How I Fell in Love with a Sadist
And then one day, familiar trucks again occupied all the space around the roadside cafe. The drivers got out, started greeting each other, laughing, and discussing something enthusiastically. I was serving the tables outside and could hear their conversation: of course, they were discussing girls again. I could hear questions addressed to some guy standing among them:
— Well, why do you hate prostitutes so much?! They're not bad girls and do everything right. — at this point, the truckers burst out laughing in unison. I didn't hear what the one being questioned answered, only the next question reached me:
— Well, have you really never used prostitutes?
— Of course I haven't... That's precisely why I'm still alive and healthy.
I became curious who could say such a thing, I looked around and saw among the crowd of truckers a young man in a police uniform, with a barely noticeable smirk on his face. Without looking in my direction, he walked past and entered the cafe. The truckers giggled and glanced at me, waiting for my reaction.
— Handsome! — I said, and laughed.
I wasn't lying. He really was very handsome: dark eyes and dark hair, slightly tanned skin — in my opinion — a typical Ukrainian appearance. Usually, cops don't evoke any feelings in me, but this one was just magnetic. I followed him into the cafe, and the whole company did too. On the way, I learned that he had come as a passenger in one of the trucks. His patrol car broke down, and he had to hitchhike back, leaving his partner to guard the vehicle.
— Cool guy! — the trucker Vityka who brought him shared with me, — Cheerful and kind. If only there were more cops like that! Life would be much better!
The guys sat down at one table, and the young cop went to the restroom. I was walking around the cafe, and suddenly Vityka called me over to their table:
— Listen, maybe you could service him? The poor guy's been on the road for several days, he needs to relax.
— But he said he doesn't want to. — I objected.
— He's just shy! — Vityka waved his hands at me. — Or maybe he's playing hard to get.
— He's a prude! — the guys chimed in. — Go on, go on, then we'll all laugh together about how he doesn't use prostitutes!
This idea intrigued me, and I headed to the men's restroom. Luckily for me, no one else was there besides him. He was urinating and my entrance didn't faze him in the slightest. For some reason, I went into a stall and started watching him from behind the open door. The uniform fit him very well and was arousing.
— For you, I guess women's restrooms don't exist. — he said, addressing me but not turning around.
— You're right. — I replied. He smirked and started pulling up his pants.
I came out of the stall and approached him from behind. "Don't hide it" — I whispered, took his cock in my hand, and turned to face him. It was very beautiful, about 17 centimeters by the look of it, straight and warm, already erect but still somewhat soft. I knelt down and took it in my mouth. I looked into his eyes, but there were no emotions there. I licked the head, I took it entirely into my mouth and pushed it to my throat, ran my tongue from the base upwards... but I couldn't get him fully aroused. Something was clearly wrong, so many men had admired my blowjobs and so many times I had heard moans of pleasure... I kept trying, at least for my own sake. For the first time in a long time, I was enjoying sucking a cock. It had a special taste, and in general, his body had a pleasant smell. Young and handsome, he stood over me and looked at me questioningly:
— What do you want?
— You...
A slight smile crossed his face:
— You should have chosen someone else. Someone kinder or dumber.
I laughed: "And you're not kind?" I remembered Vityka's words about him, and I snorted again. Suddenly he grabbed my throat with his hand and lifted me from my knees. It hurt, I tried to ask what he was doing, but only a choked wheeze came from my throat. He leaned very close to my face, so close his nose touched mine, and his hand tightened even more on my neck. "Not very" — he answered. Immediately his hand loosened its grip and I slid down the wall, coughing and breathing loudly.
I slid down to the level of his cock and saw that it was finally fully erect. I involuntarily grabbed it with my hand, it was hot and hard, and without letting go, I stood up again. My legs were trembling and buckling, I was scared, but I couldn't leave. A thought flashed through my head: "So that's it, he's a sadist..." I looked at his chest, at the small inscription "police" above the pocket, unable to lift my eyes to his face. He ran his hand over my cheek, then took my chin, turned my head to the left, and started unbuttoning my blouse. I kept holding his cock, and he took my breasts out and started gently stroking them. It was surprising to feel such endless tenderness from hands that had just been choking me. It felt good, and I started getting aroused again. He touched my nipple with one finger and it was like an electric shock went through me, and goosebumps ran over my body. I started jerking his cock, and he leaned towards my breast so that I felt the heat of his breath. I felt myself getting wet. I wanted to feel his cock inside, and I started pulling him towards me. He lightly caught my nipple with his lips and said: "What would you think if I cut it off?"
I shuddered from the surprise, an animal fear took hold of me. "I'm alone with a maniac" pounded in my head, my vision darkened and it seemed like I was losing consciousness. I tried to break free, but he suddenly sharply turned my whole body to the left, so that my back was to him, and abruptly entered me from behind, pressing me against the wall. He started thrusting, each time penetrating deeper, filling me with a kind of warmth, hitting spots that sent pleasant convulsions through my whole body. Sometimes he would freeze inside for a second, and I would clench my muscles, trying to prolong that feeling of fullness and warmth inside. And sometimes he would just stop at the entrance, barely touching the walls of my vagina, and I would sort of rub myself against his cock, and that drove me crazy.
I felt an orgasm approaching, but suddenly there was noise in the hallway. In a semi-conscious state, I was suddenly grabbed and dragged into a stall. Someone entered the restroom, I tried hard to understand who, but my brain refused to work. Now I was standing against the wall leaning on it, face to face with my sexual tormentor. He covered my mouth and bit his lip, listening to what was happening. Some guys were walking around the restroom. Suddenly I felt his cock inside again, he started moving in slowly, slowly, driving me insane. He leaned to my ear and whispered: "If they find us, I'll break your neck," and gestured for me to be quiet. But it was impossible. He deliberately pressed on all my spots, deliberately gave me unbearable pleasure, driving me crazy and making me moan. There was no strength to hold back. His strong hands held my chin and turned it to where it started to hurt. However, the pleasure outweighed everything. I was ready to part with life right then and there, but to experience the orgasm.
— Sorry, — I whispered quietly, — sorry, I won't do it again...
— I know. — he whispered back, brushing the hair from my face.
The guys left, and I came immediately. It was the best orgasm of my life. My legs couldn't hold me anymore, I just fell backwards. But he didn't come. He turned me to the wall again and entered from behind. Now he was working for himself, not trying to give me pleasure. I leaned my hands against the wall, and he immediately, for some reason, put a handcuff on my right hand.
— Do you think you're beautiful? — he started saying, — Do you think you got to me? No, I think you're the ugliest of all I've ever fucked. And you know what? You're the worst. You're definitely the worst. If you were at least beautiful, I would have come already. But damn it, only truckers fall for you. — he said all this while his cock was moving inside me. He told me that all whores will die of AIDS, that our bodies are hideous, and that all prostitutes have saggy tits. It hurt to hear that from him, but his hot breath spread over my cheek, making my whole body tremble. His cock was ramming through me, arousal inevitably rising. He kept saying unpleasant things to me, but I was just getting high from his presence.
— Turn away, otherwise I can't come. You're too ugly, — from this phrase, tears streamed down my face. He laughed and came immediately. His hot cum filled me inside, I was crying, simultaneously thinking about how much pleasure he had given me. I was the happiest and unhappiest at the same time.
He left the stall and turned on the water. I remained standing in place, unable to comprehend what had happened. I felt emptiness, resentment, and hopelessness. It was terrifying to think that now he would leave and I would never see him again, and never feel anything like that again. I looked at him from the stall. () He glanced back and there was a mocking smile on his face. The same one I saw on him for the first time in the yard.
Without saying anything, he left and returned to the hall. I stood behind the counter and watched as the stupid truckers greeted him with giggles, and one of them made a sly face and asked:
— What were you doing alone in the restroom for so long, Sashka?
— Want to know? — my young cop asked and looked in my direction with mischievous eyes, the truckers guffawed with delight. — Taking a leak — he said with a straight face and downed a bottle of water in one go. Everyone laughed. And I cried quietly. Now at least I knew his name.
— Why are you crying? — Vityka asked unexpectedly, his eyes wide with surprise.
— Yeah, she fell in love, — my Sasha answered for me, following me with his mocking gaze.
— With who? — several guys asked in unison
— Well, probably with one of you — Sashka laughed good-naturedly, and ignoring my pleading look, got up from the table and nodded to Vityka: "I'm going to the truck."
When he left, I couldn't hold back and told them everything that happened. They couldn't believe it. But even more, they couldn't believe that after all that, I really had fallen in love with him. I begged them not to take him away, or to take me with him. I promised to kill myself, but they didn't listen.
From the truck window, his hand with a cigarette was visible. When they drove off, he waved quietly so I would see. Then he pointed his index finger at me and stuck out his thumb: "You're super" — I read in sign language. He winked at me and smiled. I never saw him again. But hope dies last.