[MF] [long post] [exhibition] [rough] Hanging Out In An Abandoned Building

CW: vague coercion + edgy teenagers

**PRECURSOR TO THE STORY**
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For visual reference, I’m tiny. I’m a 5’2 girl. Also, I’m a sensation seeker, or maybe “an adrenaline junkie”.

I’ve loved being in abandoned buildings for a long time: they’re a very unique space, eerily silent, and remind me of graveyards. Breaking into them is obviously a fun high for me. The first occasion on which I ever broke into one was in the 11th grade: I was with my (now ex) boyfriend. It was a partially burned-down house, and I was struck by all the personal belongings that had been left behind; I was wandering around lost deep in thought, but my boyfriend kept trying to get his hands up my shirt. I was annoyed and disgusted, (guess I just didn’t like him enough…) and broke up with him within the next few weeks. I continued loving and exploring abandoned buildings, though, usually alone.

Flash-forward two years and I’m in college. I meet a weird, alluring guy at a philosophy club gathering (cringe). Let’s call him Jack. He’s maybe 6′, wiry, has a face like [young Tom Cruise](http://www.usmilitariaforum.com/uploads//monthly_04_2016/post-34986-0-64059100-1460176959.jpg), and is very attractive (if a little bit strangely proportioned: narrow chest, longish arms). His stare is unsettling and intense, and I immediately have the urge to impress him. We argue heatedly about whether the human race is “progressing or regressing”, and later in the hallway he tells me he “hopes to see me around” with a sly grin and an intrigued, hungry look in his eyes.

Over the next few weeks, we don’t see each other much, but he memorizes my phone number by glancing at my contacts while I’m trying to call someone. He adds me on facebook, uses my email address to find my old tumblr account, and basically stalks the shit out of me on the internet in any way possible (I find out about this later; when I find out, his obsessiveness only makes me want him more). He doesn’t actually own a phone, so he calls me from payphones. He messages me on tumblr, but I barely use that site and accidentally ignore him for months. Finally, towards the end of the summer, I message him back and we start spending *a lot* of time together. Despite that, until this story, we never even come close to having sex or talking about it.

**””INTERESTING”” PART**
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When classes start up again, I half-expect not to see him anymore. I know he’s taking a gap year. But lo and behold, Jack starts showing up between my classes (I will never know how he knew what my schedule was) despite not actually attending my college anymore. His determination to see me practically makes me worship him, and I want to fuck him like you would not believe. He’s very into my interest in abandoned buildings, so one morning after an 8.00am class, we go visit a massive abandoned factory nearby, where I’ve been passively snooping around for a few weeks.

We find a way in; it involves crawling through a hole torn in a tin wall about 8 metres off the ground (yep). We wander around for a while, exploring with no real trajectory in mind. Eventually, we stumble upon a massive room: it’s in the center of the building, so there are no windows and it’s *pitch fucking black*. Thankfully, we have a flashlight, and we find a very tall spiral stairwell and make our way up it. Both of us are mostly silent. I can feel some kind of tension: my heart is pounding away in my throat and I feel kind of dizzy, and I am 100% sure that it is entirely because of him.

We get to the end of the staircase. Three short ladders welded together reach even higher, leaning precariously over the threateningly deep dark stairwell. We laugh, say fuck safety, and climb. I go first, and I’m greeted by a floor, a ceiling, and only one wall: the city is laid out before me. The highway arches past, only a couple hundred meters away. Down below, people are walking by. Some are sitting down in a nearby park. The height feels insane: we’re maybe 50 m off the ground, and standing near the edge is exhilarating. I’m excited as fuck, and can feel myself getting wet.

I turn back towards the hole in the floor I had just crawled out of just as Jack is emerging. As I’ve said, the most unnerving thing about this guy is his unwavering stare; to look at him is to be eye fucked. Making eye contact with him, I take off my jacket (have I mentioned it’s November? And it’s like 40 degrees out?), toss it at his feet, and start unbuttoning my shirt. The cold air hits my skin and I instantly feel my body become covered in goosebumps. I’m not wearing a bra and I can feel the soft fabric brushing against my suddenly ridiculously sensitive nipples. The concrete realization that I am stripping in front of Jack outdoors hits me like a brick wall; there’s definitely a wet patch in my underwear. His smile is mostly amused; I feel his superiority as though it is radiating from him. His eyes burn into mine. I toss my shirt at his feet, tug my shoes and socks off with my toes and heels, and pull my pants down without breaking eye contact. I step out of them and flick them over to him off my ankle.

Lastly, I hook my thumbs under my panties and peel them away from my body. The cold on my pussy is almost unbearable, but I take them off too and throw them onto the pile with the rest of my clothes without hesitating.

He’s still maintaining eye contact with the same degrading, mildly entertained facial expression.

Frustrated, I feign casual disinterest. Turning away from him, I look at the highway and realize that any of the cars’ passengers could see me if they glance out their window. Surprise! I’m kind of an exhibitionist, so I walk closer to the edge and look over (the drop and adrenaline really do it for me as well). All the people walking by… The kids in the park… A passing cyclist looks up, and I swear we make eye contact. I’m trying hard not to shiver, but the excitement on top of the cold is making it pretty hard. Still ignoring Jack, I walk along the edge, letting my hips sway comfortably and observing the city and the room around me. It feels incredible to embrace my nudity in such an open space, and in the cold: my nerve endings are on fire. My toes are numb.

There’s a mostly-empty can of white spraypaint lying on the concrete floor near me. I pick it up and shake it, then squat down and doodle a little face between my feet. When I look up, Jack is squatting near me, just watching me. He looks fascinated. Maybe it’s just my horny, shivering brain in overdrive, but I think there’s a touch of lust in there, too. I’m ridiculously turned on by the contrast between my pale nakedness and his dark, heavy clothes. I keep painting as he stands up and walks away, and after a moment of disappointment, I remember that I have a disposable camera in the pocket of my jacket. Satisfied with my little drawing, I follow him. That results in [this photo](http://68.media.tumblr.com/34f8626489e13ca6364de8c0816a059f/tumblr_nxu0ikjA4n1ugses0o2_r3_1280.jpg). Once the camera is back in my pocket, Jack walks off to see the face I spray-painted, and I take a look around my half of the room.

The cold is starting to get to me: it doesn’t feel very good anymore, so I start getting dressed.

I’ve only just put my shirt on when suddenly Jack is behind me. He grabs my shoulders and turns me around to face him, roughly pulling my shirt off over my head, then grabbing me under the arms like I’m a little doll and shoving me back towards the only wall. I probably let out a pathetic squeak or a moan at some point. He lifts me, pushing his hips under mine, pressing me into the wall and crushing our lips together. His tongue is very much in my mouth, and I’m in shock: all of this happened in maybe two seconds or three, tops. I wrap my legs around his hips reflexively, his jeans rough against my legs, and… my pussy… I’m done being stunned, and incredibly glad this is happening. We’re making out and I’m grinding against him, holding tightly onto his shoulders while he leans into me, when suddenly he pushes a hand into my hair and yanks. Hard.

It hurts like hell, and I cry out against his lips and teeth. He pulls his face away from mine and stares at me, completely straight-faced now, eyes dull with lust (remembering it now, I can’t help but think of shark eyes), breathing hard, still gripping a fistful of my hair. I am both terrified and horny out of my mind. He bucks his hips against mine, pushing me higher up on the wall and making me moan again involuntarily, and his free hand comes up to my throat. I can feel my pussy tighten in anticipation.

He squeezes. Gently at first, then harder and harder. Initially I’m just wheezing, but I can feel him pressing my windpipe shut and soon I can’t breathe at all. Tears are starting to run down my cheeks. He’s also pulling on my hair progressively harder. Throughout all this, his eyes are darting around my face, taking in my pained and panicky expression, and he whispers something like, “Wow, you’re getting really red…” At this point I’m starting to see stars.

Finally, he lets go of me and I slide down the wall, gasping for air. I’m pretty sure I black out a little. *No way am I gonna be able to stand upright after that*, I think to myself, and I am 100% correct. He grabs me by the waist, cradling my head against his body, and lays me down on the frigid concrete. I’m shaking all over, but don’t protest. I’m so wet, it’s sticking my thighs together and dripping onto my ass; he pushes my legs apart as I watch and runs his fingers through the mess. “Damn… your *lips*,” he says, pushing my pussy open and playing with the folds. I’m moaning quietly every time he touches me; he’s still completely clothed and I want to see more, so I push his jacket off his shoulders and grab the bottom of his sweater, pulling it off along with his t-shirt. He cooperates. His skin is incredibly hot to the touch in the freezing November air, and I almost try to sit up to press myself against him, but he puts a hand right in the middle of my chest and holds me down, grinning. His other hand is busy between my legs.

He watches his finger sink into me, then adds another, mouth a little open, face slack with amazed lust. I myself am squirming around like hell trying to get more. I don’t care about the cold of the concrete under me. When he grabs my hips and tugs, pulling me onto his knees and hooking my own knees behind his shoulders, I barely feel the scrape on my back. What I do feel is his tongue on my clit and his fingers inside of me. And it feels fucking incredible. All things considered, I’m surprised I even last as long as I do before grinding up against his hand and mouth, and cumming.

As soon as I’m done, he smirks at me, stands up, and goes to spit over the edge of the building a couple of times. Meanwhile, I sit up slowly, looking his narrow, pale shoulders and back. I still desperately want to touch him. He walks back over, saying, “Hey, guess what,” and before I can answer, grabs my hair viciously again and shoves my face against his dick, which I can feel through his jeans. He removes his belt and lowers his pants and boxers without letting me go, and pushes his half-hard dick into my mouth. I can’t say I’m unhappy with the situation, but my eyes are watering again and not gagging is already taking a lot effort. He gets harder (and rougher) and I tug his pants lower and slide my hands over his stomach and hips, soaking up the pain and pleasure of him fucking my face. I don’t know how long it takes for him to finish; everything just sort of melts together and the next thing I know, he’s tightening his grip on my head and pushing his cock as far down my throat as he can as I choke on his hot cum. After softening in my mouth, he pulls his jeans back up and we both get dressed.

I don’t remember much of what happened after, only that we got back down and out, and that I got back in time for my last class or something. He kept visiting me between classes. I might have a few other stories about him to tell.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/5bky4n/mf_long_post_exhibition_rough_hanging_out_in_an