This is an excerpt from story "Craig's List," one of the stories in Bending: Dirty Kinky Stories About Pain, Power, Religion, Unicorns, & More by Greta Christina. Available as an eboook on Kindle, Nook, and Smashwords: audiobook and print editions coming soon.
From "Craig's List" by Greta Christina:
On her 24th birthday, she decided there were three things she wanted to do before she turned 25. Sexual things. All three involved taking stupid risks, putting her body into the hands of people she knew nothing about and had no reason to trust. All three involved Craig's List.
She knew she had to do them now. The older she got, the less reckless she'd become. She knew that if she waited until she was 30, she wouldn't be brave enough, or stupid enough, to try this. And she knew she'd always regret it if she didn't try.
The first one, she called Craig's List Roulette. She would go to the Casual Encounters ads, the Men Seeking Women section. She would pick an ad at random. No matter what it said, she would answer it. Unless she was literally and physically unable to comply with the ad's request, she would answer it.
She would use a random number generator, so she couldn't cheat.
She knew how stupid this was, how reckless, how dangerous. But she didn't want to be just another boring horny slut playing the personals. She wanted to set a new standard for sluts. She wanted to be the slut by which all other sluts measured themselves. Besides, reckless and dangerous was kind of the point. She wanted a real adventure -- and in a real adventure, you weren't in control.
The ad headline read, "young, horny, need to get sucked." Perfect. Simple. Easy to take care of. She took a picture of herself, naked on her knees, and sent it with her reply.
She was at his dorm in twenty minutes. He wasn't as cute as she'd hoped -- she thought he might have used a fake picture, actually -- but that was okay. Weirdly, it was part of the charm. She closed his dorm room door behind them, and dropped to her knees, thinking with a hard thump in her clit of how she had been manipulated, how she was being used. She dropped her head back and opened her mouth. He unzipped and pushed himself into her, and she opened wide and let him fuck her mouth.
He kicked her out politely when he was done, and she went home and masturbated for an hour and a half. She masturbated on her knees, with a dildo in her mouth and a vibrator between her legs. She kept thinking she couldn't possibly come any more... and then she would remember what she had just done, and her sore, tired clit would throb again, demanding just one more.
She was back on Craig's List the next day.
She hadn't expected that. When she first decided to do her three adventures, she'd assumed that she'd play each of them just once. But she loved Craig's List Roulette. It was like slut boot camp. It was like an accelerated study program in human sexuality. It was like a multi-week intensive course in letting go. Her requirements got a little more restrictive -- the guy had to ask for something specific, he couldn't ask to do drugs together, he couldn't ask to do it more than once -- but she stuck to the spirit of the game with remarkable discipline.
She landed on "Wanna watch me play with myself?" and was in a home-built weight room in a dingy garage, watching an oiled-up bodybuilder straddle his weight bench and stroke his cock, repeatedly murmuring, "You like what you see?", his eyes never leaving her face. She landed on "any one for a car date right now?" and was fumbling in the back of a Camry with a married ad exec, his hands groping at her tits, his cock pushing against her crotch through her panties, his breath pungent with weed. She landed on "Oral from behind" and was on her knees in a cheesy bachelor pad in the suburbs, a noisy tongue slurping at her pussy and occasionally, hesitatingly, perhaps even guiltily, slipping into her asshole. She landed on "Offering $$$ for pussy licking," and thought, "Sure, why not," and was on her back in a hotel bed with a tongue between her legs and three twenties on the bedside table. She thought she'd feel different after, and was surprised when she didn't.
She landed on "just give me a blowjob" and "Can a guy get a blow job please?" and "Looking for a woman in need of a facial" with perverse excitement. She loved how openly selfish they were. She loved how slutty it made her feel, how sordid, to get on her knees and open her mouth to a man who expressed no interest whatsoever in what she might need or want. She loved how it made her feel both purely sexual and purely invisible. And she loved feeling like the only woman in the city who would ever answer their ad. It made her feel extreme. Hard-core. Special.
She landed on "Looking For A Woman to Spank," and thought, "About fucking time." That was the first one -- and the last -- where she laid out her own guidelines. "I've never done this before," she told the guy. "I really want to. I want this to go well." The gentleman was older: in his early sixties, a little soft, a little frail, but patient and careful and grateful. He told her that she was beautiful, that she was bad, that he was going to teach her a lesson, that he was going to take care of her. He spanked her gently, until she wanted more than anything for him to spank her harder; and he spanked her harder, until she had no idea what she wanted anymore. He was the first one -- and the only one -- that she wished she could go back to. But that wasn't how the game was played.
She always felt a little guilty about the ones who just wanted to service her; the ones who ate her pussy or licked her feet or gave her long, drawn-out massages. It seemed like missing the point. But then she'd remember: This was what they'd asked for. When she lay back and let herself be taken care of, she was giving them the service they wanted more than anything.
It was disappointing sometimes. Naturally. There were clumsy men, smelly men, liars. But she kept the game up, a bit longer perhaps than she would have... because she was putting off the second one. She was a little afraid of the second one.