I had just moved into a new neighborhood and was getting used to the feel of it. I enjoyed walking, and so (almost) everyday I would go on a 30 minute to an hour walk, through my neighborhood and sometimes to some trails and paths close by. I loved staying fit, doing my best to keep in shape.
One day, I was on my normal walk and a man approached me, stepping out of his garage and towards the sidewalk. He looked a bit older than me (I'm 28, he looked about 38-40 tops), he was large and tall, and he approached me suddenly.
"Hey, how's it going today?" he asked.
"Good, what's up?"
"I was wondering if you could come help me with something. I'm trying to sell a shelf and I don't know how to work a phone camera too well. I was wondering if you'd come inside and help me snap a picture of the shelf real quick." He held up his phone as he said this, looking confused.
Immediately, my heart started racing. It started racing because I felt this was an odd request (who doesn't know how to use a phone camera nowadays? This wasn't an old man or anything). My senses told me to get out of there. He could be a serial killer or something, why else would he be trying to lure me into his house? Did he actually need help with anything? My gut instinct told me to leave, and anyways, I had to be at work soon and was running late.
"Listen," I said, "I would love to help, but I'm running late for work (which was getting to be true), so I have to go." He looked very disappointed when I said this.
"Look, it won't take long. You said you're busy, going to work? What about after or maybe you have some free time?"
"No," I said, a little more stern now, just wanting him to leave me alone. "I have to go, sorry." And I began to walk off quickly, almost angrily now. I kept up my pace, but glanced behind me, and saw this man standing in his driveway still, his camera in hand.
When I got home, I relaxed for a minute and processed what had happened. My heart was racing, a bit of adrenaline, because this guy creeped me out a bit. "There's no way he wanted help," I thought to myself. "Maybe he was going to murder me. Maybe there's a serial killer in this neighborhood and I can stop him..." But then my mind went to another place. I had been a little frustrated and scatterbrained lately, dealing with my own problems of sexual lust and identity issues, not knowing if I was truly straight, gay, bi, or what.
I suddenly imagined the scene again, and the imploring look on the guy's face and how he really wanted me to come in. I passed by a mirror, thinking this, and noticed how I looked. I had on a tight shirt and shorts, my bubble butt sort of sticking out, I looked hot, though I hate to be vain or proud. But I looked pretty good today. And then I imagined this guy seeing me, the way he was eyeing me when we talked. My dick started to get hard. I imagined what if, maybe he wanted something else. My breathing got heavy again. This time not out of fear, but lust and curiosity.
I began to imagine actually going into his house, what could've happened. The shelf would be there, and he'd hand me his phone, telling me to get a good angle. I'd open up the camera and point it at the shelf, ready to snap the shot. But then, maybe he'd get behind me, looking at the phone in my hands.
"Just want to make sure you get a good angle."
"Ok," I'd say, my hands shaking slightly.
But I steady the phone and get a good angle, ready to click the shot. And that's when I'd feel him, getting close to me (I let this fantasy play out in my head, as I lock myself in my bathroom, starting to rub my hardening dick).
He would get behind me, closer, his hard, large dick gently pressing against me. His hands would slowly drift down, resting gently on my sides.
"Yeah, that's a good angle," he'd say, close to my ear (I began moaning softly, beating my hard, hard dick as I thought this).
"Yeah?" I'd say back, with nervous, shallow breath.
"Mhmm," he'd mutter in my ear as he leans down, softly kissing my neck.
"Oh!" I'd say, jumping slightly. His hands would start to move upwards, going along my sides, under my shirt. (I began to moan as I masturbated, the image so hot in my head). I would feel his dick hardening even more, pressing against me as his hands roam up further, going to my stomach, softly rubbing at my stomach and abs. His kisses tender and soft on the side of my neck.
I didn't get much further into my fantasy before I began cumming, cumming loads all over, there was so much! I stood there for a minute, hot and sweaty, before cleaning up. I grabbed a quick shower and dressed for work. Now showered and clean, I stood there, puffing sensually on a cigarette, playing what had happened, and fantasy over and over in my head. Maybe he actually was a murderer though? I laughed to myself. But something about how he looked at me, the tone of his voice, so gentle, I don't know. It seemed like maybe my fantasy was more along the lines of what would've happened, if I had only gone in to help. It gave me goosebumps. I shook them off and went to work, slightly confused but happy, and kind of hopeful, hopeful maybe something would actually happen.
Over the next few days, I didn't see the stranger again on my daily walks. There wasn't too much activity at his house at all (I would pass it on my walks, eyeing it, hopeful that maybe he would hop outside again). But it was always nothing.
And then one day, I was walking down the road, and he approached me. This time though, he was driving a convertible car and pulled up alongside me, on the road. I stopped and froze up. In my current state of mind, I had forgotten about it (mostly) and when he approached, I felt my masculine side kick in and my adrenaline was pumping. What did he want this time? Was he going to try to kidnap me? Good luck. I walk and exercise all the time, even doing martial arts. I might not be the most masculine guy, but I can defend myself when needed.
"Hey," he said to me, "I'm trying to sell this car. It needs a bit of work, but it's a classic, know anyone that would be interested? Maybe you?"
"I don't know man, probably not."
