0 comments/ 2842 views/ 0 favorites The Rise of 5 Ch. 01 By: chailey1990 This is just the first installment. All details of this story, aside from names, are completely true and personal so please be kind. This is kind of a way for me to work through my thoughts. The title will be explained further in later installments. ***** I wasn't always this way; broken and demented, torturing myself emotionally to distract from a deeper ache. I use to be wholesome. I was the girl with ambition and drive, searching for clarity in the ambiguity of the life I was living and the world I was merely a grain of sand in. I was confident, and still am in ways that don't seem to matter anymore. Where I lost it was in my ability to achieve... and to make good decisions. Don't mistake me; this is not a story of a girl's fall from grace. This is the recap upon realization that I did not fall, I pranced joyously, despite the bittersweet nature of the journey, into the fire and reveled in my own burns. I basked in the smells singeing skin and found pleasure in the gut wrenching pain. I suppose I have him to thank for this epiphany, but if you knew our relationship you would understand the difficulty of my saying he has done anything right, even if unintentional. He is, most simply put, an asshole. I'll expand on that in a moment. By the end, you will know all that I have discovered about this man child that has actually been significant in my life, unbeknownst to me until now. I like sex. I like the pleasure of feeling a man's body against my own, hearing him gasp when he slides inside of me. I like strong hands gripping my hips, pulling my hair, and even squeezing my neck as I reach oblivion. In those moments, every orgasm, I am empty of all hurt and taunting thoughts. For that finite amount of time, my brain stops and I feel light in every nerve ending. I become a spirit, floating outside of my quaking human form, and hearing my moans and breath in the distance as if they were coming from somewhere else. I am released from bondage of anxiety and brokenness, until the moment passes, the shaking subsides and my spirit form is forced to return to its hollow shell. Then the longing begins again. The more times in one night I can fulfill my hunger for release, the smaller the ravenous monster of desire comes back, taking longer to grow until it devours me in another partner, but he always comes back. Is this not the definition of addiction? Enter the man child, stage left. For storytelling purposes, let's call him Guy, though I am certain he will be able to identify himself, should he ever stumble upon this. Guy is a tattoo artist. This is only significant because this is how we met. Inflicting pain on myself in the form of body art is another coping mechanism, though it has not become a full blown addiction like intercourse, but it does the trick at times. Guy is not attractive. There is nothing particularly spectacular about him except that he's a great lay, but I am getting ahead of myself. From the beginning, Guy didn't like me. His distain was slightly comical and though it was spoken by a mutual friend that he had a crush on me, evident only by his extraneous rudeness, directed only toward me, I had never considered there may have been some truth to it until about 2 years into our acquaintance-ship. Every unnoticed side look, snide remark, and all the time he spent waiting culminated on December 18, 2015. Three days after I began orientation for a new job, I was staying at a friend's house, who happened to be related to Guy by marriage, taking in less than my normal copious amounts of alcohol, yet still achieving the numbness I was seeking. In the months prior, I had been put through the ringer, dealing with the death of my first love and ended up allowing someone to break through my intricately constructed barriers, only to find myself unknowingly falling in love for someone who was quickly becoming distant, thus another source of emotional turmoil. We'll call this one Michael (the devil still in angel form). I wanted to feel nothing, so my solution was a drink, as it had been many times before. Then there was Guy. Once the other occupants of the apartment retired for the evening, Guy and I were left alone. We ended up opting for a movie to give some neutral ground and cutting the need for an actual conversation; remember, we were not friends, by any means. Guy complained about his back hurting and, with my mind still on Michael, not considering the implications due to my inebriation, I offered a massage. He declined, but apparently interpreted my indifference as protest until he conceded. He removed his shirt and sat on the floor in front of the couch I was sitting on. My hands always seem to be cold so he cringed away when I touched his heated, dark skin. I didn't notice the chilling temperature of the living room until I went to warm my hands. I pressed into his back, gently at first, letting his heat warm my palms. Once comfortable with the landscape, I pressed harder, working pressure points I had studied in an acupuncture book when I was a child. I am unsure if he enjoyed the massage but eventually I told him I was done and he thanked me. When he stood, I curled up on the couch under the blanket I had there, assuming he would resume his original position on the loveseat. Instead he sat on the other end of the small sofa, next to me. Eventually my buzz began to dwindle just enough to feel the icy atmosphere enveloping us and my body started a series of involuntary shivers. My drunken mind, now only able to focus on the cold, remembered the warmth of Guys back and chose to change positions until I was leaning on him. Though he did not object, I clarified the action by revealing to him that I was cold. We situated into a comfortable position, him sitting and me lying with his arm around me, hand placed on top of my blanketed hip. I watched the movie until he spoke. "You like me." He said exposing his confident, large-toothed grin. "No." I said simply, as if he had asked a question instead of making a statement. The remainder of the specific phrasing of the conversation escapes the grasps of my memory (an unfortunate side effect of the alcohol); however, the actions and thoughts are perfectly intact. After a brief discussion of whether we had considered sleeping with each other, his hand moved under the blanket and returned to my hip. In that position, my shirt had slid up slightly, giving just enough exposed skin for his fingertips to touch. I closed my eyes, letting Michael slip from my thoughts where he had been firmly planted for months. I knew what Guy wanted, and I could have chosen to stop it. Fully aware of the regret that would ensue after the act, I allowed his hand to caress my hip and roam to my ass, above my pants, then under my pants for a second until I moved his hand back to its original position on my exposed hip. When he raked his stubby nails lightly across my skin, Michael returned with memories of our last encounter. The mixture of Guy's touch and pleasure-filled memories tossed my stomach. I grew saddened by Michael's distance after the experiences we'd shared but refused to bathe in the pools of misery when I had someone present, willing to cause me to forget, no matter how briefly. My head turned to look up at Guy's face and he leaned down and kissed me gently. The first was short, as if asking for permission. When my hand rose up and grabbed the nape of his neck, he continued. The next was deeper, hungrier and I returned it. Michael had said my kisses were powerful back when things were good and all we did was kiss. Back when he was still in his pursuit of me. I kissed Guy in spite of these thoughts and focused on my well-honed skill. I took his bottom lip between my teeth and pulled back slightly then dove back in, deeper each time. When he sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, my tongue traced the inner lining of his upper lip. Eventually, my strapless shirt was pulled down freeing my breasts. His fingertips grazed and pinched at my already hardened nipples. I pulled back a few times in this endeavor, hearing what I believed were sounds of movement in other parts of the residence, but we quickly resumed after Guy's little convincing that it was nothing. After awhile I was on my back, in my original seat and he lay on top of me. His hands moved gracefully yet hurriedly as his mouth attacked my neck. The pain of his bite on the skin covering my clavicle excited me into pushing out all thoughts of stopping so by the time our pants and his shirt lay on the floor, I could not fathom discontinuing this event without the release I was longing for. He got up and grabbed a condom out of his pants pocket, opened it, and slipped it onto his erection. My legs opened automatically at his return. One of his hands gripped his cock while the other slid over my pussy lips. After taking mental note of my body's reaction to the touch he pushed himself inside of me. My eyes fluttered closed as a silent moan escaped me. My opened mouth invited his and he kissed me again while pressing into me. He began, slow and shallow but his thrusts moved deeper and faster, matching the pace my hips beckoned. My legs opened wider, placing one foot on the floor and the other atop the back of the couch, as my pelvis moved closer, harder, faster toward him, pleading for release. He continued fucking me as he sucked one of my nipples into his mouth. My nails on his back we only more incentive for him to push forward. I could feel the involuntary shaking building in my right leg and each nerve ending begin to ignite. I bit my lip, letting the sensation overtake me. I exited my body for a short time, taking in the soft high. I came down quickly when I felt him cum into the plastic barrier between us but my hips were still rocking against him. "Don't move." I whispered, savoring the feeling of him softening inside me while my body attempted to reach for another high. "Okay" I said, tapping his shoulder. He obeyed and pulled out, holding the condom in place as he went. I instantly felt the emptiness as he walked to the bathroom and my monster of desire cursed me as I replaced my clothing and returned to my spot on the couch. When he returned to the room I instantly remembered the awkward moment after my first encounter with Michael. He had a look of concern on his face, like he knew the full weight of the mistake we had made, as he asked me if I wanted a glass of water. There was none of that in this moment. Guy held the same softened expression as he did when before he kissed me. He sat and we chatted about nothing in particular, passing time. I could feel the monster stirring inside me, growling to be satisfied, begging me to forget my memories and feed. It was my turn to move. I scooted closer to Guy and he asked something that jokingly questioned what I was doing. I kissed him, igniting the second phase. We removed our clothing once again but this time, his member hang limp. I motioned him over to me and he kneeled on the cushions in front of me. Even in the awkward position I could feel the positive effect I had on him. Sucking him into my mouth, I felt him begin to harden instantly. I wet him as much as I could with my salivary glands being impeded by the dehydration caused by the alcohol that had soaked into my system. Normally, I enjoy giving head because I am quite talented at it but I was disappointed in this instance. With the position and having put no thought to technique I was certain that it was terrible. It did, however, accomplish the goal of enlisting another erection. I was momentarily caught off guard when Guy pulled me into another kiss after I had finished. Then I was turned around, and bent over on all fours on the couch. He grabbed another condom, fixed it, and was poised at my entrance. He started out slowly again but my monster was impatient. I shoved my hips backwards, taking him into me all at once. I let out a soft moan, feeling an orgasm already beginning to build again, as my mind went again to Michael. I pushed back onto Guy's dick even harder and he returned the thrusts with even more force. His hands on my hips pulling me back had me so close to removing Michael until the sound of our skin meeting cause us to slow down. "Pull my hair." I gasped as he pushed deeper inside. He obeyed and the roughness finally shot Michael from my thoughts as I focused on my release that was coming. He pressed into me and kept his strokes short and fast to give the sensation of rough sex, without the noise. I moaned into the couch arm that I was draped over as I came, harder than the last time. When we had finished, we replayed the same scene only when he returned from the bathroom this time we lay on our respective ends of the couch and slept. The Rise of 5 Ch. 02 I hadn't realized exactly how much I would regret fucking him until two days later when he had exposed the act to our entire circle of mutual friends. This made me miss Michael even more, due to the fact that he had agreed to my condition of not telling anyone we knew and had kept that promise. Though I had considered continuing a strictly sexual relationship with Guy, I did not plan to act on those thoughts. Unfortunately, my other vice (alcohol) released me from my pesky inhibitions and on New Year's, our next encounter commenced. I have no details about this event due to the extensive amounts of alcohol consumed that evening. I do not remember the act taking place at all but was told by the other participant what had transpired. I had apparently now been satisfied because my monster grew quickly in just three days' time. There are a list of major differences between having sex with Guy and having sex with Michael. With Michael, because of our emotional involvement as well as physical, it is more passionate. However, also because of emotions, I find myself to be self-conscious about my skills and sexual prowess. With Guy, it is completely different. I am confident, forward, able to say exactly what I want and how I want it, but because our fucking lacks any connection other than physical, I believed that no matter how good the act was, I could never reach the climax that I have had with Michael. This is why he was ranked #5 in my top 5 sexual partners. Michael, however, even with the intense emotional connection, far surpassing any that I have had with other sex partners, ranked at #3. Michael had some skills. He had stamina and could keep a quick, hard tempo, but what really shot him into the top 3 was his dick. He was a solid 7.5-8 inches long with a 3 inch diameter, a budded tip and a curve in the length for excellent g-spot stimulation. The only reason I was not strictly his; he was not able to offer the frequency I required to be completely fulfilled. But when we did find the right time and place to be alone; it was explosive. January 3, 2015, Michael was home alone. It was one of the few times we did not have to consider the possibility of his roommate coming home, and we both happened to be off work with no plans. We ended up together, in his apartment. He sat at the computer desk, listening to music while I draped myself over the loveseat, knees in on the cushions and elbows propped on the back of it. He had commented once before about me positioning myself like this because my ass was inevitably poked out, but facing the same direction the loveseat was to the living room. He stood up and walked up behind the loveseat but in front of me. He is a few inches shorter than me, but in this position, my face was right at his chest. I leaned my forehead on him as he stroked my hair. It was so easy to get lost in the ecstasy of his presence. I breathed him in, knowing as if by instinct, his smell. He massaged my shoulders, a little too roughly for the calm nature of the atmosphere. I lift my head, wanting for him to take me right there, but he either misinterpreted the action or chose to ignore it. He went and sat back down in the computer chair. I could feel the monster inside begin to get frustrated. I stood up and walking around the loveseat and stood in front of him. I leaned down and placed my hands on the arms of the chair. My scoop neck shirt gave him full view of my cleavage so when I closed the distance between our lips, he slipped his hands in my shirt and bra, gently squeezing my breasts. I knew how much he liked to kiss me, so I kissed him hard while he played. I then bit his bottom lip and backed away, giving him a sly seductive grin as I returned to my position on the loveseat. "You're a tease" he said smiling. "When have I ever been a tease?" I asked, acting as if I had taken offense to the statement. He stood up and returned to me. 'Let's try this again' I thought to myself. Instead of answering, he ran his fingers through my hair and leaned down to kiss me. I accepted it, expecting passion but it was simple, gentle, and short. "Can we have sex?" he asked simply. Surprised at the words I laughed. "Is that how you start things off?" I smiled up at him finding comedy in my growing frustration. "Yeah." He replied, so matter-of-factly. I laid my head down, right cheek on top of my folded arms. "That was such a turn-off. I would rather you just start something. I mean, it's not like this is our first time." I moved around, getting comfortable in the position, then arching my back knowing the notice he would take to my ass in the air, feigning sleeping to increase my aloofness. He walked around the loveseat and stood behind me. My entire body was so aware of his presence but I grew uncomfortable when he had not made a move. Wanting to keep up the facade of indifference and move the process along, I sat straight up where my knees and shins were the only thing touching the loveseat, said "It's hot" and removed my shirt, revealing a thin, spaghetti strapped tank top underneath. I placed the shirt beside me, ran my fingers through my hair and returned to my position. "What did I tell you about being on the couch like that?" He asked, placing his clothed pelvis against my ass, and leaned down, grabbing the back of the loveseat, his hands on either side of me. My voice came out a little shakier than I had wanted. "I don't know. Nothing?" I said, pressing back against him, feeling his imprint through his sweatpants. He dipped his head, kissing the back of my shoulder. His right hand swept my hair to the side as his lips continued kissing across the top of my back. I rose up and tilted my head to the right, giving him access to my neck. He loved to leave hickies, as if he was marking his territory. With anyone else, I had an issue with being considered someone's property, especially since I wasn't dating anyone. With Michael, it excited me. I grasps at all the flimsy evidence that my emotions toward him were being reciprocated, even in something as barbaric as this act. I let the melodic voice of Marsha Ambrosius fill my ears as he marked me. His hands pulled at my skirt until it slipped from under my knees. He raised it until my ass was completely exposed, please to see that I had chosen to opt out of wearing underwear. Placing his hand on my back, he tenderly maneuvered me back into my original pose. He removed his sweatpants and stood behind me. I moved my knees to the edge of the seat, opened my legs and arched my back, allowing him access to everything he wanted. Putting on a condom, he slid two fingers between my pussy lips, stroking my clit. I moved my hips against his fingers until his dick replaced them. He rubbed himself against me then poised himself at my entrance. He grabbed the fabric bunched around the small of my back, pulling me backwards until I felt the pop of his head cross the threshold. We moaned in unison as he filled me. My canal was tight around him as he dove deeper and deeper with each blow. I started moving backwards to match his long, rough strokes but he put his hand on my back to steady me. "I got it." He grunted, grabbing my hips and smashing into me. I moaned loudly and felt each hit in my clenching toes. His rapid rhythm built my ecstasy quickly and I let out a long "ohhhh" as I came suddenly. My nails gripped the loveseat as my pussy did the same to his cock but he continued, riding me through my first straight into the second, which hit me even harder. My back un-arched and began to quake. He pushed all the way into me, then reached down and rubbed my clit, strengthening my orgasm, making my body shake even harder. I was so high I thought I might pass out. He pulled out and gave me a minute to collect myself and come down. "Lay down on the floor" he told me. Wordlessly, I slithered from the loveseat and put my body on the soft carpet. He got on his knees and I opened my legs. "Did you cum?" he asked breathy through a sly grin. I nodded, panting, and closed my eyes. He did not hesitate on re-entry as he reached a hand up, grabbing the back of my neck and pulling my head up. He kissed me hard as I moaned into his mouth. My hands went to his back. He still had on his white beater. I pulled it up to give my nails access to run along his skin. He rose up, still fucking me as my hips rolled, lifting up off the floor to take him deeper. I removed his beater and ran my hands along his chest. He pushed down into me, planting my ass back on the carpet as he grabbed both of my legs and lifted them up. "Hold them right there" he groaned. I obeyed, taking my legs, behind my knees, and pulling them back. He placed his hands on the floor on either side of me, pulled out almost completely and slammed back into me. He rocked my body through a few more orgasms that flowed into one another, each one greater than the one before. I could hear his grunting and moaning mixed with my sounds of oblivion in the distance. Time was lost as I felt nothing but exhausting pleasure in every inch of my body. My legs clenched around him and my hands squeezed his flexing arms. He kissed me again, as roughly and passionately as the sex. I heard myself moan his name and felt his entire body tense on top of me. He let out a growl against my lips as he came then collapse. I bore his weight only briefly because he rolled over, laying beside me on the ground. We both panted, spent from the interaction and didn't move for a long moment. When I finally recovered, I sat up and adjusted my clothing. I looked at him feeling the love I had swell inside of me. "Thanks" I said smiling, trying to keep the moment light. He smiled and chuckled. "You're welcome". He let out a sigh and sat up. "How many times did you cum?" I shrugged and smiled shyly. "I lost count." I laughed tiredly. I glanced at his tool and noticed something strange. "Where is the condom?"