“Hi! How’ve you been?” I asked gaily, breezing into Alcibiades’ apartment.

“Fine, and yourself?” he smiled, with his hands around my hips, as he greeted me.‎

“Not bad, not bad,” I replied, following him in.

“Good,” he said, sitting down on the sofa, no longer smiling. “Now take off all your clothes.”

Nonchalantly, I pulled off my sweater, then lowered my skirt and tights. But suddenly, standing before him in just my underwear, I began to feel naked and self-conscious. My hands were shaking as I unhooked my bra. He sat staring at me, impassively. I stepped trembling out of my underwear, trying to resist the urge to shield my breasts and exposed genitals from his view.

“Now get on the sofa and suck me,” he said, unzipping his pants. I crawled onto the sofa on my hands and knees beside him and took him into my mouth. The strong unwashed odour of his penis had put me off previously, but this time, I closed my eyes and thought about one of my fantasies of going down on a man and tasting the woman he’s fucked the night before. I bobbed my head up and down on his cock, licking the shaft and swirling my tongue around the head. Every now and then, he grabbed my pony tail and forced my head down until my lips were pressed against his balls. I let out a little whimper of arousal. Hearing this, he reached around to examine my pussy.

“You’re soaking wet,” he exclaimed. “You little slut.”‎

I moaned in agreement, and he once again forced my head down until my face was buried in his crotch. I could feel his dick swelling and straining in my mouth. I thought he might come like this, as he had on our previous encounter. But instead he pulled me off and told me he was going to fuck me on the sofa. He dragged me up and made me kneel on the seat of the sofa, with my hands on the head-rest, facing away from him.

“Now spread your cheeks apart for me,” he ordered.

“No… no…” I protested weakly.

“Do it,” he barked. “Not like that – wider! I want to see your holes. Yes. Now arch your back.”

My hands were shaking almost too much to obey his command – in fact, I was shaking all over, almost sobbing, as I put myself on display for him, I felt so exposed, so humiliated. He began to fuck me, but as soon as he heard my moans of pleasure, he roughly grabbed hold of my hair and yanked my head back with so much force, I felt as though my back might break in two. I yelped in pain, straightening up a little, and allowing his dick to slip from my pussy. Taking advantage of this interruption, he pressed the head of his cock against my ass and told me he was going to fuck me there instead. It hurt so much as he entered me, dry, I was practically crying, but pretty soon my cries of pain turned to gasps of pleasure, and I laid my head down on the back of the sofa while he pounded me from behind.‎

“Putain…” he gasped as, with a couple of long, hard thrusts, he came deep in my ass.

Lying next to him later, I watched him as he spoke animatedly about religion, and the political correctness of Americans, and a particularly annoying liberal Catholic girl he taught with. I loved listening to him talk. But the clock was ticking. Finally he pulled me towards him and began to kiss me. Yeah… time for Round 2.

He told me to get on all fours on the edge of the bed. I got up, realising to my embarrassment that my wetness had left a large patch on his sheets. He positioned himself in front of me at the edge of the bed, and told me to start sucking. I began to lick him and suck him with gusto. He grabbed hold of my head with both hands and began to ram his cock deep into my mouth. When he pulled out, his cock was coated with thick, ropey strands of saliva – the kind you only find at the back of your throat.

“Now lie down on your back with your head at the edge of the bed,” he told me. I lay down as he had said and he began to face-fuck me. His cock really filled up my mouth and throat in this position – normally ideal for face-fucking – but the lack of control made me nervous and I began to gag and choke. He pulled out and pushed his balls into my face instead. I licked them gratefully and he reached down to probe my pussy.

“Keep your legs apart,” he told me, and then, when I obeyed, slapped me sharply on my pussy, sending tingles of excitement and pleasure through my body. “I told you to keep your fucking legs apart, bitch,” he reminded me, forcibly spreading my legs, which had closed involuntarily. Then he began to slap me repeatedly on my pussy. My body jerked and trembled with each blow, but it was great – I loved it. I could barely concentrate on servicing his cock and balls, which is so unlike me, really.‎

Then he said he was going to fuck me in missionary. I lay on my back as he positioned himself between my legs, above me. He bit my nipples, hard – so hard that I almost cried out, squeezing my thighs against him in protest. My pussy was dripping wet when he entered me. He grabbed my throat with one hand, squeezing it slightly. I closed my eyes, clutching desperately at his arm in the throes of orgasm. He pushed his fingers viciously into my mouth, forcing my face to one side, and continued to fuck me.

“Now I want you to ride me,” he said, and tried to roll off me, but my pussy was clamped on his cock like a vice, and wouldn’t let go! He fucked me while we lay on our sides, then pushed me away so he could get onto his back. I climbed on top and began to ride him, grinding into him at first, then moving up and down on his cock. He slapped my breasts, first gently, then harder, and squeezed my nipples, marvelling at the jets of milk spurting forth.

“Here, like this,” he suggested, and pulled my ankles forward to place my feet flat on the bed so that I could squat over him, bouncing up and down on his cock. He groaned, bucking his hips impatiently, but my thighs were tiring and I was losing coordination, I couldn’t go any faster. “Baise-moi, salope!!”, he shouted finally, slapping me sharply across the face. Oh God, I came instantly…

He generously waited for me to stop convulsing before flinging me off him and onto my stomach. “Je vais t’enculer encore,” he told me, ramming his cock into my ass. God, it hurt, despite having done it just an hour earlier. I squealed and squirmed away from him, but he kept plowing into me, until his cock slipped to one side in mid-thrust and felt like it was practically ripping me open! I screamed with pain, begging him to stop, trying desperately to crawl away from his cock which now felt like a dagger jammed into my flesh. Somehow, that was his cue to come almost instantly…

I felt something warm seeping down my leg when he moved away from me, and I craned my neck in horror to see what it was, expecting a gush of blood! He saw me looking and reassured me.

“I just spilled some come on your leg while removing the condom,” he explained. “Sorry!”

“You must be mistaking me for someone who minds having come running down her legs,” I felt like saying, but I didn’t want to give him any ideas, so I just stood there hovering by the bed until he’d returned from the bathroom.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I have to leave,” I said blithely.

“So no matter whether you get here at 6 or at 2, you still have to leave so soon,” he smiled, but I could see he was disappointed.‎

“I don’t think I have it in me for Round 3,” I told him, to soften the blow.

“Well, I do,” he said. “Though maybe not right this second…”

“My ass is off-limits, though.”

“You’ve got other holes.”

“But you’ve had them all now.”‎

“I’ve ‘had’ them all, yes,” he smiled, evidently pleased with my turn of phrase, and then grabbed me by the waist and swung me down on to the bed beside him. We chatted a bit more about his annoying liberal Catholic colleague. I was just about to insist that I really had to leave when he told me to get on all fours. I leapt up obligingly, trusting him not to penetrate the wrong hole. He didn’t.

“Say, ‘j’aime me faire baiser comme une salope’,” he ordered. I promptly repeated the words – perhaps too promptly. The thing is – and it’s a well-known phenomenon – rude words don’t have the same impact in a foreign language. Although I knew I was saying I like to get fucked like a slut, it was nowhere near as humiliating to say these words in French as it would have been in English. Because speaking a foreign language is like acting – playing a part – so it isn’t really me calling myself a slut, but someone else. He fucked me like this, doggy-style, for a while, as I looked back at him slyly, to encourage him, but also just to watch him fucking me. Then, grabbing my waist, he rolled over onto his back, pulling me down onto him, facing the ceiling.

“Fuck me like this,” he said. I had no idea what to do, at first – I’ve never had sex in this position, lying on my back with a man beneath me – but I soon figured it out, planting my feet on the bed on either side of him and lifting myself up and down as his cock pistoned in and out of me. It did feel good, and was fun to watch, but penetration wasn’t very deep and it was tiring to do all the work. So I was glad when he told me to get back on all fours. He mounted me again, and began to fuck me hard, pushing my head and shoulders down into the pillow, crushing my chest with his weight, so that I could barely breathe. Then, still holding my upper body down, with my ass in the air, he placed one foot on the bed so that he could get a better angle, slamming his cock directly down into me. Meanwhile, I concentrated on not suffocating, managing to inhale a few shallow breaths of air into my compressed lungs. Then I felt him pause, and dramatically he came, in long, slow thrusts.

“Now aren’t you glad you stayed for Round 3?” he said, triumphantly. I couldn’t speak, but just mumbled something incoherent from where he had left me, dazed, with my head still buried in the pillows. Somewhere, in my oxytocin-addled consciousness, I was dimly aware of some silly notion of having to leave, perhaps from some other space-time continuum, but, unable to move, I just watched it float by on a sea of endorphins – that same sea on which I lay, wrecked.

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5 thoughts on “Round 3

  1. Very nice piece, which is a way of saying hot. As a side issue, I love your names for your protagonists. I hope you use them to their, er, faces.

    I mean, if I said, “Good morning, cherie,” and she replied, “Good morning, Anal Rapist,” I’d feel inordinately proud. Even if I hadn’t, technically, anally raped her I’d feel proud that it was her central thought about me. It’s a name to swagger with.

    Like

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