Natasha was an attractive young woman with a stunning physique. At 24 years old, she already had a promising career as a marketing manager for a top tech startup. Her days were filled with meetings, presentations, and late nights typing away at her laptop. But despite her success in the office, Natasha couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing from her life.
One evening as she was leaving work, Natasha found herself fantasizing about an encounter with a mysterious stranger. She always had a thing for men with a dark, brooding intensity about them. In her mind’s eye, she pictured meeting someone like that at a dimly lit bar, exchanging smoldering glances as they nursed their whiskey on the rocks. He would be tall and muscular, with piercing eyes and chiseled features. There would be an undeniable spark of attraction between them.
As these titillating thoughts played out in her imagination, Natasha felt a familiar heat begin to build between her thighs. She imagined this handsome stud taking charge, pinning her against the wall and kissing her deeply, his hands roaming over her curves. He would palm her large, heavy breasts through the thin fabric of her blouse, making her gasp and shudder with arousal. Then he would tear the flimsy garment away, exposing her abundant flesh as he buried his face between her cleavage.
Natasha knew it was a risky fantasy to have in public, but she couldn’t help herself. Her nipples stiffened into hard little peaks, poking visibly against the confines of her bra. A damp spot began to form at the crotch of her pencil skirt as her pussy grew slick and needy. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, hoping no one in the crowded lobby had noticed her shameful display.
It took all her willpower to make it to her apartment without losing control and masturbating right there on the bus or subway car. The moment the door locked behind her, Natasha hastily stripped off her clothes and careened into the bathroom. She turned the shower on full blast, stepping under the torrent of hot water.
As steam filled the air, Natasha let her hands wander down to the juncture of her thighs. She traced her finger lightly through the slick folds of her sex, shivering at the contact. Then she plunged two fingers knuckle-deep into her tight channel, pumping them in and out in a lewd parody of the hard fucking she so desperately craved.
“Unnngh fuck,” Natasha groaned, scissoring her fingers to stretch herself open. “I need a big, fat cock splitting me in half.” She could only imagine how glorious it would feel to have her sopping wet cunt utterly ravaged by a thick, veiny shaft. To feel it sawing in and out of her, reaching impossibly deep to stroke her most sensitive places.
Natasha curled her fingers to rub the spongy patch of flesh on her front wall, the spot that always made her toes curl when stimulated just right. At the same time, she pinched and rolled her engorged clit between her thumb and forefinger. The dual points of pleasure made her head swim and her knees go weak.
“Ohhh shiiit!” she yelped, pussy clenching like a vice as her orgasm crashed over her in intense waves. Natasha had to brace herself against the tile wall to keep from falling over as she came hard, clear nectar gushing out around her plunging fingers to swirl down the drain. It was an earth-shaking climax, one that left her quaking and breathless in its wake.
But even as the aftershocks dissipated, Natasha knew it wasn’t enough. She needed the real deal – a dominant male to make her his, to use her lush body in any way he wished for his own gratification. She craved to be filled and stretched, defiled and degraded, her holes used as nothing more than vessels for a man’s pleasure.
Natasha towels off and heads for bed, completely drained from her intense release. But as she drifts off to sleep, her subconscious is already spinning new fantasies of the depraved acts she could experience at the hands of the right partner – a man strong enough to take control and deliver the rough, merciless fucking her body and mind hunger for. She can only hope that someday she’ll find the stud of her dreams…or at least a reasonable facsimile to scratch her itches. Until then, she’ll keep on fantasizing and pleasuring herself, wishing all the while it was his hands and cock administering her pleasure instead.