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My company sent me to take care of a contract with a plant halfway across the continent, and since it turned out they wouldn't be ready for me until two days later, I was stuck there for two days with nothing to do.
It didn't seem like a particularly interesting place. I was alone in a hotel room, but this place had apparently never heard of nightclubs. I even tried looking for local call girls; no dice. I took a look at Craigslist. Nothing really promising. There was this one ad that really caught my attention, though.
A girl, an undergrad at the college on the other end of town, was desperately trying to do some long-term celibacy. She said she was so horny all the time that she masturbated multiple times daily, and had developed a reputation for sleeping with anyone, anywhere. She had shelled out a lot of money to have a chastity belt built for her that she could wear more or less indefinitely. What she was looking for was someone who would take the key and her cell phone number, about whom she wanted to know nothing. The obvious thing was for the person to come back and release her in a few weeks when she'd be uncontrollably horny, but the idea that for all she knew someone could take the key and toss it down a sewer was what turned her on.
I didn't really believe it, but I responded anyway. Seemed like a cool idea. I told her about my situation with the company, and how after this they probably wouldn't be sending me back for some time. Not even an hour later I had her answer: she was ecstatic, I was perfect, and here's her locker number and combination at the college's student center. The next day, I drove the rental out there and, sure enough, nothing in the locker but a key on a string and a little note with a name (Chelsea) and a number (wouldn't you like to know).
Almost three months went by before the company needed me out there for another call; I had completely forgotten about the key. I felt a huge rush when I remembered it.
The plane landed a little after eleven at night. First thing I did after checking into the hotel was dial Chelsea. A girl picked up.
"Hey. It's Matt, I'm back in town, finally."
"I have your key."
"Oh my fucking God! Get your ass over here now!"
The deep, deliberate, imperative tone of her voice was incredibly sexy. I had no idea what it must have been like for her. So I drove out to her apartment faster than I've ever driven on city streets in my life.
When I got there, a redhead wearing nothing but an open button-down shirt and sexy high heels that made her about as tall as me answered the door, grabbed me without a word, and yanked me inside. Error: she was also wearing a thick piece of padded steel on her crotch, which she was practically pounding into me seconds after first laying eyes on me.
As we staggered toward her bed, apartment door still wide open, I pulled the key out from my pocket. She snatched it and scrambled to undo her belt. She moaned as it popped off, and tried to dig her hand in to finger herself. I stopped her, started licking her clit. She was soaking wet already, and it took about five seconds for her to come. During the next ten minutes she was screaming, and the fact that I knew anyone could see her laying naked on her back, legs spread wide, hands grabbing her tits, just by looking in the open door, made it ten times hotter.
We fucked a lot after that. She wanted to do everything. I don't know how I kept up with her. I stayed there all night, and got about an hour of sleep before I had to go into the plant in the morning. The next night, she cabbed it out to my hotel for round two -- I was glad I'd slept all afternoon.
The morning after that, she was still naked in the bed when I got up to catch my flight back. She asked when I'd be coming back; I told her I had no idea, that the plant would probably not need me anymore for a long time. She pulled the belt out of her backpack, slipped it on, and clicked it shut with the key. With a big mischievous smile, she leaned over, the key dangling from her outstreched hand.
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