Faceless Stranger

Author's Note:

Following a disastrous Valentine's Day break up, Lee makes an impetuous decision to travel to a Pacific island, sight unseen, to escape Chicago's winter and the icy memories of her cheating ex-fiancé.

Lee makes another impetuous choice to masturbate atop a sea cliff and finds herself in a perilous predicament. In the process of being rescued, Lee is tied and blindfolded by her savior turned captor, who claims to be a pirate. In the name of teaching her to control her lust and thereby keep her out of trouble, Lee is forced to develop her sexual fantasies as she pleasures herself on a secluded beach under the command of a faceless stranger.

This Valentine's tale has themes of voyeurism, light bondage and certainly forced reluctant edging and masturbation, which develops into a mystical romantic ending.

May you enjoy Lee's impetuous adventures and her 'nasty little ride' with a faceless stranger. --Sandy

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The cold was vengeful, the wind cruel.

My flesh had frozen.

My brain was numb.

My bones had turned to lumps of cold lead.

My heart was a frozen chunk of filthy street ice that sank heavy into my gut.

Only my tears felt hot - before they too turned frigid; Chicago's bleak February landscape matched my numb emotional state.

Bundling the wool scarf around my face did nothing to protect my heart from the piercing pain, as if a wind-driven ice pick were stabbing beneath my coat, its steel point wedged between my ribs. Waves of misery swept into my soul and overwhelmed me, and I knew well that it was more than the bitter wind blowing off Lake Michigan.

I had no touch in my fingers. Maybe that's why the red envelope holding my mushy valentine intended for my beloved fell from my hand and was swept away by the driving sleet. That lost token of my Valentine's Day affection was an apt symbol of my fiancé's betrayal. The pain of Cupid's poisoned darts was magnified as the sharp wind and the sting of sleet pellets conspired to drop my soul into a frozen grave.

It was a cruel twist of fate that led to my discovery of his betrayal. Another cruel, ice cold twist came from the dull blade thrust through my heart as he discarded me with icy emotions, leaving my heart hemorrhaging. Shredded pieces of my soul fell into each footprint that I left in the heaps of filthy snow as I trudged back to my place. I was but a hollow, wounded spirit as I wandered across the dirty, windswept pavement, shadowed and mocked each step by some foul spirit unleashed by the unmasking of a false lover on Valentine's Day.

Another disastrous ending to one of my infatuating love affairs. Is it me? Or are all men shallow, narcissistic bastards? From all that I have experienced and suffered from the masculine half of the species, it's them, every last one of those blue-balled bastards. Damn them all and their sweet-talking hollow pretensions. I hate them all! Forever!

"I'm out of here," I sobbed over the phone to my big sister. "To hell with my fucking miserable suburban Chicago life; Buffalo Grove is nothing but a buffalo wallow of pain and pity for me. It's dreary cold, my life is shattered and everything reminds me of him. I've already booked my ticket. I am through. Done. I am so gone."

"What?" she hissed into her phone. "Lee! What in heaven's name have you done? You did what? You didn't call me first? Lee, you always call me first; what in heaven's name have you done now?"

"No, I didn't call you first. I called you second this time Sis."

"Lee, did you even give it a fraction of a thought before you booked your reservation at Heartbreak Hotel?"

"I know it was impetuous, but I saw the travel ad on The L through my tears on my way back. I called the number right from my seat and got a hold of an agent. I said I wanted a ticket to some place sunny, warm and isolated and far away from Chicago - and I wanted a place where there are no wretched creatures, not a man in sight.

She told me she could empathize with my heartbreak and was sorry to hear about the breakup. She asked me if I was ever planning on returning, 'Or should I book you for a one-way ticket?' I laughed and then broke down in tears. She was very patient with me."

"Oh Lee, I don't think you are in a good place to be making these kinds of major decisions. Your raw emotions are only going to lead you into deeper trouble little sis. You should've called me first."

"I didn't call you first for a reason. I knew you'd tell me I was not in a good place to make this kind of decision, and I don't want to hear that right now. I have to get out of here. Winter and my aching hollowness are too heavy for me to handle right now."

"I wish we'd talked before you made this rash decision." She let the silence hang, emphasizing her disapproval of my impulsive actions. "So Lee, where are you running away to?"

I wiped my tears, stunned by my sister's simple question; my throat tightened like I'd just swallowed a fistful of beach sand. "I don't remember," I said as I forced an awkward laugh. "It's in the Pacific, not a place I'd heard of before. I just wanted to run away from slushy Chicago to a place that is warm and isolated."

"Lee, this is sounding worse the more I hear. I wished you'd called me first."

"I liked the travel agent and trusted her. I took what she recommended."

After a moment, Sis asked, "Do you have a one-way or a two-way ticket?"

The momentary tension from Sis's scolding was broken. We both laughed. "My travel agent recommended a special winter getaway deal that her agency was running, she apologized that it came with a return flight. I kind of laughed and told her that would be OK for me, then I cried again. She was very supportive. The deal's for four days and three nights and I get a private beach cabana and all my drinks at the resort are included. The agent said it might be just the ticket for a brokenhearted Chicago girl to start to relax and recover. She promised that it would be warm and isolated, but she could not promise that there would be no men on the island. She told me 'two out of three ain't bad,' and then added, `of course with this good of a deal, the tickets are nonrefundable.'"

"So, there's no turning back. I'm locked in no matter what you tell me Sis," I added with a bit of defiance.

"Lee, I know you. Honestly kid, I don't like the idea of you traveling alone. Especially under these circumstances. You are the kind of girl who is very vulnerable when your feelings are all bruised, broken and bloody. I am afraid that you will fall back into bad habits and make poor choices and I am afraid some people, especially men, could take advantage of you in your shattered emotional state. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, I hear you. I'm a big girl you know and I can take care of myself. Besides, I am going somewhere in the middle of the ocean to be alone, away from everyone. I'll be safe there. I am through with guys, they are worthless. I finally realize that now."

"Lee, just be careful when you're alone. Understand you are who you are, and you are susceptible to being scooped up by some strange man offering to comfort you. I love you. Please promise me you'll be circumspect and careful."

"I will. I'll check my itinerary and let you know where I end up - once I find out myself," I replied with a carefree chuckle. "It's somewhere warm and isolated, that's all I care about now. I love you Sis, thanks for understanding." After our long talk ended, I harbored a smug admiration of myself for my cavalier boldness. I was a new woman throwing herself into the warm tropical winds of whimsy. This girl is gone!

The world and my ex-fiancé can go to hell, I'm going to some isolated paradise, I told myself as I cried myself to sleep.

***

The turboprops buzzed over nothing but endless water, my thoughts churned and my emotions stewed as I relived every conversation, indignity and failed expectation, denying me any rest. There was no comfort to be found sitting alone, buckled in for hours, only to waste more time waiting to make connections in tiny, rusted-out island landing strips. I was strung out by the long flight when I stepped into the resort's shuttle, filled with couples, which further irritated me.

The porter carried my gear to my cabana, bidding me a "pleasant and enjoyable stay in paradise." I changed into shorts and headed back to one of the lounges to take advantage of those free drinks that I was counting on to wash away the memories of my crushed love life.

I sat alone at a table under a palm and sipped from my chilled glass. 'So, this is me in paradise' I muttered, downing the last of the sweet contents from my second glass.

Sucking on a pink straw, any of the enthusiasm that I had left for paradise had drained out of me along with the alcohol from the bottom of my fourth glass. I wasn't feeling so swell. My cocktail of choice; bitter emotions, shaken - not stirred, mixed with sweet liqueurs, had my head starting to spin. I got up to go and almost forgot to take my legs with me. I stood unsteadily and then stumbled with a wobbly gait, following the isolated pathway in the fading evening light toward my cabana for some rest.

I reached my door and paused at the muffled sounds coming from inside. I pulled the door open with caution. My head spun faster; what the hell were they doing in my cabana? I stood motionless and silent, I could see and hear exactly what they were doing in my cabana. They were fucking.

I steadied myself against the door post. I was outraged. This is my private beach cottage. There must be some mistake, I didn't sign up for roommates, much less mating roommates. I gripped the door post and watched, waiting for a moment to interrupt and tell them to scram - this is my private space. Standing in the shadows, the opportunity to announce my presence didn't seem to be able to rise to my throat.

He had her bent over the porch railing, working his cock into her from behind. She was purring and moaning as his hips rocked while he kept knocking at her backdoor. The succulent sounds of a wet vagina being pumped hard filtered through the evening air as his love-bone repeatedly dove into her tropical wetness. I watched their silhouettes sway in reciprocating rhythms, her large breasts hanging and backlit by the setting sunlight glinting off the ocean. Her tits swung and danced as she braced her arms against the railing while he took her faster, harder, deeper. She was up on tiptoes, angling her bottom up for him to hammer that quim deep, mashing her cervix with brute force. Her moans increased to heavy barks as he pounded her plush opening. He embraced her flared hips as he plundered her sweet, pink fruit with his proud pole.

I could hear that she was excited. He lifted one hand off her hip, giving her a sharp spank. She squealed and he spanked her harder as he pushed into her with a furious fucking finish. She yelped, her knees buckled and they both fell to the deck. She giggled like she was drunk. He moaned and laughed, sprawled over his lady's collapsed, post-orgasmic pile of flesh.

I almost said something then, but by the grace that God gives to simple idiots, soused or otherwise, I said nothing before I was slapped with the thought that maybe I had taken a wrong turn and maybe this was not my private beach cabin after all. Maybe the mistake was mine.

I backed away, retraced my steps to the lodge's lobby and asked the man at the desk if he would direct me to my cabana. He was quite helpful and steered me in the opposite direction from which I'd just come. Inside, my luggage was open on the bed, just as I had left it earlier.

I pushed my gear to the floor and collapsed onto my bed. I needed to rest. This has been a very long and very weird day.

I was alone in the fast-falling tropical darkness. It was good to have the support of a soft pillow under my swimming head. I thought I was wet and horny after my accidental voyeurism. I knew I was drunk. I pushed my shorts and undies off my hips while laying on my back, trying to not exert too much motion. I wasn't feeling so swell. I knew there were girls in every one of these cabanas along the beach and I knew all the girls were getting fancy-fucked tonight - except me.

I was a single girl in paradise and if this single girl needed to be fucked, she'd have to do it herself. Tossing my hair over the pillow, I ran both hands over my blouse and breasts, my nipples beneath my bra were unimpressed by my own caresses. My fingers traveled lower, skimming over my slightly poochy belly, through a thin thicket of pussy fuzz and settling into a secret cove of wetness...

I woke up because I had to pee. Staggering around the small, dark space, it was with relief that I found the toilet. I flopped back onto my bed, burrowed under the covers, peeved with myself; I couldn't even manage to masturbate to a compensatory little orgasm before passing out in paradise. I was a brokenhearted failure at finding pleasure, either from a man or even from myself. The sheets felt good and I snuggled in naked, hoping for a sober and better day in the morning light.

I made sure that I took my breakfast alone. I didn't want any company, especially with any of these couples or the few clusters of touring couples. I watched the ladies in their billowing, breezy wraps over their swimsuits. I watched them sit by the pool, sipping their beverages, knowing that they all had been fancy-fucked last night. Now, in the warm sunlight they were subtly displaying themselves and sending signals that they were ready to be taken by their partners for a nooner. I could read these ladies.

As expected, I noticed couples whispering to one another, pairing off and leaving hand-in-hand. This was not what I came to see. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, I mused. Tempting as it was, I couldn't bring myself to load up on more boat drinks this soon in the day. I needed another way of escaping the oppressive coupled-romance vibe of this place.

I watched another couple leave with goo-goo eyes. I thought about following them and watching them fuck from the shadows of their private doorway and then finding my cabin and masturbating to a voyeur-fueled sweaty orgasm. Now that I was sober, I could see the disadvantages of my plan - though voyeurism did have a way of quickly getting me juicy.

Mixed with saucy-swimsuited ladies and stiff-dicked gentlemen gathered poolside was not the place I wanted to be. Returning to the lobby, I asked at the desk if there were "other, more isolated areas than the pools and bars of this resort?"

"Oh, yesee indeed ma'am. There be many paths and walks along the sea cliffs and into the hillside jungle. Though, most guests prefer the hospitality of the lounges and enjoy the freshwater pools. Most guests do not wish to walk on the very nice paths around the island. Is a shame, very pretty walks on this island."

I inquired, "Is it safe for a lady to walk alone along the sea cliff and jungle paths?"

"Oh, yesee indeed ma'am; very safe. Very safe for all ladies. There is no problem for ladies on the island, yesee indeed ma'am, very safe."

I asked for a recommendation as to which walk I should take if I wanted to be alone.

The concierge pointed at a trail at the edge of the grounds. "You will see paradise like very few who come to the island do. Is a shame, only one in twenty guests enjoy the paradise of the island paths. You will see lovely flowers and most enjoy a lovely view of the sea from the top of a steep cliff. Very safe for all ladies," he assured me. "I tell my lady, I warn this lady to be careful to not fall over the cliff into the sea. Yesee, indeed ma'am, the path is very safe if you do not get too close to the edge." He shook his finger as a good-natured warning, gave me a wink and a laugh and escorted me to the trailhead. "Enjoy your private path to paradise," he said with a smile as we parted.

Turning my back to the poolside parties, lounging lovers and the well of boozy beverages, I was on the path to solo adventure. If the concierge was correct and with a little luck, I might find myself a secluded hideaway with no one around, a perfect place for a private petting playtime. A single gal needed some indulgent me-time to explore paradise and her own pleasure. In a way, that was the reason for this impulsive get-away trip.

The tropical foliage was thick along the path that skirted the mountain as it rose green from the turquoise sea. In places the forest would open up and give me a glimpse of the horizon, but often the sea and the strength of the sunlight were hidden by the verdant canopy above. I was thinking of love lost, paradise found, wondering if all the lucky lovers back at the pool were as happy as they seemed. Thoughts of love, lust and loneliness stirred at my core, drawing the warm, moist jungle air into my soul, fueling a sense of sensuality. I absorbed the humid atmosphere of this place into my womanhood. I pondered how a girl might let the enveloping jungle heat and cool sea breeze penetrate her and bring her to a climatic wholeness and healing.

My drifting thoughts of pleasure were halted by a thick, toppled tree that had fallen across my path. The vegetation on the steep upslope side was too dense for an easy deviation around the obstacle. The down slope side of the trail was hugging the edge of the precipice, circumventing this obstacle that close to the edge - not advised. If I wished to continue my solo adventure, I'd have to mount the horizontal trunk and drop over the log to get to the other side and continue my hike.

My barricade was weathered smooth by the elements. It would be difficult to cross; chest-high and suspended a few inches over the ground, its top extended over the cliff, hanging above the coral surf about eighty feet below. I was up for the challenge. With determination and new-found arm strength, I managed to throw one leg over the smooth, cylindrical log. Proud of my physical accomplishment for a single girl, I held my position straddling the conquered barrier facing seaward.

The old tree, though fallen, seemed solid and secure. I slid cautiously down slope with the log between my legs, pulling just a little bit closer toward the cliff's edge to get a bird's-eye view of the dramatic coastline below. Gripping the wood with my spread palms, my legs dangling off either side, I dragged my hips over the trunk. The firm rubbing between my legs offered a surprisingly pleasant sensation. Rocking and grinding my delicate parts against the rounded surface got me a little excited.

I liked being perched in the air as I toyed with my sexually stimulating position. I scooped and humped, rubbing my crotch against the log with a sinuous, slow-motion bucking. I warmed to the naughty pleasure my pole dance brought to my clit. I wiggled my bottom and felt my core tighten with the external stimulation as I dared myself to get closer to the edge - of both the sea cliff and my building orgasm.

The thickness lodged between my legs brought memories of when my ex-fiancé would ask, "Hey, little girl, ya wanna go for a pony ride?" He would undress me and lift me onto the bed and read erotic stories to me in a husky, masculine voice as I straddled his thigh and mashed my girl parts against him as I slid up and down on his leg as he read to me. I would work my pussy into a lather, immersing myself into the stories he read aloud. I loved picturing myself as the girl in the story who was taken reluctantly at first, by pirates or rough and dangerous men and made to satisfy their sexual desires.

I loved the fantasy of being an innocent girl taken against her will. I was that girl in the story, and when she was forced to suck cock by her captor or captors, I would bend down and suck my boyfriend's cock as he kept reading. In the story, when she didn't do a good job at satisfying her master, she would be roughly corrected. My boyfriend would use that point in the plot to handle me rough, pinching my nipple or spanking me.