Jilling Off

Tonight someone I had been talking to online rang me to tell me he was coming over, to leave the front door ajar for him and to wait on a chair with my panties around my ankles and a vibe on my clit. So I did.

He played with me, had me suck his cock while I came from the vibrator a couple of times, then fucked me on my bedroom floor, ordering me to tell him every time I orgasmed, which I did half a dozen times, spasming around his cock while he grabbed my breasts hard.

Then he used my computer to go online and search for someone else to fuck me while he watches next time, as I sucked his cock. He fucked me again, so hard it felt like the room was shaking, and came all over my tits, ordering me not to wash it off until the morning. He left me lying on the bed still blindfolded, reminding me that I wouldn’t recognise him if I saw him on the street.

Tonight was really fantastic.

I ask him to tie me up and he does, swift knots expertly tied. He’s done this before. He takes my nipple in his mouth, sucking greedily, then pulls back and slaps my breast hard. I moan in pleasure, writhing under his body as he smacks me again and again, then shoves his fingers hard into my cunt. I come almost instantly, tremours shaking me all over, but he keeps going, working his fingers inside me, kissing me roughly, watching me twist and groan underneath him. He pulls his fingers out and abruptly slaps me on my cunt, laughing at my obvious pleasure.

“I love the way your pussy responds to me,” he says, kissing me again, beard rough on my face and neck and breasts. One hand pulls my legs apart again, and his fingers slide across my clit so that I come again. The other hand locks around my neck, choking me. I close my eyes and give in to the pleasure, surrendering completely to his control. I can no longer tell how many fingers he has in me or how many times I’ve come. Everything is just a blur of wave after wave of climaxes. This is exactly how I’ve always wanted it to be.

There’s been so much talk lately about what rape is, and who does it, and about the sanctity of rape victims, and how they often get violated again in the court process, so it’s both strange and gratifying to tell a story to your friends and have them state “that’s kind of rapey” even before you offer up all the excuses that you have – that you didn’t say no – although you could hardly breathe, let alone speak, that you’d told him you liked it rough, that you said you enjoyed being dominated, and your entire filthy persona – not to mention the enthusiasm that you’d greated him with earlier in the night. Because yes, you love to suck cock, but you don’t love it when a guy repeatedly shoves your head down. You _really_ don’t love it when he asks if you’re awake, and when you reply, he sits on your chest, pinning you to the bed, shoving his cock down your throat, grasping your head so tight that you can hardly move it, even when you gag, and your mouth fills with vomit, and he just thrusts harder and harder. And you feel helpless and hopeless, and you remember all your rape fantasies, and think that well yeah, maybe this is what you’re asking for, and you just try to make him finish quicker so that he’ll stop. And then, when he’s done, and you know you’re about to start crying, that’s when you curl into him so you can pretend it’s okay, that this was somemthing you wanted to do.

He was so nervous. Conversations online were nothing like this. There had been several whiskeys at home beforehand so that in this bar now he could order a beer and pretend that this was normal, that this was every day. The conversations online – reading for a long time, dropping in the occasional comment here and there had led on to dialogs, then to stories and chats, and now to this. This bar, this everyday place, and the faintest whisper of stepping outside of what he had always thought his sexual identity was.

The man was easy to spot. He’d thought enough about him in their sessions of storytelling online, after all. So when the man walked up, and introductions were had, hands held each other a second too long in the handshake, that wasn’t too strange. Conversation was initially about the weather, because all conversations are always about the weather, and then how the days were, generic conversations about work because of course they were strictly on first name basis only, and there was a gleam in the man’s eye about their online story-telling, but he wasn’t going to bring it up first, because this was a whole new world to him. So he finished his pint and ordered another. The man’s eyes on him were so intense, the feet kicking against the bar stool the same size as his own, the sneakers were similar. Their arms emerging from t-shirts and stretching across the bar clutching pint glasses were almost identical, chunky wristwatches similarly rendered almost useless by shiny cellphones carefully removed from pockets every so often in a comforting ritual.

Conversation was heavy with things unsaid, and he was used to this with one girl, and was used to the knees ‘accidently’ knocking under the bar and then purposefully resting on each other, it had been a long time since that girl and he had parted ways so that he could instead focus on his girlfriend, the other girl fading into the background even while she acted out as much as she could to stand out. But the man was new to him, and the pressure was all too much, trying to decide if it was chemistry and anticipation, or if he was creeped out by the situation, or if it was a little from Column A and a little from Column B, so he excused himself and headed to the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face, and looked himself in the eye in the mirror. “Figure out what you want,” he said to himself, and the bathroom door opened. The man came in, locking the door behind him. “I know what you want,” he said, “and I’m going to give it to you”.

He was pushed against the toilet wall, a body so similar to his own pressed against him, a similar mouth on his, hard and soft and wet. Skin was so much rougher than he was used to, but the sensation of stubble wasn’t at all unwelcome, the texture new and surprising, but savoury. He felt his wrists being pinned in a strong grip, his arms raised above his head and pushed into a wall by a force stronger than his own, but these were only half thoughts as he closed his eyes and submitted to the rough kiss. As the man’s cock grew harder and pressed into his leg, he felt his own stirring, so foreign against such a hard body, though the intensity of the man’s pressure against him was a reassuring reminder that he wasn’t in control of the situation and he was happy to submit to whatever came next.