The Long Walk Home
By Max Swan.
I nervously buzzed her apartment. ‘What am I getting myself into?’ I wondered. My heart was racing, my hands were clammy, my mouth was dry, and my little dick was starting to stiffen without even touching it.
Logic dictated that I back out, but my dick demanded I go through with it.
“Yes?” she asked statically through the intercom.
I recognized her voice from her telephone calls. It had taken three phone calls, which had followed seven text messages, for me to work up the courage to follow through. I had met her through Tinder, and she described how she loved to play with submissive exhibitionists, especially budding exhibitionists with small dicks, to get them to push their limits.
In our talks, I had described my experiences of mostly going outside near my home naked late at night. Occasionally, I would expose myself in public places or parks for a brief time when I thought no one was around.
We had set up a scenario that scared the shit out of me. But I had also jerked off imagining it at least a dozen times.
And if her pictures were even remotely accurate, she was hot. So hot. Late ‘20s, long blonde hair, big tits (DD), a curvy figure. So out of my league. Someone I could never expect to go home with at a bar. But she had seen my pictures—and they were legitimately recent ones showing her my four-inch hard dick—and was totally into the scene we talked about because her kink was female dominance. Yes, she was a dominatrix.
“It’s… It’s Tim,” I said.
“You’re sure you want to go through with this?” she asked. She never said her name, but her email address said it was Mistress Kelly.
I hesitated. My heart was pounding a million beats per minute. It would be so easy just to say no and go home.
“I’m sure,” I found myself saying.
“Totally sure?” she asked. “Once you come in, the ball’s in motion. It will be out of both of our control.”
Another opportunity to back down. ‘Perhaps I should just go home,’ I thought. My little dick twitched.
“Totally sure,” I said.
My dick won.
“Take the door on the left wall to the laundry room,” she said. “Then, when you’re ready, take the elevator or the stairs to the right of the elevator to the fourth floor. Room 412.”
Mistress Kelly buzzed me in.
There was no lock on the laundry room door, or rather, there had been one, but it was clearly broken. Four washing machines on one wall. Four dryers, on the opposite wall.
I cocked my ear to hear if anyone was coming. Not that they were likely to. It was 11:30 pm on a Saturday, and a sign in the laundry room clearly stated not to use the machines after 10:30.
Hesitantly, I pulled my t-shirt over my head and carefully folded it, placing it on the table in the center of the room. I hadn’t worn a sweatshirt or jacket of any kind.
Still no noise. I kicked off my ratty old tennis shoes and slid my ratty old jeans to the ground. I folded the jeans and put them on the table. There was nothing in the pockets. My cell phone and wallet were left at home. A spare house key was at home in a lockbox latched to the electrical meter, just in case.
Still no noise. I slid off my old underpants and carefully folded them up, too. Now I was completely naked, except for my socks. I put my old shoes back on.
‘Now what?’ I wondered.
My instructions were to leave my clothes and make my way to her apartment on the fourth floor. I would have to sneak through a large apartment building totally naked, hoping not to get caught. But I was also risking that my clothes might be taken while I was upstairs. The clothes were old and expendable. They were old things too worn to donate. I was going to get rid of them anyway. But losing them here, now, would mean a long walk home. A long, naked walk home.
Being naked in public is against the law where I live (unless in designated areas like nude beaches). I would be risking arrest for indecent exposure if I had to walk home naked. However, that didn’t mean I actually wanted to be seen naked in public.
My fantasies were always about the ‘risk’ of getting caught, not the actuality of it. When I did go outside naked or expose myself in public, it was always when I thought no one was around. But I could never be 100% sure in these situations, so there was always a ‘risk’ that someone might catch me. That was the thrill of it.
However, what Mistress Kelly was pushing me to do scared me shitless, yet it also got my little dick hard. Every time I jerked off thinking about this scenario, it always included finding that my clothes had been stolen from the laundry, and I would have to walk home butt naked with my tiny dick and balls on display for all to see.
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