PART I
I first met Roman about a year ago in a chat room on a website like this one. It started as it usually does, sexting, exploring kinks, and role-playing fantasies. Most men tend to drift, but Roman didn’t. At some point, our conversations shifted. What started as sexually charged back-and-forth turned into something… normal. We’d talk about anything—work, random thoughts, the kind of things you don’t expect to share with someone you met like that.
It took him six months to finally get my number. I typically would have never given it out—especially not to a 42-year-old married man who once told me he wanted to “make me his cock whore who lived in a cage in his basement,” but by then, he didn’t feel like a stranger anymore, so I figured... "What the hell, why not?"
It took exactly two weeks of texting every couple of days for him to try and move from sexting and RP to in-person meet-ups… (huge eye roll), but I wasn’t going to give in so easily, I made it three weeks before I was spread-eagled on a bed at noon at a five-star hotel across from his firm’s office, moaning his name...
THAT MAN!
This went on once a week for about a month before I felt it coming, that moment I knew was inevitable, but still had no idea how to navigate.
I fantasize a lot. I always have. I have plenty of interests when it comes to exploring my sexuality. I never thought I’d be given the opportunity to act on them, especially not with someone who already knew as much about me as Roman. We had spent hours playing out some of our wildest fantasies.
It was around 9 a.m. when his usual morning texts came through:
“So… when are we going to get to the good stuff?”
“Ah, good morning to you too… I am the good stuff, and you're getting it ;).”
My response was as naive and unassuming as they come. His reply? Screenshot. Then another. And another. Messages of me, late at night, reckless, uninhibited, begging for things I’d only ever said safely behind a screen. Talking about being degraded, humiliated, shared, and gangbanged. Begging to be fucked in the ass like a whore for his pleasure. Fantasies I could no longer hide from were now laid out in front of me like evidence. My own words, thrown back at me. Called on. I was scared. But somewhere underneath that, I needed it.
I read every one of them. Every back-and-forth, my heart racing while something warmer, heavier settled in my chest. Reading it was enough to get to me; writing it had been worse. I bit my lip, twirling a strand of hair around my finger nervously, trying to come up with a response that wouldn’t completely give me away. This thing between us was still new, and here he was, older, experienced, completely unshaken, waiting for me to prove I wasn’t all talk.
Or maybe he already knew.
Either way, I wasn’t about to lose that battle.
"Fuck." I muttered under nervous breath as I contemplated my options.
“Oh haha… yeah, that…” I hit send and immediately regretted it,
"Smooth. Really smooth," I thought to myself, already figuring the end of the relationship was near.
“I’ve been waiting for you to actually get to the good stuff. Was that supposed to be my job or something?”
I thought I played it off. Apparently not.
“Relax.” His response came much more quickly but was not reassuring.
“I get it,” he added. “But I think you get it too.”
I exhaled, forcing a little confidence back into my fingers.
“We’ll get there, Daddy. ;) Don’t rush us.” The tension in my stomach started to ease; however, I knew this wouldn't be the last time he brought up my fantasies. I just had to be better prepared for the next time.
Wednesday morning, he texted again, almost on queue.
“How would you like to spend a weekend or so at my cabin? It might be more fun than a couple of hours in a hotel, and we can get to know each other a little better. There's a hot tub.”
That could relieve me of the stress of getting caught, I thought to myself. I also have next week off from school, so I wouldn't have any stress...
“Oh, a hot tub? Count me in ;).” I stared at the message after I sent it; my stomach was flipping all over again. Three days out of town with a 42-year-old married man," I thought to myself, yes, I'd already been with him, but it didn’t feel real. I'd never actually thought I'd be with someone like that. I barely knew the man; this could go bad in so many different ways.
I decided to put the thoughts aside and just go with my gut.
The drive to the cabin took about an hour. Winding roads, leading me in and out of cell service. The drive seemed to relax my inner screams of resistance as I took in the nature around me. The sun shining down, the trees casting shade in certain areas, the music and vibes were high as I pushed my inner thoughts away. The "what-ifs" of the trip. My secret kinks or the times I exaggerated my sexual history, I knew I was in trouble. I didn’t slow down once.
I turned onto a narrow dirt road, trees closing in on both sides. About 500 feet in, they opened up to a modern, two-story log cabin. I don't think you could call it a log cabin when it looked nicer and more luxurious than the house I was raised in. The wraparound porch, Smoke curling from the chimney, something elegant, and warm. I couldn't wait to get inside.
I grabbed my bag and headed towards the door. As I reached the top step, the door opened, and there he stood with his flannel, fitted just right. Jeans, boots—effortless, like he belonged exactly here. His smile was enough to make my stomach do somersaults.
“How was the drive?” He asked, like this was normal. Like I hadn’t just driven an hour into the middle of nowhere to spend a weekend alone with a married man double my age.
I couldn't hide my excitement even if I tried, “Easy.”
I tried to pay attention as he showed me around, room after room, all of it beautiful, clean, carefully put together, but I couldn’t focus. We both knew why I didn't want to waste any more time. By the time we reached the bedroom, my desires were well in control. I tossed my bag in any direction and pulled him into me, and that was it.
My cute, hooded crop top had been removed in seconds. His hands worked my nipples while we kissed until I reached the bed, where he pushed me onto my back. I removed my pants and crawled to the edge of the bed to meet him, as he finished undressing, with a kiss before lowering to his already erect penis. I was ready.
I took it into my mouth with intent. Taking his length into the back of my throat with reckless abandon as he grabbed a fist full of hair. I didn't mind him applying pressure; my reflexes kicked in, and I welcomed it. He knew the perfect time to release the pressure as I began to choke and need air. His size, although well above average, didn’t stop me from wanting it all. He groaned in perfect unison with my gags, chokes, and slurps. I suddenly had no reservations. Whatever happened, happened. I separated and looked up at him with doe eyes and a playful grin,
"Like this, Daddy?" My tone was cute and playful but submissive. A stepping stone was offered to the man who clearly wanted everything I had to offer, and he took full advantage.
He slapped me across the face, playfully yet firmly, before sliding his thumb into my mouth as I sucked, keeping eye contact and an added light moan. He eyed me hungrily as he flipped me onto my back and thrust his member into my throat once more.
My head was draped over the edge of the bed. He took his dick in his hand and slid it between my parted lips and into the back of my throat. My head pinned upside down between him and the bed I gag, air escapes the side of my lips. He thrusts, I choke, saliva began to leak from the voids between his dick and my stretched mouth. He pulled back just enough for me to regain some composure and allow the heat to subside in my face.
His hands roamed. Pinching and pulling my nipples. I winced and moaned on his dick. He thrusted in and out slowly but firmly. His hands slid down my stomach to my clit where he rubbed before landing a hard slap that sent waves of pain through my body. My head jerked forward, and his cock slid further down my throat as I choked. Spit ran down my face, into my eyes, and into my hair. He pulled back just enough for me to swallow some and catch a breath. He toyed with my pussy before plunging his dick back into my throat. He held it firm at the point of resistance before landing another blow to clit, my reaction the same, taking his dick past resistance and gagging me once more.
I couldn't help but enjoy it. My body, fueled by lust and desire, reacted like it never had before. I found pleasure in being uncomfortable. As he continued with what I could only assume was a test of my limits, I found solace in my body's ability to find pleasure past where I'd been willing to go before. Even in those beginning moments of the weekend, I knew just how dangerous these new revelations were. I felt limitless and ready to test my abilities.
He continued for what felt like a good while. Saliva had drenched my eyes and hair, my hands held the comforter tightly, my throat felt sore, and I could just about feel every pulse in my pussy by the end. He wiped my eyes with a towel just enough to allow me to peel them open before pulling me off the bed by my hair and arm. He pulled me down to the floor next to the bed, and pushed my head down with one hand, raising my hips with the other, and I let out an involuntary but approving moan as I bit my lip and arched my back for him. He dragged the head of his dick from my tailbone, across my asshole, to my pussy. He paused.
“Let me hear it,” he demanded, “beg for it.”
“Fuck me, please.” I moaned through heavy breath.
“Not good enough.” he lands a hard slap across my right ass cheek as I wince.
“Fuck me, Daddy.” I moaned, trying to muster up the courage to say the things I’ve only said behind a screen, “use my tight little pussy, my hole craves cock, please fuck my slutty hole,” I cried out.
He thrusted with no hesitation. I cried out, my head shot up as I screamed in pain. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back as his hips backed out just enough to drive himself in again. His cock stretches me. I cried out in pain. There was little pleasure in it for me. I had accepted that by this point. It was the first time I really felt like I was being used. He didn’t check on me or slow up as I let out screams; he didn’t stop when I screamed “OW!” or “WAIT!”, but I don’t think I wanted him to.
When he pulled himself from me and shot his load on my asshole and back, I felt an immediate sense of emptiness. Not in my heart but in my pussy. I didn’t like not having a cock inside my vacant hole. I collapsed to the floor, he stood and left the room, and I laid there panting, my pussy feeling the emptiness and aftershocks. I just laid there and appreciated the rug beneath me for a while.
