I’m completely naked now, bent over the table with a strange alpha under the same roof, the kind who admitted he’s been stalking me.
And I’m presenting my ass to him.
"Do it, fuck me, make this hunger stop for a moment…"
I hear his footsteps behind me.
Then the rustle of something, I don’t look back, but I know he’s opening one condom wrapper and then another.
Wow, he really wants to feel safe and fully insulated from me, but honestly, I can’t blame him. He doesn’t know if I told him the truth about my sexual history, and I could have lied toconvince him to stay with me through the heat. For all he knows I could be hooking up with guys in parks without protection.
People lie all the time about their sex lives, usually to make themselves look better for some strange reason. I told him the truth, but I can’t fault him, caution never hurts.
I feel his presence behind me, I hear his heartbeat, fast and solid. His breath under the mask is audible, a faint rustle against the fabric.
A moment later, his hands slide over my ass, slow and lazy, sending another wave of pulsing contractions through my hole. His touch is unhurried, sensual, exploring.
At this stage of my heat, I don’t need prep anymore. My entrance is loose and open, and I know he’s staring at it. It’s darker than usual, deeper in color, like it’s begging for an alpha with its intense pink glow.
I feel his cock press against my cheek, first just the hard length resting on my pale mound. The stalker drags it over the surface of my soft curves, but slowly, it finds its way toward the pulsing target. Soon, the blunt tip of his cock presses against my swollen folds, quivering with hunger.
With a leisurely, almost teasing motion, he pushes inside. The pressure on my ring builds, and the feeling of being filled is so good that when he glides along my prostate, I hit my first small orgasm just from the massage alone.
A loud gasp escapes me, and I grip the edge of the table to steady myself.
"Fuck me, fuck me hard…" I demand, my voice dripping with slutty tones.
I never thought I had it in me, but apparently, it was just waiting.
"Plow me!"
He sinks indeep, and I feel him all the way in my stomach, bulging, pushing out.
Pull back and thrust, pull back and thrust…
His gloved hands slide toward mine, clenched on the table’s edge, and in an unexpected gesture he covers them, not gripping, just resting his palms over the backs of my hands.
There’s a brief moment when his finger seems to brush along mine, as if he noticed the new ring on it, the engagement band from Bay, but maybe I’m just imagining it.
It’s strange, and sweet, even though we’re supposedly total strangers, even though there are layers between us. I don’t feel like I’m having sex with someone whose face I’ve never seen. I don’t feel anxious, threatened. There’s no fear he’ll hurt me. Instead, my whole body hums with absolute trust.
I surrender completely, no hesitation.
I remember the chorus of a song that Bay once wrote:
"I don’t know your name
But I trust in you, all the same
I don’t know why you did it to me
But your touch is all I need"
I hum it softly under my breath. For a moment, he slows, as if the song affects him, but then he picks up the pace again, giving me exactly what I want.
I let myself drown in the pleasure, silencing the guilt, shutting everything else out.
My channel grows more pleasure-drunk with every thrust, spark after spark of ecstasy building…
