The Not-So-Stranger

Carson March
9 mins read
Published over 3 years ago

I sit on the bench in the park, dazed, for at least 30 seconds, maybe longer. All I can hear is the breeze in the trees, the muffled noise of traffic somewhere far off. The trails around me are empty. 

What the hell just happened? 

I reach down between my legs, looking first from side to side along the vicinity of the bench to make sure no one is around, and then I touch myself. The wetness between my legs, the panties still yanked to one side, the puffy feeling of my pussy lips gives truth to what just occurred. 

Yes, a strange man really did just kneel down between my legs, tongue the hell out of me, and then... walk away. 

I’d caught him smiling at me earlier on my walk and if I was being honest, I made a point of pulling my skirt up the tiniest bit, to let him see that my long socks only went as far as the thigh, but no further. It wasn’t the first time we’d both been out walking here at the same time. I assumed he lived nearby but we’d never spoken. 

Today, instead of continuing in front of him, I’d decided on the spur of the moment to sit on a bench along the path and watch him go by. When he’d sat down beside me instead, it took me by surprise, but when he reached over and stroked his hand along my leg, I couldn’t deny I was more turned on than I could ever recall being before. 

When we made eye contact, I nodded. “Yes, please,” I said. Had that been me? What was I thinking? 

He’d looked around to assess how much privacy we had, then quickly kneeled down on the grass at my feet, pulled the crotch of my panties to one side and licked my pussy till I was shaking. 

I came so hard that even now – several minutes later – I can still feel my legs quivering, my pussy aching, a pulse beating hard through me, in my clit, down my fingers, everywhere. 

Holy jesus, that was fabulous. 

And the stranger? Who? Where? 

As the daze lifts and my eyes focus, I'm suddenly stricken. I don't want him to disappear. I want more, actually, is what I do want. And I want to know who he is. 

I jump up, skirt in place, tug up my socks, grab my bag, pocket my phone and start walking fast in the direction I think he went. 

The clearing at the bench has only one path leading in and one leading out. He must have continued along the trail, so I follow it, moving faster, almost a jog. I'm hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’s intentionally walked slowly to give me a chance to follow. If he hasn’t, there’s no way I’ll find him – unless I spot him again on some future day. But I don’t want to wait for maybe-someday. 

The trail continues a little deeper into the forest, deep enough that the sunlight is filtered through a dense canopy of evergreens and a thick low brush that makes it hard to see very far between the trunks. 

I realize I can feel a cooling sticky wetness on my inner thighs as they rub against each other while I walk... He made me so wet that I'm still dripping and the panties are still pulled aside. If I’d had my wits about me I would have readjusted them properly but I stood up so quickly I didn't think to. Now, feeling my bare pussy with the cool breeze coming up my skirt, it's hard not to pause, lean against a tree, and put my hand there. 

Just as I begin to think this is a foolish chase, I see a slight movement up ahead the trail. 

It's him. Definitely. 

I may have been overwhelmed, and thrashing about, and had my eyes screwed tightly shut for half of it, but I remember his hair, I remember his shirt (at one point, I'm sure I grabbed the shoulder of it), and something about the way he is moving is just so familiar... 

I know it's him. It's definitely him. My stranger.

He doesn’t seem to have heard me. He’s still sauntering along, a few twists and turns ahead in the trail. I can see his shoulders, his head, and I speed up. When I get about a dozen feet behind, I finally say, "Hey." 

Jeez, I think to myself, great opener. Hey. 

But my brain isn't really working right, and I just want to get his attention. 

He turns around, and I can't tell if the expression on his face is surprise or pleasure that it's me. 

"That was..." I start, then freeze, unsure what to say next. "I mean, it was really... I just wanted to... Wow... Ok... The thing is... You just... And I... Holy moly... So... I'd really like to... It's just that I'm..." 

He smiles, shyly, and says, "Are you asking if you can return the favor?" 

I nod. "Yes, exactly." 

"I'm happy that you're happy. It was great. No reciprocation required." 

I take a deep breath. Now that I'm standing here looking at him, I'm so hungry. For more. For him. For something. 

More firmly, calm now, I say, "No. You're not understanding. I'm not offering. I'm telling you." 

His eyebrows pop up. 

I walk towards him, take one hand and then step off the trail into the woods. "Come with me." 

He does, quietly, letting me lead him deeper and deeper, away from the trail. When I find a clear spot, I set down my bag, and then turn to him.

I pull down the front of my dress. It's a stretchy material and it pulls down easily below my bra then stays there, tucked under my breasts. I pull the formed cups of the bra down too, leaving my breasts bare, pushed up, the nipples tight and hard in the cold. 

I take his hand and bring it to my breast, and he starts to play immediately, knowing what I want. As he lowers his head to my breast and starts sucking, I take his other hand and put it between my legs. 

"More. I need more, like before," I say, breathless. 

He complies, letting two of his fingers slip inside of me, thumb finding purchase against my clit, rubbing as he slides his fingers in and out. He keeps licking my nipple, and my hands go up to the back of his head, gripping his hair, pulling him in as I arch and moan against him.

In seconds, he’s made me cum again, my legs are wet all the way to the tops of my socks with my own pussy juice. 

He slides his fingers out slowly, and I take his hand, bring it to my mouth and suck his fingers between my lips, watching him while I lick the taste of me from his hand. 

Still looking at him, I start to kneel, my hands at his waistband, undoing his buckle, unzipping his pants. 

I'm at eye level with his waist as I get my fingers hooked into the side of his boxers and his pants at the same time, pulling both down simultaneously so he’s bare to the knee. His cock is so hard it's up tight against his belly. 

I look at him for a moment, almost inspecting... I love the shape of his penis, the way it looks, the smooth soft silky hardness of it. Slowly, I reach out and close my hand around his shaft, slowest strokes up and down, feather-light touch. 

His head falls back and he moans a little.

I'm so horny and wet that I'm half-wishing I could get him down on the ground and straddle his face, letting him lick me again for a while. But as demanding as my own orgasm is at the moment, now that his cock is in my face, it's hard to deny myself wanting to taste and touch it. 

I keep stroking lightly and dip my head down to lick over his balls, sucking each one into my mouth, licking quickly, then sucking again. I can feel them tightening from arousal, from the cold, from my warm tongue. 

I run all up the underside of his cock, feeling the ridges and veins, the hardness, the taste of him, and when I get to the head, I let my tongue run all around the top. I close my mouth on him, sucking hard just on the head of his cock for a moment before I open my mouth wider and take him in as far down as I can. 

We find a rhythm with my hand on the base of his cock, the rest of him in my mouth pushing in and out. My other hand reaches around to his ass cheek and squeezes, pulling his whole body closer, urging him to thrust and pump into my warm wet mouth. 

He does, letting his hips roll and retreat. Fucking my face, his hand comes down to the back of my head to keep me in place. 

His pace starts to pick up, and he looks down at me, enjoying the way my mouth is stretched wide around him, I imagine, and the way my eyes are half closed, aroused and desperate. 

When I can tell that he is close, I allow my hand to stroke more of his length, concentrating my tongue on his head... I want him to cum on me when he climaxes. So, when I can feel that he is about to orgasm, I pull my head back just slightly, stroking hard with my hand on his wet cock, my thumb rubbing under the head of his cock on each stroke. 

I'm still kneeling under him, still looking up. "Cum on me," I say, breathless. "Cum, please. Cum." 

I've got my glasses on, and I see him looking at me, at my face, at my glasses, his cock hardening and tightening even further in my hand. 

"Cum for me." 

My glasses have slipped down my nose a little and when I reach up to inch them back into place, he starts to cum, shooting big spurts over my glasses, onto my cheek, a little on my lips. I let go of his cock to dab my finger in the cum on my face and lick it, and when I do, he takes himself in hand, a few final strokes to get the last of it. 

I smile up at him. "Thank you," I say, still licking my lips. "So… see you at home?” 

He leans down, kisses my nose. 

“Have I ever mentioned that I have the sexiest wife ever?” he says. 

“You have, but tell me again.” 

“I do. And she looks so hot with my cum on her face,” he says. 

“Thanks, baby… You’re not too shabby yourself,” I say. 

With that, he zips up and heads back the path we came in on.