He lowered his eyes, a flicker of something—desire, guilt, hesitation—dancing in their depths. I couldn’t read him, but I knew I’d struck a chord.
I told Rob about the man’s intense gaze, how his confidence chipped away at my usual defenses, how he overcame my resolve to be unapproachable; a resolve that had earned me the nickname ‘Ice Queen’ on the tennis circuit, never offering a hint of flirtation or even a friendly smile to any male admirer. I told Rob how he revealed the other nickname the men in the stands and on the court had given me: ‘The Slammin’ Boner.’
Rob’s face remained serious. It wasn’t funny.
“And then he asked me, Rob.”
“He asked you what?”
“He asked if I wanted to know the truth; and when I questioned what he meant, he leaned in close and whispered, the truth of whether I was an erection machine. And yes, I told him I did want to know the truth—whether I was really a ‘boner,’ as they all said. He didn’t waste a second. He placed my hand tight over his pants, over his hardened dick, and asked me if I could feel his erection, if I liked it. I told him I did. And I did, Rob, I did. But it wasn’t him I wanted, Rob. He could have been anyone. And anyone should have been you. Have you ever felt the pain of absence, Rob?”
He stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “How can you even ask, Abigail? I miss your mom every—”
“No”, I cut him off, my voice sharp with frustration. “Don’t use this excuse. I’m talking about a different kind of absence, Rob.” I guided his hand lower, pressing it against my belly, then further down, forcing him to feel the heat of my desire. “This absence, Rob. The full, aching absence of not having what you need, of not being touched by the one person who should be the one to make it all go away.”
His eyes locked onto mine, dark and stormy, the battle within him clear on his face. I needed him to understand, to feel what I had felt those times I was with someone else, someone who wasn’t him. I took a breath. “And do you want to know what I thought right there? That since he was willing to notice me, or take anything from me, it didn’t matter what he would ask; I would do it. And he asked for it, Rob, he told me to meet him after a while in the elevator, and I did, and we go into his limo”.
As I was telling this, I felt Rob’s dick getting bigger, while at the same time he was shifting, pulling his body away like he wanted to leave.
“He unzipped his pants.”
“Abigail, I don’t want—”
“When he put my hand on him, I felt his dick growing, hardening in my grip. He was rather big. But not thick. It shocked me, but there was something about the way he looked at me—like I was the only thing he wanted in the world right then. I let myself be drawn into it, into him. As I opened my mouth and took him in, it was strange at first—foreign, almost overwhelming. But then, as he guided my hand lower, pressing it against his balls, I felt a pulse of power. He was in my control, and yet I was giving all of myself away.”
Rob’s hand suddenly gripped my shoulder, hard, as if trying to anchor himself. His face was tense, his jaw clenched. His eyes were dark, a mix of anger, jealousy, and something else I couldn’t quite read. His breathing had quickened, and I could see the conflict waging inside him—part of him wanting to pull away, to stop hearing this, while another part of him was undeniably aroused, drawn in by the rawness of my confession.
“Abigail, stop,” he growled, his voice thick with emotion, but his grip on my shoulder tightened, betraying his true feelings. He didn’t want to hear it; was that it? Was it that he couldn’t stand the idea of someone else touching me? I could feel the heat radiating off him, his erection pressing harder against his pants, betraying the fury he was trying to hide. He was torn between the urge to push me away and the undeniable attraction that kept him rooted in place, unable to stop listening.
“He pressed my head, pulling my hair with force from the ponytail. He told me to go deeper…and I tried. I took the bigger part into my mouth. He started moving.”
Rob’s breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes darkened further, and I could feel the tension radiating off him, a mix of anger at what he was hearing and arousal from the vivid images I was painting. I could feel his arousal intensifying. He wanted to stop me, to tell me to shut up, but he couldn’t. His body was betraying him, drawn to the rawness of my confession, the power I held in that moment. His other hand moved, almost on its own, brushing against my thigh as if testing the boundaries of his restraint.
“He pushed deeper, his breathing getting rougher, more urgent. I felt his hand in my hair, pulling me closer, making me try to take all of him, although I couldn’t. He wasn’t gentle anymore. He was using me, taking what he wanted, and I let him because I wanted to be used. I wanted to know what it felt like to be taken like that, no reservations, no holding back. His grip tightened, and he guided my hand to wrap around him, his voice rough as he commanded, ‘Stroke it, my little whore…stroke it with your hands…take it all in your mouth, suck daddy’s dick”‘. I did as he said, my fingers moving in rhythm, trying to match his pace. His hand pressed harder against my head, guiding me faster, and I could feel him swelling even more in my mouth. Then he made me feel his balls, heavy, ready to empty themselves into me. And then he released, the warmth filling my mouth as he held me there, demanding I don’t spill a drop. I swallowed as much as I could, Rob, because I wanted to fill the emptiness inside me. But it was more than that—I wanted it. I wanted the experience, the thrill of something raw and real. As he throbbed in my mouth, his dick swelling, filling with sperm, making me swallow, I felt real, Rob… It wasn’t another fantasy of me blowing you; it was real. I was actually doing it, actually swallowing. I finally made someone cum…someone he wouldn’t deny it to me, like you, someone that he could be you, not a boy but a grown man.”
I took a breath. I saw Rob. He was astonished… really astonished! His eyes widened, and for a split second, I could see the disbelief flashing across his face, like he couldn’t quite process what I’d just said. But then, that disbelief hardened into something else—something rough and primal. His jaw clenched tight, the muscles in his neck straining as he struggled to contain the surge of emotions that hit him.
He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling like he’d just been punched. His hands, which had been hanging by his sides, suddenly curled into fists, his knuckles white as he fought to keep control. I could see the raw intensity in his eyes, the way they darkened with a mix of shock, anger, and something else—something that looked a lot like desire.
I continued: “And just as I was trying to swallow his sperm, like he ordered, he pressed the button, and the limo’s inner window slid open. Sperm was still in my mouth, dribbling down my chin, but he didn’t care that the driver could see; in fact, I was absolutely sure that he wanted the driver to see me like that. He ordered him to take us to ‘the mansion,’ and right in front of the driver, as if it were nothing, he casually asked him to hand me a handkerchief. And I didn’t hesitate. I took the handkerchief, wiped my mouth, feeling the driver’s eyes locked on me, practically undressing me with his gaze. I knew it, Rob—I could feel him getting hard, just watching me clean up after being used. And you know what? It made me feel even more powerful, like I was exactly what he called me—a boner, a slut. Knowing I had that effect on him, on both of them… it was intoxicating.”
I felt Rob shaking; he was literally trembling. I pushed harder, like I had to deliver the most powerful smash—I was meant to break him, to break myself, to bring everything crashing down.
“I should have been mortified, but I wasn’t. There was this dark part of me that was… thrilled. Thrilled by the audacity, by the fact that he didn’t hide what had just happened. It made me feel raw, exposed, but also seen in a way I hadn’t been before. I wasn’t just some girl sitting in a limo; I was someone who had crossed a line. I cheated on you, Rob! Cheated on my imaginary boyfriend, on my imaginary lover. And I wished you were right there, to be the driver, seeing me swallow and clean the sperm from my chin, to feel the pain, Rob, to make you ache for denying me what everyone else wanted. And I didn’t stop. I didn’t pull back. I let it happen because, deep down, I wanted to see where it would take me, how far I could go before I’d finally feel something that made the emptiness go away. So, I went to the mansion. And right there, he fucked me.”
report “Abigail, for Christ’s sake, stop it right here…stop it or…”
“…and yet, I have no actual memory of that, there are no marks on my body, no scars in my soul, no weight in my mind. No pain, Rob. No guilt. No shame. I’ve been fucked… because I wanted to feel fucked by you. Probably what I really wanted is to be taken by someone else so I could describe every filthy detail to you, to make your dick hard, to make you feel horny that your daughter was ordered to get on all fours and fucked like a bitch, a dirty whore. He called me his daughter, Rob, and I called him daddy. ‘Fuck me, daddy,’ I told him; do you hear me, Rob? ‘Fuck me deep, daddy, fuck your little girl.’
The slap came out of nowhere, sharp and sudden, snapping my head to the side. The sting burned hot across my cheek, shocking me into silence. Before I could fully register the pain, Rob’s hands were on me. His fingers gripped the fabric of my blouse, and with a fierce, almost desperate motion, he tore it open, the sound of ripping cloth cutting through the heavy air.
Buttons flew, scattering across the floor as my blouse fell away, leaving me exposed. His breath was ragged, his eyes dark with a mix of fury and something far more dangerous: the realization that he would be with me, that I would be his woman.
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