0 comments/ 14431 views/ 3 favorites What I Need By: Silverbriar I awake unable to move. Momentary confusion sets in as I try my limbs, finding each bound. My eyes come open and there is you, always you, dark eyes boring into me. And I know. I know that YOU know. You have found me out. You have located my innermost need and now you are going to use it. You will use me as your instrument as you play my need. As soon as I see your eyes I am wet. Not slowly growing wet- but WET like flood breaking from a demolished dam. There is a pounding current in my cunt. You do not smile. You do not scowl. You merely cup my cunt in your large rough hand and calmly say "This is mine." I shiver as those words travel up my spine. Yes. This is yours. Your finger trails along the curve of my breast. Barely able to speak I breathe out "Yours." This is not assent. It is acknowledgement of an all consuming fact. Every fiber of me is yours. I have no body; it is yours. I have no thoughts, they are yours. I have no will; it is yours. "Good girl," you say. My brain usually rushes with thoughts, and eternal struggle to put them in order. But my busy mind is still. There is nothing but desire. I am yours and I need to be filled with You. You know this. This is why we are here. I have no words to plead, but my body is crying out for you. My pale skin is flushed. My eyes are aflame. My body undulates like waves beneath your gaze. I am arched against the bonds towards you. My hips ever reaching towards you. Calm. You are the model of calm. You move between my quivering thighs and taunt me with the warmth of your girth. I whimper. I writhe at the bonds, my body lashing upwards, only to be yanked back down by the ties. You wait. You wait until I go slack. You wait until I tremble quietly. You wait for it. I gather all that is left of me, look up into your face, and whisper "Please." With one thrust you are inside of me to the hilt. A moan is all that is left to escape my lips. The focus of every nerve in my body is in my cunt, clenching around you. Every stroke of your cock is electric. My nerves are heightened, on fire, pulsing as the world falls away. I am yours. I am your hole to be fucked. Suddenly I feel your teeth sharp on my tit. I may have screamed, by there is no way I can know. My head is thrown back, eyes clenched against the pain. I push my cunt against you to receive the absolution of your dick pounding into me as my nipples alight in agony beneath your merciless mouth and hands. Suddenly you are gone. You have pulled out of me. You do not touch my tits and the cold air rushes against my skin where milliseconds before the heat of your body had bee. I know I scream now. A piteous wail against the void you have left. The absence in my cunt is a wound far more acute than anything you have inflicted upon me before. I move to reach out for you and find only the cruel bonds. I throw my head side to side searching for you and find your dick next to my face. I see nothing but your dick, but I sense your smile as my mouth opens of its own volition. One of your hands violently grasps my hair as you drive your dick into my mouth. The weighty head of your cock fills my mouth and I gag, sputtering as I try to adjust to it's size. But you give me no time to acclimate as you fuck my face, and my eyes brim over with tears, mascara flowing down my cheeks. I taste it, too, in your mouth as the tears lube your dick pistoning down my throat. My nerves refocus to my mouth and I am again your hole to be fucked. I feel each movement travel down my throat to my clit. I can barely breathe when I feel your hand on my throat. I am gripped with fear as your grip enfolds my narrow white neck. I dare to raise my misted eyes to your face and I meet your stare. I feel your dick enter my throat and rub against the pressure of your hand on my neck. It is now that I cum uncontrollably. I am terrified and shamed that I am cumming, which only serves to make me cum all the harder. My pussy is exploding as your dick fills my throat, and my entire body is in your thrall even as you tighten your inflexible grip on my throat. Stars dance behind my eyes as your cock twitches and your cum slides down my throat. It is the last thing I feel as I slide into unconsciousness. When I wake it is with the taste of you in my mouth, the scent of you on my skin, and the certain knowledge that I am yours. And in my drained haze, I look forward to being so used again. What I Need... Sometimes, I think he really, truly does understand how to handle me- how to keep our relationship in line the best he can. I've tried to explain the overwhelming need to submit, to be controlled, to be HIS- and he tells me he knows, has always known, what makes me tick. This makes me question why he doesn't employ it more often, take the authority that I am happy to hand him, but too often, we are at odds instead. Nearly every time I have finally given up on his dominant side, he turns around and shocks hell out of me again... This phase of our life together has been incredibly stressful for the both of us, with multiple unavoidable factors limiting our time together, sexual or otherwise. All told, it had been months since we had been in bed, for vanilla sex OR playtime, aside from one early morning quickie this previous week. It was quickly interrupted by screaming toddlers- not living up to my fantasies of a much anticipated encounter. Not a word had been uttered about giving it another try, and I was getting frustrated. I was singlehandedly managing 60-hour work weeks in a busy ICU, the house, the kids... and I needed something, ANYTHING! Instead of talking about this in a reasonable manner, I had become intolerable- bitchy and impatient every time I felt slighted, unable to see the effort he was making to help. When I arrived home from work that night, I was exhausted and drained. I settled the children in for the night, and came into our room to find him already in our gigantic bed. I changed into sweatpants and a tank top, and snuggled in to sleep, only to find he had other ideas. He began gently stroking my back and neck, soothing the ever-present tension there. I spooned into him, as he kissed and nibbled his way up my neck, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine- he has ALWAYS been able to come up behind me, lift my hair, nuzzle my neck and make me instantly ready for him. I sighed with mingled relaxation and arousal, settling further back into him, and he slid his hands around to cup my breasts, gently stroking and teasing my nipples. My brain was already screaming, "Yes! This! I need THIS!", hoping the foreplay would have us reconnecting in a meaningful way. His hands moved lower, slipping my sweats down my legs and drifting across my hips and thighs, and around to my sensitive pearl to play and rub there. I was suspended somewhere in an erotic haze, focused only on the sensations, when I heard a familiar, well remembered sound- the jingle of his belt buckle. I started, pulled out of my reverie, my heart pounding in my ears. Just the sound was Pavlovian for me- I instantly was drawn back to memories of long ago nights and their after-effects, and my bottom tingled instinctively. "What are you doing?" I asked, tentatively. He rarely, if EVER, initiated anything but playful spanking on his own. Most often, he simply swats me a few times during foreplay, to be able to say that he actually spanked me. I've tried hinting, asking directly and even leaving out the wooden backed hairbrush I impulsively bought for this purpose, to no result- but then, if you are not predisposed to thinking about spanking like I do, it likely meant nothing to him. "Do you want a spanking?" he breathed in my ear, retrieving the imposing strap from his discarded jeans. My mouth was suddenly dry- did I? It had been so, SO long; did I still have the mental and physical endurance for an encounter with his thick leather belt? We used to play heavily with a flat wooden spoon and his hands, with an occasional dose of his belt thrown in, but that was back in the apartment, before we were engaged, even. Once we were married, things slowed down a bit, but I do remember a few times in our previous house that things got serious. It had been over a year since I was spanked hard enough to count, because it had never happened in this home- actually, I'm not certain it has happened since the birth of our twins. Just as quickly, I forced down my apprehension. OF COURSE I wanted a spanking- this is what I had been asking for since the start of our relationship. I didn't know whether this was foreplay or punishment for my attitude lately, but decided it made no difference. He was dominating and offering me the chance to relinquish control, arousing me completely. "Yes..." I whispered back, swallowing hard. "Go shut the door," he commanded, and I quickly obeyed, locking it for good measure, as if someone was going to disturb us. I was filled with that brief terror of knowing one is about to be spanked- despite the fact that you fantasize about it almost every day, when presented with the actuality, you question your sanity for at least a moment. I quelled it the best I could, remembering that the apprehension and anticipation is part of WHY this is arousing, and my implicit trust in him. I removed my clothes completely, and upon returning to bed, I positioned myself over the pillows pulled down towards the center. He spoke no words, but instead began by stroking my bottom gently with his hand. I relaxed slightly, and was rewarded with a slap of the belt. It was not hard, but he smoothed over the spot with his hand afterward, soothing the sting. A pattern emerged- a pause, a light stroke of leather, a soft caress-creating a tingling warmth and focusing me intensely on my ass, but not causing any distress. I began to think I had been concerned about my tolerance for nothing. Sure, this was his belt, but he could and HAD made more of an impact with a single resounding crack of his hand. I was easily matching my breathing with the strokes, sinking into the comfortable warmth building on my bottom, when suddenly things began in earnest. I found myself gasping and writhing, struggling for the control to accept the intensity of the experience, grasping onto the pillow beneath me to prevent myself from reaching back. He had not doubled the belt, but instead was using a tail of about 10 or 12 inches on me, and it gave him more control of the areas he was striking. He scattered the strokes across both buttocks and my thighs, varying their intensity from a soft tap to a searing crack, giving me no way to predict or prepare for the next. They fell rapidly, and I soon lost count around 20, despite my resolve to remember the number. I was panting, but holding on, still "with myself" in my brain- not yet at the point where the pain floats away and transforms into subliminal submission. I had no idea if I could even still get there, after all this time away... He paused, and I rolled into his embrace, my throbbing bottom pressed against him... Were we done? He was still holding the belt... He began to touch my breasts, teasing my nipples with his fingers, making them erect. I rolled onto my back, giving him freer access. As if suspended in time, I watched as he raised the tail of the belt and quickly, sharply stroked it down on my left nipple. Electricity shot through me from breast to clit and I cried out softly. He administered similar treatment to my right, and I whimpered at the mingled pain/pleasure wave that overtook me. "OK?" he inquired, as we had never played like this before, stopping short in the realm of bruising bites and improvised nipple clamps. "Oh, yes," I gasped out, unable to deny the utter eroticism of submitting myself to him in that manner. To open one's most sensitive areas to the threat of pain, to see it and know it is coming- it was insanely arousing and terrifying all at the same time. I had only been asked to submit like this once before in my life, by another lover who was certainly a dominant, and I can remember it implicitly to this day. I never expected this from him! "Hold my hands," I pleaded, wanting him to take away the option for me to cover myself, and he obliged, tucking his right arm under my head and restraining my right wrist while applying his body weight to my left wrist, leaving a hand free for him to tease and strike me. He played for a few minutes, rubbing and manipulating my breasts, intermingling licks of the belt on my sensitive nipples. I was straining against his confinement, unconsciously trying to protect myself despite being desperately excited. Each direct hit was like a bolt of lightning, painful but arousing- he had always played with some relentlessness when it came to my breasts, as I can practically achieve orgasm from nipple stimulation alone. As I twisted in his grasp, my bottom felt swollen and tight, and each movement across the sheets caused me to gasp with the sensitivity there, the 500 thread count feeling like sandpaper to my abused skin. He kissed me, laying the belt aside, bruising my lips as he ravaged my mouth, releasing my hands. I twined my fingers in his hair, holding him to me, feeling his tongue tease mine as he gentled the brutal kiss before deepening it again. He trailed his fingers down to the juncture of my thighs, testing the readiness he felt there. I was more than ready, my arousal evident- as was his- but as I pushed back against his hardness, I knew we weren't finished yet. He rolled me back onto my stomach over the pillows, tucking my hands beneath them again, and began with the threatening strap almost instantly. We had reached the part where he wasn't playing, wasn't worrying about my pain anymore, and hard, serious strokes on the already reddened skin required all my concentration. They caused me to cry out into the bed, holding onto the comforter tightly and praying incoherently- for more or the end, I wasn't certain. I could feel the welts rising, a mental picture of my ass forming before my tightly closed eyes- knowing I would bruise and mark- how badly?!? My brain was screaming, "WHY? Why are we doing this? I don't remember how to submit to this, it HURTS!"- but no one had told my body, which was practically vibrating with excitement. I was so wet I was soaking the bed, and I could feel his fingers searching, testing me, as he continued my punishment. Several times I briefly shifted, turning against him, halting things temporarily to catch my breath and regain my composure, but always returning to the position next to him, offering myself for however long he intended. Soon (finally??) he slowed his strokes, landing a few final ones on the undercurve of my bottom, as I gasped and shuddered, floating on the high of my submission to him. His hands immediately calmed and stroked softly down my back and over my bottom. "Come here," he said simply, and I obeyed immediately, rising above him and fitting him into me, both of us so ready that it felt like a homecoming as I sank slowly onto him, allowing his hardness and heat to stretch me open slowly. We moved together, gently and then more urgently, as we both discovered only pleasure and not pain from our joining. He took my nipples into his mouth, soothing the tender tips and setting off fireworks behind my eyes. I couldn't believe how GOOD he felt inside me, growing ever larger, stretching me past what felt possible- I was panting as he became near violence with his thrusts, holding me tightly and nipping at my neck and breasts. "You're going to mark me everywhere," I whimpered, feeling the tiny tingling places in the wake of his teeth, knowing what my bottom and breasts must already look like. "And that's bad?" he inquired. "No, it's hot..." I murmured, as the realization hit me. Marks had always intrigued me, badges of honor that would remind me of my submission and endurance over the coming days- these would not be fading any time soon. Before long, I could feel my long-delayed orgasm rising and spiraling, pulsing through me in echoes I could feel in the lines on my ass and my sensitive nipples. He rocked insistently beneath me, stiffening suddenly as we exploded together in a true, rare simultaneous orgasm... Gradually, I returned to myself, collapsed on his chest, feeling his heart beating in what felt like perfect synchrony to mine. I groaned and stretched, deliciously sore in every joint and muscle, in addition to the obviously raw skin of my bottom. I awkwardly disengaged myself and staggered towards the bathroom to dispose of the condom, uncertain that my legs would hold me up. As I passed the mirror, I peered cautiously at my ass- it was as bad as I expected, and as bad as I've ever seen it. Bright pink from thighs to sacral dimples, with darker red/purple marking on the lower halves and underside of my buttocks, I knew there would be bruising by the morning. It felt swollen and hot to the touch, yet peace and satisfaction filled me as I tentatively ran my fingers over the welts. He did this for YOU, this is what YOU asked for, my brain whispered, not that I had any doubt... I turned and examined my breasts, but aside from feeling heavy and tender, they were mostly unmarked. My lips were swollen and red, but unmarked as well. He emerged from the bedroom, peering at me as I pattered back to bed. "Are you OK?" he asked quietly. "Oh, yes," I replied softly, feeling as if it were true for the first time in a very long time. I pulled a t-shirt over my head, not believing I could tolerate the rasp of sweat pants on my tender backside yet, and crawled into bed with him. He pulled a bottle of lotion from the bedside table and applied a generous dollop to me, both burning and soothing me at the same time, and I melted under the ministrations. I felt heavily tired, completely physically and mentally exhausted, and we curled together, sleep overtaking me in moments. My last coherent thought was, "We HAVE to talk about this... What the fuck just happened?!?" ====================== When I rose the next morning, a careful inspection of my bottom revealed the expected blue and purple bruising, most prominently on the lower part of my left buttock and near the crease. The hot shower water burned like fire, and I carefully avoided turning my back to the spray any more than necessary. I pulled a pair of boy shorts on and gasped at the pain even this simple action still caused. I was pleased that they covered the marking completely- no awkward explanations needed in the locker room at work, or excuses to be designed about why I must change into my scrubs in the bathroom. He was still sleeping with abandon as I slipped out the door, preventing any need to discuss the events. The commute to work served several purposes: I contemplated the events (the heaviness in my breasts and aching soreness in my ass preventing me from believing I had dreamed it all) and analyzed his motivations behind it all. Had he finally heard me and understood? I could feel the calm submission to him already blossoming inside me- I was no longer frustrated and bereft, I was a wife who wanted to serve her husband. I spent the few open moments of the workday imagining how our life could be if real spanking became a regular staple in our relationship. The mild discomfort from my swollen, tight bottom reminded me each time I stood or sat- not pain, exactly, but an intense awareness and self-consciousness, as if everyone knew I had been whipped the night before. The constant low-level arousal it produced kept me humming internally all day long. He called as I was driving home, and requested that I stop and bring him dinner, despite the fact that I had called and offered prior to stopping to pick up food for myself. Usually, this type of situation would irritate me to no end, making me believe him irresponsible. That night, I was happy to do so. When I brought it to him in the basement, I kissed him lingeringly, and made a move to kneel before him, intending to take him into my mouth and give him pleasure as I had been dreaming about all day (very unusual in our relationship now!). He halted me, giving the excuse that he had not showered since the gym, but promised to join me in bed shortly. I waited for the 20 or so minutes until he arrived, apprehensive, wanting to broach the subject, but not sure how I would bring it up. Somehow, "Hey, what made you wear my ass out last night?" didn't seem to be a good conversation starter. Instead, I curled onto my side as he slid into bed next to me, allowing him to pull me against him. He slid my PJs down slightly, gently caressing me without speaking. He gradually increased the pressure, pressing harder on the bruises, reigniting the subtle ache there. I felt as if he was acknowledging the experience, so decided to bite. "What made you do that, last night?" I vaguely questioned. He considered for a moment, then replied, "I was angry. Very angry." It was said calmly, with no hint of irritation or annoyance, but I could not divine whether he was serious or not. He continued the slow, methodical stroking of my bottom, pausing here and there to compress the tender flesh, drawing small noises of discomfort from me. His hands slid up to my breasts, and I breathed heavily as he tugged and twisted on the pointed, aching nipples, which had not forgotten their mistreatment the night before. "And that?" I pushed, wanting to know what had possessed him to suddenly introduce such an activity into our repertoire. "You didn't like it? It wasn't OK?" he asked smugly, knowing the answer. "No, I loved it; I just wanted to know where you got the notion to do it!" I said, a little too quickly, making him smirk with the revelation of how much I had indeed enjoyed it. He still hadn't answered my questions, but had another intended purpose. He was plying my body to his needs, the combination of his gentleness and torture arousing me. Before long he had coaxed me up and over him, penetrating me deeply and moving carefully, my most private areas raw from our previous encounter. My nipples screamed as he sucked them, causing me to writhe above him- it had been years they had stayed so sensitive after sex, but even the friction of my bra had been noticeable all day long. He showed no mercy, biting them lightly and them more firmly as I begged for him to be gentle. The persistent rhythm of our joining and the easily rising arousal from his treatment of my breasts soon had me begging in another manner- this time for release. I couldn't believe how effortlessly I was nearing orgasm, despite the tenderness I was feeling where we were connected- I had felt all day as if I had been battered internally with a blunt instrument, very nearly the truth! He became more adamant beneath me, surging up into me and tightening his grasp on my hips, forcing us firmly together as he thrust powerfully into me, grazing my clit with each stroke. Soon, there was no mistaking his impending orgasm, and I allowed myself to join him, my walls fluttering around him in release. He pulled me to him and held me tenderly as I took inventory of the various sensations of my body- the intense but pleasurable aching of having just been thoroughly used, the tingling of my abused nipples, the soreness and warmth of my punished bottom. I felt replete and satisfied, despite having no more answers to my inquiry... yet suddenly, it did not matter. I had my lover holding me, meeting needs I can no more deny than I can choose to stop breathing. Why did not matter- only that we were there, together, and I am HIS... Sometimes, he really does know what I need. What I Needed Talking to Jay on the computer had me all horny. He kept telling me how hot I was, and how he missed my tight little pink pussy, and if I needed him to come take care of me. Fuck, yessss. He had been gone for 5 weeks already. Damn Army deployment. I was supposed to be his good little girl while he was gone and wait the remaining 5 months for him to come back to me and fuck me good. On the down days, I'd sleep most of the day. I'd cover my head with pillows, and lay nude in my bed all curled up in my blankets letting myself fall into the welcome of sleep and the wonderful dreams that took me away from my Jay-less days. On the up days, I'd play music in my room and dance around in my panties, and get motivated to do something constructive in the hot summer days. I'd arrange photos in my scrapbook, download music, make CDs, fold laundry, talk to friends on the phone, get high with our roommate Matthew, write song lyrics and poems in my journal, write emails and letters to Jay, and read porn stories on the web. Almost always, on up days, I would end up masturbating. I was so sexually deprived while Jay was off doing his duty in the desert. I couldn't help but get turned on by the mere sound of a man's voice. By the mere scent of a man. Still, I slept curled with Jay's shirt close to my face to smell his unique and sexy aroma. I couldn't hold back how hot I would get, over the littlest things. Into the mind of my perverseness. How the color of my fingernails made my hands look petite and feminine, and how sexy they would look wrapped around a big cock that I'd kiss with my pink glossed lips. Mmmm. Undressing people in the stores with my eyes. Yummm. She's cute. The security cameras at the mall. Would the guards throw me out if I started touching myself right then and there? Or would they watch? Screwed up perverted thoughts haunted my days. I had to touch myself. I had to caress the swell of my perky breasts with light fingers, and close my eyes as the music in my locked room would overcome my body. Maybe it was just hallucinations from making love to Mary Jane, but I had the most amazing visuals all summer as I fingered my clit to make my body shudder, tighten, and release as I made myself cum. I was having a down day, and couldn't escape it with sleep. My sleep had been filled with sexual dreams, that just added fuel to my frustration. On top of that, my soldier had not called me in over 2 weeks. I was going fucking nuts! I was ready to just give up and go clubbing with some of my hot female friends for a fun night of cock-teasing drunk guys, and then going back to one of their houses to have girl talk, get wasted, and maybe end up with some innocent female explorations of kissing and fondling each other's tits. I rolled out of bed and made my way to the bathroom, wearing a white over sized t-shirt of Jay's and nothing underneath. I lived with my Jay's best friend Matthew and his girlfriend Carrie. It was a great system when Jay was here…but lately I felt like a third wheel, and it only made my time away from Jay that much more unbearable. But right now, splitting rent with friends seemed the most logical of plans for me while I saved money to go back to school. I could smell bacon coming from the kitchen and the scent kicked my energy level up enough to entice me to stray from another nap and give some attention to my hunger. After I put my hair up in a messy ponytail and washed my face and hands, I went back to my room, and grabbed some cutoff shorts and a halter top. I didn't bother putting on any underwear. It was already hot in the day and I could tell even the slightest cool breeze into my crotch would be very welcoming if I were to wander outside. To my surprise, Matthew was very carefully flipping a pancake. This came as a shock, seeing as how he is a stubborn cocky jack-ass who thinks all women are cunts that should shut up and grab her ankles, if she's not cooking for him. Sorry…as you can tell, I don't get along all that well with him. But he and Jay are good friends, so I agreed to live together. I've been surprised that such a tough girl like Carrie would put up with his shit for almost 11 months now. She's in advertising school and has a line for every situation, a natural charmer like Matthew, so naturally, it makes me go, "Why the fuck do you let him get you all tongue-tied like you're a stupid or malleable little girl? Dump him, Carrie." But she stands by him regardless. He must be fucking her pretty damn good for her to behave like he's a God. It's not any big mystery. We do share a wall, and I can tell she sounds a lot like I do in bed. Very, very vocal, and loves it when he talks dirty to her. The only thing is she screams and screams when she cums, while I on the other hand get very quiet right before I cum, breathe heavily, then moan loudly as it happens. Matthew looked over at me after he was satisfied with his pancake cooking skills and gave me a brief head nod. "Hey. Morning," he said casually. He was wearing black boxer briefs and I immediately thought, "Nice ass." Then my eyes fixed on his face, and I was jolted back into the world of the living. "Wh wh wh what?! Are my eyes playing tricks, or are you cooking?" He straightened his stance of 6 foot, and turned with a scowl. "I'm just trying to be a nice guy for once and give Carrie breakfast in bed. You want some breakfast?" I rolled my eyes at him. "Just a slice or two of bacon. I'm gonna go back to bed." He turned back to the stove and got back into his jackass state of mind. "That's all you do these days. You must really like your battery powered friends there, Shelley," he teased. What arrogance! I grabbed the hot bacon off the plate and playfully slapped the back of his head as I walked back towards my room. The bacon was so delicious. I turned on some music and put it on to where I could barely hear it. I took off my clothes and curled the sheet around my skin. With that, I covered my head with my soft big pillow and closed my eyes. I woke to hear the screams of Carrie. It jerked me out of a nightmare of vampires trying to sacrifice me naked. Scary! I didn't know if hearing Carrie screaming in ecstasy was any less scary. I crawled out of bed and turned my radio up trying to tune her out. It didn't work. She had no shame and sounded like someone was killing her. "AHHHHHH, AHHHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH! YEAHHH, OH YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, OHHHHHHH YEAH, OHH YEAHHHHH. FUCK ME MATTHEW! COME ON! AHHHHHHH, AHHH, AH, AH, AH, AH, AH, AH, AH, AHHHHHHHH YEAHHHHH. YEAHHH BABY!" It was pretty fucking annoying. How dare she scream like that knowing full fucking well I was just on the other side of the fucking wall? It pissed me off. I plugged headphones onto my stereo and laid listening to rock blasting in my ears to calm me down from hearing Carrie getting fucked into oblivion. I didn't hear when they stopped, and I didn't hear Carrie leave for school around lunch time. I had amazingly somehow fallen asleep despite the noise. When I woke up, my small clock read, 2:17pm. I came to with lazy eyes, and realized that my headphones were no longer on my ears, or on at all, for that matter. Matthew must've come in and taken them off. I looked down at what he had seen. I was sleeping nude, like usual, so you could clear see my clean shaven pussy. I guess in a mad fit, I had forgotten to lock my door. I had the covers draped over one leg. Maybe, miraculously, I kicked the covers off after he came in. I sure as hell hoped so. If not, ooooh. How embarrassing. I put back on my shorts and halter top When I sauntered into Matthew's room, I could smell the sex in the air. And how hot it smelled. And I immediately became wet and ached for Jay's cock. I took a deep breath and also noticed the strong smell of smoke. I saw Matthew sitting on the floor, his back against the bed, lounging once again in his black boxer briefs. The cotton fit snuggly around the outline of his manhood, and I pushed the compliments of the size out of my perverted overly horny mind. He was playing a video game and I took the seat next to him on the floor like I normally did as smoked and played on the play station. He asked if I had a good nap. I rolled my eyes. "Oh yeah, it's so easy to sleep when Carrie is yelping at the top of her lungs." He laughed. "Sorry. Guess I just have that effect on women." We were both fighting against each other on screen, as we provoked each other off screen. "Much to your surprise, not all women scream and talk like that." He smirked and shrugged. "All the ones I've been with sure have been loud. Except for Casey. You remember her?" He dated Casey about 2 years ago. She was about 4 years younger than him, just barely 18 if I remember correctly. I liked her. She was pretty innocent and naïve, but she was also really cute. Not like most of the intimidating beautiful girls that he liked. She was more like me. She was cute. Girl next door qualities. Small and petite, maybe 5'3" standing perfectly straight, and no more than 100 pounds of tiny feminine cuteness that made every guy think about how tight she must be. I get all the time that I look about 15. No one believes me that I'm 21. "Yeah. I liked Casey. She was cute." "Yeah, well, she wasn't loud. She moaned quietly and breathed a lot." "Ahhh, a breather. Yeah. I hear you." We continued our game, not giving a lot of thought to the conversation. Just being happy with our bud and our entertainment. Then Matthew says, "Yelping? Carrie was yelping? Hahahaha." "Yeah. I don't know what you were doing to her to make that sound come out of her, but geez." He laughed again, and I think I detected redness in his face. For some reason, my mind fluttered back to when I woke up without my headphones. "Hey, Matt, did you come in my room and take off my headphones?" He replied casually without taking his eyes off the game, "Oh yeah…you looked pretty uncomfortable with your head all crooked from wearing them." "Why were you looking at me?" "Calm down. Fuck. I wasn't LOOKING at you. I was just seeing if you were awake and wanted to smoke. You weren't and looked funny with your head all lop sided so I took your headphones off you and went to go smoke alone. Don't tell me you're getting paranoid from the ganja." "I'm not paranoid. I just didn't want you to see me naked." He scoffed. "Like I would want to. Eww. It's not like you got anything worth seeing. Besides, doesn't everyone sleep naked?" I rolled my eyes at his smugness. "No, Matthew! Everyone does not always sleep naked. And I do have stuff worth seeing." "Yeah, sure. Remember, I just saw. Didn't peak my interest." "That's just because you know me. Any other guy would like to look. You sure seemed to like Casey's body and she looked a lot like me." "News flash to the loser, I dumped Casey a long ass time ago. And am I fucking someone with her body type now? No. So there goes your fucking theory, Einstein." I playfully punched him and we started wrestling around. It wasn't long till he had me pinned, and in a moment of insanity, I reached my head forward and pecked him quickly on the lips. He got off of me pretty damn quick and went back to his game, boasting about his win, before we could get weird about it and talk. We didn't talk about it for two more days. Each night during those next to days, I fell asleep with my headphones on, blocking out Carrie's screams. On the third day I waited until Carrie left for school, and took a long hot shower. The scene kept playing in my head. I played with myself in the water, but didn't make myself cum. The water started to get cold, so I just got out. I wrapped one towel around my wet body, and one towel holding up my hair. I walked into my room and got a pair of panties out of the dresser. I noticed that my pipe was missing. I walked into Matthew's room still in my towel, still clutching my panties. He was lying in bed with the covers to his waist and was smoking out of my pipe. He looked like he'd just woken up, or just had sex with Carrie right before she left. He looked good. His stomach was tight, and glistening. I noticed some fuzz that made a trail way to Heaven going downwards. "You could have waited and asked for my pipe instead of just going through all my stuff to find it." "Like it was hard to find. Panty drawer. Loser." I went to grab it right out of his hand, for being an asshole, but even high, he's quicker and stronger than me. He grabbed my hand and twisted it, until I was crying out in pain, and falling to the ground. "What, you think you're tough?! You're gonna barge in my room and tell me what to do?" I cried no, not at all. To quit. It was hurting. I just didn't want him in my room alone. "What do you think I'm gonna do? I'm not gonna steal anything." He looked mad. Shouldn't I be the one who's mad? He straightened my arm and pushed me up against the wall, pinning me with his well-built body. As he pushed his chest into mine, the towel around my body fell to the ground. I was crushed naked between him and the wall. I tried to push him off. It was hard to breathe. "Please, Matt. Let me go. I need my towel." He's eyes fixed narrowly on mine. I had never seen him so violent and angry, and powerful. Maybe with his girlfriends, but never with me. I've always been like a little sister that he teases but protects. He's never treated me like a whore, like his bedmates. "No, you don't. You're not going till I say you go. " I closed my eyes, unbelieving what was happening. "You've been such a fucking cunt since Jay left. Thinking poor lonely you can go around saying whatever you want. Doing whatever you want. Being a bitch to everyone. "How do you think Jay would like to know that? Huh? You think he'd like to hear about what a fucking whore you are for getting all wet from kissing your me? Huh? Say something!" He was screaming in my face. His hot breath just inches from my mouth. I was speechless. I couldn't move. Just tremble. "No." I whispered. "Somebody should kick your ass, Shelley." I started to panic. What was he going to do? "Matt, please." "Please what?" he said. "Please do this?" With one hand, he had me blocked against him and the wall, the other hand went to my breast and squeezed my nipple till it was hard and made me cry out in pain. "Owwww! Stop it!" I screamed. He laughed and played with my breast and nipple. "Scream all you want. Just like Carrie. Yelping. Hahaha. No one will hear you. You might as well just enjoy it." He brought both arms around my waist and held my ass as he kissed me deep, letting his tongue explore my mouth. Everything in me was screaming every reason why I should run away, and why it was wrong, sinful, and completely un-forgiving. But my body couldn't lie. And he was making me wet, and I couldn't help but wonder how good it would feel to be fucked. I gave in and started kissing back, finally tasting his mouth. My hands roamed his muscular chest and my fingernails raked over his skin slightly. His skin was warm to the touch. He moaned lightly as I kissed him back, and he let his hands feel my whole body, not missing any one inch. He loved playing with my breasts, rolling my nipples in his finger tips. I took shallow breaths as he kissed and sucked on them. In this time with Matthew I didn't think about Jay, or Carrie. Just about how good his body felt with mine. He let his fingers play with my clit, getting it all wet, making me quiver against him, and as he slowly let two fingers creep inside me, we both moaned together and kissed again. I needed him. I was ready to yank off his boxer briefs and have him fuck me there, but as I reached out to grab him, he knelt down to the floor and propped one of my legs on his shoulder. Before I could hold my breath in anticipation, he was flicking his tongue across my clit, sucking and kissing it. "Ohhhhhhh, Ohhhhhhh" I breathed in deep and held my breath letting out little "ohhhh's" here and there. It was so much better than my vibrator. GOD! There was a God. Mmmmmm. He pumped two fingers in and out of me as his mouth worked like an expert over my clit. He took his fingers out and shoved them in my mouth, making me suck on my cunt juices from his finger tips. He groaned in pleasure as I did so. He stood up and carried me to his bed where he dropped me and crawled on top of me, almost a growl escaping his throat. He nibbled lightly on my nipple then held himself above me as I wrapped my legs around his waist and let my hands feel his strong back. He teased my clit by brushing his cock up against it. I took one hand to feel it. It was big, and so wonderful feeling. I needed it so bad. I needed him to make me cum. I no longer worried about him being Jay's best friend. Fuck that. All reasoning was out the window. I needed to cum too bad to worry about it. "Fuck me Matthew. Please." "Yeah. Let me here you beg for it. Tell me you want it, you fucking slut." He sucked on my nipples. "Yessss. Yesss. Please fuck me Matthew. I need your dick so fucking bad. Please. Make me cum, Matthew. Ohhhhh" He pushed his big dick into my pussy. Mmmm so slippery. He quickly got into a fast steady rhythm holding my legs open at his waist, sitting on his knees, while he pumped his cock in and out of me. I clutched the pillow over my head to keep from screaming. I thought at any moment my hands would rip the pillow apart. Into the pillow I yelled, "YEAHH, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK ME. OH, GOD, YES, YES, YES, OHHHHHHH." He laughed keeping rhythm and said, "I thought you weren't very vocal in bed. Sure sounds like you are." I couldn't even answer him, I was so busy saying, "OHHH, OHHH, OH, OH, OH, OH, OHHHHH, YEAH, YEAH, YEAHHHH." He could tell I was about to cum and flipped me over on my knees in one swift motion. Within seconds he was in me from behind fucking the life out of me. All I could do was scream in ecstasy. He had both hands on my hips, grinding himself into me, and every now and then slapping my ass cheek. Every time made me scream louder. I came all over his cock, shaking, and dripping wet. I would have collapsed if he hadn't been holding my waist. He groaned louder and louder after I came and pulled out. As he pushed me back he shoved his moist cock in my mouth, filling my throat with his cum. He fucked my mouth forcing me to swallow all of it. As he collapsed on top of me, he let out a strong laugh. "I can't believe I just fucked you. Holy shit," he said. I looked into his light eyes. "Just hitting you what we did?" I asked. "Yeah." He laughed again. "I don't care though. I'd do it again."