My Stranger Lauren
story warnings: NSFW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, suggestions of sexual solicitation, slight violence, mentions of drug use, sexual oddity.


On any other night, any other person would be in their warm homebed deep asleep. Am I upset or glad that I'm not every other person?
I find myself wandering along the edge of the rocky road. This is a mindless activity I keep finding myself doing. You see, ever since something snapped in my mind I've had this craving to push the limits of risk in my life. I can't exactly tell what happened but something just changed. I realized something. I got bored with keeping it together and starting getting ideas in my mind. I started to slowly let go of the order in my life, to little consequence. Or at least little consequence that mattered to me.
I'm supposed to go to work tomorrow, but I know they won't miss me. They are used to my antics at this point. Even if I'm not there, things will continue on. It only matters so much. Things will just keep going. It still just keeps going.
And that's the mindset that keeps me out late at night now, doing all kinds of things.

It used to be smaller things, less risky. Simple gambling, buying a mostly harmless lottery ticket or two. Meeting strangers and wasting time with them, taking whatever pills or what else they decide to pass you. Theres connection in risk. Theres a special kind of dull excitement to it. Maybe theres love there. To me that's love and that's what it means to live.
Is that why I do this? Is there something deep down inside me that gets such a rush when I choose to put myself on the line. I'm lying face-up under the guillotine and I can only see my smiling relflection as the blade drops.

Anyways.

Its dark out and the cold night air lights my face up with red. My hair would be blowing in the wind and tickling my ears if I didn't already have it pulled back in the small mess you could call a ponytail. Everything about me feels like a mess. I adore it. I adore my messy self. I've never been happier in my life to be a mess.
I've only done this a few other times. Guess you could call it hitch hiking. That'd be the easiest way to explain it. But I'm not really doing much to catch the attention of the cars that pass by everynow and again. I'm not calling out to them other then my mind lighting up with "Pull over! Ask me to hop in! Take me away! Take me wherever you want! I'm fresh for the picking!"
I want to get picked up. But I'm leaving that to fate. I'm so hungry to get picked up, I want to know where the night will take me. I want to see what will happen. I have hopes as to what will happen. Please!

My previous attempts at this have left me bored. I walk along the rocks and hillsides hoping for something to happen and the most that happens is my legs hurt as I have to make the disappointed trek back to my bike. I have a place that I park it off to the side of the walking trail so that I can know how to make my way back. I don't lock my bike, if it gets stolen when I finally come back to it that's even better. This is the my perfect parking place because once you turn the opposite way and head down the hill, the road is right there.
These are my kinds of backroads, the type where when a car does pass by you can get the heavy whiff of cigarette smoke. Or hear the loud music tossing itself out the window and into the curves of the forest. It's perfection.

This is where I want it to happen. This is where I have seen it happen in my mind.

Checking my small, cheap watch lets me know that I've only been at it for near two hours. Walking. Sitting on the rail or leaning against the hill. Walking. Looking up at the sky and counting the stars. Flipping my lighter. Walking.
On most nights I'll try to stay out until about two or three in the morning. It depends on how late I decide to eat dinner and how long I felt like staying at work. A little after midnight should attract just the right kind of person I'm hoping to get picked up by, just the right kind of excitment.
The brighness of headlights beams my direction and wrooms by with no signs of stopping, going so fast that theres a short skrrt as they hit the hill turn a little too sharply. This will come and go as the night goes on. This is how it's been the past few times.
No dice. Empty handed. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored! Boring! A waste of time!

Another beam passes by, then lingers.
Finally. I turn my head to finally see that a car has pulled over into the small amount of grass that borders the road and the forest. The lights beam into the long road in front of it and theres no sound other then the hum of motorization.
Slowly, the window slides it's way down and a hand drifts out of the opening. Making a motion. The motion I've been waiting to see all these nights I've been out here.

"Get in".
___________________________

The passenger door welcomes me in with it's loud thump as I enclose myself in this stranger's vehicle. You can tell a lot about a person just from the inside of their car, so I start looking around while he turns the key to get the car going again and back onto the road. Ripped ceiling lining, drooping and falling in certain places. Notes and papers and receipts tucked into the passenger's side sun visor. A mess of old fast-food wrappers tossed into the back seat. Everything is a mess. Just like me.

Save for one oddity that I still can't wrap my head around. One of the back seats is perfectly clean, almost brand new. It looks so brand new in fact that it's almost as if the old seat was taken out and a brand new one was put in. I can feel my eyes strain wanting to look back while keeping my head forward. I want to turn back in my seat and stare to try to better figure out what's going on back there. It was just strange enough to make my curious.

But I have other things to be curious about. Better things. Like my new stranger.

The way he looks doesn't fit the inside of his car at all. From one look at him you'd assume he's more put together. You'd think his car would be much cleaner. He's got shaggy dark hair that's tucked behind his ears, a few strands fall in front of his slightly furrowed brows. A pair of glasses lay themselves further down his long curved nose. His face tells me that he's tired. Tired but restless. Restless but thinking about something and focused. He seems like he's thinking, or ignoring the stranger that's now in his car. Theres a slight awkwardness about him that makes me feel like this is exactly where I want to be. I clutch my neck as I give him a good look over and I can tell he noticed this. Anyone would feel a stranger staring at them. I had the same feeling coming from the rear view mirror as I walked myself up to his car.
But this silence is killing me. Should I be the first to speak? Normally I don't care but so far the only exchange between us is me speaking a "Thank you" while passing around the back of the car to get into the passenger seat. Most people would give "Where are you headed", "What's got you out here so late at night", or even a "Are you lost? Do you need help?". Does this guy just really not give a fuck? Is he not curious at all about me, this strange man he just picked up and let into his car?
"So...what's got you driving out so late at night?"
I cannot spend this car ride in silence, if I just sit here he's going to drop me off at whatever bus stop hits his headlights first. That is not what I do this for.

"Mm..I just needed to. To be alone."
He says it like he's asking a question and his tone ruffles me a little.

"Heh. Alone huh? Guess I ruined that for ya, my bad." Well, you choose to pick me up fucker so theres got to be something more to this. Keep talking.

And yet much to my chagrin, his reply is turning up the radio before I can even finish what I'm saying. The music that I can only describe as auditory metal wavering against other pieces of metal with some kind of woman humming in the background. It's too fitting for this situation.
Okay. Cue taken I guess. I turn to look out the window and prop my arm up against it, leaning into my shoulder.
I speak up a little "...If you still want to be alone you can just drop me off, I don't mind."
Somehow. In some way. I can feel the car speeding up, like the increase in the music volume put him into some kind of zone. It doesn't irk me, it just makes me more curious and I can't help but grin to my relection in the mirror.
Theres clearly something else going on. Maybe he's just not bold enough to say it.
___________________________
After watching so many trees and so many signs pass by in the night, I find myself in this strangers car in the parking lot of a pancake house. One of those resturants that just never seem to be closed and are the best when you go to them near midnight. This one is absoutlely in the middle of nowhere. The "parking lot" is more of a dirt lot, with the parking places being carved out by the previous occupants.
The stranger leans back in the drivers seat, pressing both his palms against the wheel, circling it.
"Do you..drink coffee?"
He still is seeming to avoid looking at me, which is fine.
"Yeah. Yeah, I could totally do a hot cup right now."
I nod my head at the question and feel a little bit of disappointment set in. I'm just being dropped off. All that came out of this night is going to be a car ride and a cup of coffee. Maybe a pancake.
Then I hear the door open, and the stranger gets out and without waiting or checking to see if I'm following behind he heads towards the door. Uh? We are still strangers I could rumage around in your car? Take whatever I want and then run off? What if I know how to hotwire cars?
Not that I would do that. Though just thinking about it sounded a little fun. Something else pops up in my head to do before getting out. I undo my seatbelt and turn back to the back of the car. That strangely perfect back seat. I have just a moment to stare at it but take the chance to look a little closer.
It stands out. So boldly it stands out. As if on purpose or as if it wasn't fully thought out about just how much it would stand out in the back of the car. Upon looking a little closer, more towards the floor carpet. Theres a little stain, where the new seat meets the floor mats on the back floor. It's just a small stain and has obviously been scrubbed or tried to be removed. It sends something up my spine. Not a chill, something else. I turn to look back at the stranger whos standing near the door of the diner, facing towards the door but standing close enough to the glass door that he can surely see me (or at least his car) in the reflection. Is he...watching me?
I can't help but feel a little excited. This is exactly why I've been doing this, this is the way I want to feel.
Disappointment now turned into a slight satisfaction, I close the door behind me as I exit the car and walk towards my stranger. For the first time, he looks over his shoulder and looks at me directly. As if he can see the smugness in my mind now. He opens the door and walks in, just barely holding the door open for me to grab to follow behind.

A cup of warm cheap coffee is the only thing we currently have in common now. I peer down into the complimentary cup. I usually drink my coffee black, the aftertaste just does it for me. I really want that pancake... how far can I take advantage of his strange kindness. Strangers can be more generous then most people expect, even in awkward ways. Maybe it's some kind of unspoke social obligation. You can usually get whatever you want out of people if you just do one thing: ask for it.
"Can I get a pankcake?"
Looking up to ask my question made me realize that he's been looking me over. Not exactly at my face, but more like my wrists? My hands? My arms? That general area. I'm just resting my hands on the table so it's a little hard to tell what exactly he's looking over. He's just sitting there resting one of his arms on the table, propping it up and covering his mouth with his hand. My voice makes his eyes dart up at my face for a second before he pulls his hand away.
"Uh. Sure you can?" A simple answer to a simple question.
"I'm Douse by the way."
Just a nickname and theres nothing really to lose by telling a complete stranger your name. Knowing someone's name for a night doesn't really change their life. It's just another thing that will be known for a moment and then forgotten.
"Douse...that's a strange name isn't it?"
"Got anything better? Whats yours?"
The question gets cut off by the waitress walking over to ask if we are ready to order. A good amazing "ya'll" to warm the soul. Another stranger who will never know and doesn't need to know that I just got picked up in this guys car and I'm just about to find out what his name is. "Uh yeah. Could I just get a pancake and a cup of ice?"
What the fuck kind of order. A cup of ice? Is this guy going to sit here and crunch on ice so he doesn't have to sit here and make conversation with me? His social smile breaks and turns back into that flat little line,
"It's uh. Lauren."
I hold back my immediate comment of "Oh okay. A man with a woman's name. Alright." and just nod my head a little bit. I'm not sure this guy deserves a good classic "nice to meet you" so I hold off.
The ice comes quickly, as it's pretty easy for someone to put some ice into a cup. Lauren takes it and sets it down next to his cup of hot coffee. He grabs at least five packets of sugar and aligns them all up before ripping them open all at once. The sugar is poured directly onto the ice cubes before he takes his cup of hot coffee and pours it over top. Though it was pretty normal, just another way to make ice coffee. Something about the way that he went about doing it just made the corner of my mouth curl. What is with this guy.
"Do you usually walk along the roads at night?"
He almost whispers to me as if he doesn't want the grand total of two other people in the entire diner to overhear.
"Not usually, but sometimes yeah." I take a pause, trying to ration out what response would appeal most to him. "I uh...like to be alone at night."
He nods his head in a way that tells me that's not what he wanted to hear. After tilting his head just slightly, still whispering.
"...But you let me pick you up?"
Oh yeah I totally forgot. I guess that wouldn't make much sense huh. Shittt.
I don't even have a good response so I just sit there and hold my cup of coffee, looking down into it and bringing it to my face with a simple "Mhm." I can feel him looking at me. Before I was trying to figure him out and get a good feel on him, but now I can tell he's trying to do the same for me. Forgot how it can feel to have someone trying to figure you out for the first time. Trying to cross over that line of being strangers in small ways. If that's what he's even trying to do. All of this is odd. I'm sitting here in a place I don't know, I don't know how far away I am from my bike or the trail that I know. I don't know how much longer I'm going to spend with this guy.
This is exactly what I want. This is exactly why I've been doing this. I want to keep going on.
"You just seemed like you wanted to share some kindness I guess.
Lauren nods his head a little just to acknowledge that he heard me. He sighs and runs a finger to tuck a few strands back behind his ear and adjust his glasses before sipping at his runny ice-sugar-coffee cup. My pancake arrives and he thanks the waitress, asking for a check before she can even finish setting it down on the table. Desperate to get out of the situation?
___________________________
Back into the night air again, Lauren walks back over to his car and I follow. He stops in front of the door and looks over the top of the car at me.
"Where are you...trying to go tonight?"
"Wherever the night takes me."
"... Can I ask you something..?"
"Sure, you got me that pancake after all. Shoot man."
"Do you uh...you know?"
"Do I know..?"
"Do you have..services?"
My mind flatlines. Ohh okay okay, that's how it is. I have to decide right now if I want to play along with what he's getting at. A lot of information flows into me as he asked that question. Oh, so you're gay? Or at least hungry enough to take what you can get? Oh? You're out here at night prowling? Okay. I can play with this. I'm not prude enough to put myself above having sexual encounters with strangers. I like the risk, it's exactly what I want.

"...Where are you trying to go tonight Lauren...?"
I ask coyly enough to hopefully have the open-endedness of the response peak his interest.
He grips the hand that was resting on the top of his car slightly, the equivalent to a gulp in my eyes. Bullseye.
"I..don't live too far from here. I can definitely make my requests worth your time."
"You have requests?"
I can feel the excitement rising up into my chest and spreading eveywhere else. This is what I've been craving, this is it. Finally. Finally.
___________________________
Just like he said, he didn't live too far from where the diner was. I didn't take exact note of where we were or how far off. No signs, nothing sticking out to make me try to remember where I am...just in case something goes wrong. But I know I'm doing it on purpose. I don't want to be too safe about this. That takes the fun out of it. If I have to leave here naked running for my life, so be it.
The house is a quaint little old thing. A log cabin being swallowed by the woods. A mess of things surround the front porch. From tires to old car parts, it's exactly what you'd imagine a house in the middle of nowhere to look like. Almost cartoonishly so. It still doesn't fit the man in front of me, the man about to welcome me into his home and into his arms. For just this one night. For just whatever requests he has. All common safety rules are staying behind me as I walk into the light of this strange little place.
The cabin is a very open space on the inside, when you walk in theres a small opening area to take your shoes off, hang your coat. You know, The normal things when you first get in. And then you are in the very large living room, a couch separates it from the dining table. Theres a small TV with piles and piles of DVDs lining both sides and under. A enjoyer of film? No cable out here? Just these tiny details can tell me a lot about Lauren. There are so many details in here that can tell me so much about him, but I just don't know how much I care about that right now. I know what I'm here for.

"You can sit on the couch." Lauren gestures to the blanket covered loveseat before taking a few steps back, making his way towards what could only be a kitchen to the right of where the dining table was.
Just the couch? I guess that fits. I take a seat and keep looking around. The couch is facing the TV but it's also facing a wall where some pictures are hanging up on the wall. I'm a little too far away but close enough that something about each of the pictures sticks out to me:
Lauren isn't in a single one of these framed pictures.
The realization fills me with glee. He's not in a single one of these framed pictures. This has to mean something right? This totally has to mean something is wrong here. Who has pictures of everyone other then themselves on their wall? Like not even family group pictures with him in the picture. Theres no way he's always the one holding the camera in every single picture. Theres no way he has some kind of secret loathing for himself being in pictures and that's why he's-
Lauren steps back into the range of "his" "living room" with two drinks in hand. He looks a little excited at this point too, but in a way where you can tell he's unsure of himself and a bit nervous too.
"Drinks on you? You're so generous Lauren."
There is something going on here that's start to send me over the edge. It's starting to feel a little dangerous. I have absoulelty no idea whats in these drinks. I cross my legs and hold a hand out to take one of the drinks.
"Wait..you have to drink them in a certain order. This is one of my requests. Okay?"
His tone changed again, everytime he spoke previously it felt like he was saying everything as a question. This was said with a little more confidence behind it. It wasn't a question, it wasn't even a request. He was telling me how it was. I can't hold back and smile at him as I changed the single out stretched hand to two,
"This is request number one? Heh, It's a pretty simple one. You sure I can manage the rest of them?"
I feel like I'm leaning into some type of pornographic fantasy with the way I'm talking to him. Should I lean more into that? I'm only doing it because I assume it's what he wants right now, and maybe it's just a little fun for me. This teasing feels like a roleplay. I'm playing the part of the haughty nightwalker and Lauren is the man about to ravish me. For a price. As if I really care about the money which we didn't even really discuss. I should give him some totally crazy prize since he's exactly the type of weirdo willing to pay it. I can tell this much about him at least.
Before I can think too much further into my new business adventure, he ushers the first drink into my hands. The difference between the cold drink and my warm hands feels good. It has the a slight orange tint to it, and upon first sip it's very clear it's some kind of strong alcohol mixed with orange juice. It's a poor attempt to cover up the bitter flavor of whatever else he mixed into this drink. I'm no pussy though and if a spiked drink was enough to scare me off, I wouldn't be here at all. Having the drink makes me a little happy, I'm not a restrained person but having a few drinks in you during a slightly awkward situation never hurt anyone.
Lauren stands there, watching me drink the first drink and even leans down to sit next to me.
"Drink it all in one go."
Enough said captain. Without a care or consideration, I start to chug the first concoction. It leaves a bitter aftertaste in the back of my throat. I hold the mostly empty glass out to my newest stranger.
"Done. What's next?"
"You have ... very slender wrists."
"Haha...uh what?"
"Your wrists...they are very thin."
He's talking to me like I'm immediately drunk, like an inexperienced college student trying to make moves on someone for the first time. Like someone trying but making a mistake towards hitting on someone.
He takes my hand, or moreso the context of his comment: my wrist before passing me the next drink.
I'm sitting next to him holding the drink while he holds my arm in his lap. He's taken two fingers and started to trace along the veins of my lower arm. He starts gently flexing and rolling my wrist around. It's as if he's testing the limits of what it can do. I'm watching him do this, unable to take my first drink because I'm distracted by it. Well, not only that. Theres something else I can't really ignore about what's going on...
He's totally started pitching a tent already. I was originally looking at what he was doing as he held my wrist in his lap, but the bump not too far away was hard to ignore.
"Hey..Laure-" I start up, ready to toss him my next porno line as if this was a cue.

"Do you think lacerated flexor tendons would have the same effect as a torn achilles tendon....?" He mutters vaguely towards me while still playing with my wrist in his lap.
"Ahah...whattt?" Is the only thing I can say in response.
I tried to phrase it like I didn't hear him clearly but such a out there statement was kind of hard not to hear. What the fuck is he talking about? I'm caught off guard by his...question? Am I nervous now? Is he going to..cut my wrists? Nothing some more drinking can't rid any of my worries of! I look away and take a careful drink of whatever's in the next glass.
It's so metallic tasting that I can't help by pull the glass away the second following the liquid touches my tongue. I sputter a little and hold the glass away. Lauren looks up at me and takes the glass, as if he's worried about me dropping or spilling the drink.
"You can uh. You can just sip this one, you don't have to chug it."
I look back at him and stick my tongue out a little to shove in his face how bad I thought it tasted. I can't help but sputter again and notice that theres a slight burning in the back of my throat now, and it's spreading to my lips. It makes me cough.
Lauren watches this and lets go of my wrist, letting it fall in his lap. He takes his free hand and grabs my face. He's rough about it and is grabbing me by the bottom of my face, his fingers and thumbs press into either sides of my cheeks but his palm is covering my mouth.
"Don't spit it up. You'll have to drink more anyways."
The way he's talking to me is doing something to me. I can't tell if it's the drink or his slight shift in behavior but I can feel a warm buzz lighting up my entire body. It's in my chest now but it's making its way down. I can practially feel Lauren's heartbeat through his hand and look him in the face. His tone doesn't really match his face, his brows still show him to be nervous. I'm sure my eyes are telling him that I'm confused but still willing to go along with whatever he's got going on.
Just in case though, I use the hand that was resting in his lap and slide it up his thigh, bumping the back of my hand up against his crotch. I turn my palm and start running my hand against him.
He furrows his brows a little and closes his eyes for a second, as if he's trying to decide something. He theb takes a minute to observe me palming his clothed erection then looks back at me. In response, I stick my tongue out and start licking the palm that's he's using to cover my mouth. Let's get into it already, Lauren. I run my tongue over the creases and ridges of his palm. It feels weird, mostly because the bitter burning from before has now turned into a slight numbness. It's in both the back of my throat, my tongue, my lips, hell even my teeth if that's even possible. The only way I can describe it is dental.
Again in a motion that fills me with some kind of odd excitement, Lauren pulls his face towards mine and starts licking the top of his own palm. He has his eyes closed as he runs his tongue over his knuckles. Why is he doing this. Don't you want to just kiss me? Does it matter that much?...this is strangely really erotic though and I can feel myself responding to his oddity in my pants. This is excitment.
He pulls away and uses his sleeve up to wipe his mouth. I'm still palming him and can feel the strain in his pants. He doesn't look away from me and grips his hand a little tigher on my face. In a hurried attempt he starts trying to use his one hand not grabbing me to pull his belt off. He moves my hand off of him and I start rubbing cirlces into his thigh, moving myself closer to him. It's funny to watch him writhe around. The way he's so eager yet still so nervous is starting to make me think he's some kind of virgin. He fumbles with himself and ends up having to take his hand off of my face. This is a little disappointing. He's lifted his hips up a little to work start working his belt out of a few of the loops and to unzip his pants, pulling them down just enough. I move even closer to him and wrap one of my arms around his neck and rest my head on his shoulder. He drops his hips back down and I finally get a chance to see what I'm working with.
Except. All he did was move his pants down a little. He didn't even pull it out. I huff against his neck and just start running through the motions again. His shoulder tenses up when I start touching him again, and he places a hand on my wrist. Gripping it just slightly. He's not trying to telling me to stop touching him. No, it's more like he's trying to feel my wrist move as it works him up. The way he's placed his thumb tells me that he's specifically trying to feel my wrist move and flex.
I start to talk into his shoulder, "Lauren...you're so han-"
"Please don't talk." He chirps out at me before I can finish.
That irks me a little so I grab at him a little more roughly. I really got a good feel for him when I did this and he knocks his head against mine, letting out a sigh. Like he liked it. Like he liked it? Woah.
I can totally play with this. If he doesn't want me to talk so be it, I'm totally fine with making him groan and moan and make whatever else kind of ugly noises.
With this decision made, I bring my hand back from where it was resting behind him and start working him with two hands. All through his boxers mind you. I'm genuinely trying not to laugh at the wet spot in the center of my clutched hands. I guess he doesn't fully want to be touched skin to skin or maybe he's shy about how his dick looks. It just makes me want to see it more though. How much further is this going to go? Am I just going to make him cum in his pants then be on my merry way?? Can I go further. I want to have some fun too, I'm like totally being touch ignored over here.
"Touch me too." I bark at him.
He knocks his head against me again and rubs his hair into mine. It's gross and feels weird, I can feel his scalp grind against mine. He's doing it to turn his head to look over at me. He flexes the hand that's clutching my wrist and slides his other free hand up my thigh. Too cautiously searching, he keeps moving his hand up and up and up before stopping. He just leaves his hand there and kind of just. Starts pinching my thigh. He pinchesit and rubs it in the way that I can only compare to how you'd roughly pet an animal you're unsure of touching. Ugh.
I take my hands off of him and pull back a little. He's harder then I've ever seen a guy be just from getting palmed and played with. Totally a virgin. I hook my fingers on the waist band of his boxers and start pulling them down until the thing bounces out, released from it's slightly damp prison. I still feel the numbness, it's spread down my arms and into my hands. That tingly sensation that causes a slight delay between what I mean to do and what my hands are doing. This makes me knock his boner around a little before grabbing it properly. I let out a huff and cross my legs over his, not really sitting in his lap but I want to make it easier for him to touch me too. He's straight up just clutching his hand into my thigh at this point and doing anything but looking at his own dick that's standing at attention right out of his own jeans. He's not looking at me either. He's got his eyes shut.
"Hey...Hey."
He told me not to talk but I am just the bitch that doesn't listen, thats the part I play. I grab his hand that's gripped into my thigh and move it against me. I don't have the same shame that he has and start to grind against him, guiding him to do exactly what I want him to do. While also playing with him. I'm doing too much.
"Kiss me while I jack you off..."
I want him to play with me more, in other ways. He opens his eyes a little and pans over to me. As if he's playing out doing that as an option in mind, I can see the gears turning and the cogs spinning against each other.
"Keep your mouth closed." He sighs out at me before closing the gap between our heads and making contact with me. I keep my lips closed together while he laps at my lips. It would feel weird normally, but with the numbness it feels even weirder. He pokes and prods at my sealed lips with his tongue and makes my face wet with spit. I start to part my lips and despite his previous request, he quickly plunges his tongue in my mouth. He's desperate. He starts running his tongue over my front row of teeth and my gumline. I suck on his tongue in response. It sounds gross. All of the sounds right now are ringing in my ears, the wet flesh meeting. The sound dulls itself out. I feel him start to grab at me and move his hand further down. I welcome him and spread my legs just enough. I'm still pumping on him before he starts to move his hand to clutch my hips. He's moving me around. He's able to move me around because of this numbness that's lit up my entire body. And because I'm letting him. I didn't notice it's full effects until he started to lay me down, back down on the couch. He's having me face him? Oh how romantic. I'm about to be lulled to tears.
He starts pushing my shirt up and running his hands down my chest. He's feeling the curves of my ribcage and then my hips. His hands are rough as they touch me. He's feeling me but not gently like when he was feeling my wrists before. He runs his hands back up and stops at my chest again. He's laying on me in a way that a lover would, pressing us together. He's leaning up just slightly and looking down at my exposed chest. He keeps running his hand over me. Keeps pinching at me. Twisting me. Playing with me. He's started to grind himself against me, I welcome it and move my hips back. I open my legs to allow him to puzzle himself into me even futher.
He's still looking down at my chest and running his hand around it. He makes a point with two of his fingers and starts tracing down the straight center. It starts at my collarbone and tickles me as he glides the point all the way down to my bellybutton. He repeats this a few times before he starts to do it with a little more pressure. He's leaving dents in centain places with his nails. It doesn't hurt. I can barely feel it.
He pauses and looks up at me.
"Are you..sensitive at all?"
"I thouh you 'int 'ant me tah 'alk" I stutter the words out over my own tongue.
"You can answer this for me."
"Mmnm."
He can take my response however he wants, I don't care. Just touch me, play with me, do whatever you want to me. Cut me open if you want. I can tell that you want to do something dangerous to me, why else would you give me some kind of weird drink mixture. I just can't care. This is exactly what I've always wanted and what I've dreamed of happening to me. I've longed for this kind of danger. I'm exactly right where I want to be.
Please touch me. Please hurt me. Please love me.
He takes a moment to stare at my face, as he keeps doing. A break to let himself decide on things.
He traces my sternum and ribs a final time before he leans up a little more, hovering over me. I can barely see his face now due to the shadow. I can still see the glint of his glasses as they slide down that slender handsome nose.
I'm ready. Please just do it already. I know you're trying to make sure you aim just right. I can take it, just do it.
I close my eyes, ready to feel the blade. Or the hammer, or even his fist make contact with my soft stomach and for the warm burst of blood to surge out. To make a mess of the contact between both of our bodies. I want to feel it.
...and then I feel something start to tickle the center of my chest.
I open my eyes and glance down slightly. Theres something long and thin wiggling it's way across my chest.
It's a marker. He's writing on me.
"Eh?....'uh?" I squeak out in nothing but utter confusion.
Once he's done I take a moment to obseve what he's written right dead center on my chest. Between both nipples. Right perfectly in the dip of my chest. It takes a moment since I have to look at the word upside down...
O..b...j...e...c...t.

Once I realize what the word written in messy ink is, I don't have time to respond before he downs himself on me. He starts to run his tongue all over my chest. He's tracing his tongue over the letter that he's just written. He's devouring me. He's making a mess of me, I can see the ink smear all over both myself and his tongue. It feels amazing, it tickles in just the perfect way. I'm trying not to laugh in my excitement. While he's supping away at me, he starts to rub me off. Like he suddenly knows what he's doing, but it's also so lackluster that if I wasn't totally numbed out of my mind and excited by the situation I'd probably go limp. It's messy. We are both a mess.
He's grinding himself against my upper thighs and ass like something is happening there. I wouldn't mind if he penetrated me, but something about this feels a little better. I can hear it in his groans and sighs when he's finally done. He sits up and cups a hand on my face.
I'd let him do whatever he wants to me, make a mess of me. Ruin me. Kill me. Whatever this is, you can do it to me.

I was expecting to die tonight, but that's okay.
This became our routine. He picks me up when I walk the roads. We go back to this cabin. We fool around with each other, we eventually started to fully have sex with each other. He plays around with the idea that he wants to kill me. I can tell it's something he's spent a long time planning, but he just doesn't have it in him. I know it's what he wants, to kill me. I know he has an exact idea of how he wants it to happen, and I want to make it real for him. I can tell he gets closer each time we have sex. He's started to get mord bold. He choked me until I passed out last time. I can tell he just kept going afterwards. He gets rougher with me. I'm not scared of it, I'm ready for whatever he does next.
Maybe next time Lauren...maybe next time you'll have it in you.