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Wanting What You Got

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Something very traumatic happened to me recently – something that could have killed me. Since then, I have been reliving all of the major events in my life. Fortunately, I have plenty of college friends and family to discuss things with. However, there is one event I must keep secret and anonymous.

During my senior year in high school, I was a determined, albeit slow, member of my school’s track & field team.

A week after I turned 18, our beloved coach retired after 30 years. He was very old, but very good at coaching track. All the girls loved him like a grandfather.

He was quickly replaced by his oldest son, Matt, who seemed more than competent. I think it had more to with the fact that he was super-hot – dark brown hair, ripped muscles, perfect teeth and a sexy smile – everything a girl dreams of. He was only in his late twenties, and all of the girls fantasized about him constantly. He didn’t have to work hard to motivate us to perform better at meets.

Everything seemed normal during our first few workouts and practices. He was good at his job. However, I quickly noticed that he loved to stare at the girls. It made some of us uncomfortable.

At first, no one complained. In fact, many of the girls began to instigate, later bragging about being undressed by Matt’s eyes. I was not one of them.

Though I now know that I am decently attractive, during high school, it was up for debate, at least in my mind. Most of my friends say I look like a short, skinny, brunette version of Fiona Apple. But during high school, I had a self-esteem problem, like most girls that age.

As his behavior continued, Matt begun to make some of us uncomfortable. Once, he “accidentally” found himself in the girls’ locker room. Acting shocked, he played it off, saying he wasn’t familiar with the school building.

The next day, a friend of mine made the mistake of mentioning her concerns to a teammate. The other girl became hostile, telling my friend he was harmless, and not to do or say anything to get him fired.

One Monday afternoon, after a grueling practice, I stayed behind to help a teammate to the locker-room. She had injured her ankle during practice. As we approached the field-house, my friend stopped.

“I think I’m going to skip a shower and head home. My ankle is killing me.”

I said, “Okay, the parking lot is closer anyway.”

We changed directions and headed toward the parking lot.

As we made our way closer to her car, my friend turned to me. “Thanks for helping me, Abbey.”

“No problem.”

Finally, we arrived next to her vehicle, and I helped her inside. “Can you drive home?”

“Yeah, I’ll be alright.”

I said goodbye and headed toward the field-house.

By the time I arrived, the locker-room was empty. Ignoring the warning in my heart, I undressed and headed toward the laundry-room for a towel.

Once inside, I grabbed a towel out of the dryer, and wrapped it around my body. Suddenly, I heard a noise in the shower area next door. Thinking one of my teammates had decided to wait for me, I felt better. I reached for the shower door.

Opening the door, I walked inside and turned on the light. The place was empty. I glanced around the room. No sign of the noise. I swallowed hard and headed for the shower stall.

I reached for my towel to undress. But before I could pull it away from me, I heard a man’s voice speak softly.


I freaked.

I quickly whirled around to see Matt leaning against the shower-stall entrance.

I screamed, “What are you doing here?”

He immediately started walking slowly toward me. “Waiting for you.”

Something in his voice terrified me. I watched his eyes trace the outlines of my body. “Don’t be afraid.”

My voice quivering, I asked, “Why should I be?”

He seemed so huge compared to my 5’1″ frame. The closer he got, the more terrified I became. I wanted to run, but I was petrified.

He kept smiling as he stopped in front of me. I instinctively lowered my head, at the same time sensing the panic creeping into my body. All of the signs – the deliberate stares, his excuses for showing up unannounced in the girls locker-room — flashed through my mind. My body began to tremble. What would he do to me? Is this really happening?

Through my terror, I couldn’t help but notice how hot he was. It angered me that I was actually getting turned on by him being there. I wasn’t that type of girl.

Though I had experimented with boy friends – hand-jobs, being fingered, and that one blow-job at church camp – I had never had gone all the way with anyone, aside from my vibrator.

He reached out slowly, and tried to pull my towel away. I jerked it back and screamed, “Why are you doing this?”

He whispered, “Calm down. Everything’s fine.”

Slowly regaining my senses, I quickly turned and headed through the shower doors, choosing to ignore what had just happened.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his hands reach for me. I tried to duck, but he was too fast. He forcefully grabbed both my arms, pulling them behind my back. I screamed and fought against his grip. He was too strong. He shoved me against a wall, and covered my mouth with his hand.

He ripped my towel away, revealing my nakedness. His hand slowly caressed my body, starting with my stomach. He moved his hand upwards, touching my face, rubbing his thumb over my chin. I could hear him whispering, “Abbey, you are so beautiful. I’ve wanted you since I first saw you at practice.”

I whimpered through his hand, “Please don’t!”

He picked me up with his other hand, and angled me against the wall, his hand tight over my mouth.

He whispered again, “You will enjoy this, I promise.”

Holding me in place with one arm, he positioned my thighs against his hips, holding me against the wall. I could feel his cock pressing against my nakedness. He reached down and opened his zipper. My eyes were closed tight, and I began to whimper softly.

His free hand reached up and gently tweaked my nipple and then the other. He did this for several seconds – holding the tip between his index and middle fingers, and rubbing it with his thumb. I tried to scream again. But it came out a muffled groan behind his hand.

As he rubbed my nipple back and forth with ever-increasing pressure, I began to feel a faint warmth, as if it were being transferred from his hand to my breast. I shuddered. Within seconds, my nipples were hard. It was then that I started to hate myself. Why? Because I was actually enjoying this part.

He continued tweaking me, pinching my nipple between his fingers, and then rubbing it softly. The pinching was painful, but his soft caresses washed away the pain. He continued this as the warmth grew into a slow, deep heat. My reluctance began to fade.

Like an out-of-body experience, I watched as my neck arched upward. My eyes began to roll to the back of my head. I surprised myself with soft moans. I bit my lip. From somewhere deep inside, I heard a voice screaming, “Why are you enjoying this?” The voice repeated itself, demanding an answer. The longer I ignored it, the more faint it became.

He abandoned my nipple and started gently squeezing my tiny breast. He ran his hand across the nipple and squeezed. He repeated this several more times. A war between desire and terror raged inside of me.

He took his hands off of my mouth and gently grabbed my throat, his fingers wrapping all the way around to my neck. I had my chance to scream for help, but I forgot to. I could feel my defenses slipping away like an ice-cube on hot pavement.

As his hand left my breast, still red from his touch, I felt a sense of disappointment. I wanted him to keep touching me.

I curiously opened my eyes and watched as his hand reached down toward my crotch. A jerked slightly as the back of his hand grazed my stomach.

I became aware of how tiny I was nestled against his body. This made me even hotter. His body overwhelmed me. The circumference of his upper arm was almost as large as my waste. His hands were as large as my stomach.

As he reached my pubic hair, I flinched. I let out a rushed breath as his fingers teased and twisted the curly black hairs. I grabbed his shoulders, lifting myself away from his touch. He slowly moved down to my opening, his fingers covering my clit. A finger traced the outline of my pussy, causing me to jerk and shudder. My opening was only an inch wide, and the tip of his warm fingers covered it completely.

I didn’t realize how moist I was until he pulled back the lips of my pussy. I felt the slippery substance seeping onto his fingertips. I convulsed in ecstasy.

Breathing heavily, I whispered, “Finger me.”

He deliberately slid his fingertip between my lips, spreading the moisture onto the rest of his finger. He rubbed the length of my opening, causing me to seep even more. He slid it up and down, getting a little faster with each trip.

I found myself getting more and more frustrated as he teased me. Each time I thought he would plunge his finger inside of me. But he held back.

I whimpered, “Put it inside of me.”

He teased a few more times. Then suddenly, he entered me. My pussy wrapped tight around his warm finger, as I let out a tiny yelp. His entire index finger slick with my juices, he started finger-fucking me.

My pussy pulsated with heat and pleasure. Moisture, which had seeped before, was now dripping out of me. I could hear the wet, slopping sound. My crotch moved forward with each delicate thrust. The dull warmth began to transform into a piercing heat. I raised my head. I closed my eyes, and bit my lower lip. I knew I would cum soon.

Without warning, he pulled his finger out of me. He raised his wet finger to his face, opening his mouth. He put his finger inside and slowly sucked it. A mixture of disgust and intense arousal overwhelmed me.

He smiled. “I want to fuck you Abbey.”

Without answering him, I shifted my crotch closer to his. He reached down and unzipped his shorts. His grip around my throat tightened slightly. His other hand reached inside his shorts and pulled out a massive penis. It seemed immeasurably huge to me at the time. I’ve never seen one larger since.

He quickly guided the tip of his penis toward my crotch. My small feet dangling around his back, he began to rub my opening with his penis, slowly, up and down, from my clit to my anus. My juices coated the tip. I felt the huge head covering my opening. I had no idea how it was going to fit.

Next, he put his cock between my inner thighs, sliding it in and out. Then, he went back to teasing me again. This time, I could feel the slippery moisture on his shaft.

Grasping for breath, I pleaded, “Put it inside me.”

Still suspended above the shower room floor, he continued slowly flicking his penis up and down my vagina, ignoring my pleas. The tip of his penis was twice as large as my opening. I began to dread the pain I was about to feel. He pulled his penis down and started sliding it in and out between my inner thighs again.

I felt fear and pleasure, all at the same time. I had never put anything that big inside me. Frustrated, my reluctance disappeared completely. He let go of my throat, and gently put his hand behind my head. His eyes met mine.

Trembling, I whispered, “I want to fuck you.”

In an instant, I had gone from terrified feelings of doubt, to a deep longing to be fucked by him. The pain didn’t matter to me any longer.

Feeling my body loosen, he retreated a bit, then pinned me tighter against the wall. He grabbed the small right side of my buttocks, but kept his hand behind my head. Lifting me up a few inches, his penis found my opening once again. He slowly guided the tip inside me.

I felt his lubricated fingers spread my lips. He slowly pushed a little deeper. Deeper still he pushed, until he hit what seemed like the end, but only a few inches had gone inside me. He continued pushing, until I felt a sharp pain. I winced.

He whispered, “This is going to hurt a little.”

Without warning, he stabbed through my opening. I shrieked loudly. The pain was unbearable, but intoxicating. I squeaked loudly as half his cock disappeared inside me. Struggling to take him, I squealed, “It’s too…big!”

He held his penis inside my opening, holding me in place like a skewer. Then, grabbing my hair, he slowly began to fuck me. He started out with short, deliberate strokes. My back and shoulders slid up and down the cinder-block walls. A tear ran down my face. I placed my hands around his neck.

I was in agony, but at the same time, I had never felt more pleasure. His flesh was fiery hot. The heat of his cock caused me to shudder once again.

I moaned, “Oh god, it hurts.”

He slowed down, pulling himself almost all the way out.

I yelled, “No! Don’t stop. Please keep fucking me.”

He obliged.

I was in complete ecstasy. As the warmth in my middle grew hotter, I started sweating. The dirt and grime, along with the dried sweat from practice was replaced with a mixture of new sweat and old tears. The wetness from my crotch began to make its way up my stomach as he began to pump deeper inside me. It was exhilarating.

He lowered his face and began to lick and kiss my neck and shoulders. I heard him inhale deeply. He smelled of sweat, dirt and cologne. I slid one of my hands up his neck and through his short hair. He immediately started pumping me faster. My opening was beginning to adjust to his girth.

My moaning turned into faint, intermingle yelps. I felt a tingling in my legs. It made its way around my entire body – my toes curled, my nipples hardened again, and I could feel the intense friction in my pussy. I looked down to see his massive cock filling my crotch. I was amazed that there was only an inch of space between my inner thighs and his cock.

A slow-building urge soon blossomed into an extreme desperation. I had orgasmed before, but this was something different. His penis was plunging deep inside of me, and the warmth of his crotch caused a slow, powerful ache.

My eyes closed, and my legs wrapped tightly around his now exposed buttocks.

He asked, “Are you going to cum?”

“Uh huh”, I whimpered halfheartedly, my eyes half-closed.

I opened my eyes slowly, and noticed our reflection in a mirror above a sink across the room. His muscular back arched and twisted as he pumped me. I saw my black hair, moistened with sweat, threading back and forth on his shoulder. I saw my small feet perched just above his lower back. My hands were struggling to keep hold of his slippery back. But my the reflection of my face shocked me. I had a glazed look. My mouth was half-way opened, sucking huge gulps of air, and then exhaling.

The slow ache had now become a raging flow of pain, heat and pleasure. He sensed my urgency and started pumping me deeper and faster. I felt his testicles slapping against me. My feet, still dirty from practice, bounced off his lower back.

The raging flow had reached my opening. I dug my fingers into his back, and my toes curled involuntarily. My calves tightened, and my back arched to meet his thrusts. He let go of my hair and found a tight grip on my throat again. I glanced back at the mirror. The reflected image of him choking me…fucking me…caused me to explode.

“I’m cumming!”

Mercilessly, he pumped me hard and deep. I shuttered violently, screaming, moaning, grunting as the orgasm ripped through me. I moaned desperately, grasping for breath. Matt didn’t let up. He pumped me harder. I thought the orgasm would never end. It circulated around my entire body like icy water.

The orgasm continued, getting stronger with every thrust. I heard myself begin to growl, sounds that have never came out of my mouth before.

“Oh shit, I’m cumming…oh god!”

The orgasm slowly made its around my body. He kept fucking me. The tingling in my feet had moved to the rest of extremities.

Finally, with a deep exhale, the orgasm flickered out like a candle. I held him close to me, as he continue to thrust.

A few minutes later, I was cumming again. I felt my juices squeezing around his penis and down my legs. I shuttered violently. I went limp for a moment as the second orgasm tore through me. I could feel a prickly sting in my feet. I grunted loudly, then held my breath as I peaked. As the orgasm slipped away, I exhaled desperately.

I began to struggle to keep up with him. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he began to shudder.

I whispered loudly, “Don’t come inside me!”

I wasn’t on birth control, and my ultra-conservative parents didn’t believe it was appropriate for someone my age. At this moment, I disagreed.

His thrust slowed.

Suddenly, he speared deep inside me. With a grunt, he pulled it almost out, then back inside me. I squealed. He did this again, a long quick thrust, then holding it inside me for a few seconds. Then out again. I looked down to see the skin around my opening folding in and out of me, wrapped tight around his cock.

All of a sudden, he let out long, desperate grunt. A hot liquid invaded my pussy, filling me completely. A panic crept over me.

As soon as the flow ended, he pulled out. A long, thick string of semen stretched from his cock to my clit. As he moved a few inches away, the string broke and back-lashed on my leg. It was still warm. He let out deep breath, opened his eyes and looked down at me.

“Abbey, you fuck better than my wife.”

In an instant, he reached down, and grabbed my towel. He used it to wipe his penis dry. Tossing the towel, he pulled up his underwear. His cock was still red and hard as it disappeared behind his shorts.

As he walked away, I collapsed to the floor. The cold concrete touched my buttocks, sending a chill up my spine. I watched as he headed toward the laundry room door. As the door began to close behind him, I heard him say, “See you at practice.”

I laid there crumpled for a few minutes, utterly exhausted. I tried to get my breath, but the more I tried, the more light-headed I became. I felt his semen oozing out of me onto the cold floor.

Eventually, I got up. My tiny frame ached from being held against the wall for so long. I picked up my towel and put it around me. I could feel the wetness of his semen on my legs, still clinging to the towel. Finding my balance, I staggered a few feet, then stopped. My insides hurt. It felt like he was still inside me. I felt filthy, but instead of taking a shower, I headed for the laundry-room, limping. I threw the towel in the hamper and pushed open the locker-room door.

I sat down on the wooden bench and reached for my bag. As I bent over, another drop or two of Matt’s Cum oozed out of me. I dressed quickly. Clean clothes felt good against my grimy skin.

I flung open the door to the main room, and limped slowly toward the exit. It was a long walk to the parking lot, but I found my car quickly. The engine roared to life, and I headed home.

On the way home, I kept getting the sensation of Matt’s penis still inside me. It was intensely arousing. I fought the urge to masturbate.

As soon as I got home, I ran upstairs to my bedroom. The house was empty. I collapsed onto my bed. I still had an hour before my parents came home from work.

Reaching under my dresser, I pulled out my vibrator. Rather than tease myself, I turned it on and immediately thrust it deep inside my tender pussy. I pounded myself over and over. No matter how hard I pumped, I couldn’t duplicate the feeling I got from fucking Matt.

Exhausted again, I got up to take a hot shower. As I washed the sweat and dirt away, I closed my eyes, trying to imagine what had just happened. I’m glad it had happened, but I was terrified about the consequences. I wouldn’t know if I was pregnant for a while. I dreaded the wait. At that moment, I began to sob.

Still wet from my shower, I collapsed on my bed, and fell asleep. I dreamed about him fucking me. I woke up several times with wetness seeping out of my opening.

I awoke to the sounds of my parents opening the door downstairs.

The rest of the evening was awkward. I ate dinner and chatted with my parents about school, acting as if nothing had happened. And they were non the wiser.

At some point during dinner, my Dad asked, “Honey, why are you limping?”

I replied, “I think I twisted my knee at practice.”

I ate voraciously, finishing my meal quickly.

Sitting at the table, I said, “My knee really hurts, I think I’ll go upstairs and wrap it, then go to bed.”

I left the table and limped upstairs. I entered my room, closed the door, and fell on my bed. I fell asleep quickly.

I slept better than I ever have that night. And the dreams of fucking Matt came and went.

I woke up the next morning with serious apprehension about seeing him again. The pain in my crotch had gotten worse overnight. Getting ready for school, I noticed a little blood in my underwear. What had he done to me?

My senior year was definitely not going as planned. Matt and I were not through with each other, but that’s a story I’ll save for another day. Until then.

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