Thursday, October 18, 2007


Alan can't be kinky in the formal ("formal?" sheesh) sense. Won't use toys, won't call it dominance and submission, won't play the goofy Sir Master Daddy word games.

But I'm finding he can be rough.

Last night was fun. I came over between school and work and we just relaxed for a while, watching "America's Most Deadly Explosions" type shows and saying very hypocritical things about the morality of showing real deaths on TV for entertainment. Things progressed as they frequently do, from sitting on the couch next to each other to cuddling on the couch to slipping clothing off.

Then he turned things around. He shoved me down on my back, held my hands above my head, and pinched and bit my nipples. Hard, and getting harder, so that it felt so fucking good and hurt so much I could barely stand it and then he stopped and shoved his fingers up my pussy, just as hard and staring me in the eye the whole time while I squirmed. He didn't let me go until I came and when I had barely caught my breath he pushed my mouth down onto his cock, holding my head and forcing me to take more of it down my throat.

He didn't let me finish him, and in a moment, when I could taste clear salty pre-come leaking from the tip of his cock, he pulled me off, threw me back down, said "are you ready?" but answered himself with "I know you are," and started to fuck me. He was forceful and when I tried to take any control of the rhythm or even push up against him he shoved me down, fucking me his way and that way was hard and fast enough to hurt.

I can never remember fucking as it actually happened. Just details; my hand wrapped around his shoulder, his eyes open and locked on mine, the sweat in the small of his back, the muscles in his legs tightening just before he came, and little gasps from both of us in unison before I just started screaming.

I went to work afterwards, sore everywhere under my uniform, feeling little twinges from my nipples when I moved.


  1. Why did I type "Brandon"?

  2. Wow, for a moment I had though Brandon had gotten a hold of the that would just be rather funny. I know I'm sick.

  3. Bruno - you scared the BEJEEZUS out of me there.

  4. My eyebrows went up some at that. I thought these were psuedonyms.

  5. Scott - They really, really, really should be. But I'm trusting, and dumb, and I haven't used last names, cities, or really specific details. So I guess I just figure... there are a lot of Brandons out there, there's nothing he could really find this by.

    It's still dumb of me, especially considering that blogging the real name of my workplace has gotten me into major trouble in the past. But there's only one "St. Employee-Googling Nosybastard's Hospital" and there's thousands of men named Brandon or Jon and women named Holly.

    Yeah, it's still dumb.

  6. Holly:

    Not dumb at all. Trusting. It might even go along with the thought patterns that allow us to read these exploits of yours. I think in a world where no one trusts anyone and the administration is only steps away from a Big Brother kind of attitude, your innocence (again, funny given what you write about), is refreshing.

    I won't tell a soul. (smile)

  7. Scott - Aw thanks. And yeah... I got one chance to live, and one chance to write, and if I save it all up until I'm widowed and retired then sexual standards will have advanced to the point where double-fisting on the first date will be demure so my little stories won't be interesting anymore.

    You just better not be a Scott I know. Although even if you are I bet you wouldn't guess it.