Their Fantasies Come To Life

When I received the letter in the mail last week I didn't take it very seriously. I figured it was a harmless prank. Clearly, I was wrong.

I know I was wrong because tonight I was brought to a strange building with a glass room just like the letter described. There were warm lights positioned around the room illuminating the space. The only furniture was a raised platform with an expansive mattress on top. The bed was made up simply with silky sheets. There was no comforter, and there were no pillows or headboard.

Helps maintain the view,

I thought with a thrill when I first saw it.

Because that's what I had been brought there for. Wasn't it? Wasn't that what the letter had promised? Even once I was standing in that very real room I still couldn't believe it. Because when I received the letter in the mail last week I didn't take it that seriously. Who would?

The writing was simple enough, but reading it gave me goosebumps.

I know you would like to get fucked while other men are watching you.

Next Wednesday I will send a car to collect you at 8pm sharp. Dress elegantly, and don't be late. You will be driven out of town to a private facility and escorted into the building. You will be led into a room designed for viewing. You will be fucked and made to orgasm repeatedly on a large bed. Men will be surrounding the room, out of your sight. As they watch they will be naked, restrained, and focused only on you.

You will be kept safe. Your pleasure will be my priority.

My best,

Your Host

The letter was typed out simply on creamy paper and arrived at my house without a return address or a stamp. Someone must have hand delivered it, I supposed.

I may not have taken the letter very seriously, but I certainly did think about it a lot. At first, in the evening after I received it as I cooked dinner and got ready for bed, I turned some questions over in my mind.

Who was this mysterious "host" that had sent the letter? How did they know where I lived? And how could they possibly have known about one of my foremost private fantasies?

But that night as I settled into bed, I abandoned the practical questions and let familiar images float through my mind. I pictured myself illuminated on a platform being fucked by a handsome stranger, while men sat in the shadows watching me.

In these fantasies I always imagined these men naked, with their cocks straining as they watched me get fucked. I imagined them flooded with arousal at the sight and shame at the fact that they were only able to watch. Something about the thought of their humiliation always got me wet and flushed.

Sometimes, I even imagined that it was men I know who were watching me. Friends, colleagues, exes. And the thought that they could watch me, feeling simultaneously mortified and full of desire, and that I might never know they'd been there, flooded me with some sick satisfaction.

I'd pictured iterations of this scenario dozens of times alone in my bed while I massaged my breasts and nipples, while I fingered myself, and eventually cried out from pleasure alone in my own bed. But now someone had somehow taken hold of my fantasy and made it shockingly real by putting it into writing.

That night, the images in my mind were more vivid and alluring than ever before. I imagined getting fucked hard by a stranger's thick cock while anonymous men looked on. I imagined submitting to the man I was with. Being soft and pliant for him, while simultaneously craving the high of knowing a row of pathetic men were watching me. I loved to imagine their submission and their humiliation. With these visions in my mind and my fingers rubbing my pussy, I came within moments.

I didn't take the letter that seriously, but as I was drifting off to sleep that night I decided that I wouldn't miss the opportunity to see if the offer was real.

***

My stomach dropped when I got the letter. Honestly, what a sick joke.

Placed directly in my mailbox one morning the letter read,

I know you want to watch her getting fucked.

You can keep thrashing about alone with your hands wrapped around your pathetic little prick trying to imagine her body all you want, or you can see for yourself how she really looks and sounds when she's with a man who can take her.

Next Wednesday at 8:30 you'll have your chance. Listen for a knock at the door.

Don't miss it,

Your Host

Who could have even written something like that? And how could they know?

At first I worried that it was her, that somehow she knew. That she could read it on my face when I passed her in the hall or read my mind in the awkward silence between us in the elevator. But if she did know, why would she write something like that? And anyway, I was flattering myself. She barely noticed that I existed.

She'd been my neighbor for almost two years. And although she'd always been polite and courteous, and even let me borrow her phone one time that mine was lost, she'd never spared me a second glance, not really.

Over the years I'd seen a couple guys come and go from her apartment. Tall, handsome men with nice clothes and crisp haircuts. They always looked perfect together.

No, I decided. She couldn't have written the letter because she wasn't thinking about me at all. I resolved to put the whole mortifying ordeal out of my mind.

Some sick joke, that's all it could have been.

But at night,

oh god,

at night. Thoughts of her would float into my mind unbidden, even more vivid than before. The sequence was always the same. At first I would imagine being with her in some way. Maybe having her soft little mouth wrapped around my cock with her beautiful eyes smiling up at me. Or even just lying next to each other in bed. Getting to look at her naked body up close, without restraint.

But, as always, my mind would eventually drift to the same image. I would picture her on her hands and knees while one of her men, with his broad chest and strong hands, was taking her from behind. I would imagine the gorgeous look on her face as she rocked with pleasure. I could almost come just from picturing the flutter of her eyes or the sway of her breasts hanging heavy below her.

And I loved to picture the man with her too. His long, throbbing cock that could stuff her full. The strain and flex of his hip muscles as he fucked her. The assured look on his face with his eyelids heavy and his lips slightly parted.

In these fantasies I would always imagine being there in the room with them, watching and humiliated in the corner. A pitiful feeling of shame would always swirl with the arousal within me. At some point they would always realize I was watching them and pause for a moment to laugh. Just then, at the thought of their mocking, I would erupt all over my hands and stomach, lying alone in my dark apartment, just down the hall from hers.

I might have been horrified when I got the letter, but try as I might I couldn't stop thinking about it.

***

Over the next week life was busy and although the letter would flash through my mind I didn't let myself spend too much time thinking about it. On the one hand, I didn't want to get my hopes up too much. And on the other, if this did turn out to be real, I didn't want to let myself think too much and decide that maybe I was planning to take a risk that I should reevaluate.

I did, however, clear my calendar for Wednesday night and Thursday morning. I figured if the letter wasn't real I'd just take an evening to myself. Maybe I'd take a nice bath and start a new book.

When Wednesday finally rolled around I found myself distracted throughout the day. I was trying my best not to fixate on what might happen but I kept catching myself losing the thread of what I'd been thinking about or working on and imagining myself naked and full with men's hands and eyes all over me.

After work I came home and decided to take a bath early anyway. I poured a big glass of red wine and filled the tub with scalding water. I shaved my legs and enjoyed the silky feeling as I rubbed them together in the water. I sipped my wine. I couldn't help my thoughts from wandering to what might, if I was lucky, be waiting for me tonight. I didn't want to touch myself, I wanted to save the pent up feelings just in case. But I did run my hands over my breasts and nipples a bit in the soapy water. As turned on as I was, this was almost enough to make me come on its own.

At 7 I got out of the bath and poured myself another glass of wine. The letter had said to dress elegantly, so I spent some time considering what to wear. Finally I picked out a pair of black lace underwear that hugged my hips and my favorite, simple black dress. I put on small gold earrings and simple black heels. After all this I felt radiant. I had a warm flush of arousal in my core and soft, fuzzy feeling from the wine and nice clothes wrapping around me.

At 8 pm on the dot there was a strong knock on the front door. I made my way into the entryway and paused as I reached for the door handle. Hanging from the handle on the inside of my door was a red piece of silk with a small note pinned on.

Please tie this around your eyes.

It was typed out in that same simple font on the cream paper from the letter. A thrill of shock and anticipation ran down my spine. Maybe, I finally let myself think, this

is

real.

Gingerly I picked up the delicate fabric and brought it up to my eyes. The blindfold was so soft against my skin. After I tied it in place I took a deep breath. With anticipation and curiosity coursing through me I reached out for the handle and opened the front door.

"Good evening, miss," said a crisp, polite voice. "Please, take my arm."

***

I kept meaning to leave the house before 8:30. Really, I did. But I kept getting caught up with things I had to do around the apartment and not being able to get out the door. The laundry machine ran long and I had to switch it over and then I got an email from work that I had to answer and, well, I guess I was inventing any excuse I could not to leave.

I knew the letter was a joke. Didn't I?

And even if it weren't I was resolved not to stick around to find out. I wanted to weed out my obsessive thoughts about my neighbor, not lean further into my fantasies about her.

But, as I tried to convince myself to leave, I kept letting myself get distracted, unwittingly, with an image of my neighbor's hips in the skirt I'd seen her in last week. By 8 I was nearly pacing the apartment, feeling antsy, conflicted, and, if I had to admit it, turned on from all my efforts

not

to think about what the letter promised.

Through the haze of my indecision I heard a sharp knock on a door down the hallway and absentmindedly made my way to the peephole, just for something to do.

With a start I realized that it was

her

walking down the hallway, and that she wasn't alone.

She looked gorgeous as ever, in a sleek black dress with her hair cascading down her back. But for once I was more preoccupied with her surroundings. She was wearing a red blindfold tied behind her head and was being led down the hall by a tall, clean shaven man wearing a black turtleneck sweater.

I felt my stomach drop again as I watched them board the elevator. If she was being taken somewhere, blindfolded, with a strange man that I had never seen coming and going from our building before, I realized with a jolt that the offer in the letter might be real.

I resumed my pacing. I got dressed to leave but never quite got out the door. Frantically I grabbed a beer from the fridge and drained it quickly. Within minutes I grabbed another. I needed to calm down. I needed to think. I needed to --

But it was too late. At 8:30 sharp someone rapped roughly on my door.

***

The man who'd come to collect me at the door was exceedingly courteous. He led me out to a comfortable car while making sure I could walk alright with the blindfold on. We drove in companionable silence for quite some time. The sound of the city died away as we drove and I felt long winding roads unfurling beneath us as we rolled on.

Still flushed from the wine and the days of anticipation, I felt a warm hum radiating through my body. Although I didn't know exactly what to expect from the evening before me, a good feeling about it all had settled inside me.

Images from the letter and my fantasies began to roll through my mind. I imagined slipping off my gorgeous dress and standing naked for men to see. I imagined spreading my soft thighs as a strong man settled his hips and torso between them, and I imagined the rush of that stranger filling my pussy for the first time.

But, more than anything, I dreamt about the audience of men assembled to watch me devoutly.

The letter had said that they would be naked and bound watching me. I imagined a row of aching cocks jutting out from the laps of men looking up at me helplessly. I could see their cock heads glistening with beads of precum. Their eyes heavy with a hungry lust. All because of me.

Oh god.

I felt myself getting wetter and wetter as I pictured it all. My nipples were straining under the silky fabric of my dress. I almost let my fingertips start to graze along my body in the backseat of the car, but it seemed disrespectful to my gentleman driver. And anyway, the anticipation and desire were, I hoped, getting me ready for whatever was to come.

***

The knock on my door halted my pacing. I stood for a moment, frozen, in the middle of the living room, foolishly holding my breath. After a moment a gruff voice spoke from outside my door.

"I know you're in there and I'm not in the mood to wait. Now come unlock the door, turn around, and put your hands behind your back."

My heart rate surged.

What had I gotten myself into? And did I want to back out now, if I even could?

For just a moment the thought of her body in that black dress with the blindfold on in the hallway flashed through my eyes. If I could have a chance to see more of her I had to take it. And besides, I wanted to obey the rough voice that had commanded me from the hall.

Before I could change my mind I walked to the door and unlocked it. I turned around and brought my hands together behind my back. They were shaking slightly as I stood there waiting.

Finally the door opened and I heard heavy footsteps in my entryway. A rough bag was pulled down over my head. Then I felt hands sliding a piece of thick twine under my wrists, wrapping it around a few times, and pulling it tight. The rope pinched my wrists but the pain helped ground me.

The man who had come to pick me up stood so close behind me that I could feel the heat of his body. In a low voice he growled, "you will follow me. You will do as I say. You absolutely will not speak. Understood?"

As I nodded fervently a thrill of arousal coursed through me. The feeling of being restrained, ordered around, and demeaned filled me with a churning feeling low in my abdomen. My cock was coming to life in my pants and my head felt light.

Grabbing my elbow, the man yanked me backwards and out the door. I stumbled before regaining my footing. Then, I let myself be led outside by this man's firm grip on me. We walked out from the house and down off the sidewalk. We stopped and I heard the sound of a car door opening. My escort shoved me into the back seat then and I had only just curled my leg into the car in a jumble when he slammed the door behind me.

I heard him get in the car, I heard it start, and then for a long time, maybe an hour, I only heard the sounds of us driving out into the night. The man didn't speak to me again. At first I lay askance on my side in the backseat, mind and body still reeling from the harsh wakeup-call of my evening. The specter of my discarded letter, which I had tried to ignore all week, had just come crashing into my day with a jolt.

Where was I being taken? What would happen to me there? And would I really be able to see her?

Eventually I grew uncomfortable in my slumped position and wriggled my way up to sitting. The pressure on my arms behind my back was painful in this position and I could feel my hands going numb.

We drove on in silence.

***

Eventually the car came to a stop and the driver opened the back door and offered me his arm again. I let him lead me away from the car into the night air.

The feeling of anticipation still fluttered between my hips as he led me into a building and through a couple of doors. With the blindfold still covering my eyes I felt my other senses alight with curiosity. The air was quiet and warm. The smell of a wood fire wafted over me.

Finally, my escort gently brought me to a stop and turned me to face him.

"Here, miss, take a seat," he said, breaking the silence. "Your host will meet you now."

Carefully, I lowered myself down and found a chair positioned just behind me. I sat for a moment in the quiet. I heard the driver's footsteps receding. Although I was still unsure of my surroundings, I felt an electric anticipation crackling in the air around me.

"Thank you for coming tonight. You look beautiful." said a new voice, rich and deep, and only a couple feet away from me.

His words sent a pleasurable thrill up my spine. I hadn't realized there was already someone else in the room with me. The thought that he was looking at me even though I couldn't see him, and that he liked what he saw, flushed me with joy.

"For my discretion I will ask that you keep your blindfold on while we talk, but rest assured, you will have plenty of opportunities to see me tonight."

Images of a man who could accompany this low, sultry voice flashed through my mind. But I didn't have long to dwell on the thought. He interrupted my imagining saying,

"I'd like to tell you a bit about what will happen tonight and to establish some ground rules for the evening. Is that alright?"

I nodded and, feeling a bit shy, said, "yes, that's alright."

"Alright," he said. "Now first, please lean back and spread your legs."

The request took me by surprise, but I wasn't inclined to disobey. My host's magnetic voice had me enraptured and the wetness of arousal was still blossoming between my legs. I wanted to be looked at. I hoped to be touched.

I took a deep breath and slid my hips forward a bit on my seat. Slowly, I stepped my feet out and let my knees fall apart.

In front of me this man let out a slow exhale. After a moment I heard a chair scraping forward and felt the heat and presence of his body coming in closer to mine.

For a moment he just sat in front of me, breathing deeply. I desperately hoped that he was looking at me.

Then, he reached out a finger to lightly touch my wetness. A blaze of desire flushed through me at his touch. I let my head drop back and rolled my hips a bit against his fingertips.

I need this,

I thought.

I need more.

For a while he just grazed his fingers up and down over the damp fabric of my underwear. The whole time I could hear his steady, heavy breathing.

Eventually he brought both of his palms to the top of my knees and slid them up along my thighs. His hands were warm and enormous on my slight frame. As he reached my hips he grasped the top of my panties. I lifted my hips for him slightly and he pulled the silky fabric back down over my thighs and all the way off.

Without hesitating he brought his hand back to my center and drove two thick fingers deep into my craving pussy. I cried out, his first real touch was so intense that I felt ready to melt on his fingers. I fought to keep my breathing steady as he began to talk again.

"Now," he said, " I know what you want. You want to submit. You want to be fucked. You want to be watched. You want to know that pathetic little men are craving you while they watch you get fucked by a strong, handsome man. Isn't that right?"