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Title: The Unknown
POV: Katie
The blindfold was snug, soft velvet against her skin. Ryan had tied it with surprising tenderness, brushing his fingertips along her hairline before securing the knot. She lay stretched across their bed, arms gently restrained above her head, wrists cradled in padded cuffs they'd picked out together weeks ago. Her ankles were securely tied to the footboard, leaving her legs a little slack to move about, but still forced slightly apart.
She was naked under a single sheet that was draped across her. She was freshly waxed. A full Brazilian job. She was ready. She thought that she was ready. She was terrified, excited, afraid, but ready...
Ryan had kissed her forehead, then her lips, slowly, deliberately, before whispering, "Two hours. No matter what happens, I will be back in two hours."
And then he left.
The door closed with a soft click.
And Katie was alone.
Or, was she?
That was the game. Not knowing. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid movements as she strained to hear anything over the blood rushing in her ears. Was that a creak from the hallway? The whisper of socks on the carpet? Or just the house settling?
She had no idea if Ryan had truly walked away, or if he was waiting just beyond the bedroom door, watching her. She felt exposed, her breath quickening, nerves taut like wires.
Her mind flashed back to college. That basement. That thrill. It had been what they called a blackout party. Strangers in a party with virtually no light, just glowing wristbands to identify gender. It was thrilling, erotic. She had matched with a guy. She had gotten as far as kissing and light petting above the clothing (and her waist) But she hadn't let herself go fully, she never even got to third base! She never saw his face. Never knew his name.
She had almost had the erotic experience of a lifetime. She had wondered, for weeks after, if the boys that she interacted with regularly had been her mystery date. She studied the boys in her classes, in the cafeteria, at the gym, trying to identify him, his scent, anything.
In the two decades since, her fear of letting go had been her biggest regret. Now she would live that feeling all over again. With much higher stakes.
Her husband had left her alone, helpless. Someone would come, they could do whatever they chose to her. She would not say a word, they would not say a word. It was all unknown.
Then, she would have to wonder about every man around her, if they had seen her naked, taken liberties. She was breathless with anticipation.
There was a shift in the air. She held her breath. Was that movement near the foot of the bed?
No sound. Just silence thick enough to choke on.
Katie swallowed hard, heart hammering. Every inch of her skin felt alive. Every nerve ending on alert. If someone touched her now, if fingers brushed her thigh, or a hand settled on her hip, she would erupt.
But no one had touched her. Not yet.
The waiting was its own kind of exquisite torture. It stripped her bare in ways no hand ever could. And that was the fantasy, wasn't it? Not just the body, the not knowing. The delicious fear. The ache of uncertainty. The endless question burning behind her blindfold: Who will it be, what will they do to me?
Or maybe more frightening still: What if no one comes at all?
Time became strange.
Minutes stretched, bent, folded into one another. Katie had no anchor, no clock, no light, no sound beyond the drumbeat of her own heart. Her wrists ached lightly against the cuffs, not from pain, but from stillness. From waiting. Her body had settled into a heat, low and steady, like coals in a fire.
Then, a sound. Almost, not quite.
It was subtle. A shift in air pressure. A vibration in the floorboards, maybe. Or the softest drag of fabric.
Katie's lips parted, and her breath caught in her throat.
She didn't speak. That wasn't part of the agreement. No words. No names. She would offer herself in silence, as if the dark had summoned her, not a man. And whoever, whatever, answered that summons would take her as he chose.
A moment passed.
Then another.
Her muscles tensed. Her anticipation sharpened into something animal, something helpless. Her skin felt too tight for her body.
She was aware of everything: cool air on her bare legs, the flush in her chest, the way her nipples strained against nothing. She squirmed once, experimentally, testing the restraint. The cuffs held. Firm. Certain. The blindfold allowed not even a suggestion of light.
Another sound.
Closer this time.
Katie froze, barely breathing.
Then, contact!
Fingertips, feather-light, just above her knee. They slid in slow arcs across her thigh, deliberate, exploratory. The hand was large. Male. Warm. It lifted, then returned lower. Stroking again. Her body reacted before her mind caught up, her hips rising ever so slightly, seeking more, betraying her readiness.
But the hand didn't rush.
It teased.
It traced lines up her thigh, avoiding the heat between her legs by the cruelest margins. Then it was gone.
Silence.
The absence was maddening.
She clenched her fists, her toes curled against the sheets. Her skin ached for contact. Every nerve in her body begged to be found again. And just when she thought she might cry out, just when she thought the moment had passed, he touched her again. This time both hands, firm but gentle grips, one gripping her hip, the other settling at the base of her ribs.
He leaned in.
His breath ghosted across her right breast. The sensation shot through her entire body like an electric shock. Her nipple hardened, and she was suddenly breathing hard.
A moan escaped her lips before she could stop it.
Still, he said nothing. No voice. No clues.
A mouth, hot, hungry, closed over the nipple of her right breast, and she gasped, arching beneath him aching. His hand came to her other breast, kneading gently, firmly pinching her nipple. Tongue, lips, the faint scrape of teeth, all of it drawn out, paced to keep her trembling on the edge of madness.
He moved slowly, too slowly. She realized it was calculated. Whoever this was knew exactly what he was doing. Knew how to make time stretch. How to make her need before he gave her anything.
She moaned again, louder this time, unashamed.
But he still didn't speak.
And Katie still didn't know.
Who was it?
God help her, did it even matter anymore?
The mouth left her breast with a wet sound, and for a heartbeat she thought he'd stop again, tease her with another unbearable pause. But no. This time, he had a destination in mind.
Hands slid beneath her thighs, lifting, guiding, shifting her body higher onto the bed. Her knees bent and spread under his tender guidance. Katie offered no resistance. Her body, so long coiled with tension, simply opened.
She heard the soft rustle of fabric, his clothes, maybe. The air changed again, a whisper of warmth where skin had been exposed. Then, lips and a tongue were on her pussy..
Katie's breath left her in a ragged sob.
No prelude now. No gentle circling. He devoured her like a man starving, tongue working deep and precise, finding the rhythm that made her thighs shake and her voice crack into raw, pleading sounds.
"Oh... fuck," she gasped, head tipping back against the pillows. Her hips jerked against his mouth, wrists pulling against the cuffs. It was too much. Not enough. Her entire body was one fraying wire of sensation.
And still, he didn't speak.
But he responded. As if he could hear every signal in her moans, feel every twitch in her muscles. He licked, sucked, slowed just enough to pull her back from the brink, then drove her toward it again with brutal skill. Each pass of his tongue built her higher, until she was writhing, thighs shaking around his head, panting his name, or someone's name, or maybe just senseless syllables that didn't belong to anyone at all.
When her orgasm broke, it came hard and fast like the end of the world. Her back arched, a cry tearing from her throat, body bucking uncontrollably. He didn't stop. He kept going through it, dragging the sensation out, grinding her into the bed like a live wire.
She sagged back, trembling, barely coherent.
But he wasn't done.
Not even close.
Katie felt the bed shift, his weight climbing above her, knees spreading wider. One hand gripped her thigh, the other brushed down her side, slow and reverent. She felt the thick heat of him press against her, just at the edge of entrance.
Her whole body tensed again. This was the moment.
The moment the mystery would breach her. The moment the fantasy became fact.
For a moment, she wondered if this was cheating. But it couldn't be, could it? Ryan left her like this, he tied her up, it was their bedroom, and she had no input or choice in the entire situation.
And yet... This had been her idea. She had practically begged for it. Onm the other hand, Ryan was the one who decided her lover, and only they knew his identity.
Then, without warning, he pushed into her. One smooth, deep stroke. Suddenly she was filled by an unknown man. His cock stretched her out, pressed her apart. Then, his skin was against her, his chest and belly pressing against hers. His hot breath on her neck.
Katie cried out, head snapping back, mouth open. He was thick, hard, unrelenting. Her body clenched around him instinctively, every nerve screaming for more.
He began to move, deep and slow, letting her feel every inch, every drag and push. Her hips rocked to meet him, legs trying to wrap around his waist without conscious thought. The restraints kept her legs apart. It was awkward, not being able to hold him, to squeeze herself against him.
Still, he made no sound. No breathy words. No gasps. Just motion. Muscle. Flesh. And still she didn't know who he was. But it didn't matter. Not now. Her body was consumed, filled, caught between sensation and silence. Between trust and violation. She was overwhelmed with desire and pleasure..
She had imagined this moment for years. But imagination was clean. Safe. Distant. Reality was different, better.
Time passed, yet seemed to stand still. It was as if eternity passed in a moment. The man, this silent, unseen presence, was inside her in every sense. His hips rolled into hers with relentless rhythm, drawing fresh sounds from her throat with every thrust. Their bodies slapped together, her skin aflame as the sensations overwhelmed her. Her nipples were so hard they felt like clenched fists, her juices flowed, her heart thundered.
She felt more alive in that moment than in her entire life.
Her moans had lost shape, turned guttural, involuntary. There was no effort to be composed now. Her body moved on instinct, arching, clenching, pulling him deeper with thrust.
Her wrists tugged at the cuffs, not from discomfort, but from the desperate need to hold him tight, to fuck him back. Anything. Her voice cracked around involuntary sounds.
He wasn't rushed. He was careful and deliberate. The rhythm was hard, but measured. It was clear that he was an experienced lover, each thrust felt deliberate. His hands slid under her ass, lifting her into each thrust, controlling the depth like he was sculpting her from the inside out.
Katie cried out again, louder. Her whole body shuddered.
She could feel another orgasm building, hotter, heavier. A wave crashing just offshore, dragging all her thoughts away with it.
She clenched around him with a moan so sharp it hurt. Her thighs trembled, her stomach tightened. It was an orgasm for the record books. She felt it from the tips of her toes to the tops of her ears. Her entire body committed, and she almost, but didn't quite, pass out.
And still, he was fucking her. He moved in her like he owned her, using her with full knowledge that she couldn't see him, couldn't stop him, couldn't ever know for sure of his identity.
Who had Ryan found to fuck her this way, without a single word? She was sure it wasn't her husband, she knew how he felt, atop her, inside her. This wasn't him.
Who had he found? Was Ryan here, watching? How much time remained? Her mind was a blur, her sensations on overdrive.
No matter what else happened, she had achieved her fantasy in full. Ryan had given her exactly what she had craved for so long. Finally made it real. Realer than she ever dreamed. And somehow that scared her.
That someone would know her like this, would know her desire, and would know every inch of her skin. But she wouldn't know who he was. It caused an ache inside her. A longing, it was perfect.
That ache split her open wider than anything physical ever could. It raced through her veins, up her spine, into the core of her being. Pleasure and panic twisted together in her gut, and it made her helpless all over again. Her mouth opened in another gasp as he fucked her harder, faster, hips slamming into hers in rhythm with her unraveling.
And then, another orgasm. Shattering. Whole-body. She screamed, sharp, high, desperate, as her body seized under him. Her legs jerked, her hands balled into fists, her lungs burned as she tried to breathe around the overwhelming force of it.
Through it all, he didn't stop. His pace intensified. He chased her through her peak, fucking her through the quake, holding her there on the edge of too much. Her husband knew to give her a few minutes as she was overwhelmed with sensation post orgasm, but HE didn't. She sobbed, half-laughing, half-broken, her mind blank, nothing left but sensation.
And still he didn't say a word. She didn't know who was inside her. Just that he knew how to fuck.
Finally, she could feel him tensing, feel him quivering, and what felt like a gallon of hot liquid filled her. She could feel it squeezing out around him, feel his cock swell for a moment as he finally paused his thrusts.
He finally slowed, still hard inside her, still thick and pulsing, he leaned down. She could feel his breath on her face. She wondered if he was going to speak. But he didn't.
He hovered there for a beat. A long one. Long enough for Katie's thoughts to start returning. For her heartbeat to slow. For the ache between her thighs to soften from flame to ember.
And she waited, for what, she wasn't sure.. But no answers came.
She felt the shift before she heard it, his weight rising from the bed, a soft popping sensation, and the sudden emptiness where he had been.
Her thighs stayed open, her chest still rising in short, uneven breaths. Her wrists tingled from the strain of restraint, and there was a faint tickling on her ass as his juices, mixed with hers, dribbled down.
She didn't speak. Didn't beg him to stay. That wasn't what all this had been about. Soft footsteps moved across the carpet. A pause. Then a blanket, warm, familiar, was drawn up over her body. Not thrown, not carelessly dropped, but tucked. The edge folded gently beneath her shoulders. A hand brushed her cheek once, featherlight, and then...
He was gone. Not a sound.
Katie lay still.
Her body felt hollow and full all at once. Stretched. Used. Worshipped. She didn't know what time it was. The darkness inside the blindfold was absolute. Her legs ached. Her skin was damp. Her pulse had settled into a low, satisfied throb.
But her mind hadn't. It raced.
She replayed the sensations over and over in her mind. Every stroke, every movement, every sound she had made. Her body still tingled with aftershocks. A smile flickered across her lips, raw and disbelieving.
Had that really happened? Her aches and satisfaction told her it had.
Was her lover gone? Did Ryan stay and watch it all, or did he really leave? She wondered if he made a video.
She ached with the unknown. The same part of her that still haunted the corridors of that college party, searching faces for a memory that didn't exist, was thrilled that she knew nothing about her lover. The mystery was intoxicating.
She shifted her hips under the blanket, savoring the ache. Her skin still thrummed. Gradually, her breath slowed. But satisfaction... satisfaction radiated through her. Deep. Lasting. Immovable.
It had been so much more than her fantasy. It had been perfect.
Would it be enough? Would this experience satisfy her, or would she need more? She didn't know yet. It had been all that she had dreamt.
But she wondered, how could she repay Ryan? He had done something for her that she couldn't even properly measure. How could she reward him? She would have to think about it. Maybe his fantasy was to be a cuckold? She smiled to herself thinking about it. Maybe that was why he set this all up, to give him his fantasy too.
The cuffs bit softly into her wrists with every twitch. The blindfold pressed cool across her eyes. Her thighs stayed sticky, hair damp with her sweat against her temples. And beneath the blanket, Katie smiled.
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