A Perfect Stranger - NF

All characters are consenting adults (18+)

It all started with a misunderstanding. A load of laundry that had been trapped in the machine. A joke about the machines never working. An accidental brush of his hand against mine, and a summer of debauchery that neither of us could have ever imagined.

"You have to give it a bit of a tug" he said, and I could sense the double entendre in his tone. He swiped the door open but stayed in place. "Aren't you a bit old for jockey briefs?" He took them out on his finger, dangling them in front of me until I yanked them away.

"Must have gotten mixed up when I was packing" I said, and loaded the clothes into my bag. Never in my life had a stranger been so forthcoming.

"Where are you from?"

I looked back at him. He was tall enough that he could lean his elbow on the washing machine. Tall enough, too, that I had to cock my head back to look into his large chestnut eyes.

Where was I from? A simple question that I'd answered a million times, and yet the answer refused to come to me until I forced it out. "Uh... Jefferson".

"Are you asking me?" He said, and let out a soft laugh.

"No, no. I'm from Jefferson. It's a small town in Texas".

"Well, you're a long way from Jefferson, the small town in Texas".

"I've noticed".

His eyes narrowed slightly, but his smile didn't fade. He had plump lips. Juicy ones. A day or two-old stubble shaded the bottom portion of his rugged face. He ran his hand over it and nodded.

"Yeah" he said, "you're one of those".

Zipping up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder, I raised a brow. "One of what?"

"One of those".

"One of those what?"

"A country kid who has no idea what he's doing in the big city. You're a Hallmark producer's wet dream".

His words were velvety. I couldn't explain it, nor did I try. I liked them. I wanted to hear more.

"You're half right" I said, holding his steady gaze, "but I ain't a kid".

"No?" He looked surprised, "you just look so innocent".

Was he flirting with me? Or was I just hoping that he was? In eighteen years, I hadn't met a single man who shared my dark secret. None that I knew of, anyway.

"You'd be surprised".

"Would I?"

I didn't answer him. It was one of those questions that didn't need an answer. Rhetorical.

"I'll see you around" I told him, walking toward the door of the communal laundry room. I wanted to stay there with him and continue to listen to his delicious voice, but the butterflies had grown to swans in my stomach, and they were pushing down on my bladder.

"Or you could die before you do" he said, and I stopped and tried to make sense of the sentence. Part of me wondered if he was slowly approaching me from behind, a knife in his hand as he prepared to strike.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that nothing's promised".

He spoke like a poet.

"Nothing's promised?"

"You said you'll see me around, but neither of us know that for sure, so instead of seeing me around, why don't you look back and see me now?"

What was this guy's deal? I spun back to flash a confused grin, but my smile died as soon as I saw him.

"The summer" he said, stepping out of his shorts and balling them up alongside his t-shirt before shoving them into the machine. "It just makes me so... Hot".

Strips of muscle looked as though they'd been carved into his flawless torso. Dips and curves led from his sides, down his abs and deeper into his underwear. His thighs looked like stone, and his arms were the size of legs.

"You never asked me my name" I said, when words finally began to flow freely through my head once more.

"Why would I?"

I cocked a brow again. Was he playing with me? Was this stranger whom I had only known for five minutes trying to mess with me? The same stranger who stood before me in a concrete shed wearing nothing more than a pair of cotton white boxer briefs?

"I um... I don't know" I said, "I just thought... I mean, I just thought–"

"That I was flirting with you?" He replied, and his accent echoed through the room. "That I was making a move?" He stepped closer. His bare feet pressing against the cold stone floor as he approached. "That I was into you?" Closer again. I could smell him now. Cologne from the night before. Morning sweat from a jog. Something sharper, too. "That's very presumptuous of you" he whispered, and the air caught in my throat as I came face to face with his pecs.

"No... I um... I just..."

"You just what, Matthew? You just realised that you're being hit on by a man?"

I had to dissect his sentence.

"You... How do you know my name?"

He smiled again. It really was a nice smile. "Your name's on the back of your undies" he breathed, and my face instantly burned with embarrassment.

God damn it, mom.

"And um... What do I call you?" I swallowed, trying to take the heat off.

"I don't care" he said, and closed his hand around my wrist. He was incredibly strong, but that wasn't surprising. What was surprising, is what he did once my hand belonged to him. "Have you ever felt a cock before, Matthew?"

My entire body stiffened as I watched him lead my hand to his large bulge. I didn't have enough time to be nervous. This perfect stranger had abseiled right into my heart, and now we were here. Alone, and doing something that I'd never expected to do.

I felt it swell at my touch, like a coiled snake being woken from its slumber. It unfurled itself beneath the warm fabric, as he slowly moved my fingers along it's length.

He was blissfully indifferent about it. Perhaps he'd done this before with other students who found themselves alone in the city, unsure how to live a life that wasn't inside a small town. An opportunist, maybe. Yet, I didn't mind.

"Do you need me to tell you how to make love, Matthew?" He asked casually, and I wasn't sure whether it was a second rhetorical question.

"I... I uh... I've never done this. I'm a... I'm a virgin".

He grinned at me. His teeth were as white as winter snow. Was he laughing at me? Perhaps being an eighteen year old virgin in New York was more rare than it was in Jefferson. I wondered how old he was. Twenty five, maybe.

"Well" he whispered, still tracing my hand over the outline of his stiffening cock. "You start by taking a big deep breath, and looking less like I've just kidnapped you and tied you to my kitchen table".

I took his first pointer and inhaled his warm fragrance into my lungs. It was enough to relax me into saying what I said next.

"Is the second part an option?"

His tongue slipped out between his lips and he lathered them wet. One corner of his mouth curled upwards. A smouldering smile.

"I don't need to tie you up" he said, leaning closer, "you'll do what you're told, anyway".

A shiver of excitement crawled up my spine. His free hand closed around my shoulder, and I could feel his strength in it. He'd tear my entire arm off with one foul swipe if he wanted to, but instead, he moved me closer.

"Put your hand inside" he mouthed against my ear, and his warm breath made me gasp as I obeyed him. "Yeah, that's it" he mumbled, my fingertips finding the soft flesh of his hard cock. "Good. Very good".

It didn't feel like what I was expecting it to feel like. It was larger than mine by a couple of inches, but the skin was bunched up around the tip. Uncut.

"Now use your free hand to take off your clothes for me" he said, and his tone was both mouthwateringly arousing, and excitingly stern.

"What if someone walks in?" I gasped, still sliding my grip up and down his manhood.

"Then maybe they'll help" he replied.

I took another shaky breath and dropped my bag onto the ground. How was this man, who I'd never met before in my life, able to strip me from my clothing with nothing more than words?

I shimmied out of my shorts, and remembered my underwear of choice. I cringed as he lifted my t-shirt and smiled.

"Must have gotten mixed up when you were packing, huh?" He asked, his eyes travelling across my briefs. My cheeks lit up, but I was over it. He didn't seem bothered, anyway.

He helped me with my t-shirt, then threw it aside. Standing there in my sneakers and my underwear felt so incredibly wrong, and painfully perfect, too.

"Don't be shy" he said, and pulled the band away from my waist, before releasing it.

"Yours aren't off" I managed to say, though my arousal was making it increasingly difficult to speak.

"Who's in charge here?" He asked, a teasing air to his voice.

Bar a few school trips and the occasional doctors appointment, I'd never been naked in front of another man in my life. The idea sent a ripple of pleasure through my half hard cock, and when I dragged my briefs down my legs, and stood before the handsome stranger in all my glory, it became even harder.

He took a moment to study it. Maybe he'd think it too small. Like many young men, I'd struggled with five and a half inches for years, but there was something about the look in his eyes that put my mind at ease.

"Now get down on your knees" he told me, "and stretch that pretty little mouth around my cock". His thumb ran along my lips, leaving his taste on me. I flicked at it with my tongue, until he firmly guided me to the floor.

I placed my hands on his solid, muscular thighs and stared at the erection inside his boxer briefs. He let me look, and then he tensed it.

"Take it out".

I looked up at him. He looked even more powerful from down here, and my cock twitched as a cool summer's breeze drifted in from the open door, and whipped around my private parts. With another breath, I tugged down his underwear, and his rod flopped out like a trunk.

It curved slightly to the right. A river of veins ran through it, with some of them being as thick as arteries. The head was like a large mushroom, and the foreskin had already slid back over halfway. His balls were as large as two ripe plums, and looked so full that they seemed to be weighing his cock down. A single clear bead of fluid dripped from his slit.

"Go on" he nodded, giving me a confidence that I didn't know I needed.

I stuck my tongue out as the liquid drooled from the end of his cock. It landed directly on the tip, and for just a moment, we were linked by a single silver trail of the most delicious nectar that I had ever tasted.

"You look cute down there, Matthew".

"You look hot up there" I retorted, and he smiled again.

I wasn't lying. His muscular frame shadowed me as I held his organ in my hand and considered my next move. Noticing, he slipped his fingers through my hair and stroked my head. "Suck it" he whispered.

A nervous sweat had grown across my forehead. How many times had I fantasised about having a cock in my mouth? And now it was happening. I remembered the videos that I'd seen, and how hungry the bottoms looked. I covered my teeth with my lips, opened my mouth around his cock, and slowly took him across my tongue until a breath sighed from him.

"Good man" he mumbled, guiding me deeper.

His flavour was as delicious as I could have expected. He was neither fresh nor totally ripe, but somewhere in between. I could taste his morning jog. I could taste a night of arousal, and I could taste the droplets of pre-cum that drained from him.

"You sure this is your first time, Matthew?" He grinned down, his hand bouncing my head, "you're very good".

I tried to nod, but it was rather difficult given my predicament. He closed his eyes and thrust his wide hips.

When his cock had slid entirely into my throat, he stared at me as though he was both confused and curious. I looked back up at him as his heavy, warm balls pressed firmly against my chin, and his pubes tickled my nose.

"You uh... You haven't gagged" he said, his body trembling.

Again, I couldn't answer him, but he was correct. I'd never understood the reflex. Perhaps I hadn't been born with one, but I'd spent most of my life testing it with popsicles and other phallus shaped objects, and nothing had ever forced a gag.

"Well that's a very special ability you've got there, Matthew" he smiled, and his body tensed up. "I'm gonna cum in you now, okay?"

The threat made my cock bounce.

The stranger pumped my face as saliva and pre-cum drained down my cheeks. I mindlessly reached for my own cock, and stroked it as he got off using my throat. Then just a few minutes later, he squeezed his eyes shut, held my head with both hands, and moaned loudly into the shed as he swelled and shot creamy sperm straight into my stomach.

"Fuck" he breathed, with sweat dripping down his shredded body. "Holy fuck".

I hoped it was a good sign. He pulled his rod from my mouth, letting it flop back between his legs and drip, and then crouched down in front of me and took my one in his hand.

"Why not save it?" He breathed, and I watched as he leaned forward and kissed me.

"I live in Apartment 57" he told me, and stood up.

I watched as the handsome young man pulled back on his underwear, and, wearing nothing else, left the shed.

"Apartment 57" I whispered, engraining the address in my mind.