My Ex and My Best friend, Part 2 [Rough] [Rape] [Cheating]

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/chskzo/my_ex_and_my_best_friend/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share)

I was a different person when I first met Nathan. We were both in high school then, in our small town with small problems. Teenagers only really worried about what comes next, where we’d be or what we’d do. When I met Nathan, all the worrying was just swept away. I was happy, then. I loved him then, and I love him still. But things happen that you can’t ever explain or ignore, and I lost him. I lost him because of Martin.

Nathan and I were living together for a few years now, high school sweethearts living their wildest dreams. We weren’t very particular, just enjoyed staying up late, playing games, cuddling, loving each other to the fullest. Time could have stopped right then and there, and I would be the happiest. We could continue living that way, just the two of us, and our dog Ike. But it’s as if that feeling in my stomach kept telling me it wouldn’t last, something would happen. I never knew what, or when. I just felt like I was living in a memory.

When Nathan called me that evening, he had already made up his mind. His “best friend” Martin would now be living with us, in our second bedroom. And I was never asked for an opinion. I felt like our routine would be in danger, now with another guy joining our home. I had only ever been with Nate, and most guys I met just repulsed me. I worried Martin and I wouldnt get along, and that would in turn hurt my relationship.

I discussed all these worries, and then some, with Nathan. It’s as if he didn’t care, always reassuring, or rather, always predictably positive. My gut feeling returned on overdrive, this was it. This move would drive us apart. But he wouldnt listen. Over the next few months, all my worries unfolded. Martin moved in and we didn’t get along. He was a slob. Lazy. And overall creepy. I tried my best to avoid him, always by Nate’s side. I would catch him staring at me at times. Always inappropriately. I would share all this with Nate, but he’d ignore it or would come up with excuses for him. Eventually I stopped sharing, and I lived in a constant state of being afraid in my own home.

For the first few months, I only had about an hour in the morning alone with Martin. Nate and I had similar shifts, but I lived closer to work, so I would stay behind after he’d leave, and the creepiness would begin. We wouldn’t really talk to one another, but he would stare, openly, at my legs and ass and chest. Always when Nate wasn’t around, and I was too scared to confront him. After a few months, he developed a new habit. I’d sit in our living room, on a futon we had to get since he was borrowing our couch to sleep on, waiting for my carpool to arrive. As soon as Nate would say goodbye, Martin would leave his cave, and sit beside me, even at times caressing my thigh and calling me names. I started avoiding the futon altogether, sitting across the living room from him, avoiding all contact. The days my carpool would be late, he’d get more and more adventurous, and I’d be the more terrified. All things I tried sharing with Nate to no avail. I was alone. I was scared to be alone with him.

For months this continued. The creepy staring. The inappropriate touching. The occasional grope in our hallway when our bodies met. I would pray for the weekends to arrive, to be with Nate, to leave our apartment and go anywhere. “But we have to bring Martin along,” he’d say “His ex just broke up with him. He’s depressed. He was to come with us wherever we go.”

When my shift changed at work, things only got worse. I was now home 3 hours before Nate, and leaving 3 hours earlier. Nate, exhausted as he’d be, would remain in bed as I’d get ready alone in the winter dark, giving Martin all the time he’d need to make things worse. He’d wait for me in the kitchen, or the living room, just to fondle me or grope me some more. I would try to fight him, I really would. But he always gripped me in a way that disabled me. I couldn’t move. One particular Friday, he had me pinned against the hallway, rubbing his hand over my underwear, not allowing me to shower and get ready for work. Nate came out and saw him, pinning me and rubbing me over, his hand covering my mouth. He stood by the door, chuckled, and asked if we were playfighting. I couldn’t believe it. That’s all this was to him. Martin used that excuse for weeks to come.

So what else could I do? I let it continue. I stopped resisting and I let him do what he had to. It was always just rubbing me over, feeling me up, or groping me over my clothes. Nothing more. I let it go on because it was easier than to keep fighting it. My boyfriend and I drifted. I was struggling in school. My life was falling apart. What more was a creep fondling me and finishing on my clothes? What more could that add to my problems? I started relenting to it. Almost like something I had to do. I kept resisting and fighting him playfully, because I knew he preferred it that way. I started accepting being his plaything.

A week before it happened, Nate came screaming out of Martin’s room. I was terrified. A few days before then, Martin and I had started being less careful. He was even snapchatting me and sending me nudes on WhatsApp, whatever kept him happy. I would send the occasional pic or two, I noticed the days in which I did, he would assault me less. Whatever kept him off me the most in front of Nate, the better. Nate came screaming.

“What the fuck are these?!” Nate asked, holding a pair of grey cotton panties of mine, clearly used for whatever guys need to do. I had given them to Martin the week prior as part of a new “game” of ours. If I gave him whatever panties I was wearing then and there, he would leave me alone for the rest of the day. I had only done it twice. And it seemed to work. This pair in particular he still had from last week, the rule was he’d return them to my bin before Nate would ever notice. I was certain I was dead.

“Are you giving him your fucken underwear now? Do you know what he’s going through?” My fucken ex said to me. Are you kidding me? Do you know what I am going through? Do you know what he’s doing to me? Do you know what I’m having to go through on a daily basis? I couldn’t speak to him. My frustration must’ve shown, he dropped the underwear and held me close. I started to cry. He held me for the longest he had in months. He said he’d talk to him. To get him to move out in a few weeks. I believed him.

But he never did.

That Friday night, the night where things fell apart, Martin had cornered me before Nate got home. He was more forceful than usual, I smelled alcohol on his breath. He kept insisting I blow him, pushing my head down as I resisted. I warned him I couldn’t. Nate would get home at any point now, and he’d surely find us. I had started blowing Martin occasionally for some time now, quickly before work, and almost every day after getting home. His cum always tasted the worst, hot and sour. But as long as I played along, he wouldn’t be such an asshole constantly. Tonight I had hoped for a break.

“What do I have to do to stop this?” I asked “Please. I can’t do this anymore. Just tell me what I have to do. I can’t keep doing this. Nate will find out.” My relationship was no longer on my mind. My life as it once was, I didn’t care for it at that moment. All I could possibly wish for, was a chance to be free of it all. To stop feeling used. To stop being someone’s toy. I was hurt. I was tired. I needed it to end.

Martin wanted more. He had been teased enough these last few months. He had constantly asked me to let him fuck me, but I never allowed it. I’d cooperate as long as that never happened. I wouldn’t scream or yell out for Nate as long as he kept our rules clear: he could touch me, finger me, use my mouth and grope me however he wished now. He could grind on me, use my hands or breasts or legs. But he could never fuck me. I was loyal in that regard. Sex is intimate. Sex was mine and Nate’s. I was naive to think it would never lead to more.

Martin, mouth open, his breath stinking the empty space we were in, had this to say. He pushed me hard against the wall, my face rubbing against the cold. He pulled my shorts down, ripping my underwear in one tear. His rough hands fondling my ass and spreading me against the wall, I could barely even breathe from his arm pushing against me.

Tonight, I had to pretend I was his. No Nate, no outside world, just me and him. I would wear his favorite cotton pajama shorts and nothing underneath. I wouldn’t wear a bra, and I’d have to let him grope me throughout the night, no matter when or how. He could use my mouth in front of Nate if he felt like it. He could grope my ass and finger me in front of him. And lastly, at the end of tonight, I had to get in bed with him. Our bed. Under the covers and door shut. And he’d have freeuse to fuck me, choke me, hurt me however he wished, while Nate slept in the opposite room. I’d be his for just a few hours.

I was flabbergasted. No way this would work. No way I could get through this with Nate approving or allowing it. As i contemplated, still shoved against the wall, Martin turned his rough fingers inside of me, in a circular motion, “stretching” as he liked to call it. I’ll admit I considered the possibility, just on the belief that it would all be over. I asked if tonight would be the end of it all. He said yes. I had to convince Nate to sleep outside while he fucked me. That was my job. I had to let my boyfriend know, that I was someone else’s for the remainder of the night.
He could rough me up, abuse me, stretch me out however he wished. “You’ll be my girl” he said “So you’ll just have to do as I say. You’re good at pretending. Just pretend whatever I do to you, that we’ve been doing it for years. You don’t have to love me. Just accept it.”

It had felt like that already. These games, this giant conspiracy of ours. Months felt like years. I couldn’t do it anymore. I asked if I could have a safe word, I knew based off his temper that he’d be rough, but he said no. “The only way I stop is if Nate comes through that bedroom door, at any point tonight. You can tell him that too. Otherwise, you’re my girlfriend. So just take it like a good girl for a few hours. That’s what girlfriends do.”

I accepted. I had to.

And you all already know what happened.

Martin was convincing. He got Nate drunk first, and then he lit a blunt of something he had brought in that day. He made sure to keep feeding him shots, and I took a few to ease me through the night as well. It started calmly enough. With him calling me “babe” and with me bringing him drinks. With him squeezing my ass as Nate never even noticed. It’s as if my world had turned upside down, like I was in a different dimension entirely where my sweet love was the roommate, and this awful man was my boyfriend. How awful that sounded to me. It’s just all for tonight, I kept reminding myself. It’ll all be over before you know it.

I kept handing Nate drinks, praying he’d pass out and sleep through it all, but Martin stopped me. He wanted him awake, he said. He wanted him to see all of it. He resented him, I felt, for offering help this entire time, though I never understood why. As Nate stumbled through the night, I could only look at him and apologize through my eyes. Martin was getting impatient. “Alright baby, time for dinner” he said as he grabbed my arm and led me to our hallway bathroom. “Say goodnight to Nate, sweetie” I tried. Nate was passed out on our futon as I was dragged away by my new boyfriend.

As our usual morning routine, Martin would wait for me in our bathroom, cock out ready to go. I had convinced him now to allow it before my shower rather than after, in order to allow me to wash up. It took some convincing. This “dinner” was no different. The door shut. He pushed me down on my knees, and shoved himself into my mouth. I never got used to his size, and only ever focused on the tip. “Not tonight,” he said softly “Tonight you’re my girlfriend remember. Tonight you take it all in.”

He fucked my mouth, reaching halfway down my throat with each push, my lips glued onto his foreskin. He grabbed my head and guided me, then gave up and simply held me in place. The room felt darker, and I couldn’t breathe. This is how he used his girlfriends, I assumed. I might as well had been a fleshlight.

When he was finished, he pushed the door open and dragged me onto my bed. Our bed now, he said. I started taking my shorts off, and he slapped me hard across the face. “Not fucken yet. We’re doing this correctly,” he said “Get under the covers. We’re going to bed.”

Dizzy and crying from his hit, I slowly climbed under the sheets. He took his shirt off, remaining only now in his boxers. He shut the light off and climbed into bed, and told me to face away. I did. “My girls get woken up like this every night” he continued “you’re mine right now, so go to sleep. I want to wake you up a certain way.” I laid there as he fondled me in the dark. It felt unreal.

This was all a roleplay for him, one I could barely act in. Tears running down my face, unprepared for the rest of the night, I caught a glimpse of our alarm clock by our night stand. The time said 10:13PM. As much as he wanted me asleep, I’m sure he realized how impossible that might be. Or he just gave up on the roleplay entirely. He pulled my shorts down to my thighs with one hand, and then licked his fingers almost excessively. He began “wetting” me with his spit as I cried, I knew what was next. He had to consummate this new relationship of ours, and take what was his. He slowly crept ontop of me, his arm now wrapped around my neck, choking me. “You’re going to fucken love this” he said “I can’t imagine you’ve ever been taken like this before” He struggled to position himself a bit. I was much shorter than him, so he had to pull himself up while holding me in place. As he entered me the first time, I remember immediately regretting the entire ordeal. I couldn’t survive this, no one could. He took his time to enter me, and I started begging him to stop. “Now you get it,” he whispered “But baby I’m not even all the way in yet.”

Martin proceeded to rape me in the hardest possible manner. I no longer cared about Nate. Or the neighbors. I cried and I cried loudly. Martin stopped caring as well, and pounded me as if he was dying or trying to kill me. I was no longer sure of my safety. After a few hours of this, he allowed me to go out to talk to Nate, who was now crying and pounding at our door. I told him I needed this. I assured him it was just for tonight. I held his hand as I cried with him. I told him I could never explain why. I was frightened for both of us. This sacrifice meant nothing if we couldn’t be together. As I walked back into the room, I saw an expression of anger on Nathan’s face. He resented me for this, and I couldn’t blame him. As Martin shut the door behind us, I cried harder than I’ve ever cried before. Martin held me. I cried in his arms as he comforted me, and I didn’t care. It was all just another fetish for him, it seems. Because not long after as I cried, he positioned his cock right onto my lips as we sat at the edge of our bed. “Keep crying” he instructed “Ask for him to come in and we’ll stop” As he fucked my mouth right then and there, he’d occasionally give me enough time to breathe. I could either call Nate. Or I could breathe.

I was unaware at the time, but Nate was gone. He left me there. And Martin knew. He must’ve heard the door. These few hours he was the roughest. Stretching my ass with his rough fingers, forcing his cum down my throat, choking me to the point that I’d black out, only to be woken up by him continuing to fuck me harder and harder. I was a ragdoll for him. I couldn’t stop it, no one could. When he started wetting his fingers again, and rubbing them up against my ass, I tried to get away. I clawed at him and cried for Nate, but he muffled my mouth with my shorts and held me on my knees, face down on the bed, hands behind my back. He took my anal virginity that night, and fucked me longer in this position than any other. I felt like I was being ripped apart repeatedly. I focused on the door, waiting for Nate to step in at any moment, and end it all. To save me. To stop this.

But he never came.

Sometime around dawn, I woke up. Martin was holding me under the covers. His cock still halfway inside of me, dripping cum down my thighs. I didn’t know how long I was out for. Nate was gone. I couldn’t hear a thing outside. The bedroom door was now wide open, and our dog was gone. Martin and I were alone.

I was a happier person once. I had a loving partner, an incredible job, and a healthy small family.

Now, Martin and I were together. I was his, and he was mine. This apartment was now ours. My body was now his. And he made sure to remind me every single morning when he raped me. Whatever he felt like fucking that day. And every single night when he forced me to swallow. He was feeding me, he’d say. His girlfriend had to be fed. He had it easy. Had someone else put in all the work, and he came in and took the girlfriend for himself. No prep work, no romance, just straight to the point. I was forever lost in that new dimension.

And I still am.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ci9xr4/my_ex_and_my_best_friend_part_2_rough_rape