4 comments/ 44809 views/ 4 favorites When Fantasy & Reality Merge By: mandywilluk2000 Was it a fantasy or was it becoming reality? Was it all in my dramatically vivid imagination or had these events actually happened? Did I dream them or act them out? Was it all simply emotional or had my physical being been involved as well? I was getting to the stage where I wasn’t all that sure. I knew that the psychological and emotional nightmare I’d gone through just before and for some time after the final parting from my husband had done things to me. Unbalanced me a little, unsettled me and had played tricks with my feelings and thoughts. The absence of his mental stimulation, albeit in the later times of a quite negative way, the loneliness I suffered during, particularly, the first few months after the break-up and the brain wrenching thinking I’d gone through as I set out on planning a whole new life had made me very introspective. I had gone to bed many nights my head so full of worries, guilt, hopes and plans that I’d laid awake for hours my mind in a whirl. And the loss of the sex, that even up until quite near the end had certainly been frequent and, in an oddly perverse way, still exciting and stimulating, did other things to me. Despite my full resolve to finish with him there was hardly a evening and certainly never a full day when I didn’t think of him inside me, him kissing my breasts or placing his face between my legs or me feeling his erection against all parts of my body and in my mouth. That I was enormously frustrated I had no doubt although it was not a state of which I had much experience. My entire body almost continuously ached and pulsated for the touch of a man on it and my complete being and brain screamed out for the relief he would bring by giving me a total orgasm. All these mental and physical sensations were now combining and closing in on me. In my depressed and confused state they seemed to merge fantasy into reality to a point that I was at times not sure where one ended and the other began. Had I really spent time driving around the East End looking for likely places? Was I imagining that hidden in a suitcase securely locked so that Sarah wouldn’t find them, was the red plastic, simulated leather skirt, the black fishnet holdup stockingd and the frilly blouse that was partially see through? Was I kidding myself when I sat in my room after S had gone to bed, perhaps finishing a bottle of wine, planning it down to every detail? Living every moment, imagining what it would be like, how I’d feel doing it and after? Thinking what would he be like, how he’d react and how he’d treat me? I’d given myself a timetable. I’m like that sometimes. When I have a big decision to make I often say to myself, “give it two or three weeks and if the idea hasn’t gone away then decide a date and then do it.” So I did that. If I still had the fantasy in mind after so much time then I would do it on such and such a date. And I did still have it in my mind. If anything it was firmer and as that period of thinking ended so the excitement mounted and the idea took on a clearer view and my resolve became stronger. So the actual date was set for 7 days away, a Thursday night, chosen specifically for it was the City’s night out and I knew the pubs would be full with what I needed to be there. Had I really arranged for S to spend the night at a friend’s house to give me the freedom and peace of mind to act my fantasy out? Was I actually standing in my bedroom naked taking the suitcase from the top shelf of the wardrobe? Was it in my mind that I was taking out the clothes and laying them on the bed or was the feel of the cheap plastic skirt real and strangely exciting me? Standing looking at myself in the mirror clad just in the black, fishnet holdups I could hardly make out whether they were real or whether the blatantly erotic image was me. And when I slipped the tight, short skirt on and again looked in the mirror did I know whether that was really a reflection of me, bare breasted with the vividly tarty, plastic pelmet and black net, or was that image a figment of my sexually tormented imagination.? Had I really, completely purposefully avoided pulling on any panties or bra as I did the loose buttons up on the thin black lacy bra? Was that also a reflection or was something playing tricks with my mind I wondered as I looked and worked out that others gazes would think, but wouldn’t be sure, that the full breasts that moved around and the hint of darkness under the lacy material suggested that I wasn’t wearing a bra? Still not sure whether the mirror was sending back faithful reflections or whether it was all in my mind I saw the woman sitting, crossing her legs, slowly, and I watched mesmerised as the skirt slid up her legs until beneath its hem could be made out the darker strip of her stocking tops telling whoever might be looking at that she was indeed wearing fishnet stockings. In a daze, a dream, a flight of fantasy or maybe in vague reality it went on. Was that really the rather prudish, 30 something year old single mother, the golf and tennis club member and a bastion of middle class Docklands that beamed back from the beguiling glass of the full-length mirror looking, at best, an easy, good time girl or, with just a tad more imagination, a rather cheap whore about to go on parade? And that thrilled me, it played to my needs and desires, my imagination and the fantasy that had been gathering strength in my mind ever since I parted from Kevin and had my supply of sex curtailed. It could well have been part of the fantasy or a particularly vivid dream that saw me wrap a long, black leather coat around me and call a cab. It could have all been in my mind as I climbed out just ten minutes later outside a drinking club in Bethnal Green. Yes I felt nervous. Yes I was concerned and worried about how it would go. Not worried for my safety for I was ok on that and accepted that some pain might be needed to fulfil my fantasy but more just what it would be like, how I’d feel and what it would do to my feelings and emotions. As I walked slowly across the room to take a seat at the bar so my feelings began to explode. I saw lots of eyes following me as I undid the coat and let it drape down my back as I perched myself on the high stool. I saw mens’ eyes riveted on me as I lifted myself and locked one heel of the, almost, stiletto high heels in the rung between the legs of the stool. In a surprisingly calm voice I heard me ordering a dry white wine from the young waitress behind the bar. I was beginning to experience some of the feelings I’d imagined so often as I sat there knowing I was being ogled and possibly also spoken about amongst the, largely, male clientele. It wasn’t long before I was offered a drink that I declined or before a man asked if I was wait6ing for someone. I said I was and turned away. It was getting toward 10.30 the time I knew from my fantasy research when many of the customers would move onto the clubs nearby and sure enough it started thinning out. I casually looked around and saw several couples, male and female, a few groups of men and several guys by themselves. In my fantasy or this new realit6y I looked each of the singles up and down when they were looking at the TV so they wouldn’t notice. One was in his forties At least and was immediately rejected along with another younger guy with ginger hair who was no more than 5 feet6 or so. I wondered if the fantasy was about to unravel when looking around slightly panicking I only saw two others and neither of them in any met the image I’d dreamed up during the long time I’d been thinking about it. And then I saw him. Coming out of the men’ room he was over six feet tall, nicely built with a shock of blondish hair. Fairly good looking, lthough that was of no real concern to me,I saw as he came closer walking past me that he could not have been more than 21 or so. Perfect I thought turning a little on the4 stall to follow where he went. It was time. All the thought, the planning and the fantasising were about to come together. I tried to recall exactly how I’d imagined doing this as I’d laid in my b ed so many times masturbating about it. I tried to shake me head to see whether I might wake up and find that it had been a particularly vivid erotic dream. I tried to see if really I was in my home and that my imagination had gone into overdrive and all this was the fantasy and not the reality. But as I turned on the stall so that I could look directly at him it didn’t seem unreal for I could feel the unlined cheap plastic skirt on my bare bottom, slightly sticking to me. And as I saw him look straight at me the sudden pounding of my heart felt far from anything other than real. I caught his eye and I quickly looked away, taking a swig of my wine. Holding the glass to my lips I looked back and he was still looking at me. I held his gaze a moment and this time he looked away. I lit a cigarette averting my gaze from him as I did. But then with that in one hand and the drink in the other again held near to my lips I raised my eyes and caught his stare. I held his gaze looking deep into his eyes my pulse racing. I slipped my tongue out almost unconsciously and licked the rim of the glass, suggestively I thought. Was I really doing this? Was this actually happening, at long, long last, I speculated or had my sex torn body corrupted my emotionally damaged mind so much that I could imagine this? Still staring, now unashamedly at him, holding his look I slowly, so slowly crossed me legs. The feeling of the cheap, plastic, simulated leather skirt sliding up the net of the stockings seemed so real and surely I didn’t imagine the feeling of air on the skin slightly above the tops of the stockings. He was the only one left sitting in that area and I was shielded from the few other customers by the bar and sitting there my skirt now so far up my leg that I was sure he would be able to see the stocking tops. I looked into his eyes again and I saw him standing. He smiled at me and mouthed, “drink?” I shook my head slowly but smiled as I inclined it to one side towards the door. Was I really easing myself off the stool and allowing the plastic to catch on the bar so that the hem rode up almost to my crotch? Surely I could not really be doing this? Exposing nearly all my legs to a man almost young enough to be my son in a public bar? I dropped my eyes as I stood and taking each side of the skirt in my hands I wiggled it down knowing that my breasts would jiggle beneath my b louse as my body moved. That done I looked at him again and made a meal of struggling into the coat realising that the material of the lacy blouse would be stretched across my breasts and that the front would gape so that through it a flash of white flesh would be on view to him. I knew what that would be like for I’d rehearsed that and the other moves so many times in front of my mirror and I wondered if perhaps I was now really in front of that mirror again and all else was purely imaginary. But was I imagining walking over to him, looking down and smiling? Was it in my mind that he stared at me a slight grin on his rather better looking face than I’d thought a\t first? It surely couldn’t be an illusion that I whispered, “follow me,” before turning and walking confidently to the door. And the footsteps I heard on the pavement were so loud and seemed so real that surely they were ‘t a fantasy were they? “Hi,” I heard him say exactly as my imaginings had though he would as he drew alongside me, “may I walk with you?” Now that hadn’t been in the plan. In the fantasy he didn’t speak after the “hi”. He said no more and we didn’t speak at all. “Is it ok if we talk? He asked confusing me for I hadn’t covered that in my planning. I had to quickly develop a contingency plan. Did that mean this had to be real? In the fantasy I controlled everything but now I wasn’t so perhaps I really was walking alongside him down Bethnal Green Road towards the narrow street I’d selected. “No, you mustn’t talk,” I said not even looking up at him. “Oh right,” he replied obviously confused. I said more so that told me that this may well have been real for in the fantasy I had never uttered even one word. “You can walk with me. You can follow me, but you mustn’t talk to me.OK?” He didn’t speak for a moment so I stopped and turned towards him looking up into his eyes. He must have been well over six feet tall and he looked down at me as we squared up to each other. I held his gaze as I put one hand on my hip pulling the coat open as I did. I knew that the blouse was gaping and loose and I saw his eyes go to my cleavage. I was now operating completely off script and that somehow added to the fantasy (?). His eyes roamed from my chest to my eyes quite confidently as he asked, “why not?” I smiled running my tongue over my lips as I pondered on my answer. “Because,” I said smiling and pausing as I stared at him. This hadn’t happened in front of the mirror so I was on unsure ground. I moved closer holding the coat open by my hand on my hip. I stood like that now sure he’d be able to make out that I wasn’t wearing a bra for my nipples had gone as hard and as pronounced as acorns and the top button of the blouse had slipped undone so that he would be able to see the insides of both of my breast He smiled and repeated, “because? Because what?” The fantasy was now no help for this hadn’t been factored in. Reality has that habit of being stranger than fiction. I plunged on into the unchartered waters. “Because, “ I said quite firmly, “if you want to fuck me that’s the only way you’ll get to do “ I looked at him as I tilted my head to one side waiting for his response hopin gagainst hope that he wouldn’t turn me down and make me go through the whole thing again. “You mean if I don’t talk to you I can have sex with you?” he asked blushing and looking both very young and oddly appealing. “Exactly,” I replied. “Er, um, “ he stammered, “is there a charge?” That made me smile for I had seen that happening in the fantasy.“No,” I said adding as a joke, “I won’t pay you, all I want is for you to stay silent and then you can have me. Ok?” He got the message and nodded which again made me smile as he’d obviously cottoned on. My imagination or my memory from checking out the streets during my late night sorties took us down the gloomy back streets just behind the very busy main road until we came to the warehouse I’d selected. In the dreaming about this I’d wandered confidently into the big doorway, like a porch really. Inside that it ran for about twenty or thirty feet until on the left there was an alcove tucked away so that if anyone came past the main doorway they wouldn’t be able to see into it. With the young man beside me my stride wasn’t as jaunty as in the vivid imaginings I’d had about it. No as we walked into the doorway and then into the alcove that had a dim light thrown onto it from inside the warehouse that I knew was deserted at nights, I didn’t feel quite the confidence I’d thought I would. But I felt excited, expectant and really quite in awe of myself. For a woman that had found it almost impossible to have casual sex after her marriage break up for fear of becoming dependent on a man this fantasy had been the perfect alternative. For one that had tried having sex with a number of partners that had wined and dined her until her resistance had weakened to the point she’d let them into her knickers to then find that such sex, sex without an emotional involvement as well, was unsatisfactory, this type sex appeared to be the answer. To have sex where there was absolutely nothing else involved and where she was in control represented to her somewhat mangle mind the logical way. The fantasy had started as the frustration had become so hard to endure. As her body ached for a man. As her need grew to enormous proportions. But she was constrained by this emotional hang up. And that had made her, well me really, start thinking and fantasising. Fantasising so often about some of the more outrageous feelings concerned with sex, feelings and thoughts she’d never had before and would never have thought she would have. Thoughts like being completely demeaned, degraded and debased. Of being treated like a whore, a slag, a slut. Of being mentally and physically mistreated, abused and made to act and feel so wanton, perverse and just plain dirty. Yes I was aware that it was some psychological damage from the break up but that didn’t help. I wanted to be treated like that and in all the many lonely hours I spent so more and more I had started living a fantasy life. But now that was maybe becoming reality for the perimeters of both were fading and where one ended and the other began was all blurry. It was like that, blurry and unclear, as I turned, leaned back against the wall and looked at the boy. He was clearly nervous and unsure. Little did he know that I was just the same but I knew that he wouldn’t realise that and it certainly didn’t show as I reached up and took the lapels of the thin lacy blouse in my hands his eyes from no more than a foot or so away taking in every move. I stared into them as slowly I increased the pressure on the material. I saw them widen as he looked, presumably trying to see my breasts that by now were aching to be touched or sucked. They were riveted on my hands as my fingers dug into the thin material gripping each lapel tightly. And I heard him gasp and saw him blink in disbelief as with one quick firm pull I ripped the blouse open, two buttons, just as they had in my rehearsals, popping off. I thrust myself forward a little my bare breasts learing beckoningly at him as he watched open eyed and open mouthed. He took me in his arms and went to kiss me but that was taboo and I averted my mouth instead pushing his face down towards the fiery nipples that were pulsating on each breast. His mouth sucked greedily at the extended buds as I felt his erection through his thin trousers. I rubbed it and slid his zip down. Fumbling momentarily with his boxers and the tail of his shirt I felt the sensation of the strangers bare cock in my hand and I knew that the reality was going to be very bit as satisfying as had been the fantasy. His hands and mouth were all over my breasts, just as they had been when I lived this moment so many times alone, but then it had been my hands. Then mine had squeezed, almost painfully, the swollen nipples that he now pinched, it was my own that had so gratifyingly squeezed the pliantly sensitive mounds and mine that had pushed them together into one large mound just as he did. But it wasn’t tender or even energetic foreplay I wanted. That implied a degree of concern for the other, a wish to please and slowly arouse. I didn’t want or need that. It wasn’t in the fantasy or in my mind as I’d laid on my bed rubbing my body to climax. No this fantasy was about hard, raw, uncomplicated and quick fast sex. A fuck in a dirty doorway. An almost animalsitc coupling where I got exactly what I wanted and that was sexual satisfaction brought about by being treated as and acting like a whore with a complete stranger with whom I don’t even talk. I undid his belt and pushed his trousers and boxers down parting the tail of his shirt so I could feel and see him. He was quite large, nicely smooth and fairly long but slim and very, very hard. Just as I’d imagined such a young stud should be. I stroked it and rubbed it and then still holding it with one hand I pulled my skirt up with the other. I watched his eyes as the hem slid up my thighs, as it passed the dark band of the stocking tops, as it slid across the patch of white skin that normally seperated the top of stockings from the panties. His eyes widened again though as that patch just went on and on and he realised that there were no panties. The skirt was now bunched around my waist, my pubic hairs glistening with the juices that had flown from me from the moment we’d left the bar. I pulled him closer and fumbled a condom onto his penis as I slid that between my legs. He continued playing with my breasts, that felt about set to explode with the pent up agony of sexual frustration, and then with one shove he was in me. The feeling was exactly as the fantasy had said it would be. I grunted as he surged up me and as he started fucking me. It was good, it was exciting, thrilling and satisfying. And then quickly, just as I’d fantasised, he was cumming. I didn’t climax. That wasn’t really the plan. Orgasm portrayed pleasure and an emotional connection. No I didn’t need that. That would come later when I was alone reliving these moments. When Fantasy & Reality Merge Immediately he’d finished I pulled off him. But I didn’t move away and instead I pushed my breasts against his mouth and held his penis sliding the condom off and wiping it with a tissue. He hadn’t gone completely soft. There was still some life in it as I stroked and caressed it. I fell to my knees the cold concrete hurting my knees. I took him into my mouth cradling his rather large sack in my hands as I started to suck his bare cock. It was magical to feel it growing again so soon after exploding into the condom and I knew I was right to have selected a young man. I sucked and chewed, licked and gently bit, stroked and rubbed until, within no more than ten minutes he was wonderfully hard again. Turning I placed both hands against the wall. I leaned my weight there slowly letting them slip down a little until I knew that my bottom would be sticking out. I opened my legs and he got the message and fucked me strenuously and not totally unskilfully from behind until this time I did climax. I pushed the skirt down, tied the ends of the blouse as I’d practised and slid my coat back on. And then before he had time to realise quite was what happening I was gone. In my bed that night I relived every moment. Every sensation and feeling. Every touch and every caress. I went through the fantasy in the minutest detail revelling in the sheer sordid debasment I’d experienced trying to work out whether there was any way I could improve on it to gain even more of the perverse pleasure. And of course as I ran the fantasy through my mind so I became aroused again. And as that happened so my hands traced the path my fantasy man’s had taken. So my fingers found those sensitive places that his hands and penis had visited and this time I did have an orgasm. A mighty, moaning, groaning and grunting climax that totally and utterly consumed me. In the fantasy it had been difficult to work out, and certainly impossible to experience, the feelings and the emotional reaction to that sordid episode. In reality I had to go through them. I had to rush from that doorway my blouse ripped my coat covering my almost topless bareness underneath as I wondered whether he would follow me. I had to hail a cab and slump onto the backseat my body still almost twitching from the last spasms of the, surprising, orgasm. I had to go into my flat and see myself in the wretched outfit that made me look every bit the hooker I’d played. I had to cast that off and expunge the image of the outfit from m y mind as I returned from my fantasy sordidness to my reality of motherhood. And had to wonder at what I’d done and try to understand how I’d let reality and fantasy merge into one. That night I slept surprisingly well. The normal pangs of frustration weren’t with me. My body was not aching with its usual desire and want and my mind no longer kept flitting to what it would be like to pick up a stranger and have him fuck me in a doorway. I smiled for I realised I didn’t need to fantasise about it any more. I had what I thought were real memories of it to call upon now. And there wasn’t any morning after blues. The next morning, the next day and the next few days I didn’t feel the guilt and worry that I had even when I’d made “respectable” love to men that had asked me out. No as time passed I became more and more content with what I’d done and I felt no shame or remorse. I’d done it because I wanted to so why worry? I’d had a fantasy that maybe had now become reality and if that happens it can’t really be a fantasy, or can it??? When Fantasy and Reality Merge Part 2 I think it was that film I’d seen that really started me off on what I came to think of as my “Belles”. The old French film I mean with Catherine Deneuve, Belle de Jour.” She was an ultra respectable married woman that wanted more in her life and became a part time prostitute in a brothel. She had no need of the money for her husband was immensely rich and generous and she had everything she wanted apart from illicit sexual thrills. In a way a little like me. With her also there was the psychological side for she too was never quite sure whether it was all in her mind or not. And that had been me as I went to that bar the first time, dressed like a whore, picked up the young man and fucked him in that warehouse doorway. Until this day I’m not sure whether I really did it or whether it was all some extraordinarily vivid erotic dream in which I acted out the events that had been built up in my mind over the preceding months. Whatever it was it had been dramatically real and had made me realise that I could have sex in that fashion and that I could get en enormous amount from it. Far more than I could from making love as part of a relationship with someone that I had no emotional tie up to. So of course the other fantasies that had lurked in the deepest recessed of my sexual mind started to move nearer to the front of my consciousness. And always it seemed there was similar thread running through them. Me being degraded. Me being on the face of it abused. But in my way being in control, taking what I wanted and giving none of me apart from sex. It was as “if I can’t enjoy a normal tender relationship for I can’t handle the emotional involvement needed for me to have successful sex, then have no emotional involvement at al and just the sex.” Quirky and unusual and probably hard to understand I know but it’s what I felt and was certainly what turned me on. Sex with total strangers who I’d never see again. Sex where I became just an erotic object. An item that gave sex and nothing else. I know you may say why not get a fuck buddy as the Americans call it. A man who I could have sex and nothing else with. God I meet so many on the web that should be easy. And of course it would be but it wasn’t what I wanted. To an extent I’d know them. There’d be a history and some future. They’d know what was going to happen and that wasn’t in my fantasy script. No this way was better and was what I chose. Find strangers have sax and leave. No involvement, no strings, no emotions and no aftermath with them. In my mind I became more sexually daring. Not that picking a guy up in a bar and taking him to a doorway and having sex wasn’t daring and possibly dangerous, no I mean with the act itself. I mean with the type of sex and what I wanted to do with who I picked up. Yes I dredged up those fantasies that the women’s magazines tell us are perfectly normal and are thought of by most sexually active women at some time or the other. Perfectly normal and thought of by many they may be but is it normal to feel as though one acts them out to the point that they are as though they’ve become part of reality? That I doubt is done by most sexually active women do you? I visualised myself in the same outfit. The same black, frilly, lacy, almost see-through blouse with the buttons loosely sewed back on again. No bra of course and one too many buttons undone. That pelmet of garish, red plastic, the black fishnet hold-ups and high heeled shoes. No need for the long leather coat though for it was now early summer so it was replaced by a light denim jacket. Short, but able to be done up when the need arose later. I’d ventured further afield. Into North London, Islington. Trendier but with a similar plethora of bars inhabited by young people. Again I’d visited the bars and pubs and clubs in my “civvies.” The research and planning played a big part in the creation of my fantasies. It was exciting being in a bar dressed nicely knowing that if I returned it would be looking very different with completely other aims in mind. It was also incredibly stimulating to poke around in open places searching for the venue where I would do it. Seeing in my mind a doorway, now empty and just a few feet from passersby where soon I might be writhing on the end of an unknown erection, where I would be bare chested with my skirt around my waist being fucked by a stranger. I imagined doorways, alleys,, parks and even graveyards. It excited me to think about and look at places in the cold light of day knowing that they might form part of this amazing fantasy that was more and more taking shape in my mind. I’d passed up several likely prospects largely because it was still light outside. That might be just a little too much for tonights adventure. Then I saw him and heard him. Standing just down the bar to me he was chatting to a someone at the bar in an accent, Dutch or German I thought or maybe Swedish, I couldn’t tell. He caught my eye acreoss the other guy’s shoulder and I saw his piercing blue eyes and sweep of blue hair. He was nicely tanned wearing just a white tee shirt and tight jeans. He looked muscular, very fit and as they say well hung. I looked away and watched him from the corner of my eye. Obviously a regular for he talked to quite a few people and I was beginning to give up hope of being able to see him by himself so I started to think of leaving and go to me secondary bar, see how detailed my planning is? But then the bar started to clear a bit and I was the only one apart from him sitting at it. He went to the mens room and came back and after chatting to a group came back to the bar his eyes pinned on my crossed legs all the way across the room. He smiled and went to ove along the bar but I stopped him with a shake of my head. He lifted his glass indicating as to whther I’d like another drink. I again shook my head but as I did so I undid the last stud on the denim jacket letting it fall open. I was getting adept now at longer range, silent pick ups and was quicker at it than I’d been that first night in Bethnal Green. With his eyes on me I recrossed my legs taking my time letting he see well up my skirt probably even above my stocking tops. I Leaned forward over the bar giving him a good, if rather long distance, view down my top. I could see from the way he was looking that he was interested and had that appearance I’d become used to now. I was he was it. I slid off the stall letting the cheap skirt get caught on the stool before brushing it down slowly wiggling my boobs as I did. I picked up my lighter and cigarettes and put them into my bag avoiding his eyes that I knew were watching my every move. That done I stood there a moment fumbling in my bag as if getting car keys or something and then looked up quickly and caught him staring at me. He looked flustered but my smile reassured him. He came up to me and said, “Can I buy you a drink or something?” Now used to how to get through the usual pick up routine I said quietly, “No but if you want to fuck me you can.” I saw him visibly gulp as at the same time his eyes widened as he looked straight down my top seeing for sure my lack of bra and that my nipples had hardened and were clearly making huge dents in the thin lace. “How?” was his naturally mumbled reply. “By keeping your mouth shut and following me to where I go, OK?” I turned and walked out letting my bottom wiggled and hips sway in the tight plastic skirt just as I’d practiced so often. I waited a moment outside for I knew he had to pay his bill and it took a few moments longer than I’d expected before the door opened and I saw from across the pavement where I was standing. He went to come up to me but I shook my head and turned and made off down the road in my high heels knowing that his gaze would be on the undulating cheeks of my bottom and the net of covering my legs. The timing had been perfect for it was now dusk but not dark as I made my way down upper Street away from the Angel towards Holloway Corner. I didn’t bother to look back but felt him coming alongside me as we got to a less crowded part. He cam alongside and went to say something, probably wanting to know my price. Without even really looking at him I said, “Here’s the deal. You can come with me and have sex but you musn’t say a word, don’t worry it won’t cost you a penny. OK? “Yes, yes sure,” he stammered back as I turned off the main road. He was along side me but had got the message and didn’t say anything as I turned into the small park. Walking across it I made for the shelter I’d found right in the middle surrounded by gardens on all sides. He followed me inside where despite the gloom there was enough light to see each other as I sat down on the bench and looked up at my quarry. Nice I though, around twenty, maybe a little older he was good looking and appeared to have a great body. I looked up at him and smiling reached out and undid his belt and slipped his zip undone. My eyes locked onto his I slipped my hand inside and ran it up and down his erection. “God he’s big,” I thought my heart leaping rather ridiculously at the thought of having a big cock in me. I pulled it out of his boxers and yes it was big. Thick and long it made me shudder at the thought of it going up me and I momentarily wondered if it would hurt me. But I knew that by then I would be soaked and that would help a lot. Still holding his gaze I leaned forward and after licking right up and down his length I took him quickly into my mouth. In my thinking and fantasising I’d added this variant and as I’d run over it in my mind I’d found it extremely stimulating to be imagining sucking a completely strange cock just minutes after meeting its owner. As I’d thought of that so the man would quickly get to like it and would soon start finding my rhythm and would slowly be moving his hips back and forth at the same time as my head moved. And in that dingy shelter in that dark park that’s what was happening. I’d reached round him and was gripping the, at one moment firm and at the next soft, cheeks of his wonderfully pert arse as he started to fuck my mouth. I wasn’t ready for that though. Oh no not unprotected. But I kept him in there knowing that I was bringing him nearer and nearer to ejaculation. As I felt the extra straining of his erection in my mouth so I slid the top of the blouse off first one and then the other shoulder wiggling my body until it had completely uncovered my breasts. Then just as I knew he was about to cum I whipped my mouth away and holding his pulsating cock in my hand I rubbed it quickly giving it that last impetus that forced his cum to start shooting from him. I heard a deep grunt, almost a moan, come from his mouth as his warm, sticky cum splattered onto hand my and bare breasts. It just seemed to spew and spew from him in what for a moment, in my fantasizing mind, I thought might be an endless stream. But even young, virile young men can’t do that in reality as they might in the unreal and soon it stopped and there was just a small dribble hanging from the tip. Looking into his eyes again as he ran his hands through my hair saying how marvelous it had been, I rubbed the tip of his still surprisingly hard penis over each of my breasts smoothing his goo into the soft flesh that felt so sensitive and alive. It was just as I’d imagined in my moments of thinking about this and fantasizing about how it would go. The straining I felt in his cock as it prepared itself to ejaculate, the stream of thick liquid shooting from it, the splash of warm goo on my breasts and the feelings as I rubbed in with the bulbous head of his engorged cock. There’s something so wonderfully dirty and amazingly sordid at having a man cum on your body, especially your breasts. I can’t quite put my finger on why or what but women do fantasise about it and most, I think, welcome a man emptying themselves on her. He went to talk but I shook my head and continued running his erection over each breasts concentrating its head on my nipples that were now alarmingly hard just as I knew they’d be from when I used my vibrator on my bed visualizing this moment. Unlike the mainly older men I’d been with since my marriage break down his penis didn’t go completely soft, just a little less than it had been. But it was now time to freshen that back to its fullness. I placed it between my breasts and sort of wrapped them around it looking down at the tip that was sticking out from between its soft covering. It was close enough for me to reach with my tongue and as I massaged the sides with my boobs reveling in it sliding in and out of them lubricated with his own cum I licked the very tip several times feeling it twitch and come to life again. Just as the fantasy had indicated I felt the hardness returning, the straining coming back and his hands grabbing my hair. I stood up letting the blouse fall away from me but still held in the waist-band of the skirt. My breasts were completely bare and still splattered with his semen the hard, erect nipples glistening with it as I took his hands and place them on the full orbs. He rubbed and stroked them making moaning grunting sounds as his fingers explored the soft pliant and such sensitive flesh. As he did that I was, just as I’d planned, holding his cock rubbing it gently as I coaxed it back to its full readiness. And then the fantasy took a very different turn. My imagination had created a new dimension. I visualized a completely new element to it. In my mind a totally new event happened. “Hey is this a private party or can anyone join in?” I heard a man’s voice with a heavy accent ask. But it wasn’t the man who was caressing my breasts and whose now wonderfully full erection I was holding against the red plastic covering my tummy. No it came from the entrance to the shelter where as I looked up I saw another man. The man I was holding turned and said, “hi Carl, I’m sure you can join in but our lady doesn’t want us or her to talk.” At first the fantasy had told me that I would panic. But strangely I didn’t. I think it was the first man mentioning not talking that did that. I simply looked at the second man measuring him up and yes he was young, yes he was well built and attractive. And I may well have chosen him had I seen him by himself in the bar. He was slightly familiar and of course, as in the fantasy, he’d been talking to the first one at some time in the evening. I watched as he came over to us and standing behind me he put his hands around me and cupped my breasts shoving himself against my bottom. He was already thrillingly hard and I felt his length fit between my cheeks. At the same time the first man was pressing his erection against my tummy. The combination of feeling two cocks squashed against me was so exciting that I felt myself losing a little control. Nothing like it had been in the fantasy. I found that I was squirming my crotch, backside and breasts all at the same time against the pleasure giving cocks and hands. And they kept on giving me more and more pleasure. But it wasn’t just that it was the thrill of the two men and the anticipation of both of them having me that contributed hugely to the unexpected sensations that I hadn’t factored into my plan. I knew that this was near rape. I realised that I was going to, no had started, having sex without my agreement. That one man at least was forcing himself on me without my permission. But did that worry me, did it concern me or fill me with dread? No my imagination took that on board and the fantasy building up took on a completely different dimension to that which I’d planned. Now I would have the added humiliation of being taken by two men together in tandem, of double the degrading and demeaning. Now, not only was I going to have sordid sex in sordid surroundings but also I had lost control and between they could force me to do as they wished not as I directed. The fantasy was, as I guess had always been inevitable, going pear shaped. The fantasy had called for me to pull my skirt up and offer that part of me to one man. Now though I had two pairs of hands yanking at the plastic so that it was bunched around my waist. Now, I was bared by them to their gazes and enquiring hands. Nothing in my imagining had prepared me for this but oddly I didn’t struggle for the domination of me by them seemed if anything to arouse me more. When Fantasy & Reality Merge They spoke to each other as they pawed my breasts and stroked between my legs possibly saying, although I couldn’t understand a word, how wet I was for they spoke in their native tongue. I was even losing control over the silence but now that too didn’t seem to bother me. I found that as their hands slid between my legs I squirmed myself against them pressing the bare, soaked lips and my clitoris onto their skin drawing every last bit of pleasure from the hard, warm flesh. I found that I pressed my breasts back against their hands that were fondling me wonderfully roughly and were pinching and pulling my nipples deliciously fiercely. And I found that I was moaning and gasping from what they were doing, showing emotions and feelings in a way that had not been scripted nor catered for in the fantasy. The first one said something in what I think now was Dutch. I could only pick out one word and that was repeated several times in the same sentence and that was fuck. It thrilled me to hear it amongst what sounded as a load of gibberish. It thrilled and excited me to the extent that completely out of the intended way I heard myself saying, no whining. “Yes,yes.” The first man now came behind me and the other stood in front his hands grabbing a bunch of my hair as the other one grasped my hips. The first pulled my head upwards his face descending as he did so that it was so close to mine I could smell the faint traces of his aftershave and the strong odour of beer on his breath. This was not the fantasy I’d imagined for his mouth enveloped mine and he kissed me greedily and roughly immediately shoving his tongue deep into my mouth. At first my immediate reaction was to struggle and I tried to pull away but his hold on my hair hurt so much I couldn’t. As I tried to yank my head back so he pulled harder on my hair making me think that a bunch would come out. I cried out with pain and he said, in English. “Shut up bitch, keep your fucking mouth shut.” I gasped at both the pain and the language now half afraid and half even more excited. The other joined in obviously now ignoring the agreement we’d made. “Yes keep it shut until we tell you to open it so we can put our cocks in it.” He was now shoving himself against my lips and I knew that he would shortly be in me and I managed to blurt out “please wear a condom.” It was somewhat of a relief but also quite an embarrassment when he replied, “of course, I wouldn’t put my cock up the cunt of a whore without one.” Despite everything that was happening to me in this amazingly real and quite chilling fantasy I stammered, “I’m not a whore, I’m not.” It seemed important for me to make the differentiation, “I just wanted uncomplicated sex.” And then I got it for suddenly the first man, the one that I’d had oral sex with, was in me. He thrust his large cock in me without warning and I grunted as it slid all the way up. “Oh yes,” I moaned as he started to surge in and out. The other one, still holding me by the hair pushed my face down and down until it was level with his cock that he’d released from his trousers. “Suck me, suck me bitch,” he ordered pushing it against my face with his other hand. And then I got royally fucked from behind by the first man as I sucked and gobbled at the second man’s cock. I was now aroused to the point where I was starting to orgasm when suddenly the one behind me pulled out. “No, no,” I heard myself say, regretting the show of feelings as I did. But it didn’t matter for they changed places and I was again sucking the first man’s cock as the other entered me. They did that again a few minutes later until I wasn’t really sure who was in me and who I was sucking. Everything seemed to combine into one great mass of sensations and feelings as my body exploded with what turned out to be a massive orgasm. I just couldn’t stop cumming and cumming. Not when the first one spurted into the condom. Not when the other one took his cock from my mouth and went behind me. Not when the first one pushed his condom covered cock with the load of sperm in the little balloon at the tip into my mouth. Not when the other one shoved himself in me and certainly not when he surged in and out quickly, fiercely and quite aggressively still shooting into his condom. Circumstances had now so changed my fantasy that it took on a completely different perspective. In that dim, crude shelter in the middle of the park where there was still just enough light to see what was going on I knew that I’d lost control. I had orgasmed, spoken to them and I’d expressed to them that I was receiving pleasure, excitement and even satisfaction. That was never in the original version. As I fell against the man that had just cum into my mouth my arms going round him to support me, so I felt him cup my breasts as the other fondled my legs and tummy. As they did that so I wriggled myself against them. As hands rubbed, squeezed and pinched my nipples, breasts, thighs and bottom so I pressed my face against the bare hairy belly of the man holding me. What the fantasy was now doing was having me make love to them and show affection and desire for them. Gone was the cold, distant woman taking just what she wanted and then vanishing. That had been replaced by a female so engorged on the sexual excitement they were giving her that she was even now indicating she wanted more. And in this new fantasy she did. Speaking in their native tongues interspersed with phrases in English I heard them say. “We’ll fuck her again.” “Let’s take her outside and have her there.” “She’s got fantastic tits.” “She’s gagging for it.” And then they lapsed back into Dutch as, without asking for my agreement, they manhandled me out of the shelter onto the grass in front of it. They were holding me tight presumably concerned I would try to get away but that was furthest from my mind for now my thinking and fantasizing was coinciding with what they so clearly wanted from me. The sheer degradation they were putting me through, the degree to what I was being dominated by them and the anticipation of seeing just where this fantasy would take me combined all combined to give me feelings I’d never before experienced. They pushed me onto the grass that was damp with dew and laid beside. They started pawing all over me their hands going to every part of my body as one of them started pulling my skirt. “Oh shit I thought they going to strip me, what if they run off with my clothes?” “No, no,” I gasped, “please don’t,” I asked trying to hold onto the skirt as it slithered down my thighs. “Shut up slag and do as we want or we’ll hurt you,” one of them said grabbing my wrists and holding them above my head as the other yanked the skirt further down my legs. And then it was off me and my bare bottom and back came into contact with the grass the blouse still with a couple of buttons done up remaining wrapped around my waist being all that I was wearing other than the fishnet holdups. Still with my hands forcibly held above my head I had one of them kiss me shoving his tongue roughly deep into my mouth while the other chewed far to too strongly but appropriately aggressively on my breasts as one of them tore at the blouse doing what had until now been my job of ripping the buttons off. The feeling of being naked apart from my holdups in the open dusk was another new experience for me and it was actually very thrilling but still worrying for I had no idea what they might do. But wonderfully I felt and saw that they were both struggling out of their clothes until all three of us were naked. The laid half back on me their mouths and hands travelling all over my body. Squeezing and pinching my breasts, stroking my thighs and plunging between them to invade me they once more, slightly frustratingly but marvelously excitingly, built up those familiar orgasmic feelings in me. I was whimpering, moaning and grunting as fingers roughly slid in me and as teeth bit into my breasts leaving, I was sure, rough red marks that I would have to hide from Sarah when I got home. It was now such a different fantasy. I had lost all control and had let them take that from me. “We’re going to fuck you so hard,” one snarled pushing probably four fingers up me and hurting me due the suddenness of it as the other sucked my nipple deep into his mouth his teeth digging into the sensitve and quite tender flesh. The pain from both just seemed to merge with the pleasure and excitement and I found myself reaching for their erection. Moaning and whimpering from a combination of arousal, pain and fear mixed with anticipation of what was going to happen I stroked the two hard cocks. I caressed them and pumped them and started making love to them. They were mine and I wanted them. Wanted them against me, on me and in me. And then they fucked me again. Thy fucked me in turn. First one from behind and then the other from the front. They switched around so I lost all idea of which one was in me and which was against my face or between my breasts. They took me up to a near orgasm and held me there for what must have been half an hour. Whether they ejaculated and if it was with a condom I had no idea. Writhing around on the grass one moment lying on my front the next on my back then kneeling or standing bent forward I was continually fucked and unlike I’d imagined the fantasy would be I enjoyed every single moment of it. I was in a perpetual climax and hadn’t realized they’d both withdrawn from me until I opened my eyes and looking up saw them both kneeling beside me. I was holding my breasts and caressing myself so aroused had they made me. We looked at each other as they at the same time took their still hard penises in their hands. They began to rub them, slowly at first but then, as they looked at me squeezing one breast and fingering myself unashamedly between my legs more quickly. As they increased the pace of their pumping movements even more they leaned forward so that they were above my face and breasts. And they it started. The cum shot from both of them almost at the same time and splattered onto my chin and cheeks, into my hair and onto my boobs. That put me over the top and made me cum at the same time. The fantasy was now complete. Most of the things I’d imagined had now taken place and I worried at how vivid it had all been. At how I’d lost the control and had began to feel for them. At how we’d joined together to make it so thrilling and so real. Was it real? Had those deviant acts taken place? Was I that woman that had encouraged such deeds, such wanton and sordid deeds? Or was it all in my mind? My frustrated and confused mind? Time will answer that. As time passes so I’ll find out, I’ll work it out and I’ll see whether I need to go back again. Revisit those places and those scenes. Determine for sure whether my search is over or whether it’s just beginning.