The Stranger

We were still on the floor, my head on his shoulder. The cabin was dark except for the candles I had lit earlier. It was getting chilly. Through the window, I could see a full moon rising just above the trees. Finally, I turned my head towards Tristan.

"I don't know about you but I am famished. I'm a great soup maker and made a pot of mushroom barely soup yesterday--want some?"

I asked.

"That would be great," Tristan answered. "I only had that croissant at the café and yes, I've worked up an appetite," he said. He leaned over and kissed me lightly. "If you make soup the way you write stories, I'm in big trouble," he said.

"Well, buddy, you might be in a jam you won't know how to get out of," I said, smiling. "I make wicked good soup."

"Sounds perfect, you wicked woman, you," he said, smiling.

"How about making a fire in the wood stove," I asked. "It's going to be a chilly October night with that full moon." I got up and wiggled into my jeans, grabbed the flannel shirt I had thrown off and buttoned it half way up now that it was chilly in the cabin.

"I'll put the soup on and then I have to go feed Gypsy."

He went to the wood bin next to the stove, gathered some kindling I had in a box and started a fire. I got the pot of soup out of the refrigerator and put it on the stove, then went out to the barnyard to feed the horse, goats and throw some cracked corn to the chickens.

Within fifteen minutes, we had a nice fire going and the smell of the soup filled the room. The stove had a glass front and the flames made a nice glow. While I got bowls and spoons and stirred the soup, Tristan stood by the window looking up at the full moon. We were both quiet.

After an afternoon and early evening of reading my erotic stories and then acting them out with Tristan, I was dizzy with thoughts racing through my mind. I could not believe what was happening to me. Years of living alone, raising my daughter, gardening jobs and writing these stories, then suddenly, out of the blue, this stranger enters my life. Would I ever be the same again? Would he stay or leave? Where was all of this heading? Where did I want it to go?

"What are you thinking?" I asked Tristan as he looked up at the moon.

He turned to me and shrugged his shoulders. "This morning I was standing at my window, watching the leaves fall, realizing that my life was like those leaves falling to the earth to dry up and wither away and suddenly, impulsively I make the decision to just take off, drive, get away, not sure where I was heading and now here I am in a cabin of a beautiful sexy, intelligent writer reading me erotic stories and living our sexual fantasies." He paused. "I guess I'm trying to absorb all of this—nothing like this has ever happened to me before."

I nodded, looking at him at the window. "Me, too," I said. "I never expected to meet a stranger in the café and invite him to hear my stories. Do you think it was destiny that we met?"

Before he answered, I said, "Soup's on," and carried two steaming bowls to the table. We sat down. I touched his hand.

He took a sip of soup and said, "Hey, this is great soup. Perfect for a chilly night," he added.

"So, mister, do you think it was destiny that we met?"

"No, I think it was random luck—not destiny. I think I just happened to stop in that café and you happened to be there. I don't believe in destiny or that this was meant to happen—it just did. I think we create our lives by taking advantage of opportunities that present themselves."

"Really, you think it was just an accident, a fluke that we met," I said.

"Yep!"he said, sipping his soup, looking at me.

"And now what," I asked. "What do you want to happen now that we met by accident?" I looked at him, surprised by his philosophy.

"I don't know what the future holds," he said. "All I know is I got in my car and just started driving. I broke out of my routine. I abandoned my work, my garden, my responsibilities, but meeting you has opened me up to things I hadn't realized I was missing. Now I'm not sure I want to go home to all of my responsibilities. I just want to feel free, let go," he said.

"You're tired of being responsible and conscientious, aren't you?" she said,

"Right, I want to feel alive and free. Meeting you and being here this afternoon, hearing your stories, acting out sexual fantasies is making me wonder how I can ever go back to how I've been living all these years. It seems so sterile."

"What do you want to do?" I asked. "Are you going to keep traveling forever? Do you want to stay here and fuck everyday? Or go home?"

"Do you want me to stay here?" he asked. "You have your life and responsibilities?"

"Good question," I responded. "I don't know. We just met. We hardly know each other."

"That's right. The fact is we're both on journeys and our paths just happened to cross. I'm enjoying hearing your stories and getting to know you. Maybe if I stayed we could be good for each other. Maybe we would drive each other crazy. If I left, you'd be a great memory and I'd end up back at my cabin the richer for all that I experienced. Is there a good answer?"

Both of us were silent, finishing up our soup. I was thinking about what Tristan had said and wondering what it would be like if he stayed. What it would be like if he left?

Finally, I said, "Sometimes I think the problem with us writers is we think too much. We're always working out a plot, analyzing everything, imagining this scenario or that. We're too detached, too serious."

"That's true," he said.

I took our empty bowls to the sink. I put on water for tea and then came back to the table.

He looked at me and smiled. I loved how his eyes looked in the candle light. He then sighed as he looked at me.

"You're right about thinking too much," he said. "And the problem with being too serious, too much in our heads, is that we don't live in the present—the now."

I nodded and thought about what he was saying. He continued. "It's a dilemma because the present becomes the future. What we do in the now can affect what happens."

"You're right," I responded. "If we always think too much about the future, we miss the present. You're here with me now and we just shared this soup, this candlelight, that wonderful full moon and each other."

Suddenly, both of us were quiet, staring at the flickering candlelight. Both of us were deep in thought, not sure what we wanted or where we were heading.

"So, Tristan, do you think this a one night stand?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," he said. "You're the one who said we writers think too much. We should live in the present, the now, and I'm trying to do that."

"Do you want this to be a one night stand?" I asked.

"Do you?" he asked back.

"Are you asking do I want to have a relationship rather than be two strangers passing in the night?" I paused. "My answer is—I don't know. This is new for me, too. Since my daughter left, I've lived in this cabin for the last few years alone. I like it, but at the same time, I'm not sure I want to live the rest of my life like this. You know, alone. I just don't want to go out looking for Mr. Right. I just thought he would show up or we would meet by accident."

"I understand," I said. "So you're wondering if I'm Mr. Right."

"Yes, of course I'm wondering that," I answered. "I guess. I would like more time to see if we should hang out together for awhile and I am wonder what you're thinking."

"I'm wondering the same thing," he said. "I think it's important to try to live without expectations. That way, I'm never disappointed and many times I'm surprised and delighted by the unexpected."

"That's a good philosophy," I said. "But it's hard not to have expectations."

"It's important though. I went on this journey just to get away. I didn't think. I had no plan, no expectations. I don't even know where I am or how far from home I am. I have no destination, but now I'm here with you and don't know whether I should stay or head out tomorrow."

"Let's stop thinking," I said. "Let's just go hour by hour."

"That's a deal." He said. "Let's shake hands to that."

I got up and put another log in the stove. Tristan smiled at me when I came back to the table. We both took a deep breath, looking at each other without speaking.

"I could go for another story," he said, that is if you don't mind reading to me."

"Really, I'm flattered you'd want to hear another story or do you just want to get turned on." I said.

"Both," he answered and I laughed.

"I have a story that I think you'd like because it's about being too responsible and conscientious but deep down wanting to be free. "It's called, "Good Girl, Bad Boy."

"Sounds interesting," I said.

I picked up my folder on the table and thumbed through the pile of stories and pulled out the one I wanted to read. I looked over at him and said, "Here goes." I smiled. "I think you'll like this one."

==================

Jessica Caldwell spent most of her time in the Biology Lab. She was twenty-two and finishing up her PhD work in Genetics. She was the youngest student to get a doctorate from the university. She graduated high school at sixteen, had a full scholarship at Smith. She finished in three years with honors and had a full scholarship for graduate school. She rarely dated and put all of her energy and time into her studies.

One night while she was working, a young man came into the lab with a bucket and mop. He gathered the trash from several trash baskets and then started mopping on the other side of the lab. He wore a tee-shirt with the sleeves cut off. Jessica looked up him, noticed his muscular arms, then went back to her microscope. Every few minutes, she looked up from her microscope and over at the man mopping. She looked at his ass in his tight jeans and was having difficulty concentrating on her work. Something about his body was attracting him to her. She noticed an earring dangling from one ear. He had long hair, down to his shoulders, but she couldn't keep her eyes away from his ass in his tight jeans and muscular arms. He looked up and smiled at her. She smiled at him nervously then went back to her microscope, wondering what it was about him that attracted her.

As he worked his way closer to where she was working, Jessica kept looking up at him and caught him looking at her. He smiled each time their glances met as if he sensed an attraction. Jessica prepared some new slides for the microscope, wrote down some notes and tried not to look at him, feeling nervous at the way he smiled at her. Quickly, she glanced at him then went back to the microscope.

One time when she looked over at him, he put the mop down alongside of the bucket and walked over to her. He stood close to her, his thigh touching her thigh and said, "I seem to be distracting you."

Jessica felt the warmth of his body as she turned and faced him. He looked her in the eyes and smiled. She was not used to a man standing so close to her, his leg pressed against her thigh and looking at her with such intensity. She never dated and the only men she talked to were her professors and other students. Jessica did not know what to say. She had one hand on the microscope as she looked into his eyes.

"I'm Vincent," he said. "What's your name?" he asked, leaning against the lab table. Jessica looked at his arms, noticed a tattoo of an eagele and how tight the tee shirt was on his chest.

"I'm Jessica," she answered. She wanted to tell him to move away but didn't.

"We keep looking at each other," he said.

"Yes." Jessica said. "I was watching you work. I'm not used to someone in the lab late at night."

"I liked the way we looked at each other. I'm feeling attracted to you," he said. "And I think you feel attracted to me."

"I don't know," Jessica said, nervously."I've got work to do. I have to get this experiment done before midnight."

"But I'm distracting you, aren't I?" Vincent said, putting his hand on her hand.

Jessica started to pull her hand away, but Vincent gripped it tighter, keeping it in place. He moved his face closer to hers and smiled. "We're getting turned on, aren't we?" he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking him in the eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said. "Now if you'll let go of my hand, I have to get back to work."

"You don't really want to work," he said. "You want to fool around with me."

"What do you mean fool around with you?" Jessica responded.

"Fuck! That's what I mean," he said

Jessica was stunned and tried to pull her hand away from Vincent's. "Let go of my hand," she said, but he gripped it tighter.

Vincent took Jessica's hand and moved it to the bulge in his tight jeans. He rubbed her hand up and down his hard cock. Jessica had never felt a cock before and looked down at her hand moving along the long hard bulge. Suddenly, she was breathing heavily. "You like the way that feels, don't you?"

With his other hand, Vincent reached inside Jessica's white lab coat and found her breasts. He started squeezing one of her tits. Jessica took her other hand and tried to push his hand away. "Stop that," she said, but suddenly felt a tingling sensation she had never felt before and held his hand on her tit and gasped, "Oh."

"You like that, don't you?" he said, rubbing her tit with one hand and moving her other hand up and down on his cock. "Your cunt is getting wet and your getting horny, aren't you?" Jessica was panting. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip.

No one had ever talked to Jessica like that. She wanted him to stop but found herself enjoying the feel of his cock on her hand and the way he was playing with her tits. She felt herself getting wet between her legs. Vincent moved his lips to Jessica's ear and started licking it, first around the edges and then inserted, tickling her and causing a tingle to go through her body. Jessica was sitting on her lab stool. She was wearing a skirt. Vincent took his hand from the one holding his cock and placed it on her thigh and then pushed her legs apart. He moved his hand up her leg until it reached her crotch and placed his hand on her mound then whispered in her ear, "You like how that feels, don't you?" He paused, "Mmmmmmmm, you're panties are soaked. You're wet, aren't you?"

Jessica was feeling sensations she had never felt before from a man, though she had touched herself many times. She could not believe she was letting a stranger touch her like this or talk to her so boldly. She knew she should stop him, scream, do something but Vincent was arousing something in her that she had thought about but had never experienced. She had never been with anyone like him. He was from another world, the street, bars, motorcycles, while she lived in the ivory tower of science and now he was invading her safe world with his hands and his dirty words.

Vincent moved his fingers inside her panties and played with the wet lips of her pussy. He moved up and down her slit causing Jessica to lift her self towards his probing hand. "You're a hot little slut," he said. "You want me to fuck you," he said.

"Oh God," Jessica moaned, as Vincent's fingers entered her wet pussy. She knew she should stop this. How could she let a stranger do this to her, talk to her like that? She wanted to push his hand away but the sensation of his fingers in her was making her want more.

"You think you're a good girl but you want to be bad and dirty with me, don't you?" he whispered in her ear. He put another finger in her pussy and found her clit causing her to shudder and gasp, "Ohhhhh!"

"You want to tell me to stop, but you like this too much. You want it bad, don't you?" He moved his fingers in and out, fucking her with his hand.

Jessica lifted herself off the stool wanting his fingers in deeper. She pushed upward against his probing fingers. She had never experienced sensations like this. She opened her eyes and looked at Vincent who was looking back at her with a devilish smile on his face.

"Your brain is telling you this is wrong, but your body likes what I'm doing," Vincent said. "Tell me to stop, and I will or... tell me you want more."

Jessica kept her eyes on Vincent's face. His smile, the intensity of his eyes, the probing of his fingers going in and out of her made it impossible for her to speak. He then pulled his fingers out, grabbed her panties and pulled them down her legs. "I'll stop if you want me to," he said. "You can go back to your microscope and I'll go back to my mopping," he said.

This was her chance to stop Vincent. Her skirt was high on her thighs. Her legs were extended as he pulled her panties down over her ankles. She could kick him away and run out of the lab. She could stop him. He was giving her the chance to give in to her desires or go back to her responsibilities and experiment. "What am I doing?" she thought to herself, unable to stop Vincent.

Once her panties were off, Vincent unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He wasn't wearing underwear and his bulging cock was now released and stood straight out. Jessica had never seen an erection before and could not take her eyes off Vincent's huge cock. Vincent then spread her legs apart and moved between them bringing the tip of his cock to the entrance of her pussy. Jessica's mouth was wide open, wanting to shout for him to stop, to go away, but the sight of his cock between her open legs made her speechless. She was experiencing feelings she had never had before. Her pussy was dripping. He rubbed his cock gently against her entrance, spreading her legs wide open moving his cock up and down. Jessica looked down at what he was doing. The sight of his cock at the entrance of her pussy, her legs wide open, the sensation was tantalizing her. He was playing with her, teasing her, inching his cock a little deeper with each swipe of her pussy lips. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "You like this, don't you? You want it in you?"

Jessica's eyes were closed, biting her lips and concentrating on the sensation she was feeling. She knew she should tell him to stop, to go back to work, but now she only wanted more of what he was doing to her. She was panting, moaning, his words and hot breath on her ears, his cock going deeper into her was driving her crazy.

"You're a virgin and you want me to fuck you, don't you?" he whispered, then licked her ear with his tongue.

Jessica couldn't speak, but was lifting herself off the stool, wanting more of what she was feeling, wanting more of his cock in her.

"You want it bad, don't you?" Vincent whispered. "Beg me to fuck you," he said.

Jessica was desperate for more of his cock. She was lifting herself forward, but she had never used these words. Vincent was teasing her, taking her into another world.

"Such a good little girl wanting to be bad," he said, grabbing her ass. "Come on Miss good little girl," he said, roughly pulling her forward by the ass, his cock going deeper in her.

Suddenly, he thrust his cock into her causing Jessica to scream, "Oh my god." She felt the sharp pain as his cock broke through her hymen and then the pain receded and the pleasure of his cock took over causing her to moan and hold back a scream but it burst out, "Ohhhhh god!"

Just then, Vincent pulled his cock out of her and Jessica gasped, "No!"

"No, what?" Vincent asked, looking at her with a devilish smile.

"Don't stop," she said.

"Don't stop what," he said, "What do you want?" he asked, holding his cock at her entrance. "Tell me what I should stop doing," he said, teasing her with his cock, moving it up and down her pussy lips.

Jessica's mouth was open but she couldn't speak. She was breathing heavily. She looked down at the cock against her wet pussy, watching his cock tease her, when suddenly, she reached out and grabbed Vincent's ass with both hands and pulled him into her.