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Kevin Compton

" So what's this I hear about you seeking a relationship with a black woman? An attractive successful woman." " Maybe?" I look up from my scotch, suspiciously. " What else did you hear?" " Just rumors. That your nickname is the bull because your cock is long, thick, is unusual with a knot at the end. That no woman can have more then two intercourse sessions with you." I look at her closely. I stared intently her, lips pursed, mouth set. I heave a long sigh. " Wanna try?" I ask softly, laying a hand on her arm. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She looks like a goddess – a chocolate goddess. A flush suffused her cheeks, before she drops her eyes once more – ostensibly to complete the transaction. 'Thank you,' she cooed.

I sat there trying to find the best description of her complexion. I think I settled on is 'a Grand Marnier mocha melange.' I met her at the door an hour later. She smiled shyly – shyly but alluringly. She seems more pleased than surprised. We approached one another tentatively, almost warily. I invited her into my place. Shaun, is perfect – perfection manifest. Full lips; glittering deep brown eyes, impeccably set around a pert nose, with just a tiny hint of the Dark Continent still evident – if you know what I mean; flawless mocha skin – creamy coffee-colored with just a hint of orange spice undertones. Her black hair hung over her shoulder long and flowing. Her breasts swell proudly – not large, but perfectly shaped – her nipples just a slight insinuation under her dress. Her hands are fluid, her fingers long and slender, her legs obviously shaped and toned beneath her dress. At 45 years old...she is, to my mind, the ideal specimen. She is exactly what had been intended when mankind had first emerged in central Africa.

We talked about everything. Everything except what is front and center in each of our minds – that is, sex. It started as she is showing me round the apartment. She had invited me over for coffee and to see her apartment. She tries to kiss me. She was probably making a foolish decision, so that is why she is the one to break off the kiss so suddenly. We had rounded a corner near the stairs and she has found herself standing close, feeling aroused. She merely followed her instincts leaning forward kiss him. She is single, she is a little lonely and she barely knew me, she thought she had correctly interpreted my signals as our flirting had increased in obviousness over the course of two bottles of wine. Yet the fact we had drunk so much is what made her pull back in the end. She is a sensible type, ordinarily, not a risk taker and not prone to impulsive actions. Her judgement is impaired, she told herself. She is drunk. Maybe what she had taken as flirtation had been nothing more than innocent conversation. She became afraid, suddenly, of making a fool of herself and pulling back from the kiss.

" I'm... I'm sorry," she whispers, realizing then she already had made a fool of herself. I said nothing and so she sought escape, quickly turning, trying to move away, back up the stairs. That is when I grabbed her. Hard, fast, she is unable to comprehend at first, for it all moved too fast. I grabbed her around the arm shoving her hard up against the wall and it hurt where my fingers had gripped and dug into her, it hurt as her head had connected with the plasterboard behind her, as I pushed her roughly and held her there with the weight of my body. But it did not matter if it hurt, for my lips were on her own once again, but this time the kiss is hard and forceful. My tongue is in her mouth and my body is pressed against her as my hands are at her breasts, and her waist, gripping the skin beneath her shirt. She is helpless to fight against me, not simply because I'm physically stronger than her, but because she seems to lose all will to fight in the face of my determined lust.

She tries to struggle after a moment, briefly, ineffectually, as her wits have returned and that sensible part of her brain told her this is wrong and I shouldn't be allowed to do this. So she tries to pull her face away from me, tries to push me from her, but my teeth only clench and anger flares in my eyes as I grip her shoulders with brutal force as I push her against the wall, this time with far more force. She literally sees stars as her head hits hard against the wall behind her, her stunned groan entirely unwitting, but I give her no time to recover, reaching up with one hand to entwine it in her long hair at the back of her head and pulling down hard. She whimpers with the sudden pain, but can not get out any further sound, for my lips are on her own once again and my tongue is back in her mouth as she stops trying to struggle for fear of what I will do and instead kisses me back.

She is gasping for breath by the time I pull my face away from her and she takes advantage of the pause drawing back, sucking air deeply into her lungs, her eyes locked on my face with fear. She sees a cruel amusement in my expression, worse, condescending disdain, as if I have always known she would respond to such harsh treatment, as if I had expected nothing less. My free hand, the one not holding her by the hair at the back of her head, clutches roughly at her breast so that she cannot help but utter a low sound of surprised pain. Something else flares in my eyes, she thought it is satisfaction, pleased to hear her cries. As she stares up at me in that moment of respite, I push my body against hers and she is pinned to the wall, my hand on her breast, the other painfully pulling her head back by her hair, she knew then she truly fears me. Fears me and desires me also, desperately, overwhelmingly.

I grab her wrist as I step away from her, not saying a word, just pulling her suddenly, sharply forward, so that she stumbles and has to use her free hand to grab onto me so as to steady herself in case she fell. I gave her no time to regain her balance, however, just pushed open the door from the hallway she had indicated earlier was the bedroom and shoved her roughly inside. She fought to stand still when she recovered herself and even managed one moment to breath, before he was with her again, having entered behind her, and had grabbed her by both arms and shoved her again forward, this time onto the bed. She fell forward, half on her stomach, half on her side, then quickly scrambled to turn over before I'm on top of her, she knew by now I won't wait to see if she is comfortable. Her pain meant nothing, I did not care. I will satisfy my own desires and I will use her to do so and if it hurt her or if it pleasured her is irrelevant and she is more afraid of how quickly she had accepted my dare.

I'm on her before she has managed to turn completely over, I grab her shoulder roughly pulling her back round to where I wanted her, then planted my lips down on hers again as my hands move down to grip her skirt and pull it up. She knows what I'm doing and she is helpless to say whether she wants it or not, for I'm not giving her a choice. I pull her skirt up forcing my hand beneath it, finding her panties and yanking them down, then shoved my hand on to her mound groping her pussy, suddenly three fingers are up inside of her.
She cries out, though her sounds are muffled by my mouth still on hers, as I roughly jab three fingers into her all at once. It hurt because it is rough and sudden, but it would have hurt more if she wasn't so wet. She is dripping, far more than normal for her, for she is well lubricated and ready for me and it both surprises and shames her, that she can respond to my rough treatment of her like this. I pull my fingers out most of the way then shove them in hard again, hurting her so she arches her back and unwittingly tilts her face away from me as she did. I let her, my smile viscous as I watch her whimper beneath my rough touch and she thought about begging me desperately to be more gentle with her, except she is to afraid I would use that as a reason to hurt her more. Afraid, also, she secretly didn't want it like this to begin with, unable now to trust herself.

I thrust my hand into her three, four, five more times, each time harder than the last, using powerful strength until she is crying out helplessly with each thrust, before I pull out again. All of a sudden she finds my fingers, sticky and stinking of her, at her bruised lips and pushed inside her mouth. She tries to turn away, gagging hard, she did not like this, did not like to taste herself, but I would not let her grabbing her hair once again with my other hand turning her head just as I wanted it making her lick my fingers clean of her juices. I'm grinning nastily as I did, no doubt seeing that her eyes are glassy with tears from her fear and the pain, but knowing she is not fighting me, rather she is responding more to each new moment. Then, suddenly, I push myself back off her. If she had ever been going to stop this, if she had ever been going to fight, now is the time. This is when she can get herself away from me. This moment alone she would have to be free. Yet she did not move, as I push myself back to stand at the side of the bed where she lay. She continued to lay there, looking up at me fearfully and clutching the blankets beneath her with frightened, anxious hands as I lean over grabbing her panties, which are still around her thighs, yanking them down. I pull them from her legs, which involved cooperation from her, she lifts her buttocks to make it easier for me to do this, not kicking out with her legs so I can remove them quickly. Again, she feels a spike of shame she is letting me do this to her, but she cannot help it, she cannot help herself, not as she finds herself left entirely uncovered and exposed to me.

She tries to push her skirt back down to hide her private areas, though why she does not know, for sure I had already gone to far for her to suddenly become coy. I slap her hands away and she knows better than to try again as I push her skirt once more back up leaving her open and exposed once again, her juices evident on her thighs, staining the bedclothes beneath her. She turns her head, not wanting to meet my eyes, her cheeks flaming red with embarrassment and shame, I laugh low and as she hears the zipper of my pants opening, she cannot help but look back, drawn to this, not able to stop. After the zipper, I undid my belt buckle, then the buckle of my jeans, then slipping the belt through all the loops, taking it from my pants. I drop the belt to the floor, then I force her legs apart with my knees, she is afraid now, afraid of me and her response to me, twisting slightly before I move over her. The snarl on my face is angry and my weight shifting suddenly to my hands. She moves herself back round to where I want her and when I kick her legs out wider she did not fight me, not as she feels me there, between her legs, the long thick, hard threat of my masculinity, ready now to take her, whether she likes it or not.

I shove into her, hard. All the way, all at once, so long, so thick, larger than any partner she'd previously had, the few that there were, the brutal suddenness seeming to tear her open. She cries out again, unintelligible words, she isn't sure if she is trying to beg me to go slow, to have mercy on her, or if she is trying to tell me she wants it harder. What she wants will make no difference, I will take out my animal lust on her regardless, as I pull back then thrust into her again, she thought my fingers had been rough, if she thought they had hurt, then it is nothing compared to my monster cock. I thrust in and out all the way with movements deliberately designed to hurt and she finds herself pushing back against me, willingly raising her hips to meet mine. She orgasms immediately on my entry into her, which shocks her, she forgot to be ashamed. She never climaxes via penetration, vaginal orgasm did not exist in her experience, she needed to stimulate her clitoris to get anywhere close and even then the few partners she'd had over the years hadn't been able to fully satisfy her. She'd grown accustom to knowing she'd have to do it herself, which is fine, she guessed, that is just the way she worked. Now, as I thrust myself deeper, rougher, inside her, she feels it building suddenly, that pleasurable sensation, and it only took two or three hard thrusts to bring her to climax. She tries to hide it, clutching at the bedclothes beneath her and biting on her lip, I did not slow down and I did not hesitate as I continue to ram myself inside her until suddenly she can't hold it back any longer. Muscles tightening, body tightening, the moans she has tried to from escaping from her bruised lips as the first time ever she came entirely from the penetration of a man inside of her.

The moment is a release in more than one way for her. I did not rest once she had cum, although it hurt more now, she did not try to stop either, instead continuing to push her hips back against me as I dictated our speed and movements. Following my lead as I did purely what is pleasing to me alone, she merely tries to do what she can to enhance my pleasure, as if that is all that matters, and so right at the moment it is. She did not hide the soft cries she involuntarily made with each hard, painful thrust inside her. She feels as if she can hide nothing from me now, so she let me see the complete affect I'm having on her, she stopped trying to pretend I can't see it, and just let me have my way. Her hands stop clutching at the blankets beside her and now she brought them up to my waist, clutching at me, as if I were the only thing she can cling onto to save herself from drowning in this experience.

Sensible thoughts flicker through her head, momentarily there, then forgotten in the sensations of me; knowing I'm not wearing a condom, knowing despite her cooperation she in effect has little choice, aware that if she had fought, had outright refused, I would have raped her anyway. Not caring for any of it, only desperate now for me, pushing her hips towards me, clutching at my body, crying out with the pain and the pleasure of feeling me, prepared to do anything for more of me, anything at all. She wants my pleasure, she wants to feel me cum inside her, this man who had made it very clear he cared little for her pleasures or pain and was concerned solely with using her for his own enjoyment. Yet she adopts this as her goal and works towards my climax, focused entirely on it. If she had been brave enough to beg me now, it would not have been for mercy. She would merely have begged me for my seed, to spill my fluids inside of her, and to use her as I will.

There is no warning for her second orgasm, which merges immediately into a third, and left her stunned, and shocked, she feels the tears again in her eyes. Just as she has never experienced orgasm from vaginal penetration before, so she has never climaxed more than once in any sexual experience. Now her body betrays her and she finds it hard to cope, bucking beneath me as I laugh low over her, a sound of power, and control. I came myself then, as if I had waited entirely for that moment, shoving myself inside of her all the way, she sees my muscles stiffen, the clenched jaw expression of my face and most of all feeling me inside her jettison loads of white sticky cum, she knew she should be worried about it. But she can't, she just raised her hips to meet me, feeling the spasms inside her, the pumping ejaculation as I made sure she took every drop I had and none spilled. Then I took a deep breath and rolled casually from her. She continues laying there, half naked, sticky, used and abused and stunned. Her body feels exhausted, her mind is confused. She feels tears in her eyes, she feels the dark shame and the humiliation all the worse because she had so willingly participated in her own degradation. Yet for all her exhaustion, for all her confusion, shame and humiliation, her body feels satisfied. She feels satisfied and surprisingly grateful.

After a moment, she turns her head to see me sitting there on the side of the bed, leaning back on my arms watching her. She didn't know what to say, only swallowed hard and waited for me to speak first, which I did. " You're not finished yet," I told her, the first words I had spoken the entire time. She didn't know what I meant, though she opens her mouth to speak, to ask, she just cannot find the words. " I... I don't understand..." she tries quietly, not sure if she meant it in regards to what I said, or rather to the entire experience. I reach out one hand to her and now, after the desire is ebbing and some sense of normality has returned, she flinchs away from me. I did not let her get too far, only taking hold of her shoulder and pushing her up. She shifts her weight so as to do as I indicated, sitting up beside me on the bed, finding herself surprised when I did not stop there. I continue to push insistently, almost threateningly, until she realized suddenly I wanted her down on the floor.

Finding herself on her knees before me, feeling sticky, sweaty and bruised all over body, her eyes finally drawn to that which had impaled her. I'm still mostly hard, covered liberally in her juices and my own, and it made her gag to think of licking that concoction from me, the smell alone turning her stomach. Yet she knelt before me as something told her she cannot merely get up and walk away from this now. I'm not holding her down, I'm not grabbing her hair and forcing her head towards my body to clean me with her tongue, I just lean back on my arms and waited for her to do the job I had ordered her to do. And she continues to kneel there, unable to look elsewhere, and did not get up and walk away. Then, slowly, hesitantly, she shuffles closer to me, leans a little forward and begins to use her tongue to clean the remains of our sex from me.

" You've never had a real man take you before, have you Shaun?" I commented lazily as she slowly cleans me. She can not answer, not with her mouth cleaning my dick, but I knew that and she suspected my question is rhetorical anyway. " Never been had by a man who knows what he wants and is prepared to take it as his right. You've only had pussy-whipped little boys who don't know how to assert their masculinity. Bit of a change for you, I bet, being done by a real man for once." She cannot respond, she only concentrates on cleaning me, on not missing anywhere, from the insides of my thighs to my buttocks to my scrotum and penis itself. The thought of what she is tasting is dreadful to her, the smell worse, but she is afraid of what I meant when I threatened to teach her respect the hard way. Yet it is more than that, too. Somehow, she finds herself accepting in a twisted kind of way that as I wanted her to do this, then so she is doing it. I ordered this of her and that is reason enough. She licks sweat and cum, my cum and her juices and the smell and the taste turning her stomach, she did not stop. I leaned back now, letting my arms drop so that I lay back across her bed with my legs hanging down over the side of it, and she on her knees cleaning me.

I'm still not really soft, and it had to be said that the effort of cleaning me has began a new burning deep in the center of her, but instinctively she knew better than to think on that, or attempt to act upon it, despite her mouth being upon my dick. I required her to clean me, not to pleasure me, and she is too afraid to do anything other than what I expressly said. The hurt she has suffered in our sex are returning now, the bruises, the aches, the pain and she knew I can be cruel. " You enjoyed it, didn't you Shaun?" I said and this time she is grateful for the fact she cannot speak, for her cheeks burned in shame, but she can only have answered yes. " Enjoyed the experience of a real man taking you for his pleasure. It's only natural. Women exist for men's pleasure, makes sense that you get off on fulfilling my desires. You'll be begging for more soon enough."

In any other circumstance, with any other man, in any other time, she would have grown angry or argued or even laughed at such a thing. Yet now she did not. Now she listens and she closes her eyes as she finishes licking the sex from me trying not to cry, yet not because of what I'm saying, but only because she can't argue. She enjoyed it, enjoyed every abuse, every hurt and at the end all she had wanted is my pleasure. As if it were normal. As if it were right. As if it were natural. " Finished yet, whore?" I mutter after a moment, sitting up and pushing her roughly away. She is glad she had all but finished, for I seem to grunt, satisfied enough, and stood up. She continues to kneel there, not facing me, still facing the bed and staring ahead of her, stunned. She isn't sure what to do now, or what to say. The whole world seems to have shifted and she no longer understood her own place in it.

Naked and stinking of sex, covered in sweat and most of all reeking of me. I'm all over her, I covered her totally and she knew from the damp stickiness between her legs and the dark taste in the back of her mouth that I'm inside her now too. I may have gone from her immediate presence, but I'm still inside of her and she found herself suddenly, irrationally, desperately terrified that I always would be, leaving her unable to lock the door upon me tomorrow as she had been unable to refuse my lusts this night. Scared, suddenly, that she would never be free of me. Her eyes closed as she lays on the edge of the bed. I'm inside her. Inside her body, inside her mind. In control, always in control, because I demanded it and that is frightening. Yet not quite so frightening as knowing it is also because she let me. Shaun starts to panic. She suddenly feels my thick, hot, dry fucking cock trying to force its way into her little asshole. It's a scary feeling.

She tried to turn around, but I'm pushing her shoulders down, keeping her in place, pressing into her. She feels the head of my fat, dry cock searing into her little tight hole. She is reacting now. She knows this is what she has always wanted, but the reality isn't quiet matching up to her fantasies. Shaun pulls away from me. The burning pain in her asshole is intense. She is begging me to stop. She presses her hips into the bed as hard as she can, tightening her asshole as much as she can so I won't be able to go in anymore. I try a few extremely painful jabs to get in, but with the friction, and the position we're in, I stop. She is hoping I'd let her have a break. Give her some kisses. Make her pussy wet, and use the lube to soften things up a little... but that's not the case. I push her up on the bed fully, on her stomach, flat on the bed. As I spread her legs roughly with my knees. By this time, I'm sweaty. Shaun feels my sweaty skin on her back.

My mouth at her right ear. Whispering nasty things to her. Telling her I'm going to make her bleed. Telling her this is what getting her asshole raped feels like. The way she is writhing, it seems like it took me some time to reintroduce my fat cock to her tender asshole, but it is only moments. Moments until I'm able to forcefully, and slowly... with agonizingly unmerciful thrusts, sink my hard, dry flesh into her asshole... telling her the whole time, that this is why I asked her out, this is what I wanted to do. To rape her asshole dry. " This is what getting your asshole raped feels like." Telling me that I'm making her my whore. Telling her that I'm going to use her to get out all of my frustrations. Her arm is caught under her in an uncomfortable angle, she tries to pull it out, but I push her harder into the bed, using my forearm on her shoulder blades to pin her down, while I use, short, hard jabs to go deeper into her burning hole. " John, John please...wait. Just wait a second. Let me try to get used it," She begs. " Please John... omg, it hurts so much. It's burning. You're hurting me....."

" That's right. I'm going to hurt you. Like I told you, you're going to bleed tonight. I'm going to rip you a new asshole. It's going to take you a month to get over this." All the while I'm fucking her so hard. Shaun has been fucked up the ass before, but she always got use to the pain after a few thrusts. She is thinking this is going to happen this time too. That she can ride out the painful part. That it'll be over soon. Maybe it is because she is so dry. Maybe it is because of the angle. Maybe it is because I had already torn her up on the inside with my first violent thrust, but the pain never ebbs. It never got better. My thrusts are not smooth. They were not all the way in, then all the way out - they went from deep to deeper. Short jabs that didn't slide in and out of her. Too much friction she thinks. It is more with every thrust, I'm rimming her asshole in and out. Feels like the sides of her asshole are stuck to my dry, thrusting cock, and I'm going to turn her inside out if I pull out all the way. She feels the plunging effect in her stomach.

Shaun starts begging me to stop...my face is so close to hers. She turns her head, calling me my name... telling me she meant it. " I mean it John, I really mean it... please, just stop for a minute. You're really hurting me." She knows the panic is in her voice. I said I know. " I know you mean it. I love to hear you beg." But I keep fucking her harder. I wrap my hand around her neck, she manages to pull her arm free during the ordeal. All that did is allow me to reach under her, and squeeze her breast hard. It's hard to describe how she feels at that moment. I'm choking her a little, I'm squeezing hard. And fucking her asshole even harder, she knew she is bleeding. Shaun feels overwhelmed, and a little nauseous from my intense thrusting. All of a sudden, I pull out and laid down next to her. She can still feel me in her asshole. It feels like it is on fire. Red hot, burning, and open, and full at the same time. The pain isn't deep though. I hadn't gone in all the way. I had concentrated on hurting the first 1/3 of her tunnel. I said, she had taken it like a good girl. Shaun is just lying there in the same spot, on her stomach, trying to calm down. She is shaking from head to toe. Her legs are like rubber. I wash my cock, and got back into bed. Shaun guesses she should have gotten up to clean herself a little too, but she just can't get up. She is too weak from being fucked like that.

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