Comments from PeepingTom — Thank you, my good LadyGodiva, for daring to bare your soul to me. I know my asks of you will have been slightly different to my peers on here (I only know that because I cheated and set up a separate account as a woman to check on my competition…I like to be thorough in my research!), and, at the risk of sounding like an arrogant twat, there haven’t been many women that have caught my attention in the way you have. I’m sure you’ll shake your head and think I’m spinning you a line, but I’m not. I’d love to continue and set more dares for each other before we even think about meeting, if you think my answers to your dares are worthy of your attention.
Fucking hell! Parts of that made her want to mount the nearest man and parts of made her want to laugh at his humour. Both sides of him were winning her over. She re-read his comments on her private dare again, squirming in her seat as the beauty of his words soaked in. She imagined having the undivided attention of a man like that. She didn’t think she ever had. Pre-Rob had been about dirty, quick, hard sex, and post-Rob had been about stolen moments with whispered sweet nothings of ‘get on with it’ and ‘hurry up’ from both sides. Chris hadn’t been that great in bed, but she’d been pregnant within their first four weeks of being together, and then he’d proposed and she’d accepted with a feeling of ‘better make the most of it for the baby’. And then she just hadn’t wanted to hurt his feelings, numbing her own feelings and desires to save his.
A wave of emotion shot over her, sadness at how insignificant she’d let herself become, and she blinked rapidly, tears forming. Did men like this PeepingTom really exist? Well, no, because he was just pixels on a fucking computer screen. It could all be bullshit. Just words. He could be married for all she knew.
She replied to a couple of work instant messages, then sneaked her attention back to her phone guiltily, clicking on his responses to her dares.
Private dare — As of the moment you responded to my dares, you became my fantasy. So my fantasy involves you lying on the softest bed, naked, after I’ve just given you a back massage. I help you turn over and I blow minty coolness onto your skin, following my path with a feather. I see your skin pucker and prickle in response to me, and you giggle softly. I kiss your fingertips, your wrists, your neck, then down your chest, nuzzling your breasts with my nose. I lick one nipple, taking it into my mouth and sucking hard, pushing your belly down with the palm of my hand as you rise up. I’ll tell you how beautiful you taste as I repeat on the other side, then progress down, kissing your soft core as I go.
Holy fuck-a-doodles! Rachel felt the blush rise over her, felt her nipples standing to attention, felt the wetness gush down to her pussy. She couldn’t sit here and read this in the office! She made a beeline for the ladies toilet, locking herself in the far cubicle and re-reading the first part before continuing, her hand dipping up under her work skirt and into her knickers as she read.
I’ll gently prise your legs apart, not that they’ll need much encouragement, and I’ll settle between them, inhaling your scent and gazing at the wonder laid out in front of me. I’ll dip and plunge my tongue straight up into your sweet, sweet, pussy, then lick forward to your swollen needy clit. I’ll repeat my action swirling around, edging you nearer and nearer until you can’t take any more and pull my hair, demanding that I make you come. I’ll add my thumb to your clit and fuck you with my tongue. When you finally explode into my mouth, I’ll lap up every drop of juice you give me, before sitting up and ramming my cock into your pussy, watching me disappear into you, and demanding that your gorgeous pussy comes for me again. You’ll tell me you can’t, you’ll beg me to stop, but you’re not saying our safe word so I know you’ve got a bit more in you, you bad girl. I pound into you, my thumb still on that tender nub of yours and I’ll keep going until you come again, your pussy clenching around my cock, milking me until you suck the cum from deep inside me, dragging it out through my balls and cock, and I roar my release into you. Finally sated, we collapse down together, in a happy, smiling, sweaty mess.
She shut her eyes tight, to the point of them hurting and rubbed her clit faster, his words painting a picture in her mind. She came hard as her orgasm hit and rose onto her tiptoes, biting her bottom lip to try and contain her moans. Fucking hell, wanking in the toilets, like a horny teenager? She chided herself as she grabbed a handful of tissue to clean up, but she shrugged her negative mum-self off with a grin. So what if I did? Hopefully his next replies wouldn’t be as full-on. She needed a few minutes to catch her breath and let the redness subside from her cheeks.
Public dare — My random act of kindness? Why, I donned my superhero costume, saved the planet from an asteroid, put out a bush fire and apprehended two baddies holding up a bank, all before I ate my Weetabix this morning. No? Oh, okay then. My RAOK was on a much smaller scale but I hope the impact was felt. My neighbour is disabled, but I buy him a coffee a couple of times a week, and this morning I added a Danish pastry to his order. He hates them, but hopefully he’ll give it to his carer which will go some way to making up for being the moody bastard he is each morning. No? Oh, okay. You win. I made the Danish pastry bit up (the coffee bit is true btw, I’m hoping it wins me extra brownie points). No, what I actually did was help a woman off the bus with her pushchair and two kids, then shove a tenner into her hand. Think I might have scared her a bit, but she couldn’t speak much English so I made a quick getaway before the police were called. I also registered to be a blood donor in a few weeks if you need more persuading of my kindness.
Personal dare — Ah, that’s easy, the Beast from Beauty and the Beast. Unfortunately I am not, to the best of my knowledge, a handsome prince that has been cursed.
Nope, phew. These were fairly straight-forward. He had an intelligence about him, the self-deprecation, the humour, the language he used in his fantasy, his respect for the female form, it all appealed to her. Either he was genuine, or she was going to end up one of those sob stories in the national press about how she was duped out of all of her life-savings to help a stranger she’d never met.
His earlier comment about wanting to do more dares lodged in her head. Look at what she’d achieved in one weekend through interacting with him, and she liked that it was her doing things, rather than being done to. Maybe never meeting wasn’t such a bad thing, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to keep thinking of dares for him; she had too much ‘real life’ things to do. Perhaps he’d be happy to keep issuing the dares and she’d respond to those she was happy to do?
Something to ask him later, but for now, it was time to get ready for lunch.