Laura

Laura is sexuality. She oozes it, she loves it, she wears it. With pride.

At 22 years old, Laura's travelled the world. She's experienced, she's beautiful and she knows it: blonde flowing hair that can be let loose for the rough and ready look or tied up for the naughty secretary look; a smile that could melt a heart; 34D breasts that prevent men making eye contact; long and feminine, yet strong and firm legs; and an arse that shows how she loves to be bent over. Her eyes can beg for sex with a look and her posture can demand attention. She has it all.

Today she slips on a floaty, summery dress for her usual walk into town. The sun is shining so she sees no objection to wearing just that. And she has woken up feeling a little naughty.

Bending over with her legs almost straight, she puts on her strappy shoes before leaving the house. She loves putting her shoes on like that, reminding herself how good her arse and legs look.

She walks, no, she struts down the street, knowing that the cars aren't slowing down for the traffic as they pass her. She knows she's attracting looks. And she loves it.

She walks down the street and turns left down an alleyway. She knows the alleyway well: slightly curved so she cannot see the exit until she's about half way down it; completely enclosed by high walls apart from an opening to a yard of garages that back onto the houses.

She has walked this way all her life and never had any trouble before so continues down it. The danger always makes her walk a little faster down here but it's a danger that she likes. She knows she shouldn't like it, but she can't deny her feelings. The feeling in her head. The feeling between her legs.

As she passes the opening to the garage, she can see the exit onto the parallel street to the one she left. She only sees it for a split second. A rough material covers her face. A hand quickly covers her mouth smothering her imminent scream. She flails but is restrained. The captor is too strong. She is panicking. Helpless. Being forcefully dragged backwards into an open garage. The little light that was breaking through the sack disappears by the closing of the door and is replaced by colder, white light. The hand over her mouth is replaced by a rough material tied tightly round her head. She can't make a sound.

She is forced onto a raised mattress and hands and legs roughly tied to what feels like cold metal poles. Her floaty dress is ripped open, yet left beneath her. She starts to cry, feeling so exposed and she knows what will happen.

The strong hands leave her. She strains to hear. Nothing. Strains to see. Just white light through the sack. Suddenly she feels a tongue on her shaved pussy. She always shaves all of her sex as she believes she never knows who she might meet, but she didn't think anything like this would happen. The tongue is gentle, lightly licking over her most intimate area. Instinctively she pushes her groin up. Why does she do that? Why is she warm down there? The thoughts make her sob more. The captor instantly moves away.

Laura listens again. Still nothing. All she can feel is the shame of her wetness, now slowly running between her tight buttocks. She feels so helpless. Suddenly he is back. This time at her naked breasts. They are large and firm, the envy of all of her friends. She realises that her nipples have been hard ever since he ripped her dress.

His tongue gently flicks over her right and a strong hand cups her left. She gasps. Why is she getting wetter? Why won't he just rape her? Is it rape if she wants it? In the confusion, she realises something else. She knows the smell of this man. She's been with him before. She's enjoyed him before. But she can't put her finger on who he is. She wants to smell him more but he's gone. Again, nothingness fills the room.

This time she smells him before he makes contact. He's at her neck, kissing gently. Laura turns her head to smell him more, but he roughly pushes her face away as she sobs. He licks and kisses her neck, before roughly biting her. She gasps again and feels her soaking pussy spasm. She hopes he doesn't notice. He's gone.

Laura breathes in through her nose, wanting to pick up any smell she can. Without sight, her other sense are on overdrive. She can't hear a thing so every touch and smell is electric. She craves his touch, she craves his smell. Who is it? All she can smell is her sex. The room must be full of it. She blushes, so ashamed that she's reacted this way. Who would know that she's been harbouring this secret fantasy for so long?

Suddenly she jumps. He's back. There is something touching her parted, wet lips of her longing pussy. It's not his tongue or fingers, it's the familiar feeling of the hard, bare head of a cock. It stays there for what seems like an eternity. She moves her hips up and down, trying to lure the unknown penis into her. It still doesn't work. He moves away. She's burning up inside, wanting, needing to be filled.

Then he does it. Straight in, no tenderness, completely filling her. He's big and despite her wetness, it hurts. Just how Laura likes it. She's shaking and she knows what's about to happen, and so does he. The wetness floods her physical self as the electricity floods her mind. She's been needing this. She may not have been aware of it this morning but she woke up needing it.

By the time her first orgasm subsides, she realises he's fucking her hard now. She moans loudly through the material as she feels the next building. He roughly pins her down with his hand on her throat, stifling the scream. He feels her wet walls grip his cock as she climaxes again. That's too much for him and he fills her full of his seed. It feels hot inside her and she wants more. The strange yet familiar cock stays deep within her and she cums powerfully again. The cock leaves her, making her feel an emptiness she hasn't felt since... She can't remember who it was. The light goes out and she falls asleep.

When she awakes, her arms and legs are untied. The gag has been removed. The lights are on but it's a warmer glow rather than the cold, white light of before. Laura removes the sack and sits up. There is nothing in the garage. Nothing on the walls, apart from the lamps emitting the warm light. Nothing on the floor. Nothing apart from the bed she had recently been pleasured against her will on and the four poles she was spread with. Standing up she notices something else. A floaty, summery dress on the floor beneath the bed. Similar to what she was wearing before. In fact, exactly as she was wearing before. The same colours. The same size. She picks it up and puts it on, hiding her used body. She notices two things drop out of it. One falls directly to the floor, the other floats down, landing next to a pair of identical, but new, strappy shoes to what she was wearing earlier. A silver necklace lands first. It's beautiful, exactly the style she loves. Exactly the style she wouldn't have bought herself, but would have wanted a lover to buy her. A piece of paper lands gently nearby. On it are three letters. DG X. Now she knows. She has always known. Deep down.

She pushes open the garage door and welcomes the warm, evening light. How long has she been in there? Instead of continuing to town, she makes her way home, back to her bed, back to her phone to text him two words: "Thank You".