Mased Intentions

For as long as I can remember, whenever I've seen a pretty girl in the street, at a restaurant, at a retail counter, in a classroom - pretty much anywhere - my imagination has run rampant with what I'd like to do. Given a flash of skin, exposed cleavage, a glimpse of leg or an innocuous smile, erotic thoughts would spring to the fore, and sex would be all that I could think about - in glorious and gratuitous detail.

Back at school, I'd be caught in a trance, staring rudely at the back of some poor girl's head, immersed in my own thoughts, and the teacher's words would not even register to my mind. The sight of a bra-strap would be enough to start me off, and I'd spiral into some fictional sexual adventure, starting with flicking the bra strap, moving onto pulling hair and ending in some wild sexual positions on the floor right there in the classroom.

It never happened, of course. My sexual fantasies have always been confined within my mind. Everyone has always thought of me as a little weird, and prone to daydreaming but I've never confessed what my musings entailed.

Despite my obsessive mind wanderings, I was able to engage in social interactions in a fairly normal way. I'd just have to suppress my thoughts as much as possible before they got out of hand. If I was with a girl in some social setting and my deviant thoughts started to take control and interfere with good social etiquette, then I had a few strategies, like bringing an unattractive person, or just excusing myself for a while. But when I got home in the evening, I'd use all of those thoughts as food for my stories and I'd jack off madly to those scenarios.

When the COVID pandemic arrived, everyone was locked down in their own apartments. We all went through a year or so of quarantine and isolation which was pretty tough for everyone, including me. I discovered that I lost the casual contact with the feminine side of the population - the source of all my material. And so, I tried to substitute reading, TV, movies, Youtube. But it wasn't the same, because mass-media told

their

story. I wanted to live my

own

fantasies, and make them up as I went along.

As society emerged from the lock downs, we were all compelled to wear respiratory masks. And while that was pretty uncomfortable for everyone,

for me that came with an unexpected upside.

Our lives returned somewhat to normal - working, shopping, socialising - but we all wore masks for a lot of the time. I discovered that the mask afforded me anonymity. Walking through the streets, sitting at my work-desk, catching the bus - I was behind a metaphorical and literal mask.

During the lock downs, I discovered that I had begun talking to myself quite a lot. I lived alone in my apartment, so I just let my thoughts spill out, because I was never going out to see anyone anyway.

With the advent of masks, I could continue to talk to myself. I mean, not loud talking. Just a murmuring mumble that only I could hear. It was almost inaudible. But the fact that I was putting my thoughts into words, and actually saying it, made it feel real. Like it was a scenario that might actually play out. It was like I was the narrator of my life, and maybe I could influence things to really happen. Sexual things. Things that I like.

If I was in a queue at the supermarket - socially distanced out of course - and I looked ahead to see a hot cashier scanning the items, I'd say in my mask, "I'd eat your pussy. Then I'd turn you around and eat your ass too. Right here at the register. You'd love it." Usually they would not react at all, but sometimes they'd look up and search out my eyes with theirs. I could pretend that we'd made a telepathic connection. But inevitably nothing would materialise when I reached the front of the queue.

If I was walking in the mall, and a couple of nice girls were shopping together and walking the other way, I'd look directly at them and say into my mask, "Hello girls, come back to my place for a fuck. I'd fuck you first." Then I'd switch my focus to the other girl, "And then I'd fuck you next." And while they were approaching, I'd continue my monologue. "You'd both drop to your knees and I'd jam my cock into your mouth, then yours, then back to yours. And you'd share my cum as I spray it over your faces and into your mouths. You would both love it. And then you'd lick it up off each other and the floor." The girls would glance at me as they passed, and then they'd be gone and that would be it. Until I found the next target.

I'd do this all day long, every day. In every setting. Passing in the street. Colleagues at work. In the diner, though that didn't really work since we took masks off to eat. But pretty much everywhere else when I would be in the proximity of women.

Vaccination rollouts were successful and the COVID restrictions relaxed. Yay!

No masks! But then the second wave of the pandemic arrived. Dang! Masks back on. Over the next year we went through tumultuous policy changes with mask mandates, small quarantines, isolation restrictions and health protocols. Masks were the most volatile, being a simple rule to announce - I can't remember how many times a mask mandate was enacted only to be revoked soon after.

One day I was catching the train home from work. The population had started to embrace public transport again, so there were usually interesting people to observe in the carriage. On this occasion I sat opposite a thirty-something woman, donned in her warm winter attire and masked up in one of those P2 super masks.

She wasn't yet middle age, but it was on its way. I could discern that she had a shapely body and a pretty face, despite the clothes and mask obscuring so much. For me, she held plenty of sex appeal, and following my usual modus operandi, I thought I'd share that insight - along with what I'd like to do with her. Of course, it was all muttered under my mask, so it was exhilarating for me, but harmless.

My commute extended for about twenty minutes, so I knew I could take my time and be fairly detailed and explicit in explaining my fantasies.

I looked directly into her eyes and locked my gaze with hers. Another thing I noticed about the era of wearing masks - random eye contact would be much more intent and held for longer. Maybe it was the anonymity that the mask afforded - no-one would really know it was you staring. Or maybe it was the fact that so many other facial features were covered and you needed a longer time to recognise a face. I don't know which. Maybe the researchers will publish the reason someday. Maybe we'll have to wait til the next pandemic.

Anyway, locked onto her big brown eyes, I decided that a good name for her was Candy. And then I started talking to her, under my mask, with the hum and clatter of the train drowning out my mutterings.

"I'd follow you home Candy, for a fuck. The best fuck of your life. We'd get off this train together and find ourselves back in your apartment, then you'd become a slave to my wishes. And a slave to the desires of that pretty little cunt of yours."

"We would go into your kitchen and we'd remove our masks and you'd make us a drink to take the edge off. Then I'd have a mouthful of cognac and I'd hold your pretty face by the cheek and I'd spit my drink into your mouth and you'd swallow it all down like a good girl. You'd love the taste and lick my lips, wanting more, but I'd have other ideas so I'd bundle you into the bedroom."

She broke eye contact at this point but I watched her face while I continued relaying my fantasy and soon enough she looked back to me.

"I would take that scarf off your shoulders and use it. I'd use it to tie your hands together at the wrist - then I'd push you up to the bedroom door, hands high to the sky and I'd hook that scarf over the top of the door so you'd be standing there, toes barely touching the floor, helpless, but wanting more."

"Then I'd tear off that little dress of yours and you'd be wearing lacy panties below. If those clothes got in the way I just wouldn't care. One way or another Candy, we are getting naked."

"I would drop to my knees and your pussy would be aching for attention. So I'd slip out of my clothes and then pull your underwear down with my teeth. Roughly. To the floor. And then underneath - hmm," I mused, trying to read her eyes to work out her style. "You would have fuzzy black pubes around your pussy."

Candy looked to the floor. Maybe that was a sign. "No. You are completely waxed. Totally smooth. And delicious. Like candy! I would totally eat you out. My tongue would slide up and down your wet little slit. You would still be tied up but you would be doing everything you could to grind that little clit of yours against my face. I would taste your pussy juice and you would be moaning for more."

The image was so real to me, and my belief so completely suspended that I imagined I was there, and I could swear that I could taste her pussy on my tongue, or at least smell her scent in the air.

"You would say, 'Don't stop' so I'd know you were getting close. But that would just be a sign for me to shake things up."

Candy looked to the ceiling like she was impatient for the train to reach her stop - wherever that was. But there was still, plenty of time left until my station, so I continued.

"I'd unhook your wrists off the door. And throw you to the bed. Still tied up. You would squeal. And I'd tie that scarf to the bedhead. Hmm - up or down? I'd put you on your back on the bed. Your face would be reaching out, like you wanted to kiss. So we would. I'd kiss that pretty mouth and feel out your tongue. I'd wrap our tongues together while I pressed my body against yours, and you would feel my cock pushing hard against your skin. But you couldn't hold it. No. Because your hands are still tied."

I think my hand might have landed on my lap at this stage, and I probably touched my hardening cock, because I saw Candy's eyes dart downwards on my body for a split second.

"I would climb up your body, dragging my cock along your flesh. And you would open your mouth because you want it. Like a lolly pop. Like candy. And I'd let you lick my cock. All around the head. Up and down the shaft. You would love it."

"And then, when my cock was extra hard, I would let you take it into your mouth. Just a little at first. But gradually more and more. Going deeper. Pressing harder. And you would gag, but you would love this. Because it's making me hard and you know what's coming up. Because I am going to fuck you."

.

Candy smiled to me - I could see the crinkle in the corner of her eyes despite the mask disguising her face. She looked me up and down and then pulled her mask down to her chin and offered me a very deliberate smile.

"I'd fuck you too," she mouthed.

What the fuck? This had never happened to me before. How did she know? Was the telepathy real? My hand reached to my mouth and i realised that I'd not been wearing a mask all this time.

She smiled with even more glee as she observed my jaw drop and let out a little laugh. It looked like she was entirely comfortable in her skin and seemed not at all offended by what I'd been saying.

The train jolted as the driver applied a gradual braking. "This is my station," Candy mouthed. "Will you join me?"

"Join you?"

"Come back to mine. I have some ideas too, you know," she smiled once more.

This was it, I thought. My one-in-a-million chance. Candy offered her hand. I reached out and grasped it and together we disembarked from the train.