Blindfolded Fuck: My Candlelit Stranger Night at Home

The house is pitch black, just flickering candles casting shadows in the living room. My heart hammers. Fabrice set this up – a surprise guest after weeks of teasing webcam talks. I’m Corsetta tonight, corset squeezing my tits high, pussy bare, stockings taut on my thighs. High heels click on the floor. Blindfold slips over my eyes, silky, semi-transparent. I see shapes, not faces. Pulse races. Door buzzes – he’s here. Fabrice whispers, ‘Stand in the center, babe. Shine for him.’ I obey, nipples hardening in the cool air. Footsteps. A deep voice, disguised: ‘Wow… hello.’ His cologne hits me – woody, musky, new. Stomach flips. ‘Hi… I’m Caro. Or Corsetta.’ He circles me slow. Fingers itch to touch. Tension thick. My phone vibrates in the kitchen – ignored. No time for screens now. Real flesh calls. He murmurs, ‘May I admire?’ I nod, breath short. ‘Touch if you want.’ No bullshit chit-chat. Straight to skin hunger.

His hands graze my tits first. Warm palms cup them, thumbs circle nipples. I gasp. ‘Soft… fuck, so soft.’ He gropes harder, mouth dives in. Wet tongue laps, sucks deep. Shivers rip through me. ‘Like that, Alex?’ Voice husky, fake name game. He growls, ‘God yes.’ Kisses trail neck, shoulders. My cunt throbs, wet already. He pulls me close, hard cock presses thigh through pants. ‘Been dreaming of this pussy.’ I grind back. ‘Prove it.’ Clothes rip off him. Muscled chest, trimmed beard tickles skin. I stroke his thick shaft – veiny, leaking pre-cum. ‘Big boy.’ He groans. Pushes me to couch edge. I kneel over him, guide that fat head to my slick lips. No condom talk – he swore clean. Sink down. ‘Fuuuck!’ Stretched full, balls deep. He bucks up, hands claw hips. ‘Ride me, slut.’ I bounce wild, tits slapping. ‘Pound my cunt!’ Slaps echo, wet smacks. Sweat mixes with candle wax scent. ‘Deeper, Alex! Wreck it!’ He hammers, grunts animal. Fingers dig ass. I cream his dick, juices drip. ‘Gonna cum!’ He roars, floods me hot. I shatter, walls clench, scream rips out.

The Approach

More rounds blur. Fabrice joins later – double stuffed, his cock rams my ass while Alex owns pussy. Synced thrusts. ‘Take us both, whore!’ I wail, orgasms chain-crash. Cum leaks everywhere. Collapse in heap, panting. Kitchen break. Rip off blindfold. Light stings. Face him later. ‘Philippe?!’ Bearded, glasses – my husband’s pal from States. Shock melts to grin. ‘Knew it was you deep down.’ He smirks. Post-fuck glow fades. Clothes on. Hugs, promises. But dawn hits – I’m Anonyme again. Phone buzzes: next chat, next thrill. He leaves. Door clicks shut. Back to screens. Just a ghost fuck. Adrenaline crash. Normal life snaps back. No strings. Until next vibe.