Whirlpool
The desire to try hardcore sex arises in many people, both men and women. For some, it's as natural as taking a shower; for others, it's occasional exoticism; and for others, it's an incomprehensible and unpleasant act.
I belong to the first group, although I didn't realize and understand this immediately or very long ago. In practical terms, at least. Before that, I read stories from the "forced" category and would swoon and get aroused from all sorts of descriptions of how women were forced onto their knees, made to suck cock—and they started to like it and got a taste for it... well, I'm sure many readers understand what I'm talking about)
A certain number of years ago
I met a girl; she was one of the accountants at a new job I had started not long before. The girl was quite cute, slender, of average height, with a sporty figure, and her ass—it was simply a masterpiece—just looking at it made my hands itch to grab and not let go of that happiness) At the same time, I can't say she really got under my skin or that I fell in love—it was pure desire... and so I regularly hit on her, though not too often) Our infrequent communication went on for a long time—we sat on different floors, exchanged ICQ numbers only after several months, she had her own life, I had mine... But one time, an incident occurred that later determined the development of our relationship.That evening, I stayed late at work on business—and saw that she was still on ICQ, which meant she was at work. I went up to her on the second floor, thinking she was alone and hoping to seduce her, but her boss, who had also stayed late, was in the next office—and Olya only dared to flirt. At some point, I lost control—grabbed her and pressed her against the desk, but then came to my senses from her whisper "I'll scream now"... so nothing came of it. Some time later, I quit—and we stopped communicating.
However, later Olya reappeared in my ICQ. It turned out she had also quit a few months after me, got a new job, and was happy with everything. And here our communication changed dramatically—we wrote to each other every day, discussing very intimate questions, some personal preferences. She, a rather reserved person who doesn't like to talk about herself and her habits, started telling me about them in response to my confessions. And somehow in the conversation, it came out that she really wanted me to keep going that memorable evening, pressing her against the desk... that she adores blowjobs, semen—and finds it surprising how many women might not like it. Moreover—that she, a decent and proper girl, sometimes wants to feel like a whore and a total slut, simply used at the whim of some Master. That she often fantasizes about being forced to suck, literally being face-fucked, down her throat, by a man for whom she would be practically a thing, a mattress, and a receptacle for dumping semen—nothing more.
I read this—and my fantasies and desires churned inside me with increasing force... but she didn't respond to my steps with offers to meet, didn't translate anything into real life.
Everything changed one summer day...
At that job where we worked together before, there was a very friendly and close-knit team. And one of the people who united everyone was the sysadmin, Lyokha. That summer, in August, he was celebrating his birthday and invited everyone who had ever worked with him. The day before, Olga asked me—if I was going. In response to my affirmative "nod," she said she wanted to go too, missed everyone, but asked me to warn that she'd be late and arrive later. She arrived when everyone was already gathered. We were sitting in a small park not far from the old job, full of moms with kids during the day, and quite deserted at night. The company was large, noisy, beer was being drunk merrily... my head was buzzing, but so pleasantly... that stage when everything is good—and nothing more. We only exchanged glances a couple of times like "hello"—each in our own circle of interests. But then when the question of the "toilet" came up... I should say, there wasn't exactly a toilet in the park... there were even two improvised ones... the first—between a fence and some building... everyone went there. A smaller number of people, like the initiated, went to the other—something like a bridge on the ground, it didn't cross any puddles or ravines, but it was there) On one side, its arch was bricked up, on the other—blocked by a grate. But the grate was sort of recessed inside... and in this improvised niche, we did our business... and everything quickly went into the dry ground—no problems.
My acquaintance also knew this place... over several years of working at the previous place, we gathered in this park more than once) And during one of those outings, we ran into each other there. She was coming out—I was going in... we giggled and went our separate ways. Then another time. The third time, we went together, a bit tipsy. There were no thoughts of luring, dragging, or anything like that... just fun—that's all.
She got ready to squat—and asked me to turn away. It was already getting dark, and it was quite difficult to see anything from a few steps away—so I obeyed. But when a quiet trickling sound was heard, it was like something clicked in my head—and then I turned and started looking at her. I wanted to embarrass her. It worked... she asked me to turn away... I didn't turn away—and she had to stand up and get dressed under my gaze. You couldn't see a damn thing, actually, but that's not important. She came out from under the arch, I went in... took it out... started thinking about something abstract—so that, you know, everything would go well... and then out of the corner of my eye, I notice some movement slightly to the side... I turn my head... Olya is standing quite close and trying to get a look at my cock. From such a turn, all my desire to pIss just sort of vanished, my cock started to rise... swell... harden...
She was looking at it, and I—at her...
After a couple of seconds, she sharply turned away and stepped back... said, "Well, are you going to be much longer?"
I smirked, promised to hurry up—and, forcing myself to calm down, did my business... but I didn't zip up... just the semi-darkness and a long, loose t-shirt hid everything from her and any possible passersby. I came out, walked up to her, asked why she was peeking. To her excuses, I suggested that she liked it and was thinking about how to suck me off) She asked—if I'd lost my mind—and headed towards the ongoing gathering...
What came over me at that moment, I vaguely understand... I grabbed her by the arm and dragged her behind that bridge... there was a solid wall and a tree standing there... there were no kisses, no caresses... I really grabbed her hair hard—and bent her down to my cock. She clenched her mouth and repeated, "no, I won't, I don't want to"... but by pulling her hair hard against the grain, I forced her to open her mouth—and inserted my still semi-hard cock... she broke free. I grabbed her again, twisted her arm a bit—and sat her down on the grass, pressing her back against the hard tree bark... let go of her arm—and grabbed her hair again, clenching it in my fist... for some reason, she was smiling and saying she'd scream... but I wasn't listening to her at all... my eyes clouded over—and I, forcing her to open her mouth again, simply and dumbly started fucking her. There wasn't a single thought in my head, nothing but the desire to use her like a doll, not caring if it was comfortable for her, if it hurt, when my cock, blocking her air, pushed apart her tonsils—and the head penetrated right into her throat. Olya gasped for air, tried to twist free, but the tree, my hand, and the fact that her head was just a layer with a hole that I was fucking, between me and the trunk, didn't allow it until I came.
Afterwards, I helped her up, brushed off the grass, bark, and dirt—and we silently walked back to the party, which by then had almost died down. Only two guys were left, including the birthday boy. One left immediately—it was already night. The three of us started getting ready to leave too. The birthday boy offered to walk her home, while I just went home—I felt good, like never before.
A few days later, the story got its continuation when Olga wrote to me on ICQ—"I have scratches all over my back, my hair hurts, and my throat is sore." To this, I replied—"come to my work today at 6 PM—and your throat will hurt even more."
She came. And she came about once every week and a half to two weeks for another year. Sometimes I went to her.
Toilets, empty offices, fire escapes—all of this was the platform for my dominance over her. I tied her up, tied her to furniture, fucked her while my or her colleagues walked behind the doors, raped her mouth, forced her to suck cock on the street—in short, simply got pleasure for myself. I took photos, videos of her downfall, and she enjoyed it.
Once, she got tired of it—and she stopped. But six months later, she was again choking on my cock in her throat.
Now she has stopped again—she wants normal human relationships. I don't interfere, moreover, as all this time, we communicate "outside of sex" as friends, discussing some everyday topics. But I think living without those emotions is already impossible, both for me and for her. This whirlpool pulls you in again and again. I dive into it headfirst—and invite those who want to dive with me 😉
Author's e-mail: khysmеth@gmаil.cоm