Exquisite Aberrations of a Sexual Nature

Whatever the protagonist withholds reflects the depth of her anguish.

I was a shy individual by nature; you might even consider me a romantic or perhaps an introvert. I never played the part, and every time I caught people off guard. Older ladies adored me, as did the mothers of several of my partners. I was the poster girl for the way society wants girls to behave. An angel among women. Unfortunately, this was never my fate. I’ve craved since I was young, and I’ve craved wholeheartedly. It was forceful, emotional, and genuine, yet I had no idea what it was for. I was the girl with an angel’s face and a physique so beautiful that men would gladly and eternally give their souls to the devil for just one touch — for just one kiss.

I could feel a joyful release enveloping my fatigued body as his fingers caressed my outer lips and his tongue kissed her forcefully. His mouth sank into her like a pleasant, familiar joy. On the patio of the lovely middle-aged woman and her handsome, younger, hot companion, we’d just finished listening to some excellent peaceful music and drinking some fantastic, exquisite wine. The mature lady gave, and the younger man received while “giving me exactly what I’ve been yearning for.” They were both obvious, and in a state of complete ecstasy.

It all began innocently enough, as it frequently does when individuals agree to enjoy exquisite sensory pleasures. Religion would have us believe that this is the most heinous sin, but I believe the contrary is true: the greatest sin is not enjoying life while it is filled with the sweet nectar of bodily delights, and the outcome is utter and permanent suffering.

As the evening garden setting began to cool, they warmly invited me inside, where we could continue our lovemaking in privacy. I instructed them to proceed ahead of me since I needed to finish my cigarette. When I went in, he was deep between her tights, his tongue pleasuring her pussy while his hands tirelessly rubbed around her big bosom.

If we are not to sense physical intimacy, especially in lovemaking, the enjoyment of sex is lessened.

I jumped beneath her, engaging in the fun and matching their enthusiasm and motions, sliding to avoid disturbing her. I softly held her back as his lips ceremoniously touched her lower body. I laid her on the bed while kissing her left eye, stroking her breasts, and supporting her shoulders. I began kissing her passionately, burying my face into hers, and exchanging love and excitement once she was down and he was starting to work his way up to a most lovely release.

I sprang on top of her as his kisses turned into deep, visceral pussyfingers and an all-out invasion. She dove headfirst into my fluids, screaming in diabolical torment and tremendous delight, and then rewarded me with my velvety cream as the evening’s best compensation.

They both lovingly massaged my body as we wrapped our arms around each other at the end of the night. She was softly stroking and toying with the areolas of my damp nipples. His cursing gestures over my still-awake vagina gave me chills all the way down my spine and to my brain. I felt angelic hands on my body; I felt connected; I felt loved; and then, as though slipping into a deep, black slumber, I felt his hard rock cock driving itself deep into my walls, ripping me in half. The anguish of exquisite joys then ensued. “Craving for more, baby?” she lovingly said.

I grinned and felt drained, unable to walk, talk, or move as his pumping ceased with great satisfaction on his side. She helped me up, placing her hand over my stomach. While we were both naked in front of a wall mirror, I began to softly rub her lace robe. I pulled my head back into her shoulder as she played with my “wounded” body, penetrating me with her fiery gaze, clawing at me, and touching my already irritated, freshly shaved skin around my vagina. “Please don’t stop now, more, more,” I begged as I collapsed on the floor.

She began kissing my tights as she kneeled in front of my pained pussy, one foot in front of the other. His breath behind my neck, his fingers in my mouth, his entire hand invading every inch of my face, squeezing me hard while his mistress devoured me savagely.

My body was theirs, but the spirit belonged to all of us. At the same moment, I felt broken and linked. As if tearing my flesh would result in a splatter of stardust glitter. This was the most exciting night of my sexual life. My sexual awakening; this was my second coming.

I promised to return to the little village of “Paradise” if they ever needed me again. They had everything everyone wanted and worked diligently to make it a reality rather than a fantasy. When I returned to my natural surroundings, a huge metropolis, I found it was an exhilarating event for my mind, body, and spirit. What was the point of sex, after all? Was this the true state of affairs? What really was truth? My mind wandered into realms only lunatics are permitted to visit. I drove away from the natural ecstasy that had been poured on me the night before, back to my everyday, real-world existence.

Life in the big city fascinated me. It was flawed in every aspect, a dance of fundamental imperfection. From traffic to the large number of individuals who are constantly on the go. But I soon discovered that city life could not be all it seemed.

I was a shy individual by nature; you might even consider me a romantic or perhaps an introvert. I never played the part, and every time I caught people off guard. Older ladies adored me, as did the mothers of several of my partners. I was the poster girl for the way society wants girls to behave. An angel among women. Unfortunately, this was never my fate. I’ve craved since I was a young, and I’ve craved wholeheartedly. It was forceful, emotional, and genuine, yet I had no idea what it was for. I was the girl with an angel’s face and a physique so beautiful that men would gladly and eternally give their souls to the devil for just one touch — for just one kiss.

It would be meaningless for me to tell you my name, how I looked, or who I looked like. I don’t want to torture you with experiences you’ll never have. Instead, I’ll tell you a story about self-love that’s worth your scalded pipe and strained right hand.

I was driving late one night, listening to the radio and smoking a cigarette. I didn’t see when the light turned red, and before I knew it, I’d collided with a white automobile traveling from the opposite direction.

The damage was severe, but fortunately, the other driver was able to pull me out and save me. I was covered in broken glass and bruised all over. My victim was slowly becoming my hero. Elliot was the name of an overall tall, averagely built, intellectual man with a thick beard who would soon become my partner.

My roaming wild side couldn’t accept subjection to such a mundane, normal, good-doer of a man at first. He was nothing out of the ordinary. He was the most plain and dutiful individual you could think of. In a gathering of ten men, you might easily lose him.

We did, however, gradually start venturing out, stopping for coffee every now and again. It was done first out of politeness. After he rescued my bruised body from the accident, I owed him my entire existence. Then there was a feeling of safety and warmth all about him. I eventually understood that his most appealing characteristic was that he was the most ordinary of men. Speaking to him was like speaking to all of them at the same time.

At least, that was my first thought. Despite the fact that my insatiable drive for intense sex, along with my extremely distinct personality, hot features, and stunning face, gave me adventures that most people only dream about, I remained a very isolated person with little experience in the areas of friendship and real sharing. Genuine human passion and loving experience were absent in me. This was my heartfelt desire. I used to refer to it as “human collective insanity,” but no more.

I was anxious about my lack of power around him. When I returned to his flat one night after visiting a street food festival, I vowed to regain control. When I was alone, I got depressed and dependent, which is contrary to my personality. As we climbed the stairs, I felt him closer than ever, completely in tune with his words. Something I’d never experienced before.

I took hold of his hand and gently rubbed his chest. That night, without even turning on the lights, I was on a mission to make him do what I wanted, removing every button and lovingly caressing every exposed inch of flesh. A single passionate, intentional caress.

He didn’t mind when I put his cock in my mouth and teased it with my tongue and lips after gently massaging it. I made sure that the skin around the meatus was thoroughly moistened before I began to work my index finger around it. I felt his body and slowly began to caress him in a circular motion.

I began sucking him off in a sensual and seductive manner as I felt more comfortable around his cock. He didn’t have a big one, which was at first discouraging, but his entire personality contributed in such a way that if I changed something about him, his entire persona would crumble, and he wouldn’t be the same, or at least not as interesting. We were a great fit in most every aspect. His normal, somewhat bent to the left penis was also included.

He was normally kind and friendly, yet he could be harsh at times. He was teasing me in extremely precise and one-of-a-kind ways that I had never seen before. My sucking came to an end as he welcomed me into the living room, practically stripping me and leaving only my shirt on. He positioned me in the living room, facing the red wall, and began licking my cunt while kneeling, providing me with exquisite sensuous feelings. My juices blended wonderfully with his tongue. I could feel his fingers on my hot cunt, at first gingerly, as he waited for a while to compliment me. He never stopped figering my vagina and nibbling on my breast. It was a wonderful moment that made me cry uncontrollably. I felt like a puppet, completely subservient to my master’s wishes. I rejected my domineering behaviour at this moment as I took a step back to enjoy the fireworks. The wonderful anguish was difficult to put into words.

As his fingering abruptly ceased, leaving my pussy yearning for more in a puddle of fluids that were slowly making their way down my inner thighs, I began trembling and pleading with him to hold me tight.

After he carefully laid me on the bed while holding me in his arms and kissing my neck, I began caring for my aching pussy.

“We should talk about this,” I said.

“What about?” he asked.

“This isn’t really my thing,” I came to the conclusion.

“I thought this is what you’re after,” he continued.

“It is, but coming from you feels forced and artificial.” “I want you to be yourself, not to impress me by playing the character that I want you to portray.”

“Express your true desires and sentiments” I suggested.

“I felt this was too good to be true,” he finally said.

“Exactly, what do you mean?”

“I’d never be able to have someone like you,” he continued. “All I want is for you to be happy.” “My true nature is way too aggressive for a person like yourself.”

I was astonished to hear such comments since all I could conceive of was the apparent opposite.

I hurried out the door, my hair knotted and my top wrinkled, as we concluded, the scene became far too dark for my liking. I couldn’t care less about him; all I wanted now was a strong, powerful cock deep within me to do the task properly. That was exactly what I intended. Everything about him drew me out, especially his cockiness. But that was exactly it; I appreciate him as a whole, not in bits and parts. He was a poor example of a fellow. I was not interested in his arguments. He’d either give me everything or nothing at all. All of this was running through my head as I walked deep into the city center, looking for someone to fuck me good.

When the clock struck twelve o’clock, the darkness deepened. I found myself drinking, smoking, and crying at the bar area of a local restaurant. It was the ideal setting for a wild fuck. I was just interested in finding someone, anyone really. I needed to return to my comfortable surroundings.

“Are you gonna get me a drink?” I said this to the man seated next to me.

“I don’t have all night,” I continued, not realizing he wasn’t alone.

“What’s going on, baby?” “Would you like some company?” the guy next to him said.

“Listen, friend,” I raged while inebriated and nearly puked on their shoes.

“I don’t care about theatrics; all I need is a good strong fuck, and I’ll take anyone who’s man enough to get it done.” I shouted loudly, unconcerned about who could hear me.

“Oh, baby, you’re a live one.”, “Someone must have hurt you good, but don’t worry.” “We’ll take excellent care of you,” one of them replied, his jaws clenched.

I felt something horrible was going to happen as I accepted their offer and began walking back to my flat. These guys were terrible. This was something I’d never done before. My sexual encounters were all properly arranged with fully consenting folks and an open mind. In comparison, these individuals were a nightmare. Was I, however, truly interested? No. I was more concerned with offending Elliot, my boyfriend — the lovely, gentle, and boring man I adored. In fact, I wished they would do something awful to me just to hurt him even more.

When I got home with them, we all started drinking heavily. They started touching my body, slowly preparing for what was to follow.

“You’re free to do whatever you want with me as long as you wear a condom and agree to me filming the entire thing,” I said out loud while lighting a cigarette.

“It’s fine with us as long as you don’t show our faces,” one of them remarked, smiling and high-fiving the other.

Seeing them and their vile behavior made me even more enraged about the whole situation. They weren’t men. They were swine. They reeked of drink and poor hygiene. “To hell with it,” I thought as one of them began exploring my tits with his powerful hands, incapable of caring for or being careful in any way. The second one started jacking off right in front of me, his other hand brushing up against my face. His huge thumb was going closer to my face and bruising my lips.

“Do you really think I’m going to suck that?” In my mind, I asked him.

But I didn’t have time to think about it because the second one was right behind me, both hands on my ass and groaning loudly. This brought a surge of bile down my throat. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!” I shouted as loudly as I could. “…NOW!”. They must have been taken aback since they both came to a halt and remained silent. It was amusing to watch a massive, powerful man gripping his cock with his hand while terrified.

“Hoo woo woo!” said one of them. “Lady, we don’t want any of this.” “You brought us here.”

I could hear them on the stairs heading down as they both ran out: “What a crazy fucking bitch, man!” “This was just what I needed tonight,” the other responded.

I was a crazy fucking bitch; it was true. Was it, however, my fault? Who made me this way? Who was to blame for everything?

As I returned to my balcony and started another cigarette, still frightened by what had happened, I couldn’t answer these questions.

My loneliness intensified as the days passed since that odd, horrible haze of a night when I last saw Elliott. I was conflicted about the whole event, and for the first time in my life as a young lady, I preferred love over sex.

Hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks. Elliott was nowhere to be found, he did not return my calls, texts, or social media messages. I was obviously not mentally prepared to go to his place. In my mind, I imagined myself asking for his forgiveness, pleading with him to be exactly who he wanted to be simply to be near me. I was longing for love and adoration.

The fact, however, was considerably different. I lacked the literal fortitude to ask him this. As I ate my lunch and read some messages, I pondered on what a seemingly uninteresting, normal man might do for my sex-fueled and loveless brain.

As the day came to a conclusion and I was about to head home, I received a facebook message from a photographer friend. You know, back in the beginning of this narrative, when things were simpler, the one I shared a wonderful hunk of a man with?

The message stated, “Free Saturday?” “ I want us to have a little fun and catch up maybe?”

Despite the fact that I seemed desperate, I stated clearly, “I’m there.” If at all possible, I wanted to be there today.

As I returned to “Paradise” the little hamlet* where my friend worked as a freelance photographer, I was anxious. We greeted each other properly, and after some small talk, she urged me to strip nude since she wanted to photograph me in a bathtub. We’d done it before. I’d been her model in earlier sessions.

As she took her shots and I began relaxing in the hot tub, following her instructions on how to sit or what to do, I felt like we could combine work and pleasure, so I reached for a kiss.

“More on it later; now come, I have something to show you,” she added as she unexpectedly came to a halt in front of me.

She grabbed my hand in hers, cleaned me off, and brought me to another room in her beautiful house. After alerting me of what was going on, she added that she had some things for me to wear. Something specific that her client, who requested the photographs, required. They were luxurious purple and gold undergarments. She told me to lie on my back on a massive bed once I was clothed and realised they were a perfect fit for my body. She was going to put a blindfold over my eyes when she asked for my consent to do so.

I instantaneously agreed since I knew and trusted her. I understood we were through with work at this point, and the fun part of the day had begun. I hadn’t been thinking long when I felt hands gently stroking my torso and working their way up to my breasts. As soon as the first kiss touched my lips, I knew it was her young, handsome boyfriend. I smiled back at his kisses and embraced him as his lips wrapped around my neck and face. A half-second later, another pair of hands contacted my genital region. Surprisingly, these hands were also manly. Yet, unknown to me. His fervor was palpable, as his greedy tongue tightened around my underwear, ripping the fabric clean off my body. I let out a contented sigh and said, “Who are you?” “Who is this?”

His head was now buried deep in my pussy as he was feasting with great passion, since there was no response. I immediately recognised the odd, generous man who was vigorously pleasing my pussy while the other lover sucked on my breast, feasting with delight. His beard was a blatant giveaway, but was he really Elliot? And how so? Why? Most importantly, how did he get here? I instantly stood up, removed my blindfold, and glanced down to find my beloved, Elliot, down on his knees with his lips covered in my sweet nectar and standing there, petrified.

As his lips parted and words battled to escape his body, I dashed towards him, my naked body merging with his as one.

Without hesitation, I slid my hips into his rock-hard cock, our bodies entwined, my legs around his chest, and my hands grasping his neck. As I pushed myself deep into his member, I began to cringe uncontrollably. I swung harder and deeper into his cock, one hand digging deep into the flesh of his neck, the nails of the other marking the skin of his back. With each shove, I was harming myself and him. I was in severe pain as I mercilessly tormented both of us. Since all he could do was become the instrument of our destruction, I wept, shouted, kissed, bit his lip, and fucked myself while his cock was tighter than ever.

“Why?” “How could you leave me?” I sobbed while pressing my fingers on his lips, praying he wouldn’t respond. Did I truly want to know? His glare cut right through me. While looking into his eyes, I saw that they were not the same dark eyes that Eliot had. I was afraid of gazing at his entire face again, as they weren’t the very same eyes. I was terrified. Who was this person? I dashed back, yanking myself free of his body and pushing my back against the wall, when I noticed… the wall was red. How did it suddenly become red? “ELLIOT!?” I shouted in confusion.

But there was no Elliott; there was no room; no beautiful friends; and, most importantly, no lovers. Smoke, dust, and burning plastic were all perceptible. As I regained my eyesight and fought to rise up on my knees, I could see the wrecked car — no, cars. A closer glance revealed the pleasant, comforting face of a young, good man with an average build and a nice beard. “This is not possible!”, “No, I refuse to accept this! Oh God!” I gripped the body of a man I’d known before realising what had happened. There was no appealing bar pickup. I did not receive a text or participate in a photo shoot. I’d just awoken from my injury and was perplexed.

“What am I?”

“Where am I?”

“Is this real?”

“Am I real?”

Did you like it and want more? Clap, leave a comment, and join my email list to be among the first to hear about my forthcoming adventures. Continue reading my previous stories by clicking the following links: