“But if someone were to force themself on me… well then I wouldn’t be cheating, would I?” [MF] [rough sex]

“Here, Chloe, here’s my number,” I said, holding out my phone.

“Ok,” she said, typing it in. But she hesitated on the field for name, shifting nervously.

It took me a second, but then I understood. She didn’t remember my name. I smiled. “It’s spelled G-R-A-Y-S-O-N,” I said, saving her the embarrassment of calling her out.

Chloe was the same major as me, so we’d had a few classes together here and there. She was this quiet, shy girl who never had much to say, except when it came to the class’s subject. Talking in class about linear equations or chemistry resonance structures she’d get fired up and passionate, even if in the hallways before class she never joined in the group’s social chit-chat.

“You want to meet tonight?” I asked.

“I can’t,” she said, “But we should get started soon. Can you meet at the main library tomorrow morning?”

Tomorrow was a Friday, and I’d arranged my class schedule to do fuck-all on Fridays. But I could give up one Friday morning if it meant partnering with the smart student. “Yeah, sure,” I said, “Nine AM?”

“So late? Can’t you at least do eight?” she said, looking annoyed.

I held back my grimace. What was with this attitude? Where had the meek girl gone? Teach me to confuse shyness with deference. Maybe this is why nobody else had partnered with her.

“Yeah, sure, eight it is,” I said, “Just, like, text me or whatever where in the library.”

“And you’ll be there at eight, sharp?”

Good lord. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. “Yep, eight, sharp.” I smiled reassuringly. She returned it with a frown, studying my expression, no doubt searching for esoteric, telltale signs that I’d be late to our appointment.

She was a petite girl, with long brunette hair neatly clipped in a ponytail. It draped against a baggy, blue hoodie with our school’s name emblazoned across the front. As a horny young hetero guy, I had her cataloged as ‘vaguely cute,’ but also as ‘not interested’ and also ‘hard catch.’ I was planning to meet up with her truly just for a study session, to complete this assignment. That it ended up being something more was really not my goal.

That evening, I got a text message, “This is Chloe. Confirming for 8am tomorrow at the main library. Study room 212.”

I rolled my eyes and wrote back, “Great! See you then.” And that’s where things would have stayed, until…

Things got interesting later that night. At 12:43 AM I got another message from Chloe, a video SMS. I was baffled, the thumbnail was just a picture of Chloe wearing the same hoodie as before, but with a pained look on her face. Like I said, I didn’t know her well, but I’d never seen her show much emotion at all, and seeing her in thumbnail, so emotive, she looked almost like a different girl.

What message couldn’t she send with just plain text? Why would she need to send me a video? And why so late at night? I was intrigued, and let’s be honest, horny too, so I clicked play.

It was quickly obvious that this video was not meant for me. The first clue was that Chloe started by saying, in a pleading, seductive voice, “James, I miss you.”

Now, I suppose that someone, somewhere, would have turned the video off at this point, protecting Chloe’s privacy, not watching a video clearly intended to be a private message between lovers. But, dear readers, I am not that person.

The video pulled out, and Chloe was making a jacking off motion with her fist while staring into the camera with a horny expression. Then, breath heavy and lusty, she lifted her sweater, and would you know it? Beneath those baggy clothes she always wore, she had a surprisingly decent rack.

Jackpot. I saved the video to my phone.

And the video wasn’t even half over.

The camera panned down, sliding down her slender torso until it gave me a close-up view of her bare pussy, swollen red and tight, sopping wet, a bead of fluid dripping from it. Holy fuck.

And then the video continued. She propped the camera against something and got onto all fours, showing her ass. Her fist was behind her, repeatedly shoving a large, pink dildo into her asshole. My jaw dropped. I was in shock. This shy, quiet, nerdy girl, fucking herself raw?

Maybe she’d been going at it for a while, or maybe she was just super sensitive, because the next thing I saw was her frantically shoving the dildo in even deeper as her body writhed with orgasm. She pulled the dildo out, and I saw her asshole spasming, squeezing tight over and over. I had never stuck my dick in an ass before, but watching this, I knew I needed it.

Then, after she calmed down, she turned and reached for the camera, her hand growing large in the frame, and finally, the video ended. The text “Replay?” glowed on screen, a circular arrow next to it.

Pervert that I am, I replayed. I must have watched that short video a couple dozen more times. But I never did send a message back to Chloe. I mean, what do you say to that?

The next morning at eight-o-clock sharp I knocked on the door of the main library’s study room 212. Chloe was already there.

“Good morning,” I said, studying her face for any of nervousness, or anything hint that she knew she’d sent me a sex video. But her expression was blank.

“Hi, Grayson,” she said as I closed the door behind me, the buzz of the lights above the only sound. The library was ordinarily a quiet place, but especially so early on a Friday morning.

“I brought coffee,” I said.

“I don’t drink coffee,” she said, then added as if an afterthought, “But thanks.”

“Well, more for me then. Shall we get started?”

She turned to look at the white board behind her, scrawled with notes. “I already have.”

Of course.

We worked on the assignment for quite some time. My study habits weren’t very good, but I knew this. So when I found someone with better discipline than me, I forced myself to keep pace with them, never wanting to be the first to ask for a break.

And I persevered. Chloe was the first to eventually rub her eyes and say, “I need a few minutes.” I was eager to agree.

After refreshing, Chloe looked ready to start on the material again, but I asked, “So, is James like your boyfriend or something?”

“What?” Chloe looked confused, “I didn’t… how do you know James?”

“I don’t,” I said, trying to keep it nonchalant, “I just saw you sent me a video text this morning, but I don’t think it was for me. You said something about James.”

Have you ever seen someone experience both epiphany and panic at the same time? Chloe’s face did the most marvelous transformation, waves of horror, shock, embarrassment, desperation washing over it. Even bathed in the unflattering library light, she’d gone red as a beet. She scrambled into her phone’s messages, needing to confirm my story, as if I could have somehow made it up.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” she was muttering frantically. Her eyes were wide with dread, cheeks flush with shame. When she saw proof of what she’d done, she turned to me, deadly serious. “I need you to delete that, now. Now!” Her fierceness was scary.

“I already did,” I lied, “As soon as I realized what it was.”

She believed me. Just as I’d watched her horror grow, I now saw it recede. She breathed a deep, calming breath as she sunk into relief. “Thank you,” she said. It almost made me feel bad.

“It’s ok,” I said, “I’m in a long distance relationship, too.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” she said, “Can we please, just, move on.” It wasn’t a question.

But I continued, “Although, I haven’t heard from my girlfriend in… wow, it’s three weeks now,” I said, “I guess there’s probably some problems there.” I was totally making this shit up.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. Truth was, I was trying to get her to relate. I’m willing to accept that maybe I’m an asshole. “I haven’t told anyone this. Everyone thinks we’re such a cute couple, that we’re meant to be together. Nobody knows how… dead the relationship is,” I said, “Wow. It feels good to say it out loud.” I hoped I wasn’t laying it on too thick.

“I…” Chloe started, then gathered herself up, looking down at the table. “Things aren’t great between me and James, either.” She looked up. “But we’re working on making them better.”

“Is that what that video was about?”

“You said you didn’t watch it!?” Chloe’s blush was returning.

“I didn’t say that,” I grinned, “I mean, it was a pretty hot video. Just sayin.”

Chloe looked mortified.

I pressed on. “I’ve never gotten a video like that from Sarah, my girlfriend.” Details like names always make things more believable. You just gotta remember them later.

“Maybe that’s why your relationship’s dying,” she said.

Damn, this girl was cheeky. “Maybe,” I chuckled. “How long has it been? Since you’ve, you know, seen each other?”

Chloe looked at me with side eyes. “September,” she said guardedly.

“September! Damn! What happened to the holidays? Winter break?”

“He didn’t… it didn’t… look, I said we’re working on it,” Chloe said, “We’ve been together a long time. Since high school. There’s only one more year, after this, and we can be together again, full time.”

“Wow,” I said, “I don’t think I could go that long.”

“Well obviously since you watched that video you know I have other ways of handling it.”

“Yeah, but it’s still not the same as the real thing, is it?” I grinned.

“No,” Chloe said flatly, narrow gaze stabbing into me, “It isn’t. But don’t think I’m going to cheat on James. Certainly not with you.”

“No, of course not,” I agreed, still smiling. I don’t know anything about my smile, except that it’s always been the most useful thing at getting me laid. Though Chloe, sitting next to me, didn’t seem phased by it.

She said, “But if someone were to force themself on me, overpowering me, using my body for their own sick, degenerate pleasure, well then I wouldn’t be cheating, would I?”

I went wide-eyed. Was she saying what I thought she was saying? This wasn’t how I expected this to go, not at all.

Chloe responded by looking bored, even a touch disappointed. “Don’t tell me you’re some lame pansy, too afraid to take what you want. I’m just a little girl, locked in a room alone with a strange man. There’s nothing I can do to stop you. Nothing to stop you from making me do things to you.”

My cock twitched.

I reached out. Grabbed her chest. Groped her tits through her sweater. Felt her bra.

She looked down at my hand, offended. I almost backed off.

“What a waste,” she said, “That’s all you’ve got?”

Holy fuck. “You’re a nasty slut,” I told her.

“What are you going to do about it?”

I slid my hand up under her sweater, feeling the soft warmth of her belly, and pushed my fingers underneath her bra. I pinched her nipple, hard, and she gasped.

I thought I had finally cracked her stony facade. But she spat out, “You loser, you think–”

I stood up behind her and pulled her sweater up over her head, covering her eyes, trapping her arms in the tangle. “Shut up, whore,” I said, shoving her head down onto the table, her books and study supplies scattering.

“Fuck you,” she said, voice muffled by her sweater.

I leaned down, pinning her beneath my weight. My mouth near her ear, I whispered, “No, fuck you.” I reached around to her chest and roughly yanked her bra up, her tits swinging free below her.

I smacked at her tits, feeling their weight, hearing her whimper.

“Let me go!” Chloe said.

“Why?” I said. I stood and gripped her wrists in one hand, pulling her back off the table. I kicked the chair out from under her. She scrambled and squirmed, but she wasn’t heavy, and she hung from my grip as I lowered her onto her knees.

“What are you doing–” she started as I pulled her sweater up, freeing her face from the tangle of fabric. I had dropped my own pants, and as I stood there, feet parted in a firm stance, I slapped my thick erection against her cheek.

She went wide-eyed. I grabbed her by her hair, shoving her face to my crotch. As her lips and tongue slid down my shaft, she looked up at me, shock on in her eyes. I grinned back at her, cruelly. “Finally got you to shut up, whore.”

Her surprise was quick to fade, though, and she slurped cock like an expert. Her pretty face bounced up and down on my erection, pony tail swinging back and forth behind my grip. The feeling was fantastic, and watching her, I said, “You’re a horny fucking bitch, aren’t you?”

“Mmmm,” she mumbled, sucking and licking, a string of drool dripping down her chin. She gripped my legs for leverage, really getting into it.

“You’re so fucking desperate for cock,” I said, “You probably sent me your video on purpose.” With my hand in her hair, I yanked her backwards, away from me. She looked up at me in surprise, a string of saliva running from her lips to my swollen dick. “Show me what a good little slut you are,” I instructed her, “Suck my balls.”

She grabbed my cock and pushed it up against my belly, getting a good angle. She wrapped her lips around my sack, sending the tip of her tongue running over and around them.

“Oh fuck, girl,” I said, enjoying. “Take off your bra.”

She let go of my cock, letting it rest against her face as she worked my balls. She looked me in the eye. She was following my instructions, doing what I said, but I still saw defiance in her gaze, some spark of stubbornness remaining. It had to go.

I pulled out my phone. “We’re going to make a new video,” I told her, “We’re going to show your boyfriend what a thirsty slut you really are.” I pointed the camera at her. “You’re going to send him a video of you begging for my fat cock.”

Chloe pushed against my crotch, fingers around the base of my cock, and pulled her mouth away from my balls. “What? No!”

“You’re a horny whore who would do anything to have my cum deep in your ass,” I said.

“He’s making me,” Chloe whined into the camera, “I don’t have a choice.” She said this, but her hand was idly stroking my cock.

I grabbed her again by the ponytail and made her blow me some more, then pulled her away again. “Are you my little whore?” I demanded.

“Wha… I’m…” she said, “I need–”

I shoved her back down my shaft. Then pulled her off. “Say it,” I said, “Beg for my cock.”

“Please, I don’t…” she trailed off. In her eye, I could see the indecision — the desperation. I knew she wanted to submit to me, wanted me to break her, but was still too proud. I knew she was almost there. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. I shoved her back down on my cock. I fucked her face hard, not caring when she gagged, enjoying recording the spit dripping from her lips, falling down onto her tits.

I yanked her away again. Her hands reached out towards my cock, her face sad to see it go.

“Are you my whore?” I pressed.

“Yes,” she said, her voice small.

“What was that?” I said, “I can’t hear you.”

“I’m your whore,” she said, louder. “I need your cock.”

I put my hand under her chin, cupping it, making her look up, into the camera. I pushed my thumb into her mouth. She sucked on it without needing to be told to, her face eager for my approval.

“You’re such trash,” I said, letting disgust into my tone, “I can’t believe I’m wasting my time with you.”

She went doe-eyed, looking shocked, looking hurt.

“You’re so desperate for cock, you’ll do anything.” The tears returned to her eyes. “You’ll cheat on your boyfriend with some guy you barely know. You didn’t even know my name until yesterday.” She was breaking before my very eyes. “Suck my fucking cock, bitch.”

Crying, she opened her mouth and again dropped it down over my shaft, sucking on me like a pro. It was pretty fucking amazing, but I didn’t want to cum this way.

“Stand up,” I commanded.

Silently, she pulled away from my dick and rose up. Where once her expression was fiercely stubborn, now it was anxious for my approval. I pushed my phone’s camera in her face, recording the look, holding it there until she grew nervous. “Please,” she said, growing desperate, “I’ll do anything.” I enjoyed videoing her uncertainty, her doubt.

“Arch your back,” I instructed as I brought the camera lower, recording her tits as I grabbed and squeezed them, tweaking her nipples.

Then I knelt down, panning my phone slowly down her tight belly and over her high-waisted yoga pants. I stopped only when I reached her crotch, holding the camera to record the gap between her thighs. I slid my hand up between her legs, and recorded myself fingering and groping her pussy through the tight fabric.

Watching the video later, this is always one of my favorite parts, the way she was happy to let me fondle her however I wanted, not even the barest trace of resistance left.

I played with her pussy for a bit, enjoying making her gasp and pant as I toyed with her soft, sensitive parts. But as I did, I worked my fingers closer and closer to her asshole. Remembering her video, where she fucked her own ass with crazy abandon, I wasn’t going to finish until I had that for myself.

Soon I had my thumb push the fabric up into her asshole. When I first pushed it in, she’d made a small gasp. But now as I continued to rhythmically shove in deeper and deeper, she began to moan.

“You need my hard cock in your ass, don’t you, whore?” I said.

“Ye–yes!” she said, between quick, sharp breaths.

“So fucking predictable,” I said, “Desperate to give up everything.” I got up and stood behind her, and once again pushed her face down onto the table, but this time with her ass high in the air.

I recorded as I hooked my fingers in her pants’ hemline and pulled them down to her knees, exposing her black thong. I chuckled and pulled that down, too.

I ran my free hand over Chloe’s ass, slapping, squeezing, pinching. I slid my fingers down her hips, tracing the curve from her narrow waist, around the sweeping curve of butt, enjoying its shapeliness and firmness.

“Such a pity,” I said, “All those months, this beautiful ass lonely, its dreams of cock unfulfilled.” I slapped her ass again, then stepped aside to prop my phone on the table, giving its camera a good view of what was about to happen.

I saw Chloe looking at me expectantly, her tits squished flat beneath her. She spread her legs farther, and I saw a bead of fluid drip from her pussy, stringing out to the ground below.

“You are such a whore,” I said as I smeared her pussy juices around her asshole.

She looked at me, head turned over her shoulder. “Fuck me,” she said, “But go slow. You’re bigger than… than, well, anyone else.”

“You’re right I fucking am,” I said, guiding my cock to her asshole. I felt her heat as the tip of my cock rested against her pucker, and I had never before seen my own cock so hard, so ready.

I pushed in, and I could not believe how incredibly tight she was. I was planning on building up to it, but I couldn’t help myself. Her ass was too amazing. I grabbed her hips and pushed in deeper, and Chloe squirmed and whimpered beneath me. “Fuck…” she groaned.

And this was only my first thrust.

I pulled back, then pushed in again. It was just as incredible as the first time, and this time I went quicker, deeper. I built my pace, rhythmically skewering Chloe’s ass on my cock, her moaning and groaning beneath me. I reached around and fingered her pussy, feeling how astonishingly wet she was getting.

And as I fucked her ass harder and harder, ramming my erection into her tight hole, I soon realized it was happening, she was starting to orgasm. I flicked my fingers over her clit as I felt her pleasure build. She gripped the far side of the table, her back arched, her arms tense, her teeth clenched, grunting as her asshole spasmed around my cock.

The powerfully tight sensations were more than I could take. As glorious as her ass felt on my shaft, her wild, uncontrollable clenching was more than I could withstand, and before I knew it, I was cumming, too. Thrusting as I came, her tight ass milked my cock, and I sprayed load after load deep inside her.

Finally, balls drained and spent, I collapsed on top of her. For a moment, we lay there, sweaty and panting, each of us trying to catch our breath.

Wordlessly, I pulled my stuff back together. “I’m done studying for now,” I said.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Chloe said. She shook her head, then looked at me, serious. “You’re not sending that video to James, are you?”

I laughed. “No. You are.”

“Oh,” Chloe said, frowning, “Yeah, problem with that.”

“What?”

Chloe looked at my smugly. “He doesn’t exist.”

“Huh?”

She continued, “I made him up. The whole thing. I was masturbating last night when the idea popped into my head. I just wanted to get laid.”

I was having trouble digesting this — did she just out-bullshit a bullshitter? I shook my head and laughed again. “You’re such a slut.”

“Don’t call me that when we’re not fucking,” she said, “And don’t tell me that bullshit about ‘Sarah’ was real.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re such a terrible liar. I barely even know you, but you’re so transparent. You really gotta work on that.”

“How did you…?” I trailed off, I was in awe, my head was spinning. “I… I gotta go.”

And like that, I left. I guess it wasn’t all bad, though, because that afternoon, I got another text from Chloe. It was just an address of one of on-campus apartments, and a second line saying, “We need to finish our assignment. Also, I liked your sweater trick. Bring something so you can tie me up for when we fuck.”

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/ixs9i1/but_if_someone_were_to_force_themself_on_me_well