Lesbian Female / 39
I Did It Once, And It Never Leaves My Mind, Not For A Minute
This is all wrong. A quiet lesbian art enthusiast. A misogynist man. Well, he doesn't hate women, he just wants them in their place. Under him, with his dick in them,
I was 34 and still finding my own way, I admit that I wasn't fully independent and I lived in a house owned by an uncle for below market rent and drove an old Volvo which was a loan from my grandmother. I met this man at the gallery where I worked part time.
He looked around and asked a lot of questions and told me that most of the 'art' was junk, and all of it overpriced. Then staring at my chest, he lifted his eyes and asked 'are you overpriced'? I'd like to fuck you. He admitted before I could even answer that he had seen me and followed me in, I was his 'type', nothing better than bending me over and shoving his dick in me. He was that gross in his talk, aggressive really, seeing me as nothing but a piece of meat, treating me like I was disposable. You know the type, a misogynist if I ever met one.
'Well' he said 'how much?' It was only then that I answered, I am not for sale and I don't do men. He was just as quick to answer 'everyone is for sale' and I fuck women. 'What's your price?'
He walked to the front door and pointed to this small hotel across the street on the corner. He said he was staying there and he left a card key on the counter and told me to be there, without fault, with fresh panties on, when I got off. 'I'm going to fuck you, and you're going to enjoy it', and he left.
I was shaking, and I was unable to stay at the shop. I called the owner and told her I had to leave, I wasn't feeling well and I shut down the shop and left. I went home, and walked around the house, I changed panties, don't ask me why. I had a bite to eat and the sun set and I couldn't rest. I put on a dress, not my usual thing to wear, a dress and sandals and sweater, the dress exposes too much of my boobs, and I drove back into town and went to the hotel and sat in the lobby bar. After ordering a glass of wine I asked for the house phone and called his room. He picked up, which surprised me, my plan was for him not to be there.
I was clear, one drink, that's all and I was leaving. He showed himself, still the overbearing misogynist and ordered a Scotch neat and took me to a table by the window. The first question he asked was whether I had fresh panties on. I had to admit to it. The second question he asked was to outline my cycle. Was I impregnable? I answered truthfully, I sure hope not. I'm not having sex with you. After he refreshed my glass of wine he told me why he was in town and how he had spotted me at the gallery and all he could think about was fucking me. Men fuck when they are on the road, he told me, but I had to know that, didn't I?
I followed him up the stairs, he was four of five stairs ahead of me. I followed him down the hall. He was four or five steps ahead of me. He opened the door and held it open and I walked in. I was going to lose my cherry. I wasn't going home a virgin. I know many lesbians that tried it. Now it was my turn. I laid down one condition, don't bend me over. He looked at me, he was going to do what he wanted.
I won't say I was wet, I wasn't. Not until he ate me through my panties. Then I was wet. I saw his dick, but not really, I didn't want to see it. But he made me hold it, it was much bigger than I thought, but then again I'm small and have small hands. 'Hold it tight' he told me. I held it tight and he humped in my hand before 'shoving' it in, he had to have gone it all the way but I didn't know. He went in, and then he started his in and out routine. Just like in the porn that I watched, I could see his dick in my mind, just like in the porn I watched. When he reached up, and grabbed me so I couldn't move, he came and told me I was tight.
It was then that I had to see his dick, all wet like a big fat worm. He told me to suck him and clean him off, because he didn't like being sticky. I did what I was told. I wouldn't have done it on my own. I stayed there for a half hour and told him I had to leave. He watched me get dressed and asked that I leave him my panties. When I opened the door he said I could call him 'Stan' and he would be in town until Friday. I had the key, no need to knock.
I still have the key, it is in my pantie drawer. A girlfriend of mine, who sometimes spends the night asked me about it and I told her it was a a night I would rather forget. 'Don't press me' I told her. She was quick, 'you got fucked, didn't you?' Yes, let's not talk about it.
I was 34 and still finding my own way, I admit that I wasn't fully independent and I lived in a house owned by an uncle for below market rent and drove an old Volvo which was a loan from my grandmother. I met this man at the gallery where I worked part time.
He looked around and asked a lot of questions and told me that most of the 'art' was junk, and all of it overpriced. Then staring at my chest, he lifted his eyes and asked 'are you overpriced'? I'd like to fuck you. He admitted before I could even answer that he had seen me and followed me in, I was his 'type', nothing better than bending me over and shoving his dick in me. He was that gross in his talk, aggressive really, seeing me as nothing but a piece of meat, treating me like I was disposable. You know the type, a misogynist if I ever met one.
'Well' he said 'how much?' It was only then that I answered, I am not for sale and I don't do men. He was just as quick to answer 'everyone is for sale' and I fuck women. 'What's your price?'
He walked to the front door and pointed to this small hotel across the street on the corner. He said he was staying there and he left a card key on the counter and told me to be there, without fault, with fresh panties on, when I got off. 'I'm going to fuck you, and you're going to enjoy it', and he left.
I was shaking, and I was unable to stay at the shop. I called the owner and told her I had to leave, I wasn't feeling well and I shut down the shop and left. I went home, and walked around the house, I changed panties, don't ask me why. I had a bite to eat and the sun set and I couldn't rest. I put on a dress, not my usual thing to wear, a dress and sandals and sweater, the dress exposes too much of my boobs, and I drove back into town and went to the hotel and sat in the lobby bar. After ordering a glass of wine I asked for the house phone and called his room. He picked up, which surprised me, my plan was for him not to be there.
I was clear, one drink, that's all and I was leaving. He showed himself, still the overbearing misogynist and ordered a Scotch neat and took me to a table by the window. The first question he asked was whether I had fresh panties on. I had to admit to it. The second question he asked was to outline my cycle. Was I impregnable? I answered truthfully, I sure hope not. I'm not having sex with you. After he refreshed my glass of wine he told me why he was in town and how he had spotted me at the gallery and all he could think about was fucking me. Men fuck when they are on the road, he told me, but I had to know that, didn't I?
I followed him up the stairs, he was four of five stairs ahead of me. I followed him down the hall. He was four or five steps ahead of me. He opened the door and held it open and I walked in. I was going to lose my cherry. I wasn't going home a virgin. I know many lesbians that tried it. Now it was my turn. I laid down one condition, don't bend me over. He looked at me, he was going to do what he wanted.
I won't say I was wet, I wasn't. Not until he ate me through my panties. Then I was wet. I saw his dick, but not really, I didn't want to see it. But he made me hold it, it was much bigger than I thought, but then again I'm small and have small hands. 'Hold it tight' he told me. I held it tight and he humped in my hand before 'shoving' it in, he had to have gone it all the way but I didn't know. He went in, and then he started his in and out routine. Just like in the porn that I watched, I could see his dick in my mind, just like in the porn I watched. When he reached up, and grabbed me so I couldn't move, he came and told me I was tight.
It was then that I had to see his dick, all wet like a big fat worm. He told me to suck him and clean him off, because he didn't like being sticky. I did what I was told. I wouldn't have done it on my own. I stayed there for a half hour and told him I had to leave. He watched me get dressed and asked that I leave him my panties. When I opened the door he said I could call him 'Stan' and he would be in town until Friday. I had the key, no need to knock.
I still have the key, it is in my pantie drawer. A girlfriend of mine, who sometimes spends the night asked me about it and I told her it was a a night I would rather forget. 'Don't press me' I told her. She was quick, 'you got fucked, didn't you?' Yes, let's not talk about it.
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