Author: Sam_Master

This story isn’t as wild as some of the other ones posted on here — no gangbang or sex in a public place or finally fucking the girl who bullied me in high school or anything — but I figured I’d tell you about it because I think it’s pretty hot, and maybe relatable, too. This is my best recollection of a story that happened a few years ago. All details are as accurate as I can remember (I definitely thought about it enough times since it happened), but of course there will be some things I can’t get exactly right.
It all starts with my college girlfriend, who I’d only been dating for a few months. She was an adorable petite brunette with blue eyes and freckles. I was an ex-cross country runner who spent a lot of time in the library. We got along great, and the sex was good, even if we could both be a little awkward in bed. Neither of us was virgins, but the relationship was still new enough that I think we were both worried about somehow doing it wrong.
One thing I had always loved in previous relationships was hearing about my girlfriends’ personal fantasies. I loved when they told me what they got off to, whether it was porn, erotica, or just some thoughts and scenarios they had in their head. However, when I asked my girlfriend about her fantasies, she always seemed to be holding back. I got the sense that she was just telling me what I wanted to hear — stuff like blowjobs and threesomes with another girl, and I think one time she mentioned watching me jerk off. One time I even had her masturbate in bed with me and tell me what she was thinking about, but mostly she just shrugged it off and said she thought about us having sex. Was I really supposed to argue with that?
It all changed one night, after we’d gone out drinking with some friends. I was walking her back to her apartment and she was clearly a little tipsy, leaning a little on my shoulder and being way more chatty and animated than she usually was. I felt like the good, responsible boyfriend, taking her home and making sure she had a glass of water before bed. But just as we were turning onto her street she gripped my hand a little tighter and told me there was something she wanted to tell me.
My heart started beating double-time. I thought she was going to drop some kind of bombshell on me or tell me she wanted to break up, but I managed to ask her what it was and it was clear it wasn’t that. She was blushing, hiding her face with her free hand. I told her we could talk about it in the morning, but she was insistent. She stopped me right there in the middle of the street and told me she wanted me to be rougher when we were having sex. Like, a lot rougher.
Now I was the good little product of a comprehensive sex education system, and I felt like I was taking advantage of her just by having this conversation, but she kept pushing it. Would I pull her hair? Call her names, mean ones, really mean ones? Would I hit her, if she asked? Force her onto her knees and laugh at her when she complained? I tried to avoid answering the question and steer her towards her apartment but she laughed and hung on the front of my coat and wouldn’t stop until I told her I’d think about it, which seemed to make her happy.
I said goodbye for the night and started the walk home to my own apartment thinking about what she’d said. I’d grown up fairly sheltered, and I’d never thought a girl would want that kind of thing. My first thought was that this meant she was messed up somehow, but I still really liked her. I just wasn’t ready to even think about if I would like it, because what would that mean about me? I told myself I’d do it because she liked it and because I liked her, that was it.
It honestly took a few weeks before I could work up the nerve to talk to her about it, but one night after watching a movie I was spooning her and I got up the nerve to ask if she still wanted me to be mean to her in bed. I could feel her tense against me, but she nodded and told me yes, she was still thinking about it. I don’t know if she could feel me get a little hard against her ass, but she just whispered that I should do it the next time we had some alone time. I slipped my hand into her pants, stroking her clit while I asked if she wanted a safeword or something. She thought about it for a second, but she decided she would just tell me to stop or tap out if it was too much.
She ended up going home soon after that (I think my roommate came home) but that night she sent me a few links to some videos and stories filled with some pretty filthy shit. Then she sent me a voice memo with the unmistakable slick sounds of fingers in a wet cunt. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten so hard so fast. The next time she came over she was wearing a skimpy outfit, which was out of character for her — a short dress and no bra, going by the way her nipples showed through the fabric. She looked so cute, especially when she teased me by leaning over to pick things up — I almost didn’t want to be mean to her. Halfway through dinner we were both pretty keyed-up, and we ended up just stumbling back to my room.
Once we got in there, she hung back by the door, playing with the hem of her dress. Seeing her there, playing all innocent — it really changed something in me. She moved to come over to me on the bed but I stopped her. “Stay there,” I said. “And get naked.”
She blushed and stripped. There was absolutely a rush in just asking for what I wanted. It was a strange interplay between getting to decide what to do with her, even while I knew ultimately this was what she had begged me to do. I hadn’t really planned much of what I was going to do or say, but I was getting hard fast and I tried to ride the wave of adrenaline so I wouldn’t get too in my head about it.
I cleared my throat. “Come here and suck me off.” She nodded shyly, stepping towards the bed and falling right to her knees in front of me. I made eye contact with her and gave her a nod — asking “Is this okay?” without so many words. She nodded back. Good. “You deepthroat right? I know you’re a whore like that.” She nodded again, still blushing as she pulled my dick out of my underwear, spitting and licking on the head to get it good and wet. My first instinct was to moan and tell her it felt good, but I stopped myself. “Go on,” I said, like the soft, sweet pressure of her lips wasn’t affecting me. “Make it seem like you’re actually trying, okay? Don’t be fucking lazy about it.”
She moaned around me and took me deeper, and that’s when I noticed her hand going between her own legs. I’d tried so hard in the past to be nice and good to her, but here I was insulting her to her face and it was already more intense than any of the sex we had had before. It still felt so wrong, but the feeling of power and freedom to say these terrible, taboo things to her was making my head swim.
What really surprised me was how easy it was to just twist my fingers in her hair and pull her head onto my cock over and over, starting to see how far I could push it. She was struggling a little with the pace — the first time she gagged, I gave her the space to back off and catch her breath, but she looked up at me like she was a little pissed and just dove straight back onto my dick. I didn’t make the same mistake next time. I only gave her a second to cough and recover before I was sliding deep into her mouth again, letting myself enjoy the feeling of her throat spasming and squeezing around the head of my cock. I think I’d always wanted that, but never let myself make her that uncomfortable. Now the sound of her gagging went straight to my dick.
I’d started out this thinking it was just for her, but by the time she begged me to fuck her, well — it’s safe to say it was doing it for me too. She was asking so nicely, bucking against her own fingers and looking up at me like an angel, tears gathering on her eyelashes. Fuck me fuck me fuck me please.
I quickly stripped off my clothes and posed her on the bed on her hands and knees, ass high in the air. She had such a sweet ass, pale and soft. I dug my fingers right into it like I’d always wanted to, pulled her cheeks apart to see her tight little asshole. Something came over me (I don’t know what it was, if it was something I had wanted all along or something she brought out of me) and I just spat on her asshole, letting the saliva drip down to her cunt. She wailed a little at that. I think she was worried I was going to try to fuck her ass, but she still didn’t tell me to stop. That little edge of shock and fear was so fucking hot — I think I knew that that was the moment I was gone.
She practically melted when I fucked into her cunt with three fingers at once. She was wet enough, practically soaked from how she’d been touching herself. I went a little faster than I usually would and was rewarded with the sweetest little moans, her body twisting like it couldn’t decide if it wanted more or less. I leaned over as I was fingerfucking her, until I could whisper in her ear.
“Say you’re a slut,” I said.
She tightened around my fingers. “I’m a slut.”
“Say you’re a whore.”
“I’m a whore.”
“Say you’re a bitch.” The word felt sour in my mouth. I’d scrubbed it from my vocabulary only to find it made me want to fuck her harder.
She moaned into the mattress. “I’m a bitch. I’m your bitch.”
It was too fucking perfect. I bit my lip. “And do you want me to fuck you?”
”Yesyesyesyesyeys please.”
I laughed, as cold and mocking as I could manage. “Too fucking bad.”
I pulled my fingers out of her cunt and smacked her ass with my filthy wet hand, harder than I’d ever dared before. She yelped, then moaned, then whined when she realized what I’d said. She begged me again to please fuck her, promising to be good and tight for me. I knew how good her cunt felt — I’d had it over and over for the past few months. Talking down to her like she was stupid and watching her rut like an animal trying to get my cock in her was a different kind of satisfying.
I started stroking myself, my hand still slick from her pussy, and honestly I was close to coming way sooner than I wanted to be. If it was going to be over soon I wanted to give her the most bang for her buck. I grabbed the back of her hair and pressed her face into the duvet. She squirmed a little, but we made eye contact and she smiled a little. God, I was so far gone.
Still, I played up my anger, tried to dig deep for the rude, selfish pig inside me. “Stop fucking moving, cunt, I’m trying to come on your face.” She finally stopped writhing against the bed, going still except for her right hand, which was back to working her clit. I stared down at her face, her closed eyes, her mouth open and panting wetly into the bedding where I was holding her down. She looked fucking beautiful and I wanted to dirty her up so bad, I couldn’t explain it.
I stroked a little faster, and that was all it took. My orgasm felt white-hot, like it was searing me from the inside-out — pretty crazy stuff. I think all the anticipation from the day meant I’d built up more come than usual, because it got everywhere: her face, her hair, her back, the bed, my hand, all over. She gasped when it hit her, and once I’d stopped shaking I couldn’t help rubbing the tip of my cock and the last few drops of come onto her cheek, telling her to thank me for it. That wasn’t something I’d seen in any of the porn she’d sent me — it came from somewhere deep in my own fucked-up imagination. She liked it though (didn’t stop rubbing her clit) as she repeatedly thanked me, choking out a moan before she also came and collapsed onto the filthy bed.
There was a moment of calm where we both caught our breath, and then we both started laughing. It was so cathartic, like we’d been holding it back the whole time. I asked her if she’d liked it, and she just batted my chest and told me of course she had. I grabbed a truly absurd number of tissues and tried to clean some of the come off her face, but she waved me away and pulled me in for a kiss. I couldn’t even complain about the come — I was so happy it had gone well and she didn’t think I was some kind of monster.
That was just the first time, but it definitely became something we did regularly. Still, I have a feeling I’ll remember this first time for many, many years.