I met him almost a year ago–when I was with someone else. My lover at the time performed with a jazz band and was appearing at a local club. On the night in question, my lover came to my home just as I stepped out of the shower. Still dripping wet, he carried me to my bed and made love to me, bringing me up to the point of orgasm, but not allowing me to climax. Then, with my nipples hardened almost to the point of pain, pearls of moisture clinging to my pussy, my clit throbbing rhythmically, he told me to finish getting ready to go out.
While I put on my makeup and dried and styled my hair, he chose my attire for the evening: a short cobalt blue wrap-around dress of heavy silk, cut on the bias so that it clung to my body. Under it, I was to wear only a garter belt and black nylons. He chose black high-heeled shoes with straps that wrapped around my ankles. When I finished my hair and makeup, he slowly massaged my still trembling body with perfumed skin cream, paying special attention to my breasts, my pussy, my ass and my inner thighs. He also spent a great deal of time caressing my lower back–he knew that I can climax just by being lightly stroked and tickled there. He then dressed me: pulling the nylons over my calves, up my thighs and attaching the stockings to the garter belt. He slipped the high heels on my feet, wrapping and buckling the straps around my ankles. Finally, he helped me put my dress on, stroking me as he wrapped the silken fabric around my body. He caressed my breasts through the dress, smiling in satisfaction as my nipples pressed through the material, plainly visible. He asked me to stroll back and forth across the room several times, smiling at the way that my breasts bounced and the way that the silk cupped my ass as I walked. It was in this condition that he took me to the club where he was performing, seated me at a table with friends and took the stage. It was a pleasant enough evening, and I was able to talk and laugh with our friends, but most of the time I listened to the music, feeling the bass reverberate through my body and thinking about my hungry pussy–and what I would do to my lover when I got him home that night. About an hour into the evening, I excused myself to use the ladies’ room. When I exited, I saw a man in the corridor, dressed in a black silk shirt, black leather jeans and black boots. His back was to me–he turned at the sound of my heels echoing on the tiled floor and slowly looked me up and down as I approached, a sensual, lazy smile–actually a leer–spreading across his face and he deliberately blocked my path. I asked him to excuse me, and he asked what I would give him in order to pass. I laughed and told him that I would give him nothing. He put a hand out and cupped my right breast, pinching the nipple sharply. When I opened my mouth to gasp at the sudden pain, he covered it with his own, his tongue aggressively exploring my mouth. Abruptly, he pulled me into the men’s room, locking the door behind us. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and stuffed it into my mouth. Holding my arms behind my back with one hand, he removed his belt with the other. Spinning me around, he bound my wrists with the belt and then released my arms.
He pinned me against the rough brick wall of the bathroom; I was facing away from him, my nipples brushing against the harsh surface, his body pressed firmly against mine, kissing the back of my neck while his hands traveled along my legs, slowly pulling up the skirt of my dress. When the blue silk was bunched up around my waist, he backed away slightly, pulling my ass toward him. His hands started to explore the globes of my ass, fingers traveling along the crevice dividing my buttocks, massaging my asshole roughly. Reaching further forward, he discovered my pussy, which was, by now, awash with my juices. Placing the thumb and forefinger of one hand on either side of my clit, he masturbated me, rubbing my little pleasure button back and forth while he finger-fucked my asshole with his other hand. My knees buckled as the waves of an orgasm swept over me, I caught myself against the wall with my arms, pushing myself against the stranger’s hands as they continued to manipulate me. As my climax subsided, my captor bent me over; I heard the sound of a zipper and in the next instant my pussy was filled with a hard cock. He fucked me roughly and insistently, never saying a word. The only sound was that of his massive cock churning in and out of my drenched pussy. When he came, his ejaculate filled me and streamed down my thighs. I came with him, my muscles contracting around him, squeezing his erection as if to milk the last possible drop of his semen.
After a moment, he stood me upright and removed the handkerchief from my mouth. He kissed me tenderly, sweetly, in sharp contrast to the manner in which he had so ruthlessly coupled with me just moments before. He then pushed down on my shoulders, forcing me to kneel before him. He stood with his feet planted wide, pelvis thrust forward, his arms folded over his chest. I knew full well what he wanted, but I paused for just a moment to admire for the first time the instrument of my subjugation, the instrument of my pleasure. It was breathtaking. Long, thick, crowned with a plum colored head, veins standing out in sharp relief, it pointed toward the ceiling.
I dallied too long in my admiration and I jumped in shock at the stinging slap that he delivered to the side of my face. He then grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me toward his rigid shaft, ordering me to lick his cock, his balls and his thighs clean. As I did so, I tasted the pre-cum which was oozing from the head of his cock as it spread over my tongue.
When I was finished, he pulled me to my feet and bent me over again. Taking my breasts in his hands, he roughly massaged them and pinched my nipples as he buried his cock in my pussy a second time. I quickly realized that he was only using my pussy as a means to lubricate his throbbing member. Seconds later, I felt the head of his massive erection poised at my asshole. He rammed himself into me, invading me, seemingly tearing me apart as he savagely fucked my tender anus while he twisted and pinched my nipples. I could feel his cock swell within me as he rammed his cock in and out, his hands still grasping my breasts. As I felt a third orgasm rising within me, I heard him give a voice to his own release. His creamy ejaculate filled my nether hole, trickling toward the opening of my pussy, and . . . I came again, my rectum squeezing him far more firmly and more tightly than my pussy had the first time he fucked me.
Once again, I leaned against the rough brick as he rested against me, both of us panting to catch our breath. He turned me to face him, kissing me again, his tongue tenderly exploring my mouth. “What shall I do with you?” he asked, jerking the end of the belt, still binding my hands, between my legs and over the lips of my pussy. I moaned aloud at the further stimulation of my swollen clit. “Maybe I’ll just leave you here tied to the toilet. You look quite delectable, you know; hair disheveled, your dress hanging open, exposing your tits, my cum running from your pussy and your asshole, trailing down your thighs. I doubt that anyone would release you, and I’m equally sure that any of the other men here tonight would be delighted to sample your charms, just as I have.” Panicked, I begged him to free me. Finally he relented, but not before he fucked my mouth, his hard cock forcing itself past the back of my throat while my lips and nose nestled in the dark nest of curls at his crotch. His hands gripped the sides of my face, fingers tangled in my hair as his erection churned between my lips and over my tongue. He ravaged my mouth for several minutes before he filled it with yet another batch of his hot seed. He gently lifted me to my feet and adjusted my clothing into some semblance of order. Once again, he kissed me gently, tenderly, with a sweetness that belied the earlier animalistic savagery of our fucking. And turning away from me, he unlocked the door and walked out of the men’s room without a word or a backward glance. I stumbled back into the ladies’ room to fix my hair and my makeup. Gazing at my reflection, I was struck by the erotic imagery presented in the mirror. My face was covered with white streaks of my nameless lover’s semen, my hair was tousled, my lips were swollen and slightly bruised. I gave off an aura of wild, animalistic passion. As I continued to stare at my reflection, I wiped some of the ejaculate coating my cheek with my finger and licked it off with my tongue. I felt as if I was looking at a stranger. I couldn’t believe the radical transformation I had undergone at the hands of this man. I washed my face, brushed out my hair, repaired my makeup and returned to the table just as the band was taking a break. My lover kissed me lightly on the lips and asked if I was having a good time. Without waiting for an answer, he told me that he wanted to introduce me to an old friend–a fraternity brother in fact. I’m sure you know who it was. The man who had just spent the last 45 minutes exploring and invading every orifice of my body with his cock and his fingers was smiling at me as if meeting me for the first time. I did my best to hide my confusion and sat quietly between my lover and my violator as they reminisced over old times. I learned that they had shared a room at their fraternity house. They took many of the same classes together so that they could share books and notes. They even bought a car together and split the expenses for gas and upkeep. Of course, they double-dated frequently–but group dating was popular when they were in school. As the band took the stage to play their last set of the evening, my lover invited his friend to sit with the rest of us–and instructed me to take care of him. “I’m sure she will, ” said his friend. And we sat at the table for the rest of the evening, the stranger’s hand under my skirt, fingering my pussy and my clit, keeping me just on the edge of yet another orgasm. As the club was closing, and the group at my table bid each other good night, his friend leaned over to kiss my cheek, as chastely as a schoolboy. “We’re going to be very good friends, my dear, ” he whispered in my ear. “Very good friends indeed.” And so, I’m sure that it will come as no surprise to learn that I’m no longer with my lover from a year ago. His fraternity brother doesn’t believe in sharing the way that he used to.
Published
