Fantasy Actress Roleplays

[Krishan202]

"Bummer," she said trying to sound younger than she was, "The Mayor left early this morning for a business trip and I was hoping to have you stick around. Rain check?"

"Of course. That would be great."

I finished my beer, thanked her again, accepted the payment she had for me. Even better, she gave me an extended, tight hug; her huge tits smashed into my chest. I walked carefully out to my car, trying to hide the signs of my erection, and headed home. On my way home, I replayed the latter part of the day. I was toweled off, shirtless, in the Mayor's bedroom. I told the Mayor's wife I thought she was hot. She rubbed her tits on my back, hardening her nipples, and I got an offer to stay for dinner that seemed like it might have included more than dinner.



I got home, walked in the door, and was greeted by my mom who was shuffling her suitcase across the floor. "Hey BJ. You're finally home. We were wondering if you forgot. Did you work this whole time at the mayor's?"

"Yes. She had a lot for me to do, but she paid me well."

"Was Trisha friendly?"

"Uh yes. I mean, I mostly dealt with the woman that works around their house."

"Did she dress to kill?" my dad said laughing as he came into the room.

"What? I didn't even notice," I said, winking at my dad without my mom seeing me.

"Okay, okay. Come on you two. We need to go," my mom ordered.

We grabbed a quick dinner and I dropped them off at the departures curb about 8pm. As I was getting back into the car, my mom kissed me goodbye and said, "Have fun while we're gone. Enjoy yourself for the week. Real life starts soon."

"Okay, mom. I'll do my best."

On my way home, I stopped at a little bar near our house to catch a few innings of the cricket game and spend a little of my hard earned cash on a nice drink or two. As I sipped on my cocktail, Tanqueray and tonic, the young woman a few seats down started looking better and better. She was a thin woman with long, straight, black hair. She have any real figure to speak of, but I was feeling the drinks and still a little horny from the interaction with Trisha early that day. I caught her attention, smiled, and said hello.

"Hi, I'm BJ. And your name?" I asked.

"Shriya Sharma. Nice to meet you BJ."



She was happy to strike up a surface conversation, so I slid down a few stools and chatted with her. She was cute enough and it wasn't like I had any other prospects to hook up with. After a few minutes, her phone buzzed with an incoming call and she excused herself outside to take the call. While she was out, I grabbed a pen from the bartender and wrote my number on a napkin; thinking it might come in handy. When she returned, she apologized for having to run off; she had to help a friend who was caught up in some kind of ex-boyfriend drama. As she got up to leave, I thought "what the hell" and said, "Hey, here's my number if you ever want to continue our conversation."

"Thank you. I'd like that," she said as she happily took my number and headed out.

"I guess you struck out," said the bartender.

"Yeah, for now," I laughed. I finished my drinks and headed home to chill out.

I got home, made myself some popcorn, and plopped on the couch in front of the huge, wall-sized TV we had. ESPN's SportsCenter didn't hold my attention for long and I quickly fell asleep. About 10pm, my phone, sitting on the end table next to my head, buzzed to life with a text message from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: Hey BJ. What are you up to?

I was stumped at who the text was from. Perhaps it was Shriya . I wanted to be careful, just in case it wasn't, so I texted back my standard line in these situations.



Me: This is really awkward, but I don't seem to have your number stored on my phone. Who is this?

Unknown Number: If I send a picture would it help you.

Me: Sure.

A few minutes turned into about 5 minutes and, just when I figured whomever it was had gone away, my phone buzzed again. This time, a picture appeared on my screen of a close up shot of what I believed to be some cleavage; it could have also been someone's ass cheeks. I knew one thing for sure, if it was cleavage, it certainly wasn't Shriya's;

Me: Well, that doesn't help too much. But it looks good.

Unknown Number: Want another hint?

Normally, I would easily tire of a game like this, but I was curious about who this might be. There were any number of possibilities of girls from college, or it could be an asshole friend of mine playing a joke.

Me: Yes. Another hint would help.

U.N.: How about you ask me a few "yes or no" questions?

Me: Okay. Is that cleavage?

U.N.: Yes it is.

Me: Is it your cleavage?

U.N.: Yes.



Assuming the texts were truthful, I had narrowed it down to girls I knew with a huge rack that would decide, randomly, late at night, to text me like this. I was definitely interested in finding out and here came that horny feeling again.

Me: Do I know you from college?

U.N. No.

Me: High school?

U.N.: No.

Me: I give up.

U.N.: Oooooh. I was having fun. How about another picture?

Me: Seriously, I am getting pretty tired.

U.N.: Don't go away yet. Wait for the next picture.

Again, I waited about 5 minutes. My phone buzzed and up popped a very close up picture of a nipple. It was a pink, areola with a very hard nipple poking out of the center.

Me: That doesn't help, but it sure looks great.



My cock was hardening in my shorts. Even if this was a joke, it was fun and what could it hurt to do a little "sexting" with whomever this was. I waited for the response which, based on the three little dots appearing and disappearing several times on my iPhone screen, the texter was having trouble coming up with.

U.N.: Does that last picture make you excited?

Me: Of course. It would make anyone excited.

U.N.: Can you show me how excited you are?

Okay, this may be where I should've drawn the line. Texting a picture of my hard dick to some random number had all kinds of horrible implications. What if it was someone from my new job trying to trap me? What if it was some random, underaged girl and the cops were involved? My brain was telling me to cut and run, but my dick was telling me to keep it up. I compromised. I had a large bulge in my shorts, so I took a photo of that and sent it away.

U.N.: My picture wasn't with clothing on.

Me: I'm not doing that. This is fun, but I don't know who you are. (Thankfully my brain won the battle with my libido that time).

U.N.: Okay. Would you like to meet me?

Me: I think so. Where?

U.N.: How about Running  Park?

Me: Tomorrow?

U.N. Tonight.

Okay, fuck this. There is no way in hell I am going to some random park, at almost 11pm, to meet some crazy woman; if it really is a woman.

Me: You know what. This is crazy. Stop texting me.

U.N.: Whoa. Sorry. What happened?

Me: I am not going to a fucking park late at night to meet someone crazy enough to text me a picture of their tit.

U.N.: Okay. How about the grocery store at the Mall?

That grocery store was in the most upscale part and it was a very well lit, public place. It couldn't hurt to see who this was. And, if it was some kind of joke my friends were playing on me, it would make for good laughs. I decided to accept, but wanted a little bit more information first.

Me: Okay, but first, you're over 18 right?

U.N.: Yes, for sure.

Me: How will I know how to find you?

U.N.: I'll text you more info in a little bit. See you there soon?

Me: WTH. Ok.

I hopped off the couch, ran upstairs and changed into some jeans and a sweatshirt. I put on some good running shoes; part of me was still wondering if I might need to outrun someone. I had consumed a few drinks already , and I thought it would be better to show up a bit incognito in case it was friends that knew my car, so I hailed an Uber to the grocery store. On the way there, another text came through:

Unknown Number: Hey. I'll be in the backseat of a large, black, Chevy Suburban in front of the store.

Me: The back seat?

U.N.: I'm taking an Uber there. Hop in with me.

Okay, this was weird. I decided I better make damn sure this Suburban was in fact an Uber. I had seen enough bad cop shows on TV to not think maybe this was some crazy kidnapping plot. Of course, what the hell would anyone want with a college student with no money.

Me: Ok.

I showed up and instructed my driver to leave me at the other end of the strip mall. I approached the grocery store slowly and, sure enough, there was a black Suburban parked near the front of the store. With my heart racing as fast as I have ever felt it, I stopped and watched the car for a minute from a safe distance. I confirmed the little Uber sign in the front window and so I slowly approached the car; taking a wide turn to come up from behind.

As I got within a few feet of the car, the electric window slowly rolled down and a women with blonde hair, dark glasses, a scarf, and a hat leaned her head out and said, "I'm glad you came, BJ."

"Trisha," I asked? Fortunately, I was using her first name and didn't blurt out her real name which could have easily revealed her identity to the driver. She was obviously trying to disguise herself to some extent.

"Yes. Get in."

I hopped in the backseat. While my mind was relieved this wasn't some kind of criminal plot, my mind started racing about why the Mayor's wife had sent me a picture of her tit; let alone even how she got my phone number.



I slid across the seat, so that I could whisper to her. I moved my head toward her ear and she turned, grabbed the back of my head, and gave me a deep, french kiss. As our lips finally parted, I whispered, "How did you get my number?"

"Your mom. At the party. When I knew you'd be coming over to work."

"And, is this why you really wanted my number," I asked?

"I didn't plan this exactly, but I knew I wanted you." With that comment, she ran her hand on the inside part of my thigh, brushed over my hard cock, and kissed me again.



Kissing her back was an instinctual move. We kissed a little more, trying to be somewhat discreet, in the Uber to her house. She had the driver leave us off in front of a house two gates down from her house; the same location she had him pick her up. She seemed like a pro at this. After he pulled away, we walked to her gate and let ourselves in.

She opened the door to her house and, as I passed by her to enter, she grabbed my butt and said, "I can't wait to get a piece of this."

I jumped a little, turned around,and she grabbed me and pulled our bodies together in a long, passionate kiss. As we broke apart, I had to ask, "So, this is all okay to do here? I mean, you're okay with this?"

"You'll know the answer to that in a little bit. Go make us a couple drinks and meet me out by the hot tub."

She yanked off the blonde wig as she walked away and I headed for the bar and replayed the highlight reel of the last 18 hours or so. It started with me, innocently (or so I thought), helping out a woman over 12 years my senior with some chores for a little cash. That parlayed into me being shirtless in the bedroom she normally shared with her husband, a litany of sexual innuendos while running an errand, an invitation to dinner, some late night sexting, a make out session in the backseat of a car on the way to her house, and now; who knows. Oh, and added into that mix was the small fact that this was all with the Mayor's wife. I grabbed the margaritas I had made and headed out the door to the hot tub.



The lights in the house were mostly out and there was only dim lighting around the pool deck. I paused briefly for my eyes to adjust and then I saw steam rising from the hot tub and I could hear the bubbles going. Walking over that way, I saw the back of her head as she was slumped down in the hot tub with the water up to her neck. I took a deep breath and approached her and said, "Here's a margarita for you."

"Thank you BJ," she said without moving at all. "Come in. It will really help your sore muscles from all the work I put you through."

"Well, um, I didn't bring a suit," I replied.

Trisha lifted her head, smiled, stood up in the hot tub, completely naked and said, "Does it look like you need one?"



Her gorgeous, wet body glistened in the dim light. Her tits, light colored areolas and hard nipples; the ones I had been exposed to via her text. She was pleasantly plump, not the least bit fat, and had a nice tuft of bush at the very top of her shaved pussy lips. She turned her back to me, showing off her sexy, ample ass, climbed out of the tub, and walked over to me.