I was saddened the other day by my state of health and life. Noticed how everywhere my mind turned, there was stuff from the past. I wanted to leave. But where? I had definitely lost a lot of my life, self-image, etc. There was little to do. Did I want to be gone for good? Sort of. So I had to do atleast one thing before "end-it."
Then, through my eyes, I wanted to be real mistreated. I knew two people I had especially wanted -- Jason and Paul. Jason was the little long haired one, my age, and no where to be found. Real thin with blonde hair. I had been around him before. He really disliked me, which made me want him more. Jason was a real pretty boy; perhaps in some opinions my feelings for him wouldn't be considered genuine homosexual desire, which I would disagree with. He had an older brother, Paul, who looked real curly and somewhat jewish. I had sexual fantasies about both of them. I was the aggressive person in my fantasies with Jason. Paul, on the other hand, could take me.
So with my ultimate desire and, sadly enough, the lament of the future I called Paul (his number sure was long awaited for.) He wasn't very receptive at first. How was he supposed to react? I was very blunt; told him about how I knew his brother, and said a few things before asking him if he would date/see me for a night, in a real mousy voice no less. It was a struggle at first -- I begged him not to hang up. He agreed when I told him I was very masochist, somewhat jokingly. I assured Paul: "No one would know!" Told a place to meet. Then the conversation ended. With the call, my lust definitely became apparent! I could feel the blood rush to my head; this was definitely the worst thing I could imagine, and I wanted it even more! Would I sleep that night?
Tomorrow came. We met at the decided place. Only Paul was there. His black curly hair, his build, his six foot two tallness, everything swept me over. I'd be his little whore (no charge!), him well aware of it being only a one night event. Should I feel any care for the value placed upon it? None whatsoever!
It was, expectedly, real quiet during the car ride. He didn't smile much. Made some small talk along with toke. Then he smiled once at me that just made me feel all melty; the way lust should feel for a person, atleast for me, anyway. It was all right, he silently seemed to tell me. The value of the event really didn't matter for anything because we knew the nature of the event it was in the first place. There was no stigma attached. I could condone whatever would...
Into my house we went. We drank some wine but not to the point of being trashed. He then put his hands on my ass. Quick to the point, which made me want him more. It had been years (really)! I didn't know what to expect. He definitely didn't "love" me. But I could replace love with what he was going to give me: Some real sadistic sex from his side!
I guided him to my room. We sat on my bed. "Take my clothes off," he said, with a slight giggle. I did, and his under shorts with my teeth. He started petting my head. He had a real arousing smell. I took my clothes off. We sat cuddled together, mainly necking. We knew what would come next. He put his hands on my head and [forcefully] guided me down to his cock. His hair tickled my cheeks. His cock, erect, was a little more than six inches. I put about 2 inches of it in my mouth, then he pushed my head forward toward him. I gagged, but he wouldn't allow me to move away. I was frightened, but finally he eased up a little, sensing my choke. I then applied some heavy tongue action: He moaned, sighed, loved every bit of my naval cavity. Even took his forceful hands away from my head and put them on my back for a bit.
When sensing climax he became very aggressive. Grabbed the back of my head by both hands, and thrust my head back and forth. I was really taking it in the back of my mouth. He was real near, so I lightly tickled his scrotum. His load coated the back of my throat. I went to kiss him -- put some of it in his mouth -- but he didn't fancy that.
I was done with the suck. Paul looked at me with a hint of evil in his eyes. He told me to move with him to the couch and lie down across him. He wanted a few whacks on my ass. I was perfectly willing to oblige. I wanted to be his little doll, his play toy, his slut. The pain didn't bother me at all, and made me feel even more protected by this beautiful man. Burning hot red, I was ready for whatever else he had planned for my behind. Around swat thirty I asked him to stop, and with a few more he did. It was real special for me -- something I had always wanted to experience, so wicked. I loved his hands as they seemed so specially crafted. When he was done swatting he took to playing with my ass, and with that came his fingers and lube. It was sharp at first, but he wanted to prepare me for what was to come next. I couldn't believe how unreal it did feel. I loved all the feelings he gave me: I was, temporarily, his possession, and with that sense came feeling cared for. I knew I was little to him, but there was no matter left anymore.
Paul told me to get up from his lap. He guided me to the bed, finally deeply kissing my mouth. I was marked red all over and he was too. We lied in the bed, facing each other, continuing our kissing while Paul continued to finger me. "Relax," he said in my ear. "I like you and I'm glad you did call. You seem pretty tight, too." I told him he would swipe my virginity; I was beyond the point of caring.
Swipe he did! Before I knew it, he had placed a pillow under my thighs and crotch. He positioned himself over me and before I knew it, he plunged his member deep within me. I cried out! "Go back! Go back!" I begged. There was no stopping Paul. He grabbed my neck in a lock. With the whispering of "Bitch" in my ear came the pleasure from the pain. I started to move back and fourth to reach him in his thrusts. I loved every bit of it. "Oh god." My head was elsewhere, somewhere inside a dark pool of sensation that felt so deliciously twisted. It certainly felt evil, adding more to my utmost lust for this man. Finally my cherry was being taken, and during those moments (in and out of what seemed to be a prolonged orgasm) a godlike form hovered over me, no longer Paul, but one gigantic force comforting me: For all the dark past, comes the light happening now. He started to lick my ears; I came. That tightened me up even more, and Paul was loving it. He moved his arms around my chest and ribs, and really brought me close. We were wrapped together. Deeply enjoyable was the feeling of his scrotum rubbing against me. We met in a kiss, and his thrusts became even more pleasure provoking. Burning hot and seating all over, his moans in my ear, I came once again. Paul didn't let up! Finally, after what seemed to be hours but was probably only ten minutes, he came deep inside of me: A hot, burning liquid.
I got up, my ass definitely broken and bleeding a bit. We hugged and I told him how much I wanted a relationship with him. He shook his head tauntingly. A real kid at heart. We cuddled for a bit. When he became erect again, he told me he wanted to take me doggy style. I positioned myself all fours on the ground. He wasted no time and quickly had his hands on my shoulders, pushing me back on his thrusts. He came quickly, I didn't.
He left later that night. We didn't say much. Considering it a stand pretty much came to reason. Did it bother me? Not much. I couldn't be philosophical about it; it's nature was pretty hard to avoid. But I felt rewarded in that it did happen and that I could indeed take such treatment. In the following weeks, depression and the emptiness that he could only fill. I'll remember it. Some day, again, Paul....
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