Literotic asexstories – The Personals Ad by KennyJun,KennyJun
This all started with an ad I posted on an online personals site. After years of trying to find an outlet for my strange kink, the ad was a last-ditch effort to find someone who could do to me the things I crave.
My ad went unanswered at first, and I thought maybe it was a lost cause. There were no other ads like it, and after a few days of silence I figured that was the end of it. And then I got her first text, and it read simply, “I will do this,” followed by “how much?”
The ad had been simple, and went something like this. “Wanted: Someone to tie me up and hold me captive. I will pay for your time. No expectations, no strings attached.”
I like to be tied up. No, it’s more than that; I yearn for it. I live to lose control to another person, to be captive and subject to their whims. It’s an odd obsession, I admit it.
I’ve even paid escorts to tie me up in the past, but it never quite scratched the itch. Too much emphasis on sex, not enough on the craft. Not that there’s anything wrong with sex, but I found only momentary pleasure and ultimately profound disappointment in a few experiences that revolved around handcuffs and a quick blowjob.
The idea of posting an ad inspired fantasies of something different, more organic. Finding a perfectly normal person who would partake in my most abnormal desires, and might even enjoy it.
I stared at the reply I had received, momentarily dumbfounded. Before long, I had my reply composed and sent: “$200, you provide the rope and the place”
The reply came back minutes later. “$300.”
“Ok,” I replied without too much thought.
The next reply took a few minutes to arrive. “Give me your address, I’ll pick you up in my car.”
“Now?” I asked.
“Now. Address.” was the reply.
This gave me pause. It had not occurred to me that I might get a reply to my ad and that the arrangement would start immediately.
What the heck, I said to myself, I want this. I sent my address, tacitly agreeing to the arrangement and the upsell. There were no further texts after that.
I sat and waited, watching carefully out the window to my living room, wondering if each car that came down my block was the one. Finally a car slowed as it rolled down the street, stopping in front of my house. My mind raced, eyes taking in every detail. It was a gray sedan, maybe a VW. Nothing fancy, probably 10 years old and a little dirty.
The driver sat for a long moment, looking through the passenger window toward my house. I stood and walked swiftly to my front door. As I opened the door, I saw the driving stepping out of the car.
My first impression of her was of an average woman, maybe in her late 30s. Black hair, tan skin. She stepped slowly around the car to stand by the passenger door, leaning against the car. She regarded me with likely the same expression I had, one of cautious curiosity.
I began to register more details. She was indeed quite average, in height, weight, and overall appearance. I guessed her to be Mexican or of some other Latin descent. She was wearing blue jeans and a black leather jacket over a white shirt.
Her face was expressionless as she watched me carefully, brown eyes holding my gaze. She took a few steps toward me, and said quietly, “You the guy with the ad?” She spoke clearly and with just the faintest accent.
I nodded. “Kenny,” I said simply.
She seemed to relax slightly. “Veronica,” she replied.
She stopped a few steps in front of me, saying quietly “I’ve never done anything like this to be honest, but I could really use the money and…” she faltered, looking down.
I struggled to find anything intelligent to say, so we just stood in silence for a long, awkward moment. Then she seemed to find her confidence again, and said “And I like what you posted. Being in charge.”
“Cool,” I said, still not sure what else to say. I reached into my pocket and took out the money, a wad of crisp $20 bills. As I stood there with my hand outstretched, I took in a few more details. Veronica didn’t seem to be wearing makeup, and it occurred to me that her plain appearance might have been by design, so that this strange pervert she was meeting might find her less attractive.
She stepped toward me and took the money from my outstretched hand, quickly slipping it into a pocket. It hit me that she now had what she wanted, and she could just leave. How easily I could have been scammed in that moment.
Instead, she reached out and put a hand tentatively on my shoulder, saying “alright, come get in my car.”
We walked the short distance to her car, and as quickly as I started toward the passenger door, I realized Veronica had something else in mind.
Walking toward the back of the car, she withdrew her keys and quickly popped open the trunk. “Hop in,” she said quietly, “before anyone sees us.”
I looked at her incredulously. “Oh come on,” she said with a wry smile, “the hostage always rides in the trunk, right? It’s a short ride, you’ll be fine.”
Peering into the trunk, I saw that it was lined with black cloth, and was clean and empty save for a few pieces of rope. It was at this moment that I became aware of my cock stirring in my pants as I realized that rope was probably meant for me. Throwing caution to the wind, I turned to sit on the rear bumper of the car, then scooted myself backward into the trunk.
“Good job,” Veronica said approvingly, still standing behind me, one hand of the open trunk door. “Now turn so you’re facing the front.”
I slowly did as she said, laying on my back, then turning on my side facing the front of the car.
“Hands behind your back,” she said. He voice was firm, but not mean.
Realizing this was the point of no return, I hesitated for just a moment before steeling myself and putting my hands behind my back as instructed.
Facing toward the dark end of the trunk, I couldn’t see what Veronica was doing, but I felt the rope go against first one wrist, then around the other. Around both several times, then in between, then around again. Finally I felt her tie one knot, then a second.
I waited, expecting the trunk to close, but it didn’t. After a moment, I felt her tugging on one of my shoes, pulling it off, then pulling the second one off as well. My socks quickly followed, and I was barefoot. A moment later I felt her tying my ankles together similar to how my wrists had been tied.
I was enthralled by the sensations. Sure, I’d been tied up before, but never like this. The strangeness of the situation, the danger, made the feeling more real than ever before. My cock stood at rigid attention in my pants.
“You ok there?” She asked.
“Yeah.” I said, with more certainty than I felt.
“Good,” she said. “Let’s go.”
I braced myself for the trunk to close, but it didn’t. Instead, I felt Veronica’s hand touch the top of my head, then begin sliding down my neck. Her touch rolled over my shoulder, then across my body to my chest. It continued down my body, across my belly, and then just for the briefest and most fleeting moment, across my crotch. Her hand made just the lightest brush over the raised lump in my pants, then quickly down my legs, across my bare feet, and off.
Was that intentional? Did she mean to touch my cock? I couldn’t be sure she would even had noticed, but I also couldn’t glean any other purpose in what she had done.
With that, quickly the trunk was closed, and I plunged into darkness. I heard Veronica step around the car, open the driver’s door, and get inside. The door closed, and almost immediately the engine started, drowning out all other noises.
Within moments the car was in motion, and I found myself trying not to hit the inside walls of the trunk as the car bumped and turned.
It was hard to measure time in the dark, still air of the trunk. I guessed maybe 5 minutes had passed when the car slowed, then stopped. The engine turned off and I heard the car door open then close.
The trunk popped open and blinding light hit my eyes. After a moment of squinting my eyes adjusted, and I could see Veronica looking down at me, waiting for me to be able to see. I couldn’t help but notice her silhouette with her arms raised, hands on the top of the raised trunk door. Her body was a study in gentle curves, with her white shirt rising to show some dark skin as the black jacket parted with her raised arms.
She looked slightly amused as I blinked. “Go ahead and wriggle your way on out,” she said, and I scooted my legs over the edge of the trunk, sliding to a seated position on the bumper. She knelt down and quickly untied the rope around my ankles, saying “we can’t be attracting too much attention while I get you into my house.”
With my feet untied, Veronica said “Up you go.” I stood, my hands still tied behind my back. She quickly put her arm around me like we were buddies, and we walked side by side up three steps and through a metal door into a small, blue house.
Stepping into what seemed to be a small living room, I noted a couch against one wall, and a small television sitting on a table against the opposite wall. Aside from those furnishings, the room was empty.
Seeming to sense my thoughts, Veronica said “I just moved in here a few weeks ago, and I don’t have much furniture. It’s nice enough, and the rent is cheap.”
I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room as Veronica closed the door behind me. “Well, make yourself at home,” she said, gesturing to the couch. She quickly shrugged off her leather jacket, tossing it into an unseen room. Her white t-shirt was not tight, but revealed feminine curves and the outline of a bra, one white strap of which was just visible across a tan shoulder beside the shirt’s oversized collar.
Leave a Reply