Fucking my best friend who has PTSD [FM]

I’ve wanted to write this for a long time. For those who read my posts, you’ve probably guessed a story like this was buried somewhere. When people ask me why we never dated this person, this always comes up.

Since I started this account I’ve danced around this because I’ve wondered if it’s possible to write this responsibly as I’m not a therapist and struggle with my own mental health disorder.

*Fun fact: he’s the only other person I know who has been turned down by therapists as patients because they didn’t feel “equipped to handle” our life stories.*

I’m going to do my best.

*So to get this out of the way, I was diagnosed with a rare trauma disorder similar to PTSD. In person, I’ve met exactly one other person who had the same disorder. Our traumas were very different, but they manifested the same.*

*Ill let y’all guess who.*

Over a decade ago I somehow landed a very odd job that took me to a place where not a lot of Americans travel. It was there I met someone traveling who had chosen that place specifically because he “needed a break” from America.

*He doesn’t hate America, but those first few years after he got out of the military were rough. I once thanked him for his service and he told me to shut up because “everything he did was “pointless” and I “needed to grow up.” He’s a very apolitical person (I believe, by design), but surprisingly anti-war given his background. He used to say there’s no such thing as a benevolent military complex, and had a very complicated relation with his time in the government.*

*I’ve compared him before to Don Draper and I stand by that. He didn’t need feminism, because who the fuck would be stupid to be sexist? He didn’t need politics, because who would be stupid enough to believe in the system? He didn’t need therapy, because no therapist could understand the shit he had seen by reading a text book.*

We bonded when we met. We were both lonely and far from home. It was nice to meet someone without a cultural barrier. We became friends and started fucking immediately.

The sex was really, really good.

If you’re a religious reader of my stories, you’ve probably picked up that parts of our friendship were too beautiful to put into words. However, a lot of our toxic traits I intentionally hide because a strong piece of me still wants to protect him.

We both had SEVERE issues that had not been addressed.

We went through periods I think a psychiatrist would classify as mania, but it was was more induced than natural. We once woke up and our sheets were soaked because we had both been having nightmares. Instead of talking through this, we stayed awake for two days, fucking, playing chess, and going for walks around the city.

*I know what you’re thinking, and, apart from alcohol, we were not on drugs. The incentive to stay awake was just that strong. He did use alcohol to sleep, so sometimes I’d stay up with him just so he would dry out for a few days.*

When you’re a person struggling with demons, your mind WILL find a way to shut off. You can find healthy mechanisms to do that, or develop unhealthy habits like the two of us did. We each had our own method of dealing with shit, but we enabled TF out of each other.

*You can’t hold a mirror up to someone if you don’t want the same done to you. Plus, then we would have had to acknowledge that we were using sex to cope, and that was the ultimate unspoken elephant between us.*

Before the events of this story, I suspected something was off with him that went beyond the normal scope of trauma. He was incredible at hiding it, but on rare occasions he’d say things or “remember” events that simply didn’t occur. When I’d correct him, he’d shrug me off.

*So… He actually didn’t have the disorder you’re probably imagining. Sleep deprivation and substance abuse can literally cause hallucinations.*

My bedroom at the time doubled as a bomb shelter, and the country we were in had regular “drills” where an alarm would sound and we were all supposed to shelter in place. I wasn’t really bothered by this, but he would get jumpy. Incidentally, because we had to spend twenty minutes in my bedroom, we always found an activity to distract ourselves…

I want to be clear that he would never EVER hurt me without consent, but on his hardest days, he’d get rough. During drills, he’d get into dom space very quickly and we’d get a little more freaky than usual. This never bothered me.

Once, I went for a run and was about ten minutes away when the siren went off. Instead of sheltering in the nearest building, I knew it was a drill, so I just ran home. He didn’t have a phone then so there wasn’t really a way I could check in with him.

When I got home, he was… not himself.

I found him pacing in the living room, mumbling something incomprehensible about getting out. He was hyperventilating but tried to hide it. Instead of saying hello, he just pulled me into my bedroom and sealed the door.

“Are you ok?” I almost laughed. I thought he was being a baby.

“Where were you?” He yelled. Then he started stripping the bedsheets.

“I was on a run. What are you doing?”

“We need to get this mattress off. We can get under it in case there’s an explosion and it might protect us from glass.”

He was talking fast and his plan didn’t make a ton of sense to me.

“What?”

“We have to get this on top of us.”

I grabbed his arm and he shrugged me away. He was sweating and he couldn’t look me in the eye.

“Do you know something I don’t?” I finally asked. “Was there something on the news?” I was scrolling through my phone and found another confirmation of the drill.

“Are you insane? Can you not feel that?” He asked as he pointed to the ground.

I felt nothing. “What? What am I supposed to feel?”

“The vibrations.”

“We’re in a shitty apartment in a city downtown. There are always vibrations.”

“How do you not feel that? How do you not hear that?” He yelled. “The windows are rattling.”

And that is when I realized I was in a sealed room, with a man who was twice my size and weight… who was full-on hallucinating.

I started crying.

When I let out a sob he looked over and ran to me. For the first time in our friendship, I flinched when he touched me. He grabbed my arms with his hands and squeezed. “What’s wrong, V?”

I gaped at him and just kept crying.

“What happened? Why are you upset? What’s going on?”

“You’re fucking scaring me!” I finally screamed.

He finally took a step back and blinked a few times. “What?”

“It’s a drill. I was trying to show you on my phone… The windows aren’t rattling. I’m confused. I don’t know what youre talking about?”

He looked around. “What about the explosion?”

“Dude… What are you hearing right now?” He didn’t say anything but I understood. “When was the last time you slept?”

He got quiet and looked away.

“You have to tell me,” I continued. “We have to talk about it.”

“No… I just don’t remember. I don’t remember the last time I slept.”

*I know his diagnosis now and it’s less scary than I anticipated, but at the time I was 100% out of my element. I was young and the only thing I knew was that this was bad.*

“Does this happen to you?” I asked.

“Not often.”

He refused to take ssleeping meds. He refused to go see a doctor. He refused to even really acknowledge it.

I started grasping for straws.

“Can we try to lie down?” I asked.

“I’m too wound up.”

“Do you want a hug?”

“No.”

I knew one thing he’d be willing to do.

*Hear me out: I realize using sex in this situation is not terribly healthy. However, sex had always helped me cope in my darker moments. Plus, it’s exercise. Exercise is good for sleep, right? It keeps me alive.*

*Plus, on top of everything else, this shit was triggering for me. I couldn’t deal with my own stuff and didn’t know how to help him… Well, I thought I knew one way.*

I took my shirt off and threw it to the side. He was confused and blinked at me a few times. “Are you insane, V? I just thought we were dying.”

I shrugged. “Isn’t this how you’d want to go?”

*So I guess I should say I had a strategy in my mind, which was that I was going to make him come as much as I possibly could. I figured this would exhaust him and maybe put him to sleep. Like a benevolent dom, he usually got me off before he took care of himself, but I had a couple of tricks to turn the tide.*

He bit his lip and I saw he was visibly shaking. His eyes swept down my body, and then he closed his eyes for a few seconds.

*Aaaaaaand then he switched.*

“Get on your hands and knees and crawl to me,” he said in his sex voice.

I nodded and did what he said, crouching down slowly and carefully crawling toward him. When his feet came into view I let out a breath and tried to stop my own shaking.

*To be clear, I was never, ever afraid of him in bed. That was never the issue. I was just still shaken up and it takes me a few minutes to change spaces.*

“Get up on your knees,” he said.

I hoisted myself from all four to my knees and he grabbed the back of my head. He pushed it into his crotch and rubbed my face back and forth on his erection. He looped my hair around his hand so he could pull it, and then then pressed my face into him deeper.

“Want to know something?” I mumbled.

“Did I say you could speak?” He asked.

“You also didn’t say I could get myself off three times this morning, but I did that too.”

“What the hell?” He pulled my hair harder. “What did you just say?”

*Oh yeah… I should mention that in this period I didn’t touch myself without his permission.*

“Punish me then. Deprive me.” I reached to unbuckle his belt, but he pulled my hair harder.

“Have you suddenly forgotten how this works, you fucking slut? You don’t set the terms here.” He reached a thumb down and rubbed it over my lip. “Choke yourself with it and look at me while you do it.”

I nodded as I pulled his pants down and looked him in the eye. He placed himself in my mouth and pushed it in so deep I could barely breath. I deep throat on a normal day, but I usually don’t fully choke on it.

*Let’s be honest, very few dicks are big enough to activate my gag reflex anyway. He was an exception.*

I let him slide all the way down my throat and held my breath as I stared up at him.

“That’s a good whore,” he whispered as he pulsed inside of me.

I shot him a pleading look as my eyes started watering. I couldn’t breathe and could feel my face turning red. I held him like that for about ten more seconds before he pulled out. I took in a gasp of air. Instead of taking time to catch my breath, I put him back in my mouth and slammed my head down again.

He groaned and pulled my hair, and finally broke eye contact when he was all the way back down my throat.

I was seeing stars. I didn’t care. I pulled out and took another breath and then did it again.

“V…” He whispered, breaking character. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

He pulled out and came on my face. This shouldn’t seem odd, but he was usually abnormally controlled with his climax.

Also, as I stared at him from the floor and watched his eyes flicker, I saw him calm down and come back to me.

*I realize this is fucked up to even write as sex is not a substitute for therapy or meds. I have learned that. However, sometimes when we’re drowning, we don’t think about the lifeline we’re reaching for.*

“I want to keep going,” I whispered as I started licking the sides of his dick.

“Give me a second,” he breathed. “Bend over the bed, I need to spank you for this morning.”

*He would have. However, when he “punished” me, while he did hurt me, he also would make me climax. It was definitely more controlled pleasure. It would exhaust me and exhilarate him, and that was not the aim of this session.*

*You know how people “manage up” when they’re good employees? Sometimes I subbed up.*

So, I did what any rational person would do, and started fingering his asshole.

*Alright. So while I enjoy assplay, it’s actually a soft limit of mine. I do not enjoy it without warning and prep. Most importantly, if mouths are involved, I usually won’t do it unless I’m in the shower.*

*Sometimes exceptions are made.*

“Let me lick it,” I whispered.

He titled his head as he watched me carefully. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, until you get hard again. Let me do it.”

So, I licked his asshole as I gave him a handjob. I matched the strokes of my hand with the stoke of his tongue, and smiled as I felt him slowly grow hard again. He groaned and hit the wall as he leaned forward with a jolt.

“That feels so good,” he shuddered. “You’re doing so good.”

I licked one final, long stroke, and then felt him turn and slam his dick back in my mouth. This time, he went faster, pushing my head into him over again as I watched his eyes roll to the back of his head.

Tears were full streaming down my face now as I stole tiny breaths through my nose.

“I’m going to come,” he groaned.

I felt him fill my mouth and swallowed quickly. I pulled out and fell on all fours as I gasped for air.

“Fuck me,” I gasped the moment my breath returned.

“I… Need a minute.”

I stood up, met his eyes, and smiled. “You can’t even fuck me?”

His eyes flickered as he fought a smile. He turned me around and pressed me against the wall, his chest pressing against my back. “I just fucked your mouth, you little slut,” he growled.

“So? You can’t keep going?”

He pulled my shorts and underwear down in a single pull, and I stepped out of them quickly. I felt his hands between my legs and gasped as he pushed two fingers into me. “You realize this is mine, right?”

“Yes,” I moaned.

“I fuck you how I want and only when I want. You don’t decide when, you fucking whore. Do you understand that?”

“Yes.”

He pulled his hand out and slapped my ass so hard I hit the wall and cried out. “Yes?”

“Yes sir.”

He put his fingers back inside of me and bit my neck as I took him in and groaned. “This is for me. Do you understand? It’s only for me. You feel good right now so it will feel better for me. Do you understand that?”

“Yes sir.”

*He really had a flair for degrading dirty talk.*

He pulsed his fingers inside of me and laughed when I squirmed. He just pressed me harder against the wall.

He was hard again.

“Please fuck me,” I moaned.

“No.”

“Please.”

“You already got yourself off this morning. You don’t deserve it.”

“Then punish me. Use me to get yourself off.”

He pulled my hair hard, spun me around, and bent me across the mattress (*still slightly askew from earlier*). His hand came down on my ass three times, and I jolted and tried to crawl away. He pulled my hair so I had to stay in place and then finally, finally entered me.

So… I lied btw. I had not gotten myself off three times that morning. I had not gotten off for 24 hours, and I was deprived AF. Plus, I’m extremely turned on when I’m degraded.

All this is to say, I was so tight I almost couldn’t take him.

He felt it too.

“You’re really tight,” he breathed. “I can’t go in all the way.”

“Just do it,” I groaned.

“You’re too tight. It’s going to hurt.”

“I don’t fucking care. Don’t be a bitch.”

“You stubborn little slut!” He yelled and slammed into me all the way. I gasped and balled my hands into a first.

He slammed into me over and over. It didn’t hurt because I was somewhere else. I was in a space where I basically wasn’t feeling anything but pleasure to the point I didn’t notice I was close to orgasm.

I saw stars as I came and my entire body started tingling. I could feel it in my fingertips and started running my hands across the mattress.

“That felt so good,” I mumbled.

“Did you just come?”

“Yes,” I groaned. I was expecting to be punished because this was not allowed without heavy amounts of begging.

“Oh thank god!” I felt him shudder behind me as he finished. He bent over me and panted in my ear. “Fuck.”

He rolled out of me and laid on his back. I panted beside him as I tried to recover.

“I’m not done,” I breathed.

*I desperately wanted to be done.*

“Yeah good luck getting me hard again,” he moaned with his eyes closed.

I put him in my mouth again and sucked gently. He didn’t get hard. I put his hand on my breast and squeezed it. He didn’t get hard. I slapped him gently and called him a little bitch. He finally looked at me.

“I know what you’re doing,” he groaned.

“No you don’t.”

“You think you can fuck me until I calm down.”

I put my hand between his legs again and stroked him gently. “Is it working?”

He threw his head back and whimpered. “You’re a cruel lover, V.”

“I just licked your asshole. I think I’m pretty fucking nice.”

He grabbed my thigh and threw one of my legs over so I was straddling him. He opened his eyes and met mine. “Just make love to me.”

“Gross.”

“Stare at me while you do it and look at me while you orgasm.”

“Really?”

He shrugged. “Is that insane?”

I put him inside of me and moaned as I rocked back and forth. He put his hand to my breast and squeezed gently before his hand went to my face and outlined my cheek.

I rocked back and forth and felt myself start to build. I felt pleasure start from between my legs and ripple throughout my body. I gasped and squeezed my legs tighter around him.

I got the urge to slap him, but instead I looked down and saw him near tears. He grabbed my hips and matched my rhythm. I went harder. I felt dizzy and almost sick but I kept going.

“Tell me what to do to make you come,” I whispered.

“Look at me,” he said as he touched my face again.

We stared at each other and then I lost control. I gasped as I came around him, and he shook his head as he felt me pulse and shake.

He flipped me over and put his forehead to mine as he held me down and pushed himself into me over and over. He finally came with a gasp and then immediately fell back and closed his eyes. I laid beside him and passed out.

We slept for 12 hours. I know because it was noon when and I woke up at midnight to him kissing my cheek.

*I thought about not writing this next part, but fuck it.*

We went 48 hours without fighting after that. I think that was a record for us. As much as we loved each other and enjoyed each other’s company, I fought with him more than anyone I’ve ever been with. They weren’t violent fights or particularly cruel. They were the fights of two very confused young people who didn’t know why they were angry.

Sometimes I really hated him, even when I loved him.

That night we woke up at midnight, ate breakfast, and played chess until the sun came up and I had to go to work. We didn’t talk much in that window.

We argued about world events, traded books, played chess, fucked, and became experts at avoiding all problems.

I think we both helped and hurt each other during this period. Although it was an odd period of growth, there was also so much chaos.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/zxncvq/fucking_my_best_friend_who_has_ptsd_fm