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 The stranger – the man I had seen down the hall entering his apartment, looking at me as I bent down to retrieve my parcels from the floor, feeling the skirt I wore rise up along my thighs, above the contours of my ass. His eyes caressed me like the silken tongue of a lover. His eyes beckoned me. It was a call I wanted to answer.  I slammed open the door to my apartment and raced to the bedroom, shedding clothes and grabbing the ever-plugged vibrator from its place on the nightstand. With a fever I leaned against the wall and pressed it to my clit. I was hot, overheated already. The first orgasm took only a moment to hit me and leave me shaking against the wall.Again, I ground the round pulsating head into the folds of my skin, humping on the ridges of it, scraping my clitoris, needing this to be urgent, needing to scream. I continued until, with my head thrown back, my hips shaking and my ass banging into the wall, cries scratched the inside of my throat - guttural, grunting and dynamic. I slumped to the floor, on my hands and knees before the power of my orgasm. Oh, yes. I needed him tonight. I crawled across the floor, still shaking, to an abandoned pad of paper. I scratched out a note, very deliberate in purpose and design. I wrote out in slow words my desire, feeling my cunt still pulsing gently in slow subsidence as I knelt, ass in the air. I carefully composed all my needs to a stranger. It made me excited all over again. When done, I put on a short, delicate robe and loosely tied it around my waist, feeling the material slide open, my breasts naked and puckering in the chill air. I slid in a heady fog out of my apartment and toward his door. I knocked and waited, smelling the results of my orgasm in the air around me, knowing he would smell my sex. He opened the door; he was surprised to see me but smiled as he took in the signs of my disarray. I have never been able to hide my lusts or evidence of them; this time was no different. I shook my head as he began to speak and simply handed him the paper I had composed while on the floor. I walked away returning to my door; when I reached it, I looked back at him and said "One hour." I walked back through my flat, past the litter of clothes and toys. I headed toward the shower. I wanted my flesh to be a clean canvas for his debauchery. I wanted to be able to tell where he would mark me. I wanted to be able to smell his scent wafting up from my pussy after I begged him to use me.  Stepping beneath the trickle, I felt the water drip down my body and slide between the cleft of my buttocks. I felt the water drip from my cunt as my own wetness had done not long ago, and thought of him reading my note. Reading the words I’d written to him:"I want you to push me against the wall and put your hand on my throat...tell me to undo your pants and pull your cock out, still feeling your hand around me..." I began to soap my body, delighting in the feel of the suds and my hands caressing me - imagining his response to my words. Take my hair in your hands and push me down into a squat at your feet, my face level with your cock. Push my face into your crotch, tell me to take you in my mouth and make you hard. Suddenly, the wetness between my legs was not only from the water of the shower. I want to taste you and feel you push my head down along the length of your hardness. I want to taste your pre-cum in the back of my throat. I want you to feel me moan against your skin. I dropped the bar of soap and the washcloth became my new best friend and element masturbation as I began to rub between my legs, delighting in the rougher texture against the sensitive center of me. Pull me up viciously by my hair and pin me to the wall, use your hand to keep my head pulled back. I want you to whisper to me that you will use me and fuck me and treat me like the slut I am. I use my hand furiously between my legs, the water cascading down along me and wetting my ass enough for me to insert a slow invasive finger into my anus. I begin to shudder. I want you to tell me to spread my legs and watch me do it, struggling for balance as you whip me around. Rip my shirt open - I want to feel your hands on my breasts and your cock shoved between my legs, sliding into the juice staining my thighs. Against the wall of the shower, I begin to whimper and moan, helpless in the face of another shattering orgasm.  I want to feel the heat of my cunt reflected back at me from the hand you shove between my legs and feel you treat my slit with roughness, desire making you violent. I want you to smear my own wetness across my face and kiss me through the drops.I begin to cry out, my knees slightly bent, my face upturned, feeling my wet hair down my back. The orgasm begins to roll through me. Then I want you to turn me around and lift my skirt and grab my hips. I want you to slide up into my ass - and I will scream, but I will love it, love it, because I need you. And you will pull my hair and as I pant and moan while you fuck me, and I will beg you to make me your whore - to treat me like the slut I am. On the floor of the shower, I wonder if I can even make it down the hall to my bedroom, I am so wracked by my climax. I begin to wash myself off again, and dress in the same robe as before. The time flies. I can feel my desire like a stoked and banked fire, waiting for kindling to erupt again into flame. The hour passes as I listen for the knock at my door. I hear a sound, and throw the door open before he can even knock. I am grabbed by the arm and pushed inside and shoved to the wall, my face turned to the side and my breasts crushed by the force of him pressing on my back. He whispers in my ear. "So you want to be my slut?" I begin to moan…
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