I was sick of the gentle, timid men I met on dating apps. I became determined: I would find a stranger who knew how to give it to me hard and rough. Who would hold me down and spread me open and use me up. Someone who would call me names and dominate me completely.
So what if it wouldn’t last a lifetime? All I needed was one night.
Or so I thought…
“Fuck me harder,” I begged as the guy perched on top of me gingerly pushed his cock inside of me.
He picked up speed a little, but didn’t get any more aggressive with his pounding.
“Harder. Pound me. Make me your slut.” I wiggled my hips, trying to incite him to really get into it, to use my body hard and rough.
He leaned over, his body pressing into mine, but his cock kept doing the same thing it had been doing, pushing gently in and out of my wet pussy. I spread my legs wide, hoping he’d dive in deeper.
“Hold me down and fuck me,” I groaned. “Please.” I offered up my hands over my head, crossed at the wrist, to make it as easy as possible for him to push them into the bed.
Instead, he put one hand on my shoulder, applying the lightest of pressure. “Like this?” he asked tentatively.
I sighed. “I’m not going to break!” I told him. “Squeeze my tits.” I hated giving all these directions—I wanted to be the one getting directed, not the one doing the directing.
He moved his hand onto my breast and stroked it with an open palm. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
I tried not to roll my eyes in frustration. Some women would’ve loved hearing that. Not me. I wanted to be held down, tied up, forced to suck cock, then spread open and fucked hard.
And it was clear this man was not the one to do it.
I rolled him off of me. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is working,” I said.
“Did I do something wrong?” He looked genuinely shocked.
“With the right woman, it would’ve been magical,” I assured him. “It’s just not what I need.”
We’d met online, and while he’d seemed nice enough in his profile, I had known the moment we’d met for dinner that he was too timid for me. You never could quite tell from someone’s profile what they’d be like in person, and I had just about had it with online dating.
After he left, I collapsed onto my bed and masturbated furiously. I imagined someone big and strong pinning me down to the bed, helpless, and fucking me with his thick cock. I’d try to move and he’d only tighten his grip, holding me in place, his knees pressing into my thighs to keep them open to him. He’d plunge into my waiting pussy like a man dying of thirst into a pool of water, rough and ragged like he just couldn’t wait a moment longer to devour me.
I pushed two fingers inside of myself, fucking myself roughly with my own hand, imagining him slapping my body, manhandling me, putting me into the positions he wanted without waiting for my approval. And then plunging into me, over and over, with his thick, meaty rod, until it exploded inside of me. And I’d explode right along with him.
“You’re such a dirty little slut,” he’d tell me. “You love it when I hold you down and fuck you, don’t you?”
And I’d nod and gasp out, still panting from the orgasm, “Yes. I love it. I’m your slut.”
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