This relationship took place many years ago — and lasted for approximately two pretty unhealthy years — and included getting married, then divorcing. But this isn’t a therapist’s chair, and plus all of this took place decades ago, so I’ll avoid talking about the many bad parts of the relationship, and instead focus on the eye openers I’d experienced, at that point in time, sexually. Plus, if you read my submitted history, you will find that I live a pretty unique life, but, as always, I’d appreciate it if you don’t judge.
I am the male part of that relationship. I was 25 at the time, and pretty naive when it came to relationships, and she was 26, and definitely not naive when it came to relationships. As I got to know her better, she had divulged that she had been dating people since she was… 12. In addition, she claimed to have suffered a sexual assault at some point along the way, and while our sex life and relationship had always been “a bit off”, to put it mildly, the vast majority of our best sexual adventures took place after I’d been aggressive with her, or after she’d been aggressive with me. This is not to make light of sexual assault; it’s just an observation on my part, given my first-hand knowledge of what took place between us and all.
Our relationship was interesting, though, how it evolved from a vague friendship, to her thwarting my advances, to her initiating oral sex on me in a coat room during a Christmas party (we weren’t even dating or sexually active at that point!), to us dating, and more.
Back then I was tall, with a full head of long hair, and was growing as much facial hair as possible. I had standard equipment, but I could go a long time, and could cum heavily and multiply (this has only slightly diminished, to my delight, and I’m a shaved-headed guy in my mid to late 40s now). Plus, I was poor: really, really poor; I was finishing college, for goodness sake. She was tall, thin, pretty, bubble butt, awesome legs, and the smallest, perkiest breasts I have ever seen (I am a breast man, followed by legs, and bubble butts). I had been instantly attracted to her, and it seems like she literally couldn’t keep her hands off me starting that December, although, strangely, it took an awful long time for her to get there.
I would like to share 5 distinct (and short) accounts of what I’d learned from her back in the day. I can’t speak for her frame of mind back then, but certainly I had gone wild during the course of our relationship. This is the first time I’d been totally uninhibited with anyone, and now and again I look back on that relationship and smile at the audacity of it all. For what it’s worth, I did a TON of stupid things back then, and I certainly would advocate that people use good judgment, i.e. safe sex, as a matter of course. Stop reading here, if you please, if accounts of unprotected encounters bother you.
Account #1: Thong & G-string City
Late in the summer that I’d met her, we would hang out either at her apartment or mine — after we got out of work or class. I’d known that she’d been exploring my bureau, my closet, and my PC (Windows 3.1 and Linux, dual boot — NERD ALERT!), since things were never quite put back into the right order after she’d been around my apartment, or had been messing with my computer. As I’ve always been a fan/fetishist of what women wear, I returned the favor; naturally I’d wanted to see what kinds of underwear she’d worn.
She’d gone out for a trip to the supermarket and the mall (I hate shopping, so I didn’t go), and after 10 minutes of her not returning to the house because she’d “forgotten something”, I went to explore her underwear drawer. Most of the underwear was of the cotton, bikini variety — pretty unexciting stuff — but at the back of the drawer I found it all crumpled up. I picked the tiny, powder blue, g-string up in my hands, and pressed it between my thumbs and forefingers. Yeah, I sniffed it too. I admit it. I was just about to go perusing another drawer when I’d heard a key in the lock, so I crumpled the g-string back up, put it back where I’d found it, closed the drawer, then quickly resumed my position on the couch, where I’d been studying an algorithms book, and watching some banal show on MTV about spring break, or summer parties, or something. Still, I’d made a mental note of, if given the chance, how much I’d enjoy seeing her in that g-string.
After our first times together, later that year, in December (after she’d given me an incredible blow job, as noted above), we’d had sex in her car, then against the wall of the foyer of her apartment, then in her bed, and then on and off through the following morning. Then we had a huge and petty argument. She’d accused me of being sexist or a skirt chaser or something, during pillow talk, and somehow things escalated from there. What?! It was absurd, but still, that is when I hatched my plan. I was going to steal all of her boring panties, and replace them with g-strings. I’d had just enough time to the examine the one she’d had, and discovered that it was from a shop in the mall, the sole lingerie shop that was eerily positioned close to the food court.
Before winter break had ended, I’d worked a bunch of time and a half at the local supermarket, so I went on a run to the mall — then hid all of the g-strings I’d bought in the basement of her apartment. Next time she was out, I was going to purge her panties drawer and replace its contents with solely g-strings.
After her shower the next morning, she went to find her panties, then flipped out. I shrugged the whole thing off, and that made her madder, and she’d assured me that she was going to get even. She didn’t happen to tell me that I had to buy her new panties, or that she was going to buy herself new ones either.
Account #2: Close Shaves
Following the panties incident, it was pretty (emotionally) cold in her apartment for a week — even though I had checked her panties drawer a couple of times and nothing had changed — so I took off and went back to my apartment, just to get a break from the blah, and she’d stopped returning my calls or emails. I had just assumed that she’d taken up with another guy (she was that way), that we were through, someday I would tell the panties theft story to someone else, and that it was weird enough that someone (probably a guy friend) would laugh at the absurdity of it all. Wrong! SAD!
On Day 8, she’d called me, and didn’t really want to chat. She just told me to come over immediately, and that the door to her apartment would be unlocked.
When I’d entered her apartment I’d closed and locked the door, and called out to her. She was nowhere to be found. Finally, as I’d entered her bedroom, it with its own private bathroom, she’d finally heard me, then poked her head out of the bathroom, told me to strip, and to join her in the bathroom.
She was sitting on the edge of her bathtub, wearing nothing but a g-string. Next to her was a bottle of shaving cream and a razor. She told me that “this” (her pubic hair — no matter how fine it was naturally) would not do, and that if she was going to be a g-string slut (her words), I was going to have to shave her. Funny she had asked for this, because weeks earlier she had been on a rant about how she would never go for such a thing.
However, being the total horndog I was, I got hard immediately, and she’d started slapping at my penis, telling me I could not start until I got soft again. Finally, it went down, and she stood up, and took off her g-string. She sat back down on the edge of the tub, a towel underneath her butt, and spread her legs. I got started, and spread shaving cream around her pussy. Then I carefully shaved everything, and she surprised me when she moved her towel, and knelt on it. “Around my asshole, too, and everything in those parts,” she demanded.
Finally I finished up, and she told me it was time to clean her off. I’d started to run the water, and had grabbed a washcloth, but she insisted that I clean her with my mouth. I have to admit that eating shaving cream and discarded hair was less than pleasant, but it was weird enough that I found myself getting turned on again. Yes, I’m a perv. A huge perv.
Then she told me it was my turn. I reached for the razor and shaving cream, but she swatted my hand away.
“No,” she said, “we’ll use these.” She went to grab a packet of disposable razors and started in. I admit that I have more hair than some, but am not a bear by any stretch. It was just extremely painful — the way she shaved my chest, pubic area, and “those parts”, and disposable razors are the worst. It took a whole packet to shave everything clean, and I was definitely quite a bit nicked, and was feeling pretty sheepish too. Finally she finished, and, without admiring her work, told me to get dressed, and to leave. No kissing, no chatting, no sex, no nothing.
In the weeks that followed we’d repeat this routine, and I really enjoyed the true skin on skin sensations of sex, but not on that day.
Account #3: Pubic in Public
In late spring, shortly after we’d gotten engaged, it became unseasonably warm. I’d encouraged her to dress sexier, and she’d insisted that I go commando, and to wear a cock ring, so on this afternoon when I’d picked her up from class, and she was wearing a low-cut white blouse, short black mini skirt, and black high-heeled sandals. On the access road out of the campus, she’d told me to pull off into a semi-distant parking lot, and I’d wondered what was on her mind. We were the only other car in the lot, save for a campus policeman, who was sitting in his cruiser reading a newspaper. She took one last swig from her iced tea (it was in a glass bottle with a twist-off lid), then told me to pull my shorts down. I pulled them down a little bit, but she told me to pull them down to my ankles, so I obliged. She’d reached underneath the steering column, pulled the shorts off my legs, then threw them into the back seat of the car.
She opened her purse, took out a bra, and threw that into the back set as well. Then she unbuttoned her blouse so that I could get full view of her gorgeous, tiny tits. I had been trying to touch her, but she slapped my hands away without saying a word.
Then she lowered her mouth to my cock, and went to town on me. I tried not to pay any attention to the campus policeman, and soon enough I had to cum (I thought of the dirtiest, nastiest things I could in hopes of cumming fast), so I let her know. She wasn’t a swallower, so she collected my seed into her mouth then spat it into the empty iced tea bottle. That same bottle got an awful lot of use that spring and summer. NOT SAD!
On the way home, she reached into the back seat, then threw both my shorts and her bra out of the window of the moving car. OMG!
When we’d reached her apartment, it finally being dark outside now, her roommate’s car was in the driveway. Now, her roommate was in the middle of her own relationship drama, so being home at night was a recent occurrence. She handed me her light jacket, and I tied it around my waist. Then I grabbed my book pack, and put it behind me, so that when I got out of the car I wasn’t going to flash anyone. At that point, I had no idea what to expect, but thankfully I’d kept a change of clothes upstairs in her room. I figured that I would just put on my change of clothes, sit around and shoot the shit with the both of them; then either I’d be told to leave, or would hopefully spend the night fucking my fiancee. I was still worked up after our parking lot rendezvous.
After we’d entered the apartment, her roommate was not in the main room. My fiancee went to the back of the apartment to find her, peeked her head into her roommate’s room, then disappeared into her own bedroom. She was gone for several minutes — when I had the idea to go and knock on her door to ask her if she was in mid shit break or something — but then I realized my fiancee was humorless overall, and I didn’t really want another argument at this time, so I just sat on the couch, semi naked, like a dumbass.
I watched, up the hallway, for my fiancee’s bedroom door to open. I could see light peeking out from where the door met the carpet. Then it went black, and in seconds, the door opened. I could not make her out at first, since it was dark in the hallway. She extinguished the other lights on her way into the main room, and lit a candle on the kitchen counter. It was then it became apparent that my fiancee was completely naked except for her strappy high heeled black sandals.
As she approached me she told me to strip, and I obliged. She straddled me, and I went to kiss her, but she didn’t want to. Often times we would fuck, and she didn’t want to kiss. I easily slipped inside of her, and she had wanted to go slow on this night. Her low moans were delicious as we fucked.
A little bit after my fiancee had been rotating her hips, and grasping my cock tight with her muscles, her roommate’s door opened. I almost threw my fiancee off my lap, tried to cover up with a bolster or whatever, and pretended that we hadn’t just been fucking, but I didn’t. My fiancee’s back was to the kitchen, and we were fucking, with her on top of me, on the couch at the far end of their apartment. Not even the backlight from the fridge could interrupt my fiancee’s motions or focus. After the fridge made the magnetic sucking sound as it closed, I could tell that her roommate was watching us as she drank a glass of juice. I didn’t mind, to be honest. Fucking my fiancee had been in short order at that time, and I was enjoying it for all it was worth.
I don’t know how much time had passed at that point, but eventually her roommate went back to her room, and the door closed. Then the light went off.
After I came inside of my fiancee, I was told to leave for the night, and sadly, I did, after having gotten dressed in my backup clothing.
Account #4: Share and Share Alike
Ever since my fiancee and I had fucked — she must have known her roommate had been watching — in plain view, we started to have sex several times per day, and this went on for about a month. I was even asked to sleep over more regularly, and, like in the earliest days of our relationship, my fiancee would stay over night at my place as well. It’s almost like the BS/roller coaster element of our relationship had never taken place.
In the fifth week of this sextravaganza, we decided to cook dinner in, then to have a “quiet” evening in the apartment. When I rolled up to the driveway, I was excited because her roommate’s car wasn’t there. I was excited about cooking a meal, getting naked, then — I had this fantasy — of fucking in her roommate’s bedroom and leaving cum on her sheets. I was hoping that this would all work out. Little did I know…
The apartment door was unlocked when I arrived, so I let myself in. The apartment was dark, save for a few lit candles, and my fiancee’s door was open with faint light in the background. I unpacked the groceries, and put the perishables in the fridge. Then I went to check on my fiancee.
There she stood, absolutely naked, and motioned that I should strip, so I did. We embraced, and soon I felt myself being ready to take her, but she thwarted my advances.
“No!” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Not now!”
“Wait, what?” was all I could muster.
She motioned with her index finger for me to follow her, then lead me to her roommate’s door. Her roommate’s bedroom was completely dark, and it took time for my eyes to adjust.
“What is going on here?” I asked.
“You. And her,” she told me. “Take her. Don’t kiss her, and I will kill you if you cum inside her.” She grabbed my erection, really, really hard, almost to the point of me losing it. “Do you understand?”
I nodded, and entered the bedroom. My fiancee was standing in the doorway.
I climbed on to her roommate’s bed, and felt around to where her roommate was laying.
“Is that you?” she asked.
“You?” I asked.
“It is you,” she responded. I could feel her legs opening, and their bare flesh rubbing against my quads.
I put my index finger over her lips once I’d found them.
I searched around with my erection to find her spot, and forced myself in — in two strokes. She was very, very tight. I grabbed her short legs and threw them over my shoulders. Then I began to fuck her. You could hear the slaps of my pelvis against her underside echoing off their popcorn ceilings. She was tight and wet. I enjoyed the experience immensely, and to my surprise, I did not last long at all, maybe 10 minutes tops.
I asked her where she wanted my cum, and she told me “inside of her”, but I knew better. I pulled out, and left a load on her face. Then I got off her bed, and walked towards my fiancee. We embraced, and upon breaking our kiss, my fiancee headed for her roommate’s bed, and in the shadows I could see that their bodies had joined. I really wanted to watch, and/or to join, but my fiancee yelled from the darkness: “get dressed and leave”.
There was a quick whispering (what I assume was) debate between the women, but then I let myself out, and went home.
Account #5: Cuckold?!
You might be wondering why I got married to her. Well, maybe not. It was pretty obvious that I’d been thinking with my dick. Before I’d met her I was so hard up that even with our erratic interpersonal relationship, the variety and unpredictable nature of our sex life was a huge turn on for me. So I went with it. I did mention thinking with my dick, right?
As my wife was a year older than me, she’d started working first. Naturally she told me about all of her “hot” male co-workers, and at first I didn’t make anything of it. We’d spent a year of exclusive male-female time together, or so I’d thought, so there was nothing to worry about. As for me, I’d been trying to power through my last year of school, and had been trying to line up job interviews. I was sick of being poor and really wanted to get at it professionally.
When this happened, there were no smart phones, most people didn’t own cell phones, email wasn’t available at one’s fingertips, and at best you would carry a pager (which I didn’t — although she did). We were supposed to meet up at our apartment that night, and then go for dinner. I didn’t hear anything for hours, and waited by the phone, most tv channels flickering their test patterns at the end of the night. I had tried to page her many times, but to no avail.
The only thing I could do was to wait, and if I didn’t hear anything by morning then I would call the cops. I grabbed my pillow and a comforter, and went to my office on campus. I tried to focus on my studies, as finals were coming up, but couldn’t. Eventually I fell asleep, my head resting on my keyboard. I awoke to sunlight with a jerk, and a ton of spaces that had been added to the code I’d been writing. I reached my hand to my aching forehead, and could feel the indentation of keys in it. I felt like hell.
I decided to drive back home — it was already 8am by the time I’d steadied myself and bought some coffee from the vending machine — to see if she was back yet. I had tried to page her a few times more, but to no avail. If I hadn’t heard from her by 10am, I’d decided, I would call the cops and make a report for a missing person.
When I got to our apartment, her car was in the driveway, so I raced upstairs. She was sitting on the edge of our bed, crying, wearing nothing but the black stiletto heels she would wear with her business attire everyday. When she saw me, she turned her face to me, and made the saddest smile I have ever seen.
I asked her what happened, and she started to speak. I stopped her.
Now, we had had a bunch of rough sex — as mentioned earlier, she really liked it rough, although those are maybe stories for another time — so hair pulling and choking and other sexual fisticuffs were not out of the question. I barked at her to stand up, and she did. I just stood there staring at her, and that’s when it happened. A “substance” came dripping out of her pussy. Of course I knew what that substance was. But I didn’t give a shit. I was going to fuck my wife with all of my might.
I approached her, grabbed her by the throat, and held her down on the bed. With my other hand, I opened my pants, and pulled it out. While holding her throat, I made intense eye contact with her, and started fucking her with reckless abandon.
I had never seen a woman cum (like squirting cum) until then. I finished inside of her, and she was praising me for how great I just was.
We continued on for a better part of the day, and I have to admit that our sex was magnificent. Of course I also knew that we were in a huge amount of trouble; all we did in those days was to argue and to fuck and really nothing else. A few months later she dumped me, and then life as I know it today took shape. Still, wow. I can’t believe how depraved and awesome that time in my life was (until I found another depraved and awesome time — and that continues until today).
Thanks for reading!
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/6mow2v/toxic_relationship_but_with_oddawesome_sex_mf
Nice story , cheers for posting ;)