The Game I Invented So They’d Watch Me at Night

Hello again, I’m Soledad, and I’m back to tell you how I got my confidence back to resume my nighttime walks and, along the way, how I took them much farther than I ever imagined. If you made it this far, you already know what this is about, so make yourselves comfortable.

Almost three weeks had passed since that afternoon at the shopping mall, the one with the sign and the three guys who left me trembling. Since then I hadn’t been able to get away for anything that wasn’t strictly necessary: the supermarket, the gym, little else. It was vacation season at the office and, with half the team out, I had to cover twice the workload. I’d get home emptied out, with not a shred of energy left for my pleasures.

My inner fire was going out. I couldn’t see when I’d be able to put the wig and the mask on again, and that had me in a foul mood, like a cat locked inside scratching up the furniture.

And then Friday came.

We were all trapped in the routine of staying late when they announced that a problem with a supplier meant we couldn’t keep going. They sent us home a couple of hours earlier than usual. I leaned back in my chair and let out the air as if they’d been stealing it from me for weeks.

When I got up for a glass of water, I passed in front of the closet where I keep my box of “toys,” the one I hadn’t touched in days. I stopped dead, staring at it. I’ve got the night free and the neighborhood is half empty because of the holidays. Just thinking about it lit a heat that rose from deep in my belly to my face. I blushed all on my own, standing in the middle of the kitchen.

This time I wanted something memorable. I turned it over for hours and came to two certainties: I wanted to show myself naked again, like on my first walks, but I also wanted other people’s hands on my body, people wanting me. I remembered the two times I’d stood near the back fence of the lot, where people always pass at night. That gave me half the plan.

I still needed a way to draw them in without making a racket, so I wouldn’t wake the few neighbors who would actually be home. And then I remembered the sign at the shopping mall. That was it. I’d hand out the rules in writing, just like then, to keep myself anonymous. My head lit up and I even gave the game a name: “Try to Hit the Hole.”

***

The idea was simple. I’d get down on all fours against the fence, showing my ass to the street. Whoever wanted to take part would have one minute to “hit my hole”: I’d hand them my little tail-shaped plug and the lubricant, and they’d have to try to get it in. If they succeeded, I’d give them two minutes to enjoy my body, with clear rules written in the notebook.

—Be silent.

—Be as discreet as possible.

—If you’re a man, you’re forbidden from putting your cock in me or cumming on me.

—Warn me if someone comes down the street.

—No photos or videos: you hand me your phone first.

The only thing left for me to figure out was the escape route. With the guys at the mall I’d stopped them with an empty threat, but that wouldn’t work this time. So I decided to play the setting to my advantage: the fence would separate us, and with one move I could disappear among the houses and the nooks of the lot, which I already knew by heart from so many walks. I chose one in the morning, because at that hour people are still out coming home from a bar somewhere.

I laughed to myself when I realized something: before, I chose deserted hours so no one would see me, and now I was looking for the exact opposite. I’d changed. Freer, braver, although I still worried that some neighbor might recognize me. So I added some extra excitement: I’d wear a big coat that covered me completely and only take it off if the person agreed to play.

And so no one would focus on my cunt, I got myself a tight black pair of pants and cut a hole right over my little opening. Calculating the size was harder than I thought, because fabric gets bigger when it stretches. I did it with a cool head and, when I tried them on, they fit perfectly: the opening pointed upward, away from where I didn’t want it.

With everything ready, and since I was wrecked from the week, I set an alarm for midnight and slept a while.

***

When the alarm went off, I got ready slowly. First the wig: I tied my hair up and secured it tightly, in case any of my “winners” got rough and pulled the way that guy at the mall had. Then the tight pants, which I positioned by getting on all fours in front of the mirror until the hole lined up over my little opening. Last came the mask.

I looked at myself over my shoulder and it didn’t seem like me. I loved that.

I wrote the rules in a notebook and added one detail at the end: to accept, they had to give me three pats on the ass. It was almost one. I put my accessories in my purse and went out. Not a single house in the neighborhood had a light on. I walked up to the fence looking side to side, figuring out where to place myself.

Then I heard a bicycle coming closer. It was an older man in overalls. Almost without control, I stuck my hand through the fence and waved as he passed. He kept going as if he hadn’t seen me, but a few yards farther on he stopped and looked back, uncertain of what his eyes had shown him. I insisted. He took the bike and came closer, slowly, until he was standing in front of me.

—Did you wave at me, miss? Do you need something? —he asked.

I handed him the notebook and put a finger to my lips. While he read, I unbuttoned my coat, turned my back to him, and, looking at him over my shoulder, lifted it up from behind. He stood there with his mouth open. He went back to the notebook, read to the end, and then I felt the three taps. He accepted.

He leaned the bicycle against the wall and handed me back the notebook along with his phone. My legs were shaking knowing this was really happening. I got on all fours, brought my ass as close to the fence as I could, and showed him the timer. I started it and turned my gaze forward again, toward the sleeping houses.

I felt the cold of the lubricant, then a hand running over me, feeling around my little opening carefully. I was soaked just from living the situation. And then his voice.

—Miss, uh, miss.

I turned with a bit of annoyance, asking him to be quiet. He lowered his voice.

—I’m sorry, but I can’t. Your ass is too low and the fence has some sharp bars. They’re stabbing me in the arms.

I froze. I hadn’t thought of that. I got up, searching for a solution with my eyes, desperate, until he pointed to my right.

—Go into that passage. If you lean against the wall without crouching, your ass will be at a good height. And you can hang the bag on the bars.

I nodded my approval. I went into the narrow passage between the first house and the fence, hung my purse there, and leaned against the wall. He took me by the waist with both hands to position me, felt my little opening again, and signaled that he was ready. I restarted the timer.

He began by squeezing my right cheek, and I felt my opening part just a little. He shoved the plug in too hard, without any gentleness, and a groan escaped me. I pointed to the lubricant. I heard him open the jar and breathed out with relief. Something cold slid over my little hole, his finger tracing circles, a delicious tingle. Then I felt that finger go in, pushing in and pulling out without fully withdrawing. It wasn’t the plug, it was thinner. I shivered.

The time ran out with him still focused on the movement. I coughed softly and showed him the timer at zero. He pulled his finger out and a tremor ran through me. He looked disappointed and handed my things back. He made a gesture as if to say goodbye, but I took his hand and pulled him closer.

—For helping me find the height, I’ll give you thirty bonus seconds, as if you’d succeeded —I whispered to him.

I slowly took off my coat, letting him see my naked breasts, and set it aside. I smiled at him, showed him the timer, and started again. He held my waist with one hand and with the other kneaded my breasts, hard but attentive. His hand slid down inside the tight pants, which slipped off my thighs, and I was left with my cunt and ass bare. I turned sideways, lifted my ass, and let him run a finger over my little opening while his other hand stayed on my breasts. I bent forward, braced against the wall, and then his hand moved to my cunt, from top to bottom, brushing my clit. I moaned softly. He slipped in two fingers and fucked my ass and cunt at the same time. The thirty seconds passed and I let him keep going a little longer, because it felt too good. At fifty I sat up and showed him the phone. Rules are rules. He thanked me, took the bike, and disappeared into the night.

***

I loved it, but something about the game worried me: maybe people wouldn’t know how to put the plug in me. I was thinking about giving them more time when I heard laughter coming closer, mixed voices of boys and girls. I pressed myself against the wall. About eight people passed; I recognized several of them, neighbors from the lots next door who were always throwing parties. They were on their way back, still celebrating.

When they moved away, I went over to get my purse off the bars. I lifted my head to check the time and nearly dropped the phone: a guy was standing a few yards away, staring at me fixedly, motionless as a statue. I hadn’t heard him come. I gave him a nervous smile and an awkward little wave with the hand holding the notebook. He looked straight at the notebook, so I brought it up to the fence.

—You coming or what? What’s wrong with you? —someone shouted from farther ahead.

The guy reacted, looked at me, then at his group. I thought I’d made a mistake: if he warned them, they’d all come. I was already about to flee into the passage when I heard him.

—Yeah, one sec.

He moved closer, but then turned slightly toward me and motioned for me to wait. He told the others he had to make a call and that they should go on ahead. He came back and stood in front of me. I handed him the notebook, not knowing whether to get turned on or laugh from nerves. I turned my back to him, lifted my coat, and waited. Three taps. I asked for his phone, but he whispered:

—I’ll leave it here on the fence. If my girlfriend shows up, I’ll grab it fast and pretend I’m talking.

I went cold. One of the girls who had passed by was his girlfriend, and still he was willing to play with a stranger. That lit me up like few things had. I handed him the plug and the lubricant, showed him the timer, and started.

He felt around my little opening, noticed the lubricant left from the man before, and moved his finger in circles. He added some more, lifted my cheek hard, and shoved one finger into me, rough, electric. My temperature shot up at once. Then he brought the plug closer and started pushing. It hurt and I tensed; I tried to relax, but he wasn’t gentle. He pulled the plug back out and returned with two fingers, probably to open me wider.

—Baby, are you still on the phone? —I heard from far away.

I turned sharply. The guy let the plug and lubricant fall back inside the fence, grabbed the phone, and faked the call, signaling to his girlfriend that he wasn’t done. I grabbed my things in a rush and crouched down to hide.

—Sorry, I have to go, my girlfriend’s calling me —he said out loud, and left.

I was left hot, frustrated, with the minute showing twenty seconds left. I started to resign myself to the thought that my game wasn’t so good, that I couldn’t recreate the mall.

***

Then I heard dragging footsteps and something like a moan. The hair on my skin stood up. A dark figure was coming toward the fence. I backed up until I hit the wall, and when I saw him clearly I recognized him: it was Rolando, a sort of homeless man who roamed the neighborhood, usually drunk. Sober, he was kind and attentive; everyone knew him. I sighed with relief.

He heard me and turned. He looked me up and down, leaned on the fence with one hand, and with the other managed to touch me over the coat, right over one breast. His hand moved erratically, brushing my nipple from the outside, and that, for some reason, gave me a delicious tingle. He put the other hand on my other breast. Am I really that desperate, that horny, that I’d let someone touch me like this? And the worst part was that I was enjoying it.

With all the movement, the coat was barely hanging on my shoulders. I took a step forward and it fell to the ground, leaving me naked from the waist up. He took advantage and grabbed my arm, pulling me closer. His breath smelled strongly of alcohol and, even so, it didn’t disgust me. He groped me all over, my ass, my breasts, pressing me against the fence. I only moaned. I had turned into a woman starving for pleasure who didn’t care about the form. I started pulling my pants down on my own, panting.

—Rolando, where did you go? What are you doing? —said a voice.

Someone appeared at the fence and saw me naked, being groped. I froze. I pushed his hands away, covered myself with the coat, and lowered my gaze, burning with shame. I’d been found out for the first time, by someone who hadn’t agreed to my terms.

—Come here, I’ll take you home, stop bothering her. Miss, I’m sorry, he has problems with alcohol. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?

I looked up. It was an older man, gray-haired, in his mid-fifties. I shook my head no. He took Rolando by the shoulders and led him away in silence. I was trembling, sure my nighttime adventures were over. I ran a hand over my forehead and touched the mask. Then I remembered my face was covered. The fear vanished at once: they’d seen me naked, yes, but no one knew it was me.

Only the heat remained, built up from the man on the bike, the guy with a girlfriend, Rolando. The wind brushed my naked body and my nipples were rock hard. Before pulling my pants back up, I ran my fingers through my soaked cunt and started touching myself, slowly, right there at the fence, so anyone passing by could watch me.

I opened my eyes a little and saw two girls crossing the street straight toward me. In their twenties, wearing pretty dresses, out for the night or coming back from some bar. I stopped touching myself but kept looking at them. I reached for the notebook: I felt so safe behind the disguise that I didn’t even cover myself.

—Girl, what are you doing? Is something wrong? —they asked.

I signaled for silence and handed them the notebook. They read in silence. I turned around, lifted my ass, and pulled my pants up so they could see the hole.

—Let’s go, this one’s crazy, don’t pay attention to the bitch —one said.

—Don’t be like that, she isn’t hurting anyone. It’s even safer than going off to fuck just anyone. She’s just peculiar —the other replied.

I almost got emotional. She understood me without judging me. Then the one who defended me said:

—I want to try. Give me your phone.

—I can’t believe it. I don’t know who’s crazier, you or her —the friend said.

—Shh, give me the phone and shut up, or I won’t be able to do it.

Reluctantly, she handed over the phone. I took the devices, gave them the plug and the lubricant, leaned against the wall, and started the timer. Their hands were smaller, more delicate. One of them brushed my little opening with a nail, added lubricant, and started pushing the plug in, more slowly than the men. I moaned softly, hypersensitive. The plug was gaining ground little by little, but she didn’t have enough strength to get it all the way in.

—You idiot, you’re doing it wrong, you’re not pushing hard enough. Let me —the friend whispered.

I felt two hands on my ass and more pressure. The plug went in farther and farther. I lifted my face, bit my lips, and moaned as I felt it go all the way in. Not even in my fantasies that night had I imagined that two girls would be the first to win the game. The timer showed forty-eight seconds. I turned around, smiled at them, and restarted the clock, showing them the two with my fingers: two minutes as a prize.

They slipped their hands through the fence and groped me so deliciously, soft, small, caressing my breasts.

—I thought we were crazy —one said.

—Shh, shut up —the other laughed.

They pulled my pants down to my knees, kneaded my butt cheeks, spread me open. One of them slipped a finger into my cunt, going in and out. They were both blushing. A minute had passed when one of them found the vibrator in my purse.

—Look, this was in the bag. Let’s put it on her.

I activated the app on the phone and left it within their reach. They turned it on and brought it to my cunt, switched on. I pressed my legs together and covered my mouth so I wouldn’t moan too loud. It must have been on level three, because it hit hard all at once. At the same time I felt the plug being rotated, pushed deeper. The orgasm was coming. I clung to the wall with one hand and muffled my mouth with the other. It hit, and I shook all over, dropping to my knees in spasms while the vibrator kept going. They turned it off.

I looked at them panting; they were lit up too. They handed me back the phone, received theirs, and left without saying a word. I took out the vibrator and the plug, put them away, and stayed on my knees for a moment, wrapped in my coat. I’d had a huge orgasm and I was happy: despite everything, my game worked.

And then, still catching my breath, I heard something on the other side of the fence.

***

This is where the first part of this story ends. Thank you for reading me. I’m sending you a kiss and I hope you’ll wait for the second part, because it’s even better.