[FM] He used me like I wanted…

So, last Saturday was one of the worst and weirdest days of my life. I dumped my fiancée and got fucked for the first time in months.

I moved to DC after college. I was single. Dating here was… tough. I feel like I ran into primarily two types of men. The first were guys who were all about their job. They didn’t care about me. They cared about their law job, doctor job, consulting job, etc. etc. I was just one more piece of their perfect life. As long as I looked the part, they were fine with being out with me. However, they didn’t want really seem to have any interest in me as a person. I was just a necessary tool to their career progression. The second type of guy was the sort that just wanted to fuck me. These were worse. The first may not have really needed to understand me as a person, but being desired as an external representation of having made it is better than having someone gaze through you like all you are is a hole for them to fuck. I don’t understand what they thought; this bizarre belief that if they could only get into my pants it would validate their life or prove something. They never did—a note for guys out there, we can tell if you are trying this.

Then I met my fiancée. Names will be excluded to protect people, but after what he did I really don’t give a fuck if he reads this.

He was handsome, nice, smart, all that stuff. He made me feel special. I was happy! Despite this, he wouldn’t have sex. All my friends said this was odd. That something was up. I knew deep down that this was true. But, he was just so… perfect besides that. The guy was devoutly Christian; a liberalish “gays are ok” type of Christianity, but still, he wouldn’t have sex until marriage.

I guess that’s partly why we got engaged so quickly. We started dating in April and got engaged in October. The wedding was to be this May.

All this time and we never fucked. We’d make out and he’d feel my breasts, and that was it for contact between us. Over time I needed something. Something more. I begged and I pleaded for us to have sex—we were engaged after all! He wouldn’t budge. He said it was special for him. I figured that this was the only thing we were arguing about, so it was fine.

We did reach a sort of agreement. He would watch me masturbate. After making out I’d push him down in a chair and stand up and put on my best “come fuck me look” and strip out of my clothes for him. I’d lie down and spread my legs and get one of my favorite toys and rub it slowly up and down my legs while he would watch with a huge smile plastered to his face. I told him he could masturbate while he watched me, yet he never would. I’d rub the toy slowly around my pussy lips and watch as he squirmed and blushed. Finally, I’d push it in myself. I’d work it in and out and moan as he… just sat there. Yea, it was weird, but it was all we would do.

Saturday I was at his place. He was in the shower and his phone kept going off with texts. He shouted to check them. Well, they were nudes. Nudes of a girl from his work I’ve met a few times at work events and parties. I was furious.

He came out of the shower in his robe and tried to hug me. I shoved the phone in his face. “What the FUCK is this?” He blushed and lowered his head.

Hours of arguing later… I discovered that he was fucking her. I’m his goddamn (well was his goddamn) fiancée and he wouldn’t sleep with me. This girl from work? He had no problem fucking her. None. His explanation was that he wanted our relationship to be special. He wanted to know that I would keep myself pure for him and would do what he wanted. This sex wasn’t emotional—he had needs, but he couldn’t work them out in our relationship.

This was bullshit. He could watch me. He could fuck this girl. But he couldn’t fuck me? I called it all off, I slapped him, I ran home (we didn’t live together yet for bullshit religious reasons) and blocked his number and cried. All my friends basically said, “I told you so.”

I cried through two listens of Lemonade and some wine. Something hit me. I had to do something. This guy had used me emotionally and lied to me. I was coming out of a fucked up, awful relationship. I had been used. Now… I wanted to take charge. I hadn’t been with a man in months. All the sadness suddenly turned to anger. I wanted to get fucked. I wanted to get fucked hard. I just had to know that this was something this asshole wasn’t going to get.

I showered and did my hair and make up and put on a blue dress that my fiancée had gotten me for Christmas. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked good. I haven’t said what I look like yet. I have shoulder length chestnut hair, brown eyes. I was a soccer player in college and still play in leagues in DC—I want to keep in shape. The dress was nice… but still slutty enough to get the point across. I decided against underwear for the night.

After all this went down it was nighttime. I didn’t want to go out with friends. I had to experience something virile. I had to do this alone. I live in newish buildings at the end of a rapidly gentrifying street. I walked ten blocks down to the bars/party area and went to a bar my friends and I like. The first floor is more electronica, second floor 90s hits, top floor an open-air bar.

I went to the second floor and started grinding on anything that moved and was sexy. My eyes linked up with a hot guy. He was 6”3 with short black hair, he was fairly tanned and muscular. The important thing was that he didn’t look like my ex. My ex still had some baby fat on his face—this guy had this streamlined chiseled look going on. We made eye contact and he approached me. We started dancing. He wasn’t pushy, but he was definitely aggressive. It felt good to be in his strong arms. I loved feeling someone forcefully take me; this guy wasn’t a wishy-washy boy like my fiancée.

After dancing through some songs he whispered into my ear, “Go upstairs?” I was down because we could talk some. Once up there we started talking and the music was quieter everything I had been through suddenly hit me. Not being able to move and dance forced me to realize the enormity of what I had just been through. My life had been altered forever.

This guy (and he was just a guy, for reasons I’m about to reveal) was about to tell me his name. It took all my strength to not break down and cry. Instead I looked him in the eye and said, “Look. I don’t want to know your name. I just want you to take me back home and fuck me. Make me your whore tonight.”

We left and started the long walk home. No matter how many men I’ve been with that feeling of anticipation never has gotten weaker. I didn’t know how I would feel. I didn’t know how the sex would be. My stomach was filled with butterflies but I was excited for what would happen. A few blocks down the street he pushed me against a building and started kissing me. I accepted and felt his tongue deftly slide around my mouth. My ex was a sloppy kisser, I don’t know what was up with him, but this wasn’t his forte. This man knew what he was doing. It made me even more excited.

I tugged my quarry the rest of the way home. My heart was pounding. I wanted him inside my apartment—and even more importantly—I wanted him inside me. We got in and he pushed me against my counter and started making out with me. One of his hands slid its way up my leg and clamped down on my inner thigh. He was so close to my pussy. It had been so long since anyone had touched me there. I was so horny. I pushed my face into his sinewy neck, “Look… just. Just use me. I’m your whore tonight. Do what you want. This… I’m not in a place where this can continue, but for now, just fuck me.”

His hands kept exploring my body. He started trying to slip the dress off but I told him, “Rip it off. Just rip it off. Destroy it, I never want to wear it again.”

His thick lips pursed into a smile. “I can do that.” He took the top of the material in the hand and pulled. The dress ripped apart and before I knew it I was standing naked and exposed against him. “So you’re my whore tonight? Sit down.”

He pushed me down into my kitchen chair. He softly exhaled and pulled out his hard cock. I started licking around the head of it and slowly took it in my mouth. I worked my tongue all around him and gently played with his balls using my hands. He moaned in appreciation… but finally he looked down into my eyes and pulled his face close to mine. “If you are my whore tonight… I don’t want this. I want to fuck your face.”

I’m not the biggest fan of a guy gagging me like that. I don’t think any of my friends are. But, I wanted to be used. I felt used. I felt terrible. I wanted to physically feel like I mentally felt… I wanted to prove to myself I could do something bad, that I could still be desired, that I could still be bad. I wanted to remove myself from my fiancée’s shitty saccharine life. He thrust into my face. I moved in time with his hips, taking him in my mouth and trying not to gag. I could feel the contractions in his cock and I knew what was coming. He pulled out and shot stream after stream of cum on my face and breasts.

It was like some unwritten contract had been made between us at this moment. The tempo for the night had been set. He understood I would please him and I understood I was his. He observed his handiwork and smiled. He harshly grabbed my hand and rubbed my fingers in the cum that doused my breasts. “Eat it,” he commanded. He shoved my sticky hand into my mouth. He didn’t stop until I had licked up all the cum off my breasts and face—his hand directing mine the whole time.

He pulled my body into his and carried me into my room and dumped me onto my bed. He quickly undressed and moved above me. He sank his teeth into the fleshy part of my neck. His fingers softly rubbed against my pussy. He rubbed circles closer and closer to my lips; I could feel his breath warm against my neck. He pulled my face into his and we made out as his fingers finally entered me. I moaned and pushed into them. It had been so long. So fucking long.

The way he touched me felt so good. I hadn’t come from a man’s touch in so long. It felt great. In that moment I felt more complete than I had felt in months. He flipped me over and pulled my crotch into his face and went down on me. His tongue worked in and out of my pussy, and when I couldn’t take much more he lightly licked around my clit. I was ready to cum when he stopped. He threw me down and looked sternly at me, “You can’t come until I let you come.”

I was so hot that I moved my hands towards my pussy but he told me, “Beg for it.”

“Please let me come.”

“I don’t believe it.” His hand came down hard on my ass.

“Please…” I was whimpering. I was soft and malleable under his touch. “Please, I’ll be good… just… let me come. Just let me get off.”

He laughed. “Even whores need to come eventually.” He pushed my hand to my pussy and let me rub myself as he licked my clit. I could feel the dam of pleasure about to burst. I pulled his head into my self as I lost control and came. Wave after wave of it flowed through my body. It had been too long. I squeezed his hand and my labored breathing slowed down. I forgot how great it was to let it all out.

We stayed like that for a few minutes until he kissed me and then whispered, “Don’t forget, you are still mine tonight.” He flipped me over and rested himself above me. His hand played with my ass, his fingers lightly entering my asshole. I pushed myself against them and gazed back and watched as two of his fingers plunged in and out of my ass.

Right there the light burst through my window perfectly. His eyes sparkled. Two gleaming pools fixed on a handsome face. His body was muscular and powerful. I didn’t feel like a whore at that moment. I felt… wanted. Our eyes met and he grabbed my hair and pulled my neck back. Again his teeth met my neck. I wanted him inside me right there. “I don’t care about a condom… just fuck me. Please. Fuck me.” (I know. I know.)

He spread my legs and thrust inside of me. I had forgotten that fullness. I generally don’t get off from a guy fucking me, but there is something so fulfilling to feeling a hard cock inside me. That and pressure and warmth and feeling of something packed in me. Every time he pulled out I wanted him back inside. Soon enough we got into a good motion, I slid my hips back around his cock as he moved back and forth, his hand still pulling my hair back, his breath still hot in my ear as he told me what a bad girl I was and how for just one night, I was his whore.

After some particularly hard thrusts he grasped my face in his hand. I felt so small with him behind and over me… but this really made me feel his strength. He pushed my face down into the pillow and arched my back up and went deeper inside me. It didn’t take long in this position—finally he came. I could feel his cum splash inside me. I felt so hot and desired. I still felt like shit about the fiancée. Despite that, I knew men wanted me. I knew I could still get this reaction from a guy—a hot guy at that. He held me for a few minutes longer. Finally he petted my hair and whispered, “You did your job my whore.” He kissed my forehead and then held my face and looked down in my eyes and kissed me again. He rolled out of bed and started pulling his pants on.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Back out. This was just for one night.”

I gazed up at him. He had that post fucked smile all guys get. I’m sure I had that same glassy eyed stare my guy friends tell me all women get. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He left and I lay there collecting my breath and felt the cum drip out of me. I had (and have!) no idea of what the future holds… but right then I felt pretty satisfied.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/5uohzo/fm_he_used_me_like_i_wanted