasp of want. He didn't suck, but put a warning hand over her mouth, and went down and licked the outside of her labia with the tip of his tongue, running it leisurely up and down, avoiding her clitoris and inner thighs. She felt as if hot springs were welling up from inside her legs, and she couldn't get her mind off his cock, wanting it, but not being able to see it other than momentarily as he moved over her. Suddenly he grasped both breasts in his strong hands and sucked one nipple and then the other, hard, while laying the shaft of his cock over her thighs with the tip at her belly button. Rachel groaned, wanting him inside, willing him to take her. But no. Instead of thrusting into her, he resumed kissing and licking her breasts, moving his mouth down to her ripe pussy for brief moments, and then back. Each time he moved down, she ground her thighs up into him, willing to feel him against her, wanting to feel him inside, deep inside. Then after what seemed like a long time, he made an O with his tongue, and took her clitoris inside the heat of his mouth, rubbing and sucking it with more and more intensity until she was on the edge, urgently pressing into him, wanting to come. When she was almost there, he moved to her outer thighs, and softly sucked her nipples, letting her down, not letting her come. It was frustrating. He began again, tasting her breasts and thighs, bringing her so close she thought she would make it, but didn't, and ached to be rid of the silk scarves so she could jump him and impale herself on that huge cock and have her fill. He took her down again, till her breathing was slower. She expected him to begin again, but this time he didn't. He untied the scarves, and before she could plunge herself against him, he picked her up in two arms and set her down over the arm of the plush couch opposite the bed, with her ass up, and grabbed her waist with both hands. He fucked deep inside her with one hard thrust after another, his whole length moving in and out of her again and again. Rachel was already so close that the fucking brought Rachel to an explosive orgasm, with a loud guttural moan. She felt like a lion being possessed by her mate. He slowed for a moment, then reached around her and stroked her plump pink clitoris, and pumped his thick penis inside her without stopping. She came again, violently, arching herself open to take all of him inside her, feeling his shaft deep in her. With a quivering spasm, he grabbed her body in a vise-like grip and the dam of his body burst forth, filling her wanting thighs with the fountain of his manhood. The Man Across the Street Her breathing subsided, and he lifted her back onto the soft bed, slipping on his clothes and watching her and then sat on the bed, massaging her belly with one hand while smoking with the other, in a strange mixture of closeness and detachment. She wanted to say something, but lay back, looking at him, feeling exhausted, oozing, feeling his emission leak out of her, smelling the scent of their mingled lust. When his cigarette was almost done she sat up and looked at his face in the candlelight, not a sensual smile, but a serene face like the Mona Lisa. Her whole body felt warm, lithe, exhausted, on fire with the senses, as if every nerve could feel the power of his hold over her. Would he let her go? Perhaps he would hold her as his slave. Rachel slid off the bed and silently put on her clothes while Hassan spoke not a word. She nodded to him and they walked to the door of his apartment. He regarded her in the almost-darkness, stroking his chin before opening the door and letting her out, seizing her wrist in his usual manner, and dropping something small into her hand. It wasn't coins. Rachel hurried away, down the two flights of stairs and across the street, climbing up to the flat roof above her apartment where she sat for a long time, watching the stars in the humid night. She didn't go back to the store for a week, embarrassed to confront him. But one day she passed by the entrance and saw another clerk inside, so she came in the store. She found out that that Hassan was gone. He didn't work there any more; he'd moved on. The object he had placed in her hand was a jet black stone shaped like a human torso, with two smooth bumps like breasts. It was a stone to touch and feel, and Rachel kept it in her purse, pulling it out on dark nights and looking out at the stars, rubbing it as if it would bring him back.