I force myself upon my girlfriend about twice a month.
Such a statement sounds so cruel and negative I am obliged to explain it. Ours isn’t a common situation and the explanation is quite lengthy. But I want to write about it, as I believe explaining the details will help me feel a little less guilty about the most exciting sexual relationship of my life.
My girlfriend’s name is Lisa. Lisa and I met about eighteen months ago. I think most relationships like ours, serious dating relationships, begin in much the same way. We met at a party and found each other there because our circles of friends overlapped. We got to know each other at that party, and I asked her out. We dated for a couple of months before progressing to an exclusive relationship. About eight months ago, she moved in with me when her lease ended.
She’s is personable and friendly and we’re very compatible. She works a little bit too much, just like I do. While I work as a process engineer at an oil refinery, she works as a bartender at a hotel near the airport. The hotel has a wonderful restaurant, and her bar is in that restaurant.
Lisa has been bartending at that hotel for years, earning a few regular customers—including businessmen who commute to our city for their work. I’m always impressed by her tip take, though it doesn’t surprise me that she gets along well with her customers. Her outgoing and upbeat personality is just as attractive to me as it must be to the bar patrons.
In addition to that work she is also taking a few classes towards becoming a doctor of veterinary medicine. Her progress has been slow, but it accumulates steadily and she’s always just a little closer to her goal.
I keep busy at work, since my responsibilities are all over the refinery. If you live within a couple hundred miles of our town, you probably put my gasoline in your car. If you’ve ever flown into or out of the airport near the hotel that hosts Lisa’s bar, the one that serves our city, your airplane has been serviced by a truck carrying jet fuel or aviation gas from my refinery.
We’re very happy together, and I’ve thought of asking Lisa to marry me. The subject hasn’t come up yet, though, at least not seriously. But I suppose I’ll do it, as the time we have had in our relationship together has been enjoyable, constructive, pleasant, and fun.
We frequently enjoy sex together. Lisa is a beautiful woman, just turning 25 last month. She’s a little more than a year younger than I, and will probably tease me about the apparent two year difference in our age until my birthday in the fall.
Her hair is a medium brown color. Ending well past her shoulders, it’s a little longer than that of most women I’ve previously dated. Her grey eyes are bright and wide, setting off her dark complexion and hair like a spark in the forest.
Lisa’s lips are thick and soft, but not obscenely puffy like some of the actresses you see these days. Her nose is just a bit big and she’s very self-conscious of it, but I think it matches her wide eyes and full lips perfectly. Her face is broad and bright, balanced and warm.
My girlfriend’s body is a delight. She’s a bit petite, standing about five-feet, four inches and having a very slight build. Her shoulders are proportionally broad and her chest is very ample for her body size. Her breasts aren’t exactly large, but are very plump and wide, forming a wonderful cleavage, particularly under her broad shoulders and thin frame. For some of our formal dates, she has worn an off-the-shoulder dress that she fills wonderfully. When aroused, her soft conical areolas crinkle into hard rubbery points.
I’m sometimes worried that I actually worship her pussy. Lisa’s keeps herself trimmed neatly, though not completely shaved. Her tiny opening has thick and soft folds, pink and sweetly scented. She gets wet at the drop of a hat. Once, when I went away on business, she came to pick me up at the airport and refused to get out of the car at the curb. As we drove away, she showed me why; in anticipation of my arrival, she had made a rather visible damp spot in her jeans!
All the things I wanted for myself, wanted to give to someone else, are almost fully realized in our relationship.
Almost fully, I say, because I’ve sometimes found that my sexual appetite is slightly larger than Lisa’s. At least slightly larger, and maybe substantially larger. Or a little bit more diverse, or perhaps just a little bit more aggressive. Maybe it’s just that I am more dominant, or more exploratory. We have grown comfortable together, and are sometimes too distracted or busy or tired to properly satisfy each other.
However the difference would best be described, and whatever its cause, it is certain that my physical attraction for her at times is almost overwhelming while my ability to demonstrate my carnal desire for her seems at least limited.
Having an incredibly attractive live-in girlfriend flaunt herself in front of me, often without even realizing it, builds my libido to a tremendous pressure. I started secretly masturbating when she was working late, but soon became frustrated with that. My desires have begun to gain momentum and they often exceed my ability to keep them in check.
Perhaps I’m lying to myself about it, and it’s really just that I’m too weak. Or that I see no reason to deny myself what I want, or deny myself what I already have. Whatever the explanation, the disparity between my sex drive and Lisa’s has caused me to force myself upon her.
The first time I had my way with her was about four months ago. Lisa woke up a little late, and ended up rushing into the bathroom while I was shaving. She told me that she needed to make a meeting with her advisor at school, and that she had forgotten it last night so she hadn’t set her alarm. Now that she remembered the appointment, she felt lucky to have woken up. If she hurried, she told me, she would probably still make the meeting.
While I finished shaving, she showered. By the time I was done cleaning up, she was finished with her shower. Completely nude and leaning slightly forward over the counter in the bathroom to apply her makeup, I studied her body hungrily. I think we hadn’t had sex for about a week at that time, and simply viewing her soft, toned body in a slightly provocative posture and made me physically aroused almost immediately.
After toweling off, I walked behind her and pressed my erection into the cleft of her ass. She smiled at me in the mirror, and leaned back as I hugged her and kissed her shoulder.
“I’d love to play,” she said. “But I’m late.”
“So be a little late,” I said. I almost told her that it wouldn’t take long, that I’d be happy to give her a pounding and send her on her way. Instead, I tried to build her interest by caressing her sides. She leaned back into me, closing her eyes, until I touched her breasts.
“No,” she said, snapping to attention. “I have to get to the administration building for my meeting, and parking there is terrible.”
Despite her excuses, I felt as though she was being a little less than truthful. She might not otherwise want to play, as she put it. Though I might have been too harshly judging her, just thinking of her not wanting to execute on an opportunity to have sex made me feel at least slightly resentful.
I didn’t say anything. Instead, I leaned back a bit and pressed my erection down so it was now between her legs, pushing up against her pussy. Leaning forward again, I collected her in my arms and pressed my hips towards her.
“You’re relentless, Joe! I really have to make it to this meeting.”
“And I really need to make it into your pussy,” I said. I pulled my hips back and forth, causing the head and shaft of my dick to rub her exterior lips.
“Lemme go. We can do it tonight,” she said, squirming a bit against my arms.
I reached around her hip and spread her folds gently with my fingers, revealing her dewy moisture. Her body’s reaction betrayed her resistance, showing me by her wetness that I was getting at least some of her attention. Adeptly moving my fingers, I pressed my cock up and bent my knees slightly. My next wiggle forward caused me to penetrate her shallowly.
“Oh, god,” she said. “You can’t do this, I have to go.” She pressed her arm against me, trying to twist. I grabbed it, and pulled it behind her back. She leaned forward, catching herself with her other arm. As her torso rotated towards the counter, I pressed into her more deeply.
“Let go of me! I mean it, Joe!” she shouted.
I didn’t say a word. By then her warm pussy was surrounding half my cock. Leaning forward, I found her other arm and pulled it back towards me. With both her wrists behind her, she was forced forward onto the towels that we had discarded on the counter after our showers. Lisa looked at me in the mirror, her face showing a mixture of anger and surprise as I rocked my hips forward, burying myself into her balls deep.
And so I began fucking her. I pulled my hips back and plunged forward as I held her wrists behind her back. Her body was so sweet, her hips pleasantly wide under the curve of her back, her ass firm and milky smooth. In the mirror, I could see her tits shake with my thrusts.
“Dammit, Joe, I have to get to campus!” She tried to twist her wrists from my grip, but her skin was still tacky from the shower. The tone of her voice told me she really did want to get to her meeting, but I also detected a slight waiver that let me know she felt, and enjoyed, my penetration.
I might be accused of any number of physical defects, but I’ve somehow managed to develop quite rewarding control over my own orgasms. I can hold myself off almost as long as I want, or let myself go. Lisa and I almost always cum in unison, unless I feel like being a gentleman and let her get off first.
Our encounter in the bathroom that morning was one of the instances where I just let myself go. I could feel her body tensing slightly, but I pumped into her hard and let my pleasure build until I erupted inside her. I let go of her hands just after my orgasm peaked so that I could grab her hips and force my last few spurts deep inside her. I lasted about five minutes, I suppose.
Immediately as I released her, she started to twist away from me. When I relaxed my grip on her hips, she stood up straight, relieving my penis of the warm home it had found in her luscious body.
Then she slapped me and left the room.
I chuckled to myself as I toweled off my hair once more before starting to brush it dry. She stomped into the bathroom a few minutes later, fully dressed.
“I’m leaving,” she told me, flatly.
“OK. What do you want to do for dinner?” It was one of the days she’d go to school and not bartend, so we’d share the evening together. I tried to act nonchalant, though my cock had only partially deflated and betrayed my apathy by jutting out from my crotch, slick with our fluids.
“I’m sure you can fix something for yourself,” she said, and left.
I went to work, thinking I might have been in real trouble. I wrestled with it all day; while she clearly had said “no”, she didn’t tell me to stop. At least, not in so many words, though she was rather clear about not wanting to do it.
On the other hand, I felt great, like I had completed a conquest, or won a contest. I supposed that I felt I had demonstrated my manhood, however ill the after-effects might be. She’s hot, and she’s my girlfriend. Why shouldn’t I stick it inside her, even if she protested a little? No small aspect of being my live-in girlfriend is satisfying my physical needs. And she’d kill me if I put some moves on the snack bar girl at the office cafeteria, or that flirty saleswoman from the chemical equipment company. Besides, would five minutes really make that much of a difference in her schedule?
What was I to do? At some level, I excused any sense of wrong-doing by believing that I was just taking what’s mine. After someone pays for a new car, they shouldn’t feel guilty for driving it, should they?
When I returned from work later that day, I was surprised to find Lisa already at home. She had ditched her school outfit for sweats and a tee shirt and was sitting in the living room.
When she saw me, she announced: “We have to talk.”
“Okay,” I said. I figured she’d give me a reprimand about being rough with her, about not respecting what she wanted, but I’d also thought about a few things I could ay in my defense: mostly surrounding how she didn’t put out when I wanted her to, and how it wasn’t fun for me when she said no.
“It’s about what you did this morning,” she started.
“Uh-huh,” I said, hoping a little indifference would keep her from yelling at me.
“I’m not sure I know how to say this, but I really liked what you did to me,” she said softly.
Her words hung in the air while I stared at her dumbfounded. She continued to tell me that she sometimes feels guilty about sex, about fucking. She told me she understood that I didn’t really have much guilt or worry when it came to sex, and she wished she felt the same way. But she was burdened, but she wanted me to try and help her.
“Help you?” I asked.
We talked for more than half an hour, mostly her telling me that she wasn’t offended at what happened, but was very afraid about discussing all this and how I’d react. I reassured her as best I could that it didn’t bother me, but I wanted to know what she would have us do.
It came out in the conversation that my unrelenting advances towards her that morning had made her feel incredibly sexy and very much desired. And she felt like a bit of a victim, so she didn’t have to feel guilty about what she was doing—it was more that she was letting me do it to her. If she enjoyed it, too, then that somehow seemed okay to her.
She begged me to not think any less of her. I simply couldn’t believe it; my girlfriend was actually apologizing for not wanting sex as much as I was, and was encouraging me to help her by just taking it from her. Here I was, thinking that she’d be upset with me or even leave me after this morning’s episode, and she was begging me to do more of the same!
The subject of limits came up, what I should try, and what I shouldn’t. She said that she wanted me to be even rougher than I had been this morning, as aggressive as I dared. She wanted some way to make me stop—really stop, for sure—that wouldn’t be confused with her resistance. The point was, after all, that she really would try to resist and not necessarily be feigning purity or reluctance.
We settled on “rumplestiltskin” as a code word. If she uttered it, I’d stop immediately, no questions asked. It seemed a little childish, and maybe that helped break the tension surrounding the issue because we giggled at it a bit.
Otherwise, the issue was solved. After our conversation, in the awkward silence, she moved from her chair to the couch and started kissing me, thanking me a couple of times as we necked. She went to her knees before the couch and removed my shoes and pants. She proceeded to suck me off as delicately as she ever has, but with far more passion. I came in her mouth and she licked me clean before we went upstairs.
After her satisfying blow job, it was especially easy for me to control myself and I decided that I wanted to make her cum—twice. We changed positions smoothly, saying almost nothing. Her wet pussy accommodated my rigid hardness sweetly, yielding to every one of my surges.
Lisa’s first orgasm took her only shortly after I mounted her missionary style. I kept fucking her right through it, even as she bucked her hips and pulled on my arms. After a few more thrusts, I pulled her to the edge of the bed and put her feet over my shoulders, pumping her aggressively. Then, she moved off the bed to stand next to it, leaning over, so I could give her my cock from behind. It was in that position that I gave her a second orgasm.
Our sex life tangibly changed that night. I was now in control, and she had given me carte blanche over her body. Despite the shift in control, it was a more than a month after that transition before I ended up exercising our new agreement.
I suppose the more dramatic change was slow in coming because Lisa had opened up a little. We had more frequent—and more importantly, more aggressive—sexual encounters. We did it about twice a week during that intervening month before our frequency tapered off. After two weeks in a row with only two fucks, I was starting to feel more aggressive.
One Friday after we hadn’t had sex since the previous weekend, I again raped her. She had returned home from school to find me in the garage, puttering around with the lawn mower. Lisa parked and said hello, and told me she was eager to get upstairs and start studying. I kissed her longer than usual, grabbing her butt through her Washington County Community College sweatpants.
She just reiterated her desire to crack the books, and I decided I’d clean-up the mower, wash my hands, and fuck her anyway. While I finished with the mower and put away my tools, I thought of how distracted I sometimes became simply by thinking of her body. I worked myself into a frenzy with my own thoughts as I realized how much she distracted me but how infrequently I allowed my self to follow-through on my intentions. Certainly, there was nothing wrong with me acting on my desires for her after denying myself so frequently!
By the time I was in the laundry room, soaping-up with the degreaser, I had a raging hard-on. I knew I’d get some pussy tonight, one way or another. Perhaps the thought of just taking it from her was what had me so eager.
When I went upstairs, I found Lisa dutifully pouring over a couple of books and a fold-out chart at her desk. I stood behind her and rubbed her shoulders.
“Hey,” she said.
“I’m done with the mower,” I told her.
“Great! I’ll be a while. Do you want to just have a sandwich for dinner?”
“Well, I was thinking we could have a little roll in the hay.”
“Not tonight. Or maybe when we go to bed. I’ve got to get through this,” she said. She tapped a pencil at a big chart spread on her desk which showed the organs and tissue structures that went into making the hind quarters of a horse.
“Yeah, but I’m pretty horny,” I said.
She didn’t respond; she just flipped a page in one of her textbooks. And that was it; I felt a rush of adrenaline and put my arms under hers. I lifted, pulling her out of her chair. She yelped, and I kicked the chair to the side and out from under her.
“No!” she yelled.
“Shut up,” I hissed. I had control of her in something of a half-nelson, one arm under her armpit and the other grabbing the opposite hand. I carried and drug her to the couch in her study and threw her on the sofa face first. When she tried to rise, I put my hand on the center of her back and reached around her to grab at the tie on her sweats.
She squirmed under me, kicking her legs just a little. “I don’t want to!” She yelled.
“I told you to shut up!” I yelled, yanking her sweatpants down. I had hooked her thin panties, too, and her ass was bare before me.
With my left hand, I grabbed her hair and tugged. “Quit squirming,” I told her, pulling down my own sweatpants with my other hand and dropping my drawers. My cock immediately sprung out, stiff and throbbing.
Lisa whined and half sobbed. She said something I couldn’t understand, and I realized I had pushed her face into the back cushions of the couch. Roughly, I yanked her hair to the side and she sobbed again. “I don’t want to fuck you right now,” she said.
“That’s too bad. I waited all week for you to give me some action, you frigid little bitch.” It was the first time I had been verbally abusive to her, ever. I hesitated slightly to see what her reaction would be, and she just continued sniveling.
With my free hand, then, I adjusted my cock so it pointed at her pussy and I roughly entered her. After just a bit of resistance her body yielded to me and I slipped in easily. She was sopping wet. I didn’t say anything about it, and just started pumping her.
“Uh, God, that’s good. You’ve got a good pussy. Why don’t you share it with me, huh?”
“Good girls don’t want to,” she said, and squirmed.
“It gives me so much relief just being inside you. Your tiny body is so hot, how do you expect me to keep my hands off you, huh? You’d be an awesome fuck if you just got into it,” I told her.
I didn’t know where I was going with what I said, so I figured I might just shut up. I tentatively let go of her hair, and she flailed wildly. Lurching forward, I stayed in my mount and pushed my weight into her to pin her against the sofa.
From behind her, I rolled her tee shirt up to reveal her bra strap. I unfastened it with one hand and reached around her sides to firmly knead her breasts. While I grasped them roughly, she yelled that I was hurting her.
“You deserve it. You hurt me every morning you don’t wake me with a blow job,” I spat.
Previously, I’d thought rationally about my frustration but at this moment I was not sure where my rage was coming from. We’d fuck on my terms for a little while, though. I was sure of that much.
I continued to pound into her and Lisa whimpered. She never asked me to stop, and never invoked our code word. With my hands full of her breasts, I continued pumping into her slippery pussy. Despite her whimpering and protests, the heat in her body was incredible.
Concentrating on the contact between us, I hunched over her. I roughly banged my hips against her ass, forcing my dick into her at a downward angle. My belly was over her rump, my elbows buried in her hips as my fore-arms lifted her slightly from the couch to knead her full tits.
This position helped me satisfy myself with her scent and texture. Her body yielded to my thrusts, her pussy stretching with my entry angle until I fully entered her and her taunt walls gripped my shaft. Having never handled her breasts so harshly, I was surprised that she didn’t push me away with more determination like she had done in the past when she felt I became too aggressive. Instead, she just occasionally moved her feet as if she was straining to get away from under me.
My hands clasped her flesh as her hard nipples pressed into my palms. After fucking her roughly for dozens of strokes, my orgasm began to build. I looked down at her asshole, just above the soft and accepting lips of her sex, pierced by the shaft of my dick. I thought about fucking her in the ass, something we had only tried once since we started dating.
Remembering the experience guided my excitement towards my orgasm. I decided to let myself over the edge. I lifted my torso slightly, pinning my elbows into the top of her hips and grasping her breasts firmly. With this leverage, I pulled her towards me, rubbing her belly against the edge of the couch to meet my last few thrusts.
As I reached my goal I withdrew from her. I rose upright on my knees, taking my weight off of her. I grabbed her ass with my hands before leaning my hips forward to nestle my tackle in the cleft of her ass. My balls rested between her squirming cheeks and I shot load after load of my jism onto her back. I was so excited that a wad pumped hard out of me and landed in her hair on the back of her head. She felt it, and it got an immediate rise out of her. She started squirming again and tried to twist around.
“Gross! Stop it that is so disgusting!” she spat.
Before our love life changed, she thought come was rather disgusting. She’d dutifully swallow, maybe once a year. But I would either come inside her or into a tissue that she wrapped around my head while giving me a hand-job.
I pumped once or twice more before releasing her and falling back with my knees bent under me. While I basked in the satisfaction of defiling her body inside and out, she rose and sniffled.
“I’m going to clean up,” she said.
She reappeared only a few minutes later, completely naked. I was sitting against the couch on the floor, and she cuddled next to me.
After a long moment, she said; “I want you to kiss me. Down there,” she said.
It was the first time she had ever asked me for oral sex. In the past I had happily initiated cunnilingus to her pleasure, but she had never requested it. I lifted her onto the couch and spread her legs to eat her out for the first time at her demand.
Once I had made her come, she suggested we go to bed. And we did, where she told me very quietly and in the dark that she had enjoyed what I did. Without stopping, she told me that she wanted me to take her and be rough, that she was excited to be used and satisfy me. She didn’t know why she liked it, but she had never been so excited before and had begun to long for me, physically.
It occurred to me that Lisa was at least a little confused by what was happening. While I had wrestled a modest amount of guilt for being so rough, it turned out that she was questioning herself, too. Perhaps it was her morals, or her beliefs, or her upbringing, but she was very obviously torn between her pleasure and something else inside her, some inhibiting factor that hadn’t, in the past, let her enjoy a good fuck for just what it was.
Despite this realization, Lisa’s previous reaction to my forcing myself on her in the bathroom had me thinking that she’d be a little more willing to put out for a little while. I was wrong. We went two weeks with three encounters—the first was pretty hot, with a nice slow blow job. But the other two were rushed and not exactly satisfying to me.
At the end of that second week, Lisa had been planning to go out with her friends. She was running late, and met me at work. She had said she was a little hungry and didn’t want to go drinking with her friends on an empty stomach. They probably wouldn’t want to eat, and having a quick meal with me would make her feel happy and satiate her hunger. And so we left my office for a local burger joint.
To go out, she was wearing a smart little outfit from one of the designer shops at the mall: a thick silk skirt with a bright but sparse floral pattern on a black background and a pinkish top that drew out the flowers. The top had short petal-cut sleeves and ruffles that crossed over her chest. It was flattering but not slutty; I’m sure some of her friends were dressed a more provocatively than they should be.
The events transpired in a rush, but I remember them with surprising detail—I expect that’s because I was feeling very primal both before and during the experience. She didn’t know it, but she wasn’t at all wrong about satisfying her needs.
When we arrived at the burger place, she said she needed to use the ladies’ room. I frequented the restaurant for my work lunches, and so I was very familiar with its floor plan. Few details escaped me; in fact, I knew there wasn’t a ladies room. Like many busy lunch-time establishments, it had unisex bathrooms. Three of them, in fact.
I went down the hall to meet Lisa, who was in one of them.
After waiting a minute or two, someone else came down the hallway. I told him that I was just waiting, and he entered one of the other rooms. That left two where Lisa might be. Just as the lock clicked behind the other fellow, Lisa’s clicked open and she emerged from the well-lit and clean bathroom. She almost emerged, anyway. I took a fast and giant step towards the door as soon as I recognized her, and pushed her into the well-lit but Spartan bathroom.
The little rooms were like most unisex public bathrooms. Clean tile with a drain in the middle of the floor and a large fluorescent light in the ceiling. There was a shitter with handrails for the less mobile patrons. Under a large mirror, there was a long cream-colored sink that someone in a chair could easily get under and use.
“Hey! You gotta go, too?” she asked with a smile. I guess she assumed I was in a rush to go to the bathroom.
I turned around and locked the door behind myself.
“Are you sick, baby? Are you okay?” Lisa asked, concerned now.
“I’m fine,” I said and grabbed her. I kissed her roughly, squeezing her ass. Wearing those cork wedge shoes that are popular among the ladies her age, she was almost as tall as me.
“Mmm,” she said. She seemed a little into it, so I made my move. I leaned into her a little bit, grabbing fistfuls of her skirt in my hand, and pulling it up.
“Whoa!” she said. “Come on, not here,” she said. The tone of her voice was as if I had ordered a hot dog a restaurant best known for its foie gras.
“Shut up. People can hear us,” I whispered sharply. Reaching behind her, I grabbed her panties with my other hand and pulled them down. She stumbled with them around her thin thighs, and I spun her around. She was facing the mirror now. It occurred to me then that bathrooms and rear entry were common themes in our encounters, but I supposed that just reflected opportunity and access.
“God, no,” she said quietly. She whimpered after she said it, almost saying something else.
I pushed her forward, and she leaned towards the mirror. I unbuckled my belt and dropped my pants, springing my cock free. Guiding my cock down with my one hand while I held up the silky fabric with the other, I stepped forward towards her ass, starkly exposed under the fluorescent light.
Lisa didn’t betray her reputation for getting wet at a moment’s notice. The condition of her pussy surprised me. I penetrated her and felt that she was tight, but still quite slippery. I pressed forward, parting her walls.
I sighed as I felt myself enter her. Looking up, I saw her face in the mirror. She wore a mix of surprise and elation, biting her lip with her eyes wide and staring at my reflection.
“Jesus, hurry up,” she said.
“Shut up. I’m going to fuck you good,” I spat back. I looked down at her ass, turned up towards me. Her tiny frame seemed to barely contain the sexy swell of her ass. My huge hands dwarfed her cheeks as I wrapped my hands around the top and outside of her hips and began to work my dick into her.
Lisa exhaled sharply as my groin rested against her ass. I’m not particularly well endowed, but Lisa and I had found over the months that the head of my penis would gently brush her cervix if I was particularly excited and she was in just the right position. That happened in the bathroom at the burger joint; she winced just a bit and then settled against me, wiggling her hips and groaning at the stimulation.
“Feel it?” I hissed.
“Yeah, unh,” she said. A little too loudly, again, so I grabbed her hair.
“Shut up,” I said quietly. I reared back, tugging her hair and letting her skirt fall over my other hand and my groin. Pushing forward, I pressed into her again and began working my rhythm. Lisa’s breathing quickened and she whimpered again, trying to stay quiet. I slacked on her hair a little bit, and she exhaled.
I looked down at her ass, marveling at my girth entering her comparatively tiny body. The frills of her skirt began to interfere with my view so I grabbed them with my other hand before grasping her hip again.
Lisa’s body felt hot, moist, and perfect around my raging dick. This was the riskiest fuck of my life, and I intended to make it as satisfying as possible. While thinking of my own satisfaction, I considered the effect of my actions on Lisa. Wanting to maximize the memory for her too, I raised the ante and began tugging at the shoulder straps of her top and bra.
“Unh,” she said as I stopped thrusting, leaned forward to her shoulders, and tickled the base of her womb with the soft tip of my cock. “No, not the top.”
“Yeah, the top. Get your tits out, I want to play with them.”
“No, then I’ll be naked,” she protested quietly.
Grasping a fistful of her hair, I tugged gently and leaned down to her shoulder. “You’ll have a cock up your ass in a minute if you don’t get those tits out,” I spat in her ear. The anal sex threat had come up before, and I promised this would be the last time I used it without actually executing on it. The next time she resisted me more than I thought she should, I told myself, I’ll rape her ass.
Grasping the edges of the sink, Lisa raised her torso slightly from horizontal. I pushed the straps of her top and bra off her shoulders, and she pinched her elbows to her sides to let them fall. She pulled her arms out of the tiny sleeves and she was topless. The silky blouse and skirt were bunched together around her waist and belly, tangled among her bra. The visual effect was stunning; her soft hair cascaded down her naked back, and I could see her magnificent tits in the mirror.
“That’s a good girl. Now let me finish you off.”
I spread my feet and Lisa reluctantly put hers together. I looked down and beyond my cock I could see her black lacy thong slide down her thin legs and hit the floor. Grasping her hips, I withdrew slowly then really pushed into her, a sudden hard stab with my dick that stretched her around and smashed my hips against her ass.
“Ungh!” she grunted.
“Shut up!” I hissed. She stared at me in the mirror with a dreamy look in her eyes and her mouth agape. Leaning forward, I grasped her breasts roughly. I cupped and squeezed them, then pinched her nipples hard. Another squeak escaped her as she failed to suppress her reaction to my enthusiasm.
Letting go of her nipples, I grasped the full globes of her breasts again. Leaning forward, I began rocking my hips against her ass, pinning her thighs against the long sink and nearly knocking her off balance. As I fucked her in small pumps, I opened my hands and pressed them flatly against her chest, squishing her firm boobs against her rib cage. She panted with each of my thrusts, which were now coming faster as I banked my excitement towards my climax. The room, in fact, had become full of our hard breathing and devoiced grunts.
As I ramped towards my goal, I stood upright again. Not releasing her breasts, she rose again slightly. I finally released her hest and again grabbed her hips hard, fucking her just as hard as I did that first stroke. Repeating my thrusts again and again, I pounded into her body as hard as I had ever done. I could see her breasts shaking in the mirror. They hung from her chest as she braced herself on the sink.
A knot developed in my groin and grew until I could no longer contain it. My body tensed and I furrowed into Lisa’s pussy one last time, silently releasing myself inside her pussy. My orgasm washed over me in three or four waves, each accompanied by three or four spurts of cum deep inside my girl’s body.
When they finally subsided, I acted with disinterest. First, I withdrew from her and bent down to pick her panties up from the floor. I didn’t notice if she had reached her own orgasm or not. For the moment, I didn’t care. I then pushed her panties into my pocket and stepped towards the door.
“Jesus, let me get dressed!”
Ignoring her, I unlocked and opened the door and went into the restaurant. Fortunately, nobody was waiting in the hallway. I could immediately hear her behind me, hurriedly fumbling with the latch on the door.
It didn’t take Lisa long to emerge; I probably only waited by the door for a minute or two. She was visibly flushed and shaken; her hair was tussled, and her skirt was wrinkled. I wondered how long it would take for my huge load and her slick juices to begin creeping down her inner thighs. She walked gingerly towards me.
“I don’t want to go out tonight. Will you take me home?”
“I uh,” she started before looking around the lobby of the little restaurant. Finding nobody in earshot, she said: “I want to fuck you some more.”
We love each other dearly, and with this continuing change in our relationship, I find myself satisfied with Lisa on every level. We’ve always been emotionally well-matched. Now that I can get some pussy from her whenever I want it, I’m sexually satisfied as well. As terrible as it must sound to anyone beside Lisa or myself, I enjoy raping my girlfriend about twice each month.