Wild Fantasies Come True

Charlie's POV

I've always been fortunate to have a murky intellect. Without a doubt, many people would describe it as a fault. I like to consider it a feature of my appeal. I was given the chance to retire early a few years ago. I ran for it. Since I had the time, I figured it was only suitable that I utilize part of it to spread the word about my wicked mind and my porn talent.

I lack a good education. In terms of writing, I can say without a doubt that I lack exceptional skills. However, it seems that I have tapped into the desires of a tiny but bizarre group that has gone unmet by the other authors who have posted works in this genre. They have inspired me, and I now love my small pastime.

With my tales, not everyone is pleased. But it's all right. Never was that my intention. I write for my amusement. The fact that others are amused is only the cherry on top.

It is unfortunate. However, I have only had a very minor amount of the experiences I write about. Naturally, I have no desire to extend some of the dreams I explore beyond the world of fantasy.

But I have to be honest-many of the topics I write about make me feel good, and I want to learn more about them. That's probably clear. I wouldn't write about them if they didn't pique my interest.

In some respects, you might say that my wife serves as my motivation. My wife opposes sex. She has never loved sex and doesn't now. I blame various aspects of her upbringing for that shortcoming.

I am aware of other ladies who had similar upbringings and overcame dreadful things like the Catholic Church, Catholic schools, and parents who were too stiff to exhibit love for one another or their offspring while maintaining their libido. My wife fared less well.

As far as I know, he has never shown his love to any of his five children, but he now expresses it to his girlfriend who is in a nursing facility. She tried for decades to persuade him to do so.

Like so many others, my wife was unable to go beyond it. She grew up to be just as submissive as her dad. What's worse is that she showed little interest in fixing what I saw to be an issue. We remained friends for a very long time-decades. But I have to be sincere. I often considered leaving her.

I believe I remained because I felt like she needed my help. However, it may have been something different, like a wish for her to change in the future. At least initially, I genuinely did adore her. Or maybe it was anything so simple as inertia.

Retirement was the one thing that my marriage didn't make it through. We started to quarrel all the time. We were both relieved when we ultimately decided to split up. She returned to the north to live close to her family after we shared our assets fairly. Both then and today, I didn't miss her.

She was the author of many of my tales, even though we were unable to get along. I vented my anger against my asexual wife on the helpless female characters in my writings.

Because I had so little sex throughout my lengthy marriage, I was forced to spend a lot of time thinking about it. It gradually decreased until there was no sex life left at all. I lack education. I'm not a fool, however. I saw that my fantasies changed as the intervals between sex actions increased. My already deranged thoughts started to consider sex activities that were kinkier and then kinkier.

Women in my tales started to experience worse abuse as I started to transform my dreams into actual stories. I think my anger at my wife had a role in this, at least in part. I never married one of those ladies, the ones I wrote about. As I was writing the pieces, I had no mental image of her. But many poor fictitious ladies have paid a heavy price for my annoyance.

I started using my tales as therapy. Numerous guys who appreciated my article reached out to me, and many of them reported that their spouses were treating them unfairly. There appears to be a large contingent of women who dislike having sex.

Knowing what I know about guys, I have to presume that most of the time, the man is probably far more than half the issue. In terms of women and sex, guys sometimes lack a lot of knowledge. I think that I'm also not entirely innocent. However, it can't always be the issue.

The number of women who wrote to me with thoughts of submission, of being mistreated and humiliated, truly surprised me. They often griped that I didn't go far enough or treated the poor lady in whatever narrative they were writing to remark on too leniently.

There are many cold-hearted ladies out there! I doubt that when I started publishing tales, I had the slightest idea that the things I wrote would amuse ladies. I rapidly got a good education. Think about my astonishment. Other ladies have the same dreams I have!

I started interacting online with some of the men and women who read my writings. People, particularly women, feel far more at ease discussing their dreams with someone they have never met and are unlikely to ever meet. This is especially true when that person is someone like myself who has previously published their desires and with whom they feel a sense of familiarity.

Many guys give me intimate images of their wives or girlfriends as encouragement or possibly as money for my tales. I'm grateful for them. I observe them. I like them. I then remove them.

When it initially began, I rescued them. I didn't feel comfortable sharing them, however. That would be an act of treason. I started to remove them when I noticed that I seldom ever went back to look at them afterward.

The tendency of my female admirers to send me intimate photos intrigued me more. Each of them has an appealing quality of its own. And I still find them all enjoyable. That they desire to divulge so much about themselves to me makes me feel appreciated.

I started to enjoy life more once my wife departed. I avoided dating. I'm unsure whether I still understand how. I'm unsure whether I have the patience to handle it.

But I started taking more trips. I love to travel, but unless it was to see her family, it took a few big guys, crowbars, and at least one winch to get my wife to leave our house and go on a vacation.

I was now able to go anywhere I wanted. Even better, I could now ride my Motorbike around freely. Right up until about a year after my wife departed, life was coasting along. I got an email from a young lady who accurately identified the location of my home city. She was born and raised here, so she could guess. She and her spouse now reside 90 miles south of me.

Charlie's POV

Everyone who writes to me, as long as they provide a working email address, gets a response. I replied to her right away. She answered and included some lovely pictures. I thought the images were almost too amazing to be real. It's not simply that the images were of such high quality and professionalism.

The female seemed to have just left Playboy Magazine. She was unquestionably the most stunning lady I've ever received a snapshot of. I had almost no doubt that she was sending me pictures that she had obtained online.

I remained silent. I had no cause to grumble. Whether or not they were of her, they were still beautiful images. I quickly understood that I was in error. There were images of the stunning young lady who was contacting me!

Her fantasies and her actual life were addressed in great depth. She kept sending me images of herself that she said her elder sister was taking. After that, she asked me if I had any particular demands when she informed me she was going to see her sister.

I asked for a series of photos showing me wearing and then taking off a few pieces of clothes, and a day or two later, I got precisely what I wanted. I was in awe! She was there!

We kept talking about fantasies, and when we spiced things up a little, she started to submit to me. I would email her with a task to do. She would finish the task and then fill me in on everything.

It was fun for me to write about the things I had her do. Naturally, this cute young lady was making me feel sexy in a way no other woman ever had.

Her desire to live out her dreams and her will to remain honest to her husband clashed, which led to the tension that started to arise. We had made the decision that we could never, ever meet. That constraint sounded reasonable, and we were strongly attracted to one another. I could be a sexual monster in the making. But I don't want to ruin anyone's marriage.

The issue with that is that as we got closer, our shared desires of meeting, touching, and experiencing the things I talked about, became overwhelming.

I never would have expected to run across her by happenstance. She was raised in a wealthy neighborhood and married into another wealthy family in the city where she currently resides. High society defines her. Ich bin a biker bar. And the two will never cross paths.

But as time passed, I began to ponder what would occur if the two were to truly cross paths. She claimed to have finished all but one of the repulsive sexual duties I assigned her.

She posed for many sets of graphic photos, which she then sent to me. She also gave me unflattering images of her two beautiful sisters. For the other tasks, though, all I had was her word. She had to fill a glass with her warm feces in the shower, per my command.

She was instructed to taste it first before being covered with it. She said that she disregarded my advice and drank the full glass of hot urine instead. I told her to fetch a baby bottle, fill it with hot, fresh poop, and use it to breastfeed.

The next day, she replied to let me know that she had finished the assignment and was eager to do it again. After intercourse, as her husband's sperm began to drip from her pussy, I told her to pick it up and consume it. She made no hesitations.

I told her to take a book and a very short skirt to the park. She was to read while sitting with her knees apart, exposing her underpants to anybody who happened to be there that day. She replied right afterward and spoke about how thrilling it had been. I was falling in love with the ideal lady very soon.

Unfortunately, the ideal lady already had a wonderful husband and hoped to keep it that way.

We kept in touch with each other. I liked reading her letters in which she described many of the obscene behaviors I had written about in my books and how they had impacted her. She said that she yearned to partake in several of those naughty sex activities in person.

I started to consider how much I would like fulfilling her wishes more and more. And at that point, the chance came along. In the state where she and her husband reside and where he worked, the state government passed many significant reforms that had an impact on the construction sector.

To give everyone involved time to react and adapt before the implementation of the new legislation, they were organizing one-week seminars in Atlanta to advise builders and contractors of the changes.

The guests included Sophie's husband and father-in-law, who run a construction business. The class was scheduled to run from Monday through Saturday the following week. From Sunday to Sunday, they planned to stay in Atlanta.

Sophie intended to accompany them for the whole week in the city. However, she made the last-minute choice to see one of her sisters instead. My window of opportunity was at that time. She still needed to do the one homework I had assigned her.

When she informed me of her new intentions, I demanded that she finish her homework before heading out of town to see her sister. I gave her instructions to visit an adult shop and get a vibrator, two butt plugs, and two nipple clamps.

She had been anxious about that task. She hasn't finished it yet because of this. Of course, she has never been inside an adult bookshop. They seem sleazy and sound sleazy. She had a lot of anxiety before entering one.

A week ago, she pleaded with her sister to accompany her, but her sister refused. She had been too afraid to go there by herself.

I decided to gamble. I sometimes go to her city. It makes for a fun day excursion on our Harleys for myself and a few pals. I wouldn't go so far as to claim that I am used to the locale.

But I know how to get around.

I looked up a potential bookshop online and rode my bike down to see it one day. It was flawless. It was close to the city limits. It was close to the Interstate and situated all by itself.

Evergreen trees line the parking area, perhaps to conceal the identities of the perverts who frequent the establishment.

It suited what I had in mind just well.

Charlie's POV

I returned home, and that night I sent Sophie a message telling her to do the task she's been putting off. I gave her the go-ahead and assured her that the seclusion provided by the surrounding greenery would prevent anybody she knew from spying on her while she was inside the bookshop.

But I didn't simply tell her to go.

I gave her a date and a time and told her what would happen if she disobeyed. We both understood that the threat was hollow. She had to consent for me to discipline her. The time would be after her husband and father-in-law were set to depart for Atlanta on a Sunday.

Then, presuming she would comply and go to the shop as directed, I thought about the several ways I might get control of her. I considered employing force. Chloroform and forcing her to drink while sneaking her drugs were options I thought about.

I ruled out those options. She would have to agree to go, even if she didn't want to. I couldn't do the things I wanted to do with her if she wouldn't obey me. I had no desire to confine her to a location for a week. I was going to make both her and my desires come true. I would have to leave my residence to do it.

With the photographs she's previously provided me, I thought of extorting money from her. But it wouldn't work like that. The images are enlightening. They are all gorgeous, and some of them are sexy. However, they include nothing that may be used as leverage in a blackmail situation.

No. She would have to agree for this to work. I would have to be able to accompany her to the locations and activities she imagined. Everything would depend on how she would respond when I arrived and began giving her instructions.

I persuaded a buddy to drive me to the bookshop by promising to make the trip worthwhile. if she arrived. He's a great friend. Only he among my buddies is aware of my passion for writing and uploading porn. I explained my situation and gave him a glimpse of some of the images she had provided me.

He had no faith at all that the woman in those photos would be connected to me. However, the trip there and back took an hour and a half each. In the unlikely event that she was the lady who got out of the vehicle, showed up at the scheduled time, and was foolish enough to follow my instructions, he was ready to spend three hours of his time for a chance at that cute ass.

To make this work, I had done all I could. Everything now rested with Sophie. Was she obedient? But more importantly, was she as eager to fulfill her desires as she made out to be? The answer to that question would determine the outcome of the whole experiment.

I was driven there by Gary. But not before he spent an hour and a half telling me I was crazy and forewarning me that he would tell no one about this story when we got home because it was too good. When no one showed up, our pals would all learn about the egg on my face. Or even better, when an elderly, filthy meth addict crept out of the vehicle.

Being the kind hearted person that I am, I let him drag me all the way. However, I had a hunch that she would show up. And I was now certain that she would seem just as she did in those photos, with the exception that she would be wearing clothing.

About twenty minutes before Sophie was required to arrive, we rolled into the parking lot. Gary entered the bookshop and started to look around. In the vehicle, I awaited. Gary was still inside when I noticed a Mercedes driven by a lady come up and park.

Just as it started to get dark. She was only visible as a silhouette to me. But I was certain it was her. Gary's vehicle was next to mine as I exited, waiting to see what she would do. She did not leave. Not for several lengthy minutes. She was probably in there, trying to get the courage to comply while taking slow, deep breaths. I was aware of her anxiety. In her emails, she had been quite explicit. Yet she was present.

After yet another lengthy wait, the driver's door eventually opened, and she exited. She was standing beside her vehicle, gazing around suspiciously, clearly hoping no one would see her.

She was there, in my view. And the lady in the pictures was, in fact, her. She was still unsure of her ability.

She looked scared, and I could see it.

I was rather pleased with her for making it thus far. I was observing her while leaning over the roof of Gary's automobile. My arms were supporting my chin. She still hadn't seen me and there wasn't much light. She used the key fob to lock her car after finally making up her mind.

That's what I was hoping to see. This week, she would visit an adult bookstore, but not this one. I stood up, and she caught my first glimpse. For a brief moment, she seemed as though she may flee. But she took a big breath and moved away from her vehicle, heading into the shop.

She kept an anxious eye on me as I got closer. She grew increasingly tense as I drew nearer. Just as she rounded her vehicle, I parked in front of her and blocked her path. I did not giggle.

"Hello, Sophie," I firmly glared at her.

Her face was showing a range of emotions that I was unable to keep up with. Before deciding that I was the one who gave her the order to come here tonight, she eliminated every person she knew.

That, however, was not a cause for consolation. She had no idea who I was. She was solely aware of my tales and phrases. She was intrigued by my tales, but she was also aware of how completely out of control her life had become at that moment. That scared me. She didn't know much about me other than the fact that I was a pervert. That doesn't reassure most ladies.

She fixed her gaze on my face as she considered who I am. She had limited vision. I was donning the mask, the commanding Master's face. I was taking the position she required of me.

She saw a big guy who was much older than she was. She saw a person who seemed more at home at a biker bar than at one of her cocktail events. She must have seen the person she anticipated I would be, in my opinion. The lady from those images was there in front of me.

She was so lovely.

Although she was wearing casual clothing, it was probably not as casual as she would have worn to go 250 miles to her sister's home. She had chosen her outfit to deter the throngs of horny men she was expecting in the bookstore.

"I'm proud of you, but you don't have to go in there. Not this time. Not now," I added after giving her some time to collect herself.

I extended my hand to receive her keys. She handed them to me after a brief moment of hesitation.

Then, after saying, "Very good," I leaned over, grabbed a handful of her long, blonde hair in my fist, and gave her a rough kiss.