Sex with a Sting: Six Erotic Fantasies with a Kink in the Tail (4 page)

“Damn. What was it
like, come on, tell me! Was it worth it?”

Helena looked her
right in the eye for a moment or two. “Yes. Oh fuck, yes. Every single
fucking
penny.” And they went to wait for their suitcases to arrive on the carousel.

“I’m going to need
full details of course,” giggled Jill.

“Of course!”

“And I have got
business class on the way back, right?”

“You have. It’s
amazing, you’ll see.”

- This is how this is going to work.

- OK

- You look ok, you don’t seem stupid.

- Thanx

- Try to spell ‘thanks’ correctly, or
this is over, right now.

- OK. Thanks.

- If you type LOL, or, worse, LOLZ or you
spell, say, ‘right’ R-I-T-E, then this is also over.

- Understood

- I can just about accept ‘u’ for ‘you’

- OK

- So, I’m on this site for no strings
sex, one time only. Nothing else.

- Sounds good

- But I have some rules. You need to be
fit and I need to fancy you. So, I need you to email me a full-length photo of
yourself in underwear. I don’t need a cock pic, so don’t send one.

- Do I get a pic of you?

- No.

- Seems unfair

- Let me ask you this: if I decide I want
to fuck you, will you turn me down if I don’t send you a pic of myself in my
undies?

- No

- Does my photo look good to you?

- Yes. Very.

- Exactly. So if you want this, then
email me. I’ll give you the address in a second.

- OK

- Second thing. I like sex in unusual
places. I need you to suggest somewhere we can do it. If I like the sound of it,
and I like your pic, we do it. Tonight.

- Fuck yes.

- I’m telling you now - I don’t want
drinks, I don’t want small talk, I don’t want flowers or chocolate. Just sex.

Nicole gave Harry her email address and
exited the chat window.

Harry. She’d met one or two posh boys
over the last few months and she guessed by his name that he might be another.
She had expected the hook-up website to be full of desperate teenagers with
constant erections and men in their late 40s who liked dogging, but in fact,
the clientele was as varied as other, more, well,
romantic
dating sites.
There was a mixture of everyday people who liked sex (like herself), some
curious people who didn’t seem to be quite sure what they were doing there, and
a small but significant percentage of genuine weirdoes. Fortunately, she had
become pretty adept at weeding the strange ones out during online chat,
although she found you could often deduce a fair amount simply from a person’s
photo. For example, anyone who looked too morose or too happy was not worth
bothering with. They always had issues, especially the happy ones.

Most people on the site tended to use
some kind of body shot rather than a facial image, likely out of fear of being
recognised. Men often opted for a picture of a naked torso, or a pair of
well-filled boxers or, quite simply, a close-up of an erection. The latter was
rarely a sexy sight for Nicole. Far too…
clinical
. Women had a few more
options: a close-up of their lipsticked lips, a shot of their boobs encased in
a bra, a naked photo from behind or, in some cases, a photo that might best be
described as ‘gynaecological’. Subtlety was regularly low on the agenda. Plus,
a large number of the female accounts were almost definitely fake, placed there
by the site management to boost the apparent number of willing nymphomaniacs in
order to lure in monthly subscriptions from sex-starved males. It was a bit of
a minefield, truth be told.

Nicole’s photo was deliberately
understated. It was from shoulders to waist, showing her long, dark hair
cascading over a well-fitted suit jacket. The lapels joined in the middle of
her chest and parted again at the abdomen. Most would assume that she was
wearing nothing underneath it. She wasn’t. Nicole had chosen very carefully.
What she wanted was something with sex appeal, yet still on the right side of
slutty. Something that had a touch of class, but with a naughty edge. Her loose
hair and the two revealing triangles of warm, bronzed skin achieved that effect
nicely.

Contrary to the aim when joining standard
dating sites, she did not want to stand out from the crowd. She keenly wanted
to avoid clumsy, desperate messages from boys typing with one hand. She wanted
men to skip past her picture and email the woman with her legs splayed. She
valued her unobtrusiveness. It left her relatively unbothered while she
searched for the men she liked the look of.

It allowed her to do the hunting.

This was a process she had refined over
about 18 months. Previously, she had been a member of several dating sites, but
her experiences left her unfulfilled. Most of the men she met were quite nice
and once or twice she engaged in a short-term romance, but she never became
serious with anyone. She was too busy.

Work, going out with friends, going to
the gym, travel. These were the most important aspects of her life.
Particularly the travel – and she preferred to travel alone. Quiet beach
holidays with a partner were not her idea of fun. She liked to explore, to get
lost, to fold herself into the fabric of a new country, a different city. This
was best done without companions. She could be whomever she wanted, do whatever
she wanted, whenever she wanted. And it was a great way to meet some fabulous
men, too. She still caught herself daydreaming about the wealthy gentleman she
met in Rio: one chance Friday night drink somehow turned into a filthy,
raucous, debauched party on a yacht that lasted over three days. Men and women
– sore, sated, hungover – limped back through the harbour in sheer
exhaustion late on the Monday night.

Nicole knew that her lifestyle was not
conducive to a long-term relationship. Perhaps she may want something more
substantial in the future, but for now she had moulded a private life that
suited her perfectly. She still occasionally used standard dating sites if she
fancied a meal out or a few drinks with a handsome man. But if she needed
something naughtier, which every now and again she did, then she ventured onto
this particular hook-up site, which, in a pretty dodgy field, seemed a little
more reliable than most of the others.

It was a place where she could be at ease
with her particular fetish, which was to have sex, with strangers, in unusual
places. She particularly liked the thrill of fucking in public, but she was
always open to other inventive suggestions.

She had recorded some memorable
experiences over the course of the last year and a half. There was Tom, a giant
at six foot six inches, the tallest man she had ever been with. They did it in
a disabled toilet at a shopping centre during their lunch break. Nicole always
smiled at remembering this one because Tom was so tall that it was impossible
for him to creep about under anyone’s radar – he had spent most of his
life enduring people unapologetically peering at him because of his height.
Nicole had no doubt that several shoppers must have seen him follow her into
the loo and guessed what was going to happen. That just made it even better. She
got him down on the floor in seconds, whipped out his cock, and rode him until
she juddered to a satisfying climax. They were in and out in five minutes. And
it was incredible. Intense, quick, perfect.

Then there was Jermaine, a taekwondo instructor,
15 stone of bulging muscle. He invited her to watch one of his training
sessions. She kept her eyes on him at all times, willing him to get prematurely
hard while she waited for the lesson to end. Once all his students had left, he
roughly pounded her, right in the centre of the mat, her ankles by her ears,
beads of sweat sparkling on his chest, his black belt tied around her naked
waist.

The most memorable one was on a rooftop
in the centre of a town about 30 miles from where she lived. In that area,
quite a few of the buildings had chairs and tables on their flat roofs so that
in the summer months employees could enjoy lunch there or have a drink after
work.

On this occasion, David, a company
director, led her to the roof of his firm’s building one warm evening. He
offered her a drink, but Nicole refused. She always rigidly stuck to her rules
– no small talk, no presents. Just sex. She had been tempted on that
occasion though, because David looked particularly debonair in his fitted
crimson shirt and loosened, thin black tie. He was a few years older than her,
with his otherwise black hair turning a twinkling silver at the temples. At the
top of the stairs he started kissing her and she pushed him out onto the
terrace, tearing at his shirt buttons and encouraging his hands to whip under
her own shirt to unclip her bra.

He picked her up and placed her on a
rocky plastic table and within seconds he had her knickers swinging from the
end of one of her shoes. He devoured her slick pussy until her body began to
shake, and then he took her right to the edge of the terrace. She placed her
hands on the safety rail and he quickly entered her from behind, grunting as
his pelvis slapped against her naked arse. She reached for his hand and held it
against her breast, compelling him to massage it, to venomously tweak at her
nipple.

She looked out at the magical view across
the town, at the snaking river, at the green countryside just beyond, at the
slowly setting sun and felt her body thrill to his almost musical rhythm.

And then she heard a noise. A laugh? She
looked up and on another terrace to her right, a couple of storeys higher, a
whole group of people, men and women, all holding bottles of beer, were
staring, smiling, giggling. She didn’t tell David. She just sighed louder and
stared right into the eyes of the very cute guy at the end of the row until she
came, loudly, making sure her audience would be able to hear her. When she
turned to kiss David and it was obvious the show was over, the crowd whooped
and applauded. She waved to them, delighted. David, out of breath, in shock,
could only do the same.

On the other hand, she had turned down
plenty of interesting offers for various reasons. There was Craig, who wanted
to bang her on the ghost train at a funfair that was passing through town. She
refused partly because of the possibility that kids might see them, but mostly
because he had ignored her instruction not to send a picture of his genitalia.
In fact, his full-length, full-nude photo included him giving the thumbs up
sign. With both thumbs. Definite nutcase.

She also resisted a tantalising
suggestion from Chris, who wanted to do her on a pedalo on a lake in a large
park just outside of town. Firstly, she was sure they would capsize and
secondly, even she, with all her experience and creativity, couldn’t quite work
out what position they could do on a small pedalo without one of them falling
in.

And she said no to Wayne, who insisted
that it would be fun to hide in a nearby National Trust property until it
closed for the evening before fucking in one of their impeccably kept rooms.
Nicole was all for danger. She loved showing a bit of disrespect. But something
about leaving sexual DNA on an immaculate, antique chaise longue just seemed a
little, well,
wrong
.

Occasionally, apparently unpromising encounters
could spring a surprise. Her last liaison before Harry was booked, arranged and
satisfactorily completed within just 90 minutes.

Kieran was 19 years old and worked a
night shift at his local Asda supermarket. He was surfing the hook-up site late
one evening when he and Nicole, who was only idly browsing and had been about
to go to bed, began messaging. Normally she wouldn’t have gone for someone as
young as Kieran, but, unusually, he had placed a picture of his face on his
profile. He was extraordinarily good-looking. With his unkempt, scruffy hair
and stubble, he looked like a cute, grungy rock star, not a million miles from
Kurt Cobain. When he sent a photo as requested, he suggested, very probably
because he couldn’t think of anything else at the time, that she visit him at
work in an hour. Suddenly feeling horny and adventurous, Nicole agreed.

Around midnight, she was shiftily waiting
in the shadows outside the back of Asda. A figure opened a small door and
beckoned her in. Without saying a word, Kieran took her hand and stealthily led
her to the back of the storeroom. His youth, and the way he kept a wary eye out
for colleagues and bosses, had the intoxicating effect of making her feel like
she was 16 and virginal all over again.

They edged between two mammoth pallets of
tinned goods until they were in a small, secluded space between the pallets and
a wall. Sweetly, he had thought to lay a blanket on the dusty floor. Without
ceremony, he was all over her, clearly enormously excited. Clumsily, he fumbled
with the zipper on the back of her dress and then desperately pushed his hands
down the front of it, eager to get at her tits. In the end, she had to slow him
down and undress for him. He waited impatiently and then attacked her nipples
like he was a starving man. She stroked his hair while he sucked and pulled at
them with his teeth.