"I'm so tired of today," thought Amisha. "I just want to get home and go to sleep. Is that too much to ask?"
She had just finished an arduous day of work at her office and was on the way back from the restroom to her desk to pack up her things when her phone buzzed. As she checked it, she assumed it was her boyfriend, once again telling her that he was going out with his guy friends that night.
Though she was always supportive, she was never quite able to reconcile the fact that she wanted more alone time with him. "Ugh, my instincts were true again," she realized. It was indeed her boyfriend, Jimmy, saying that he would be, "out wit the boys watching the game. C u this weekend babyy," he wrote. "Figures. Why can't he ever put me first?" she thought for what seemed like the thousandth time. Instead, she wrote back that she hoped he had a good time and that he could call her later if he wanted.
Jimmy's hands-off approach affected the intimacy Amisha felt towards him. While she cared for him, she could never really feel close to him as much as she wanted. Their sex suffered as a result. Which was unfortunate, as Amisha was bottled up with sexual intensity. Her sexuality was so bottled up inside her at times; it seemed as though she would burst the moment she got home, rushing to her bed to pleasure herself. It had become a habit the last year or so for her.
Amisha, a beautiful brown skinned woman with long black hair in her mid 20's, was packing up her things and prepared to head home to her apartment she had recently moved into by herself. Her tight dress framed the contours of her body, an hourglass shape that attracted attention everywhere she went. Loyal as she was though, male attention always fell flat once they began to speak to her and she told them she had a boyfriend.
As she walked out of her office towards the subway, she felt a bit chilly. While it was spring, a crisp air had brushed against her dress and made her nipples hard. Amisha had very sensitive nipples, so she rushed as fast as she could to the subway entrance and the warm air underground. Keeping to herself, she boarded the train for the 45 minute commute back to her new neighborhood.
As she was reading her erotica book (with a brown paper cover so she wouldn't get embarrassed), she noticed out of the corner of her eye someone looking at her. She was often oblivious to such glances from strange men, but for some reason, Amisha couldn't help looking up to see who it was out of curiosity. To her delight, it was a brutally handsome man, probably in his 30's, well-built and attractive. Not the first time a good-looking man had looked in her direction of course, but she flashed him a smile as the man's piercing stare became quite apparent.
She looked down right away, careful not to give him any wrong impression. She had a boyfriend after all, and flirting with strange men on the subway seemed creepy to her. But the man wouldn't stop staring. Every time she looked up, she noticed his gaze directed right at her. While the prospect of a subway stare ordinarily made her sick to her stomach, the attention from this man in particular made her feel excited. His look wasn't overly menacing, his fixation seemed almost charming due to the sensitive nature she felt coming from his eyes. Every time Amisha looked up, their eyes locked together and she felt a rush of sexual excitement course through her veins.
How she longed for those feelings again. The stare of a man so intent on finding her sexy, determined to get her attention despite her aloof demeanor. As the ride continued, she found herself looking up more and more until it became quite apparent that they were finding themselves quite fond of this little game. Every smile she gave him, his eyes would get a tad smaller and a little smirk would emanate from the corners of his mouth, translating into the glare he wouldn't stop giving her.
"One fucking stop to go," cursed Amisha to herself. Exhausted from the day and desperate to get home, she also felt a tad relieved that she could find an easy way out of this flirting game she found herself in on the train. As the train approached her stop, she stood up, gave a little head nod to the man, and stood by the door. The man, dressed in a suit, was obviously even manlier than where she was sitting. She noticed the scruff on his chiseled jaw, the perfectly short hair on his head. The broad shoulders and veins in his hands, which suggested some underlying muscles she found herself daydreaming of under his suit. "I bet his cock is probably so thick," she thought to herself guiltily, as she begged for the doors to open and the awkwardness to end.
The doors opened, and she got out. Making a bee line for the stairs, she clutched her purse and made her usual routine walk back home. But she kept hearing footsteps behind her. "Normal," she posited. "Plenty of people on their way home too. Hmm, my block is usually pretty empty though," the realization came to her. Finally she turned her head and slowly recognized the man from the train. Maybe 25 paces behind her, she could make out the suit, broad shoulders, face scruff and piercing stare.
Both frightened and cautious, she hurried her pace until she came to her doorstep and quickly opened the door. Standing by her mailbox, she waited for the man to pass. Did he live in her neighborhood? Had she forgotten something on the train? Was he crazy and stalking her? She waited breathlessly by the door and noticed him slowly walk by the building, looking up and locking eyes with her once more through the tiny window in the doorway. "For a creep, he sure is hot," Amisha pondered. "What the fuck would a good looking guy like that be doing scaring women? It can't be, it's just a coincidence, nothing more," she exhaled.
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Later that night, after Amisha had finished eating and prepared her bedtime routine, she settled into her bedroom for the evening. Taking a deep breath, she wondered about the events earlier that left her confused, excited, and a little worried. "Whoever that guy was, it doesn't matter. Jimmy will be calling me soon," she proclaimed. She then placed her hand, as was typical for this time of the night, down her sheets, underneath her soft panties, and onto her smooth clean clit, rubbing in circles with her eyes closed...her mind immediately thinking of the man on the train, and the daydream of his thick cock that was running across her thoughts.
But as she finished that last thought process to herself, she heard a noise coming from the fire escape - a slight vibration that rattled the window to her bedroom. Waiting a minute for the noise to strike again, she hesitated to turn off her light. After a minute or two of silence, she resigned herself to thinking it was just a bird or something, and turned off her light -- resuming the pleasure her elegant fingers were giving to herself. Her pussy, tight and smooth, was beginning to feel moisture from her movements -- her panties beginning the first process of wetness.
Her apartment was on the fourth floor of this rather large apartment building and never once had she heard of an intruder or something in this neighborhood. She rolled over and closed her eyes, hand still on her ever enlarging clit.
Just then a second noise similar to the first made its way into her room. "My window doesn't have locks," Amisha realized. "What if there really is someone out there? Nah, no way."
But the window to her bedroom slowly was being opened. Half asleep, Amisha didn't think the sound was real. It was a dream, she thought. A modified reality based on what she had been thinking about.
As the window sound stopped, it started again, only in the opposite direction. Still rolled over on her side, Amisha wished that she had never turned off the light.
A moment of courage shot within her and she rolled over from the position she was in to look towards the window. Nothing. Darkness. The window was closed. "Okay, it was all in my head, thank God."
Then BAM! Amisha was pounced upon by a man in a ski mask. From the shadows he appeared, literally jumping on her bed and landing directly on her, holding her down with the weight from his body. Not knowing what to do, she was about to scream for help. "DON'T. MAKE. A. SOUND," the low rumble of the man's voice whispered to her. "I WILL KILL YOU IF YOU SCREAM FOR HELP." The man's right hand then landed on her neck from his straddled position and made a strangling motion, letting her know he was serious. The size of his hand nearly wrapped around her entire neck, so she quickly realized that there was little she could do to defeat this man by her physical strength alone.
Just then, the man pulled some rope from his pocket and slowly began to wrap both of Amisha's hands to her bed post. Amisha was wearing just a tank top, no bra, and a pair of comfortable white panties. Her sensitive nipples, which were still hard from the cold spring breeze from before, believe it or not -- were now as hard as ever. Her breasts were perky...large enough for cleavage when she wore her tight dresses, but just the right size for a big male hand to grab with his hand in one strong squeeze.
Perhaps it was the excitement from earlier in the night, or the low deep voice of this intruder, but Amisha didn't feel as frightened as she should have. In fact, his smell was quite pleasant, as if his musk was somehow tailor made for her nose. "Who are you!" she whispered, careful not to upset the man. "WHO I AM IS NOT IMPORTANT," he explained. "WHAT I'M ABOUT TO DO TO YOU, IS," he uttered.
"W-w-what are you going to do to me?" she asked.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK? LOOK AT YOU. YOU'RE SITTING HERE IN YOUR BED, BY YOURSELF. GORGEOUS. BEAUTIFUL. MAGNIFICENT. I HOPE YOU'RE READY, BECAUSE I'M GOING TO RAVAGE YOUR BODY." the man boldly asserted.
To this, Amisha didn't know what to do. What kind of person does this? Enter a lady's home and ravage their body? Why was this happening to her? Who was this?
"Ravage m-m-me??" she scarily asked.
"I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP," the man said with purpose. "NOW DON'T MAKE A SOUND UNLESS I COMMAND YOU TO."
For some reason, Amisha did as she was told. Not only that, but she felt her pussy become even more wet than before. In fact, her clit was aching -- she had never felt this sensation before. The adrenaline from this intruder on top of her combined with the sexual anticipation that came from his rough voice aggressively stating that he was about to ravage her; made her pussy begin to drip like crazy.
Her hands were tied up, and there was little she could do to maneuver this stranger off of her. For all intent and purposes, she was stuck. Forced into a position where this strange man could take full advantage of her.
