This sound woke me up, banging against the wall, and I thought it was a branch, or something.
I was having this dream, where I was back home, and the wind was blowing. Making the tree beat the against the wood siding, but it sounded wrong. So then I woke up.
In my room, at my dad’s apartment. It was weird, because I hadn’t spent the night there before. He was taking me to church in the morning, and it was close to midnight, but the knocking continued.
So, I got up to look out the window, and saw a rope ladder swinging. I looked up, but with the window closed, I couldn’t see much of anything but the blinds. So, I pulled those up, and wide awake, I undid the latch at the top.
It only opened a couple of inches before it got stuck, so I had to wiggle it, and a shoe appeared right in front of me. Felt a rung, and put her weight on it, but she kept climbing down, so I saw her mini-skirt next. Then, a really low cut top, until her face appeared.
Looking down over her shoulder to find another rung, she stepped down, and the ladder pulled straight. I got down to the bottom of the window. “Sneaking out, huh!”
She stopped, and leaned out to look down. Squinting, her knees were right in front of the window sill. “Who’s in there?”
“I’m,” I spoke up, before I thought up a good name, “Janet.”
“Oh,” she climbed down, “You must be Mr. Hernandezes, daughter. Sierra?”
I nodded, “Yeah,” a little ashamed of getting caught in a lie so easily, but she couldn’t see me. I’m half Bolivian, but my mom’s Danish. So, I’ve got straight black hair, and eyes with freckles, but they’re brown. I tan well, but that just makes my freckles bigger, and darker, so I don’t. She climbed down, so she could whisper through the window. “I’m going to hook up with my boyfriend, and his friends. You wanna come?”
Now, I’d like to think of myself as a good Christian girl, but I’m not. I never even tried anything like this before, but only because I hadn’t gotten the chance. “How many friends?”
“I don’t know,” she shook her head, and kept climbing down. Obviously, her father didn’t know she was sneaking out this late, dressed like that, but she said hookup, which ment sex. Group sex by the sound of it, so I quick grabbed some clothes, and shook the window so it got unstuck enough to pull up.
All I had on was my night shirt, and a pair of panties. So, I put on my Sunday dress, and tennis shoes. I found out right away why it took so long for her to climb down. It’s not like a regular ladder, because the rungs swing around, so they’re not where you’d expect them be, and if you don’t put your foot down in the middle, you can slip, but it was only a couple stories to get down to the alley.
I didn’t look down, but I wasn’t expecting her to be waiting alone, with her face lit up by her phone. “He’ll be here in a minute.”
“Your boyfriend? Just him?” I hoped, for a minute there, that we’d just get to do a threesome, and I don’t know. Maybe I’d get my panties down to get eaten out. I’m not a total virgin, I hadn’t gone all the way, but I had done hand jobs, finger bangs, and oral sex.
“Yeah, he’s giving me a ride to the party.”
“Oh,” I nodded, and took a breath of relief. I just assumed since she was dressed so much like a whore that we’re talking about some sort of group sex outdoors. Okay, my imagination ran wild, fueled by Pornohub mostly. That was my favorite video lately. This skinny little white girl in a string bikini on the beach, getting gangbanged by tanned hunky strangers on a blanket.
“Huh!” I fanned my neck. “Nice night.”
“You smoke?”
“Oh,” I reached for my purse, before I realized that I forgot it. “Yeah, but I don’t have any with me.” I sure wasn’t climbing back up, and back down again, but I toyed with the thought of just throwing her a cigarette down, then going back to bed. That’s what I should have done, what a good Christian girl should do, but “They gonna have alcohol there?”
“Probably beers, you drink beer?” I shook my head, but when guys get drunk… “Smoke weed?”
“Oh, no. I guess I could try it. I never really got the chance,” I lied, I had plenty of chances before, but I never liked the way it smelled like burning carpet. “I live in the suburbs.” I looked up the side of the alley. “Well, usually. I grew up in the suburbs, but I’m spending the weekend with my dad.”
“Yeah,” she rolled her eyes, “He told my dad all about the divorce. She really took him to the cleaners, huh?”
“No?”
“Well, if she left him any money, he wouldn’t be living in a shithole like this.”
“Oh, I guess you’re right.”
“It’s okay, he deserves it for cheating on her.” I shook my head. “Oh, you didn’t know about that either? Yeah, he brags about that all the time.”
“To you?”
“My dad,”
“Oh,” I was starting to feel mad, not at her, but because my dad turned out to be a latino stereotype. She was the only one there, but she was just telling me the truth. Don’t kill the messenger, but honestly I didn’t want to know. “Huh, you’d think that if he kept it from me so well, he wouldn’t have gotten caught.”
“Well, he should have washed his own clothes, so your mom didn’t smell their perfume on them, that’s a dead giveaway.”
“My dad told you that?”
“No, your mom. She wouldn’t shut up about it, honestly.”
“Oh,” of course she had been over here. I wasn’t there when she met the neighbors, and she had to vent, but she hadn’t to me. At least not that part of it, she called it a shithole too, but she had to get him to sign one of his alimony checks. If I do come over here to live with him, at least that’s not child support, and alimony, but she got the house. Okay, it was her mom, and dad’s house, but he got the car. “You mind talking about something else, besides the divorce.”
“Oh, sorry. Listen to me, you’re probably still broken up ab; Sorry, let me stop.”
“Thanks.” She went back to her phone, so I came around to look over her shoulder. She’s really short.
[Where TF RU!?] That kind of stuff.
[Right around the corner, babe. Be right there.]
“What’s he like?”
“Scott?” I nodded, “Anal, mostly.” I was so shocked, she just dropped that like a turd on the breakfast table. “All kinds of stuff, but I’m pretty sure that’s his favorite.” She looked back down, back and forth over my face, and turned the phone around to light up my expression. Then, she tilted it down to look at what I was wearing. It was really dark in the alley, with all the lights off in both buildings. I couldn’t help feeling her judge me, but I know how I look.
I’m really self conscious of my freckles, because I’ve seen how people frown when they look at them, so I know they don’t like them. Usually, I wear this liquid foundation as a concealer, but I didn’t bother with that tonight, and again. I could kick myself for leaving my purse upstairs.
“We better go, now.” She put her phone up, in her purse, so I followed her to the end of alley, where a car was pulled up. The engine running, and the window rolled down. “Hey boys,” she started shaking her hips, and leaned over the window, in that low cut top. “Lookin for a good time?”
“Just get in, we’re late.”
“I hope you don’t mind, I brought a friend.” She opened the door, “come on.” Waved me over. “Janet, this is my boyfriend Scott. Scott, this is Janet.”
“Where’s Brad?” Another boy stuck his head out, between the seats, and laughed.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Any brad on this side of town. Honestly, it’s practically downtown, but not close enough to any of the nice neighborhoods.
“Never mind,” the back door opened, “Get in.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this, getting in a strange man’s car, and oh yeah. Sylvie’s a little older than me, but her boyfriend. All 3 boys really, they’re like college age. “You never seen Rocky Horror?”
“Oh, the Picture Show? No, but I’ve seen commercials for it on VH1. It’s some kind of Musical?”
“Virgin,” I crossed my arms and legs. “No, that’s just what we call kids that never been to it. They’re playing it at the Rialto, if you want to go see it.”
“That’s Friday night,” Scott just drove the car, but fast. Almost like a race car, but he did say we’re late for the party.
“So, Janet.” The boy next to me looked at my face. Over my nose, and cheekbones, making me blush. “Are you black Irish?”
“No, Bolivian, and Danish. I got my father’s hair and eyes, but the freckles are from my mom’s side.”
“Well, that’s a pretty interesting mix. I’m Mexican, but my family immigrated from Vera Cruz in the 80s. So, Mexican American.”
“Spanish Catholic?”
“Misiones Católicas.” American accent, even in Spanish.
“Where do you go to church?”
We kept talking back and forth, across from the boy in the middle. Well, man in the middle. College guys, old enough to buy beer at least. I relaxed a little, talking to another Spanish Catholic, who might go to my church. Or my Papi’s church, which might not be a good thing. Now that I think about it.
“Oh, Santiago Mission Church, but I don’t go there no more.”
“Oh,” good, “Okay.” If my father found out that I even got this far, he’d probably put bars up over my window. Like the windows around the floor of the alley, I couldn’t tell by the light of Sylvie’s phone, but I think they were boarded up, and broken too.
A rough neighborhood, I knew better than to be out in, alone with strangers, after dark. I kept flipflopping between excited, and ashamed. Nervous to almost afraid of what might happen, because I liked to think of myself as a little naughty, but also so sheltered that I didn’t even know that I was that sheltered.
A little naughty, and dirty compared with the girls at school, and church. It was just a little naughty watching that bleach blonde on the beach, with the neat triangle of black pubic hair, and judging her a whore for being so slutty. Even as I got aroused, and my hands dirty, watching her surrounded by all those big dicks.
It wasn’t far around the downtown loop, but just one Exit. I saw the sign for ## State University Campus before we turned off, but we drove around to a building. Behind it, where there was a dead-end alley, and a sort of loading dock. We got out, and I could just barely hear music. Just the bass thumping through the ground, but I stopped for fresh air in the smoky car.
Sylvie bummed a cigarette, and smoked it as soon as we got in, but my window didn’t work, and I was too shy to ask anyone to roll there’s down. There wasn’t no Bouncer nor anyone outside, and the door was unlocked. The music got louder, pounding through the door, and my temporary relief at getting out of the crowded car was replaced by nervousness, when Scott pulled up a gate.
The elevator was pretty crowded too, but it was one of those cargo ones, and I spotted a map of the Fire Escapes in the hallway. It was shaped like a giant H, with the entrance up front, and the alley back between the wings. A You are Here arrow, and the stairwell right across the hall from the elevator.
I jumped when the gate crashed down again, and Sylvie grabbed my arm. “Relax,” she took my hand, and squeezed it. “It’ll be okay, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” She let go, and slipped her pinky down to hook mine. “I promise.”
That helped a little, but then we started moving down. The pulse got louder, and I immediately felt hotter. The flames licking up under the floorboards as we descended into hell, but I tried to swallow my heart, and nodded.
When I said we descended into hell, I wasn’t really exaggerating. Honestly, we were late, real late, so most of the shows were over but it wasn’t just me. It was a boiler room, with a furnace, and steam pipes up to the rest of the building. So, it was extremely hot, and the mugginess didn’t help, but as soon as the floor rolled up in front of the gate, I got hit with the smell of sweaty bodies, and all the treble that the concrete filtered out.
It was like a nightclub, a sex club with a bar, and a black guy holding a leash. That’s the first thing I saw, his girlfriend just nodding, and chatting. Sipping a drink, while he leaned over to shout something in her ear.
I leaned over to Sylvia.
“What?” It was loud in there, so I had to shout.
“Is that a dog collar?” I pointed, but she pulled my hand down. Okay, it’s not polite to point, but then this woman walked by in fishnets, thigh high heeled boots, a corset, with her bare boobs pushed up, and a whip over her shoulder.
“No, that means she’s his slave.”
“Oh.” I had no idea what I was getting into. Maybe a kegger, or at worst a palate party out in the woods. The rednecks stole palates from behind stores, for firewood, and parked their trucks around it, so they could turn on their headlights. Blast country music, and try to drown out each other’s trucks, some of which had Marshall stacks in the back, but that was mostly the metalheads.
You had to watch out for them. The rednecks, and the metalheads bending over to dig down to the bottom of and cooler and find a wine cooler under all the cans of Bud Light, Keystone, and Natural Light. BYOB, but of course they brought girl drinks to loosen up your underwear. You could get groped, but this.
This was a whole new world of sin, and debauchery. Instead of showing off who had the loudest stereo, and the loudest music, they competed with who could put on the best show. BDSMers, with sex slaves, but I guess if you’re a black guy. Growing up around here, then you might like the idea of having a little white girl as a sex slave. Yaknow?
“Come on, I know exactly what you need.” Sylvie kissed her boyfriend, and Scott said “I’m just going to look around.” He must be some boyfriend, if she’s just going to let him go off, on his own, in a crowd like this.
“What, where are we going?”
“The hot seat,” she just giggled, but she didn’t say any more.
;
“Janet” (ffM Anon)
Thank God she took me down a hall, and into another room, around the corner. The music was muffled, but still loud enough for me to recognize 1 song. Dragula by Rob Zombie, or White Zombie. I couldn’t really tell the difference which version, but I just felt adventurous hanging around Metalheads, with Satanic symbols on their Slayer shirts.
Then, I somehow found myself lured off to some little pit o’ hell, in the middle of the night. I crossed myself.
“So,” she turned around, “It looks like we have a minute.”
I wiggled my pinkies in my ears. “I think I’m a little deaf.”
“Forgive me for just assuming, but how much of a virgin are you?”
“Huh!” I looked up, and turned away. “I don’t know, I don’t even know any more. I certainly haven’t even imagined myself, having rough sex.”
The ceilings were high down here, but only because they didn’t have those foam boards, hanging from a lattice of angle iron. So, the pipes, and ducts were easier to get to, for the workmen I assumed. I know, I’m consciously trying to think of something else, besides where I am, and what I might get myself talked into, by this succubus I barely even met.
“How can you not know? Either you had sex, or you haven’t.”
“Does oral sex count? My friends say it doesn’t, but I never really believed that.” I confessed, and I was forgiven, but I still feel pretty guilty, and that was even a turnon. Almost like cheating on God, and being forgiven by Jesus.
“Fuck, you’re adorably innocent, you know that?”
“Oh, you’re not.” I was about to say gay, but she had a boyfriend, that took her to college sex parties, so. “Bisexual?”
“Heteroflexible, but I’m not hitting on you. I just have to know, but I’m not throwing you to the wolves.”
“So, what are we doing in here?”
“Oh,” I tensed up when she touched my arm. “Turn around, and let me show you.” She held my shoulder, but gently, so it felt more like a hug than. Well, her holding me, sexually. Holding my arms so I couldn’t struggle, and fight back, but whenever the videos got too rough. I mean, like one man holding her head down with his foot on her face, or squeezing her neck hard enough to make her face turn red, so it looked like she was getting strangled.
I blinked, and shook my head. Normally, I could just go back, and pick another video. Hopefully one where the men weren’t too rough with her, but by now. My favorite keyword was gangbanged. Not just because that had the best selection of bodies, and junk. Not any more.
She just waved her hand at this cabinet. A steel cabinet, like the one your dad would lock up his tools in. (When my dad still had a garage, and a yard. Instead of a storage locker to put his tools in.) “Huh!” There was this diamond sticker, with a red cartoon flame, and some numbers on it. So, flammable. .
Then, I saw a little circle of electrical tape down low, around a hole cut out, and it didn’t take more than a second or 2 to figure out what that was for. “So, this is what you thought I needed?”
“The hot seat, he can’t get out, so you don’t have to be scared of him, but you can do whatever you want to him.”
“Then why do you call it the hot seat?”
“Oh,” she let me go to walk over, and demonstrate. “There’s a ladder up the side here.” She reached up to flip up a toilet seat on top.
“Oh,” I walked over, and saw the bars welded to the side of the cabinet. I kept thinking the word Safe. Safe sex, but also the pun is it wasn’t really a safe. It was more like a locker to keep your flammable stuff safe, but you could shove a boy in there, and bully him. I climbed up the bent rebar, on the bottom to look over the top, and saw the hole in the roof. Right under the toilet seat someone was thoughtful enough to bolt down. “So, we lock up a boy, I mean a man.” I shook my head, “It’s silly to call them boys, when they’re obviously college guys.”
She nodded. Patiently.
“And we can do whatever we want to, to them?”
“Yeah, you think you can handle that?”
“Oh yeah. You’re right, that’s exactly what I needed. So, I guess you can go out, and find. Scott?”
“Oh, thanks for reminding me.” She got out her phone. “I better see what he’s up to, but we bang all the time. There’s no use coming to a party like this, just to get the same old, same old.” She shrugged. I stepped back down, to see.
“So, what is he up to?”
He sent her a selfie, with his arm around the lady with the whip over her shoulder. I couldn’t see it in the photo, but she walked right in front of the elevator when he pulled the gate up. Her tits still sticking out of the front of her black shiny tight corset, how does she breathe in that thing?
[Yeah, go right ahead.] She texted back.
“So, you guys have an open relationship?”
“Huh, it’s not that serious, yet. I mean, I hope we get more serious, but even if I move out to live with him.” She shook her head, and rolled her eyes. Turning around, and stepping back to think. “It’s complicated, okay?” I nodded, but I was just glad to hear her open up. Also, I had so many questions, like that girl I saw. “When I say he can see other people, I mean it. Just as long as he asks first.”
Right after I saw her boyfriend holding the leash, I followed it down, and right back up to her neck. Other than that, they just looked like normal people. Yeah, an interracial couple, and that’s not unheard of, but I kinda have to wonder what she gets out of it? Other than presumably a big black dick, I mean he looks like a baskeball player. If that’s not too racist, but I mean compared with a football player, he’s tall, and skinny. So, I can imagine he’s got a long skinny black dick.
She doesn’t have to let him take her out, and lead her around on a leash in public just to get that, though. I’m sure that if she dressed a little less modestly, looking like that, she could find plenty of men. Even black men to give it to her, but she told me that. It marks her as his slave, and again I could understand his side of it, a little better. I think, it just makes sense that he wouldn’t want to play the slave, in chains in their sex games, but what about her? What attracts a little white girl to a guy, when she knows he just wants to make her a sex slave, and do his bidding?
I guess I’m just not submissive, that way. I just never explored that whole dominant, and submissive scene, vicariously on the internet. If the video said something like Punished, then I just kept looking for one that looked more like my kinda thing. I liked gangbangs, in theory, but I didn’t even want to watch another girl get gangraped. No matter how much she seemed to like it, and even knowing it’s not real. Just acting, you know they’re not really virgins, and most of them aren’t even real lesbians, either. At least so I hear.
But then, Sylvia got interrupted, looking for somebody to invite back to the hot seat over her phone. She didn’t leave me alone, which I’m so grateful for, but then I jumped when I heard another sound. Like her rope ladder banging against the bricks outside my window, but this was a metallic clang, then a jingle of keys, or maybe chains being dragged across the floor.
“Huh!” I just patted my chest, and tried to catch my breath.
“Hello, is there anyone in there?” I heard through the cabinet, and he sounded like a boy. I mean a scared little boy. I started to giggle a little, but only because he said it like a Pink Floyd lyric.
“Yeah,”
“A girl?”
“Just us girls, but there’s 2 of us.” Sylvie did all the talking.
“No guys though.”
“No, just us girls,” she repeated, and I managed to swallow my heart. Push it back down my throat so I could whisper.
‘he sounds just as scared as me?’ she nodded, but then I saw a flash of skin through the vents on top. Bent out, like the louvers on the bonnet of a Morgan. I shook my head (A friend of my dad bought a Morgan. Brand new, and payed for it to be shipped all the way from England. He called them Louvers, and a Bonnet, because it’s British. He was really proud of it, but dad said that if he was spending that kinda money on a car without a roof, he’d get a Cater Ham. Whatever that means.)
She turned, and pulled up the front of her dress. She didn’t have to pull it up very far, it was that short, but then she said. “Go on,” gently, “Don’t be shy.”
I thought she was talking to me, so I shrugged, and pulled my dress off over my head. “Huh!” Intensely aware of the fact that I didn’t have a bra on. Well, I chose quick, to leave it off in a hurry to climb down after her, I just pulled off my nightshirt, and grabbed my Sunday dress, layed out to put on in the morning. To go to church, meet my father’s, and I giggled.
I didn’t even hear his zipper come down, but then he flopped it out the hole in the front. “Oh, my God. I’m gonna have so much to confess in the morning!”
“What’s wrong, faggot?” She snapped, “Don’t you like tits, and pussy?”
“Sh!” I grabbed her arm, ‘Sylvie?’
“Uh, he likes it. Don’t you, you little worm.”
“I’m not gay.” That’s all he said. Call him whatever you want, just as long as you know he’s not a homo.
“Oh,” she was so nice, and then she was so mean, but. “It just surprised me.”
“You better let me do the talking, but what do you want? Heads?” she pointed, “Or tails?”
“Let me handle the little puppydog tail.” I giggled. I knew what to do with that, and somebody was nice enough to put down a kneeler of sorts? I don’t know, it was just this blue plastic pad, I think it came off the seat of a chair, but I knew how to use a kneeler.
“Oh, it’s kinda cute.” I felt it. “Don’t worry, I don’t really like a boy with too much.” I looked up at his eyes, petting it, and they were wide open.
“Huh!” He was panting too.
“You know, most girls want a big one, even a big black one, but not me.” I shrugged, “Maybe when I’m a little older. Huh. I’m still a virgin.” I looked up, shyly.
“Uh huh!” He’s such a good listener.
“Dude,” Sylvie’s legs hung down, and she kicked her heels into the door with a loud bang. “Shut up, and lick my muff.” She pointed down. “Come on, man. You want me to draw you a map! Uhn!” He must have found the right spot. “Yeah right, huh!” She squirmed around, but it practically sprang to life right in my hands. I wasn’t really paying attention, but then it slipped out of my thumbs, and hit the cold grey painted metal.
“Oh,” I grabbed it. “You like it rough?”
“Uphphbt!” He blew a razzberry, and I couldn’t help giggling, but he turned out to be a grower, not a shower. Also, I thought maybe he wanted me to make fun of him, right? I didn’t really have anything else to talk about, his eyes? It was dark in that cabinet, so I couldn’t even tell you what color they were, but I just shrugged, and stopped trying to figure it out.
I can’t really relate. I guess because I have plenty of rules in my every day life. I tried pushing those boundries, but I never actually broke them. Not this hard, but now I could do whatever I liked, and I didn’t know what he wanted. Not really, but Sylvia was so nice, and experienced, and she could really get wicked with her sharp tongue, but I think he agreed with her.
Honestly, I know it’s really racist, but I like white guys because they have more money, they can get good jobs, and live in nice neighborhoods. While my dad, who used to be a Professor of Antiquites at a college in Cochabamba. That qualified him to dig ditches, because the rednecks either don’t know the difference between an archaeologist, and a curator at a museum, or they didn’t care because they’re fucking racists. he had a lot of money saved up, so he invested that instead, but then mom helped him manage his money, and helped herself to it…
You try and find a latino boy that can get it up, tied down, and beaten while you yell hateful things at him in real life. I guess when I’m a little older, I can dress up like Morticia. I didn’t find out till later that white boys don’t need to get on a power trip, because for them, that’s a Tuesday.
He didn’t say much, but this isn’t really a good way to get to know a boy. Which made me feel slutty, because I don’t even know what he looks like. White, circumcised, a little more than a handful, and that’s about it. He was willing to put up with this for a hand job, so I gave it to him, but gripping it tighter, and yanking it harder than I ever dared to. I’m sure I’m not strong enough to literally yank it off, so I didn’t have to hold back, and all this.
Fear, nervousness, self conscious insecurities, shame, dirty glimpses into a world I didn’t even want to think about existing, and confusion at people acting so submissive, I just couldn’t understand it.
Beat him, punish him, and hurt him? Oh yeah, I learned that I can do that. It was surprisingly easy!
“Uph phugh! UH!” He stopped tongue lashing Sylvie, and yelled so loud, it didn’t scare me, but it kinda sounded distant. It wasn’t, he was literally right there with nothing but a thin piece of sheet metal between us, but then the world started closing in.
Not claustrophobically, like it was in the car, and the elevator cage. The walls went away, and I couldn’t even hear the music any more. Just his breathing, and a circle closing around my fist.
The head of his cock swelling, the bright white drops shining, and spinning out to split, and splat on my lap in slow motion, until it all just snapped, and went back to normal.
“Huh!” I shook my head, and let go. Blinking, and feeling the spooge run down the back of my thumb. The inside of my wrist. “Hhuh!” That was easily the best 5 hand jobs in my life put together. I closed my eyes, but it was almost orgasmic? No, I shook my head, and felt drunk with the pleasure I get. Sometimes after a good cum, when the spasms die down, and it’s just a gentle warm glow all through my body. “Huh!” That, only without the orgasm.
“Get out of here, you worthless piece of shit.” She hopped down right next to me. It was only about 5 feet. “Go eat a dick, and see if you can do anything with that. Selfish fucking pricks. As soon as you get them off, they’re all the.” The door slammed in the other room, and Syvlie’s face broke out in a dirty grin! “Ihnehahuh!” We giggled together.
“How was that?” I really wanted to know if she thought I did pretty good my first time.
“Sorry, I wasn’t really paying attention, but how was it for you?”
“Oh my God, it’s amazing. I’m still tingling all over.” Also, I’ve got his orgasmic juices running down my legs since I stood up, so that made me shiver. “It’s almost as good as sex!”
“How would you know?” she shoved me, gently. “Virgin.”
“Whore!” I pushed her back.
“Nahaha! Well, you better take the hot seat for me next time. Now I really need some dick!”
Too bad the next guy that came in was gay, so we had to go out to the party, and look around for some poor guy to punish together.
We stopped to push some couples out of the corner, to see Scott getting pegged on the floor. His knees got pretty busted up on the bare concrete, but she didn’t whip him. I didn’t see where the whip went after she had it when we showed up, but “He really likes that!”
“What?”
“WHEN YOU SAID HE LIKED ANAL!”
“Ha!” She laughed, and nodded. I had to pull her back, somewhere the music wasn’t too loud to talk.
Shaking my fists excitedly. “You ever do that to him?”
“Huh!” She rolled her eyes, and shook her head, with a dirty smirk. “Not really.”
“How do you not really sodomize your boyfriend with a strapon? That’s like not really being a virgin.”
“I don’t really like giving it as much as receiving.”
“So, you do.” Like anal.
“Yeah! It might look like fun, but it kills your back.”
“Oh!” I thought, “Maybe that corset helps, like a weight belt?” the other couples just gathered back around when we left a space for them, to cheer him on. Take it! Yeah, take it like a man!
“Yeah, and she’s got to have a strong back just to carry that rack around all the time.” We laughed, but I was getting the hang of this. Saying the things out loud, that I kept to myself. If you don’t have anything nice to say, I wasn’t one of the mean girls that set out to find girls like me, and hurt my feelings. Humiliate you in public, because you’re too much of a coward to fight back.
I didn’t like it, but how should I know that there were real men out there, in the real world than not only like you talking dirty, but making fun of their dick sizes, making them feel gay, bending them over and pounding their assholes with strapons? Okay, I thought that was a lesbian thing, but honestly, if they’re gay. They could find a man to sodomize them, easily. But what if you’re not?
I still don’t understand it, because honestly I am submissive. Too submissive, in my every day life. That’s not a turnon, that’s just normal. That just made me save up all the worst things I could think of, but never say. Not out loud, not to their face, not until I found a boy that liked it. He loved it, he couldn’t get enough of it, he got off on it, and begged me for more.
But that’s a whole nother story…
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