I wake to darkness.

The champagne lingers in my body, and I do not know how long I
have been asleep. Perhaps I dozed off briefly during the birthday
celebration — I am not used to so much champagne. Maybe I have been
asleep for hours, and Joshua has ushered out the guests and turned out
the lights.

There is a heaviness across my eyes, something pressing
against the skin. I try to bring my hand to my face, to test what
feels like silk, or chiffon…and discover my hands are bound behind
me. Gently, comfortably, but without any extra give at all. I am
curled on my side, my arms behind me, my legs tucked under, blind.

This is probably one of his little games, but I hear no
voices, feel no touch of callused hand or stubbled chin. I breathe
deeply and open my mouth to scream for him…and a finger lands softly
on it, as a feather might, and a stranger’s voice whispers, “hush.”

I do not know who is here. I do not know who is here with me,
in my blue-painted room, in my flannel-sheeted bed. I do not know
whether to scream or smile or wait. Maybe I am dreaming.

A hand slips between my legs, parting them gently. This hand
is soft, testing, and I am dry as desert, and I do not know if that is
what the stranger wants. Apparently not, for he, she, parts my legs
even more, and a wet mouth is suddenly moving on me. The mouth plays
me like an old friend, tracing a delicate path from inner thigh to
hipbone to circle around my clit and back again. This is not Joshua’s
touch. This is not a rapist’s touch.

I try to remember the tongues of all my lovers. All of them,
every one, did this at one time or another. It’s hard to distinguish
once you’re past your fourth or fifth, and the growing fire between my
damp thighs is making it hard to think. I am trembling now, as soft
hair brushes my hip and a warm tongue thrusts in and out, followed
swiftly by one, two, three fingers. And then I am arching, moaning,
begging this stranger, and a tongue is tasting my neck and this, this
is Joshua, biting softly and the world is starting to dissolve around
me…they stop.

Cold hands grasp my breasts and squeeze, hard, forcing a gasp.
They twist my nipples cruelly, and I am helpless against this.
Tighter and tighter, and then the fingers are replaced by two mouths,
biting softer, then harder, until I am pleading, no, don’t, nooo…

I do not say stop. One continues and the other slides behind
me, and I cannot tell whom it is. Male, though, his hairless chest
pressed hard against my thin shirt, his erection hard against me. My
skirt must be pushed out of the way; I can feel the texture of his
warm skin against my own shivering.

Fingers gently probe my asshole, and I contract, tense. The
mouth on my breast stops its assault suddenly, and it is kissing me, a
stranger’s kiss on my lips and so it is Joshua behind me, unless there
are more than two here. Fingers return to squeezing nipples, and
gentle lips drop butterfly kisses against my mouth, my cheeks, my
chin. Joshua’s fingers, I hope, are cold and wet between my cheeks,
sliding in and out and around, going deeper and deeper each moment.

A cock slides between my thighs, rubbing gently against my
clit as his hips move forward to meet mine. The man in front of me, a
man I do not know, continues to kiss me as his cock strokes me, his
mouth gently promising, not asking.

I do not remember when I first started telling Joshua my
fantasies. The one about sex with a stranger. The one about two
people at once. The one about two men at once, two cocks inside me.
The one about pain. The one about being blind.

A cock presses against my asshole, insistent, demanding. It
pushes forward, and I cannot tell how long an eternity it takes to
make its way inside. The stranger alternates breast and breast and
mouth and neck, at one moment his teeth and Joshua’s on opposite sides
of my neck, at another so close they might be kissing. Finger tease
my nipples, my clit, rake fiercely along my back and sides and always
the cock in my ass is sliding further and further, until it is lodged
inside me and I am almost weeping.

Then the stranger slams into me, his cock in my cunt, his
smooth chest crushing my breasts and I am crushed between them, and
they are kissing me everywhere. The cocks slide in and out, slowly at
first, alternating then synchronous and back again. And the stranger
is gripping my head between his hands, his thumbs pressed firmly
through the cloth against my shut eyes, and Joshua’s leg wraps around
us both as he thrusts harder and harder; as my moans get louder and
louder and he is whispering words of love and the stranger is silent,
his chest against my breasts, rubbing and rubbing. And the world once
again begins to dissolve, to slow, to freeze with that particular
peculiar stillness, as they slam my body between them, and the two
cocks erupt, one after another and I cannot tell which is first and
the stranger suddenly tears the blindfold from my eyes.

And I come screaming into the light.


M.A. Mohanraj