A Man Possessed Pt. 01-02

All my inner secrets are bared. My mind is awash in confusion and anguish and arousal as she interrupts the perfect tension she had maintained with her thumb against the skin of my dick. Her thumb slips across the surface of my self the tiniest bit, and that slight motion is enough and I erupt under her touch, my seed jetting with such force it falls from my chin to my navel, not once but three times and then echoes again and again as she commences to squeeze until my throbbing is painful. I convulse.

Oh my god, what have I done.

---

She comes to me as I play a video game one day and whispers to me.

"Are you busy?" She says it softly, right into my ear. The lilt in her voice implies mischief.

"Sort of." I don't recognize what is happening, not yet.

"Mmm, too bad." She speaks slowly, the length of the word "bad" hinting at something. "I could use your help." On the fringe of my peripheral vision, I catch sight of her as she walks away. Or to be more precise, I catch sight of her naked ass heading for the bedroom. She is not wearing a thing.

Oh stupid me. I save my progress and go after her.

I find her, back in the bedroom, where, in the time it takes me to catch up to her, she has thrown on some notional clothes. Tiny shorts she sleeps in, a thin t. She is standing by the bed, absently inspecting her nails. I approach her. I put my hands on her hips; she, hers on mine. I pull her to me and I kiss her.

All it takes for me to begin to swell is the soft warm feel of her lips. The plaintive touch of her hands on my back finish the job. I rage. She knows.

I push her up against the bed, and my hands seek out the bottom edge of her shirt. I begin to tug, but her hands move to block me. She gently returns them to her waist, and then she begins to pull my shirt up. Her palms flat against my chest raise my shirt up my torso until I must raise my hands so that she might remove it over my outstretched arms.

It falls to the floor, and she immediately grabs hold of the waist of my sweatpants and underwear and whisks them down to my feet. She kisses me again as her hands reach down and her palms contour the sides of my hardness, tracing its dimensions. Her hands wander up my body, up to my shoulders, where she gently pushes me towards the bed until we trade places. Her lips never leave mine as she guides me down until I am lying on the bed. She, still clothed, straddles my hips. She reaches for something in the night stand, and raises my arms over my head. I nervously, but halfheartedly resist as she begins to tie them with the restraints she'd stashed and now retrieved. I anxiously remember the last time, but I came so hard. A repeat wouldn't be so bad. I have no secrets left to share, nothing left to fear.

"There," she says, "that's better." She rises from my body. I expect her to begin to attend to my erection, but she reaches for another two lengths of fabric and ties my feet. What extravagant torture is this?

She walks over and gives me a playful tap on the nose. "You excited?"

I think she knows the answer to that question. I am naked with a raging hard on.

"Excited about what?"

She replies with a smile and heads for the door.

"Hey, wait, where are you going?" She says nothing. Doesn't even look back. All I can do is look on helplessly as the sight of her as she starts to leave. I can make out the shape of her breasts so round and enticing underneath her thin t-shirt. I admire her smooth legs and ass in those tiny little shorts (I burn to remove them) as she sashays out of the room.

It's weirdly quiet within and outside the bedroom the whole time she's gone. And she's gone a long time. Wherever she is, whatever she's doing, she's doing it in complete silence. My mind has started to wander; I feel myself start to wilt. I am looking towards the window when I realize she's standing in the doorway watching me. I'm startled enough by her sudden appearance that it takes me a second to realize: she's not alone.

He is just as I pictured in those office couplings. Handsome in a traditional sort of way I suppose. Strong jaw. Straight light brown hair. Sturdy shoulders. Pearly white teeth. Nice clothes. He takes care of himself. And now, I can only assume, she's brought him here, instructed him, to take care of her. There's a rush of embarrassment as I realize he's looking with her at me, naked, my dick less than impressive in its half-flaccid state.

They move into the room and right in front of me, they kiss. I am staring right at them as they turn to look at each other. God, that look - that hungry affection that desires to bridge the slight distance between two people. That look passes between them until they lean slowly forward, and their lips meet. I strain at my bonds. I want to take his place, and as I imagine it - imagine kissing her - my dick grows hard again.

They don't embrace fully. Like a couple newly together, there is still a slight tension, lines not yet crossed. Their hands are on each other's hips, pulling gently as their lips part and their tongues mate to one another's.

Watching this, my dick, even hard as it is, swells that little bit more. It wants me to be where he is, in her arms, feeling her.

She pulls away and gives him that look again. Her hand moves away from his waist and reaches for the bulge in his jeans. It's evident, even from my vantage on the bed. When her fingers find it, she glances down for a moment, and her other hand joins her first at his waist where they unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. Her motions are unhurried. Her quarry is near and never in doubt, and so she savors the unfolding prize until she reaches inside and grabs his cock in her hand as her lips return to his.

Her hand does not move. She leaves it in place. It's even worse than if she did move it. She doesn't want to manipulate it or arouse. This isn't about him. This is about her sole purpose to feel it, to take the measure of its dimensions.

She pulls away from him again, this time to look at me. Her eyes are on mine, as her hand remains locked on his cock. She gives me a lascivious Gioconda smile: I hold in my hand his manhood, his rock hard, muscular dick.

Her eyes move away, back to her partner in this escapade. She removes her hand and slides his pants down his legs. She takes off his shirt. He stands, his erection draped by the fabric of his underwear, which she has left on. It's almost worse, this masquerade of chasteness. It's there - I know it is - that rigid member, that inevitable instrument of sex, and yet it is out of sight, as if it might yet not happen.

She puts her hand in his lightly, just the tips of her fingers, and she leads him around to the unoccupied side of the bed. She turns to face him again and raises her arms gracefully above her head. He slides his hands up under the hem of her shirt and runs them up in the playful way a new lover would. His hands shadow her sides and trace the outsides of her breasts on their way over the sensitive skin of her armpits and tenderly up her arms until his hands touch hers and the shirt falls limply to the floor.

He takes a step back as she drops her arms to her sides. He looks at her breasts, her perfect breasts. He reaches out to hold them. I can feel them in my hands, their soft firm surface pressing back against my palms from the last time she rose above me and I cradled them in my hands. My dick throbs. I look down. I have already started to drip, uselessly, onto my own stomach.

He pulls away again and kneels slowly in front of her, his hands reaching out around her waist to the small of her back, hooking into the elastic of the tiny little shorts that cover little but her mons and ass. He pulls the elastic down around the curvature of her pert butt and slides it down her legs until she is naked before him.

They kiss again. She presses herself all the way up against him. I can see the side of her breast where it squeezes against his bare chest. His hands wander where mine would - to grab both sides of her ass.

She keeps kissing him as she sits down on the bed. He bends forward to follow her until she is sitting all the way down. He stands back up; she places her hands on his hips; and then they just stare. It is a slow dance, this. After a couple of seconds, she begins to tug the band of his boxers down. The fabric gets hung up on his erect penis, and she has to pull the waist open towards her. She peers inside like someone unwrapping a present before she continues to pull the fabric down. As his underwear reaches mid-thigh, she leans forward, and there it is for a moment, beyond her back bending forward.

I've never been in the same room as another man's erect penis before. There were no wild nights in college where a female friend hung with me and my best bud drinking until she allowed herself to admit to herself that she would want to have us share her. Now, not but a few feet from me, there it is, an organ much like my own. Yet the alienation of that short distance makes it look utterly foreign. So purple, so veined, so purposeful and hard, it intrudes on my vision. From the moment I see it, I can picture it inside her. Just the sight of it, welcomed by her into our presence, implies to me that it will wind up squeezed into her body.

She sits sideways on the edge of the bed, and he turns, the entire intimidating length of his erection in side profile. She takes it in her hand, her fingers draped loosely around it. She turns to look back at me again. I can see the unmistakable hunger in her eyes before she turns back and begins to plant delicate kisses on the surface of his cock from the base slowly up the shaft until her lips are touching the very tip. And then her lips part and slide down. She pauses when they are wrapped around just the head, then begins to move again until she has taken him all the way in her mouth. She slowly works her way back up and off. She has felt all of him. She takes her hand away and reaches down, between her own legs it seems. When her hand returns to his member, her fingers are slick - she is already wet; she rubs her wetted hand on his dick and squeezes. A clear bead of moisture forms on the spot her lips just left and rolls down to meet her thumb, which she waves back and forth over the surface of his cock.

She lets go to move back onto the bed, lying next to me. She props herself up on some pillows and spreads her legs. She looks him right in the eye and points to the spot in between her outstretched limbs. He gets on the bed and moves towards her, his face approaching hers, his monstrous manhood questing to follow where her finger had directed. She has something else in mind and presses both her hands to the top of his head. She guides his face down down down until his head is between her legs.

My eyes are on her hands. As his tongue slides between her lips and inside her before making its way up to her clit, her hands remain draped in his hair. They move distractedly, trembling against him, urging him on, pulling in a whisper to bring your tongue closer to her, but closer it cannot be. He is consuming her, his lips wrapped around hers, his tongue softly smothering her. I can tell when it slides along the soft folds of her body and reaches its mark by the way she moans.

The sound, the sweet soft sigh, escaping her lips draws my gaze to her face. Her head rests on the pillow, her mouth is curled as if in agony, and her eyes...her eyes are closed, her mind drifting away to the sensations inside of her.

And then they open and lock directly on mine.

The rising tide of arousal has not receded, though she is quiet now. I can still see her stomach tense to the hungry movements of his tongue. Her hand still drapes distractedly on his skull. Her other hand has moved, to her chest, and she squeezes her own breast.

See me, her eyes seem to say. See me aroused. See the pleasure his touch foretells. I cannot look away. Her breath whistles through her lips more raggedly. The swelling inside her grows again, and she struggles to keep her eyes open. Her eyelids flutter, and as she moans, they close. She is drifting away. I look down at her taut stomach. I can tell her muscles are tensed. The surface of her body quivers. She is close. She is gasping more and more rapidly. Her head rolls back and her hand clutches her breast firmly as an intense moan sounds out. Her other hand pulls his head into her pussy, and he can feel with his tongue the way her pussy squeezes and throbs repeatedly.

When her orgasm recedes, she gently pushes his head away. He smiles up at her from between her legs. She pulls him towards her and kisses him and holds him in the afterglow of climax. I feel a slight sense of relief and disappointment. Is it over? Is his dick not going to wind up buried in her body? I am still hard, but as the minutes pass with him in her embrace, I can sense my frenzy begin to abate. As the blood barely begins to drain from my member, she whispers something in his ear and starts to get up.

She is on all fours, moving towards the foot of the bed...and towards my restrained form. She straddles me, facing away, and my vision is filled with the sight of her ass, her lips, and the opening of her pussy. Beyond all this, I can see the outline of her beasts between her legs. The blood rushes back, and I am restored not just to my full rigid state, but a frenzy of arousal. My dick throbs and drips once more at the sight of her, right above my cock. All she has to do is reach down, grab my dick, and wiggle back the slightest bit and I would be inside her. Will she?

I have forgotten the other man in the room entirely. He does not exist, blotted out by her magnificence. It is an insult, then, when he appears in the periphery of my vision alongside the bed, his still hard cock thrusting itself into my enjoyment of her. His hands intrude, too, reaching out and resting on the cheeks of her ass, running over them, cupping them.

And then, he stands up and takes his hands away but briefly before he suddenly spanks her far cheek. I hear the sharp crack of his skin meeting hers, but more than that, I see her ass ripple under the contact, scintillating in the alluring way her body does. She gasps. She enjoys it? We have never done this. She has never asked me for this. I didn't know.

He does it again, a little louder this time. She gasps again. And I watch as a rosy handprint emerges and fades after the ripple that seems to echo all the way into her pussy, from the way she gasps each time. He does it over and over. She starts to wag her hips as the perfect contact of his hand abets the restless stirring his tongue had quenched. I can see the evidence of the want inside her, a slick drip spreading from between her lips down the inside of her thigh. Seeing it makes my cock jump. He notices and pauses to glance between her legs. He sees it, too, and slides his finger up her leg. It's already wet before it even gets to her lips, where he insouciantly slides it inside her, then forward to her clit. I have to watch him toy with her, have to suffer the indignity of listening to her moan when his finger touches her. How can I object? His tongue has already possessed it all. I can feel the true moment of doom approach.

He walks back around the bed and climbs back on. He's kneeling next to me when he grabs her hips and guides her off of me. She is on all fours in front of him, her forearms on the bed between my calves. I can still see all of her. His hands still on her hips, he pulls her ass closer. He moves forward, but twists his one hip towards me. He's going to make sure I see. He reaches down and grabs his dick. It is pointing right towards her, getting closer and closer to her engorged, glistening lips. I see the very moment it touches them. I see them part as his head moves in between. He slides slowly forward. He wants me to see every vein disappear inside her. And then he's all the way in. All I can see is his ass clenching as his hips press against her butt. He slides back out, and I see his dick emerge, shiny and wet. She is so turned on, and all I want is to be in his place.

His hands grip her hips as he begins to move in and out of her. I see every thrust. I see his dick re-emerge with every withdrawal. He slides inside her forcefully, but pulls out slowly to make me watch. Every time his body slams into hers, she leans forward, and her breasts graze my legs. Her hair tickles my feet. Her moans percuss my senses. She grows louder and louder. One of her hands wanders down to rub her clit in time to his hands trapping her as his monstrous cock impales her over and over.

Soon, he begins to grunt in time to her gasps and moans. I imagine how soft she is inside, how her body trembles as her orgasm approaches. It is wearing him down as well. She utters one particularly loud and long exclamation, and her hand holds still against her clit. I know. Her pussy is squeezing around him. He thrusts forward one last time and grunts as he holds himself to her. He hurriedly pulls back, and as I see her pussy contract in ecstasy, I have to watch him explode all too powerfully across her back.

She slumps forward onto my legs and doesn't move. She is spent, every ounce of energy consumed in the exertions of passion not once, but twice. Him, that other guy, he's lying on his back next to me. I'm pretending he's not there.

Finally, she picks herself up and sits between my legs and considers my dick. "Oh," she says mock-sympathetically, "do you feel left out?" She reaches out as if to comfort the poor thing. It is still throbbing, still on the verge from watching and wanting. At the first touch of her fingers around it, I groan, it swells and stays there for one, two seconds before it explodes from my chin to my stomach, just as it had when she wrung this little scene from me.

She looks at the other man and offers him a little shrug. "I guess somebody enjoyed himself." I am utterly destroyed.

---

That day never repeated, except in my mind. We never even talked about it again, save for one day, years before we went our separate ways. It still haunts my masturbatory reality to this very day. I don't revisit it - it never leaves.

"That day was pretty hot, huh?" I asked her this on some random occasion, hopeful for a spark that would lead to a revival. I didn't need to specify which day. She knew.

"I guess so."

"Come on."

"It was fun," she allowed.

"Just fun?"

"Yeah, it seemed so important to you."

I gave chase. I was so close. I could smell it. I saw it, I swear, there, between the silver bark of the trees. That slight flicker, that fleet limb that moves, silent, out of sight. It was even more incredible than I had imagined. Then it was gone, with a flick of its tail and a flash of red, vanished into the stillness.

And I - I am doomed, doomed to pursue, forever until my dying breath.