Joe's Pussy

Following an incident in a parking garage at my college I became over sensitive to places like that, to the point that I believed that every man I saw was looking to assault me. I usually did not park in parking garages, preferring open parking lots. But that isn't always available. Why I told my boss about this I don't know. He became concerned about my insecurities and arranged for me to be escorted to my car after dark. He really didn't understand that a man with me in the garage is what caused my anxiety, that he sent the man along did not matter.

Then one evening in late November, around Thanksgiving a girl was assaulted in a garage a couple of buildings down. I was petrified and I only let my boss escort me after that. He was both understanding and insisted that I get a grip of myself. In one incident, when we were deep in the basement (our building's parking garage was underground) I grabbed onto him. He turned and kissed me straight on, a hard kiss on the lips. He held me by the face and asked if what I wanted was to get fucked, because if I did he would do it, right then and there. He held me and asked me again - do you want to get fucked?-

I looked at him and told him to go ahead and fuck me, get it over with, just fuck me. He lifted me up and sat me on the hood of Civic, reached under my skirt and pulled off my panties and told me to get ready, that he wanted hot pussy, real hot, he wanted his dick to feel the real heat of a pussy. I wrapped my legs around him and felt his dick strike in me and I held on until he was done. I don't think the whole thing lasted more than a minute. He let me get my panties back on and walked me to my car and told me to follow him home. He fucked me several times, again when we got to his place, and in the middle of the night, and in the morning. He took a magic marker and wrote on my belly -Joe's Pussy, Don't Touch-

Later I had his name tattooed on me, right above my cleft, but it was only -Joe's Pussy- From that night on he still escorted me to my car but I didn't have the anxiety. It went away. I was watchful, and tried not to go alone ever, but my anxiety went away. I lost count of the number of times he fucked me over the following weeks, both in the office and his place. (I lived with my parents so I couldn't go there to get fucked). It was during those weeks that I got tattooed. It's under the bikini line so only he can see it, if I go to a doctor I use a large 2 inch bandaid to cover it up.

He never fucked me in the garage again. I know he was a trusted man and not some psycho like what happened in college and he had rights to my pussy, he has rights to my pussy, so fucking me is what he is supposed to do. Now, I have a hard time remembering exactly what happened in college. It's like a dream that comes and goes. Most of the time I am thinking of him anyways.