I seldom turn down a roll in the hay, basically because I’m usually as horny as most men I meet. There are times, however, when I am not interested or when the man making the proposition turns me off. If called on to explain how a particular man turns me off, I couldn’t do it. It is unexplainable. It is not altogether his looks, his dress, or his manner. It is, more than likely, something inside that makes me step back and shake my head. Such was the case in a frightening experience I had at the hotel, one which I hope never to have again.
A nice-looking man in his thirties checked into the hotel one night and, like most men, kept a steady eye on me, or rather, on my body. Later, when the lobby was less crowded, he propositioned me, by offering to buy drinks. When I turned him down, he invited me to his room. Again, I refused.
This was one of those unexplainables. I don’t know why I turned him down. He was good-looking enough, and dressed neatly, and looked like he might be a good bed partner. But, for some reason, I kept saying no.
Later that evening, when I went off duty, he was sitting in the lobby and tried to put the make on me again. I politely refused and walked to the elevator, with the man close behind. When I entered the car, he followed. On the ride up, he continued with his bill of goods and I continued to say no. I was glad the elevator stopped at his floor, but this good feeling vanished quickly when my fellow passenger pulled a long knife from his pocket and pressed it against my stomach.
“Why don’t we walk quietly to my room? We can have a few drinks and see what develops from there.”
I was terrified of the knife and had no ambition to be a cut-up, or dead, heroine. I did as I was told and when we were in his room, he motioned for me to sit down.
“Listen, beautiful,” the man began, menacingly, “I’m going to tell you this just once. If you try to scream or run away, this knife will make marks on you you’ll never get rid of. I guarantee, if you give me any trouble, I’ll fix it so that no man will ever look at you again.”
If he had intended to scare me, he succeeded. I was petrified! The knife, with a blade about six inches long, looked razor sharp, and the light reflecting on the bright steel made it even more ominous. He would have no trouble from me.
Laying the knife on the nightstand, but never moving more than inches away from it, the man undressed. He had a nice piece of meat hanging between his legs, but wider the circumstances I couldn’t get too excited about it. Coming back, to where I was sitting, he pushed his prick in my face.
“Eat it, baby, and make it good. Remember this.” He brandished the knife, and pulled the cold steel blade along my neck. Cold shivers ran down my spine.
There was no way for me to get away. I had to play his game.
Closing my eyes, I opened my mouth and he shoved his cock in, almost down my throat. I began sucking as hard as I could and tonguing the head. I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. Maybe then he would let me go. To speed things up, I took his huge balls in my hand and manipulated them.
The man put his hands on each side of my head and shoved his cock into me as hard as he could, almost choking me. I gagged several times but he didn’t stop.
He still held the knife and I could feel the cold metal against my head. He gave a final, deep thrust and I choked. I tried to pull away but he was too strong for me. When he came, I was unable to swallow and almost threw up. The white fluid was choking me, but he wouldn’t let go. When he finally finished, he slowly, pulled his prick from my mouth and I could see the remnants of his juice and my saliva on his meat. I started coughing and could eventually breathe again.
“Not bad, sweet stuff, not bad. Now, undress and come to the bed.”
My stomach felt queasy and I thought I was going to throw up. The feeling soon passed, however, and I took off my clothes. The man fondled my breasts, pinched the nipples, and played with the hair on my mound. He laid down on the bed and patted for me to join him. My eyes were on the knife, and I obeyed like a trained kitten.
“Play with it,” he said, pointing to his shrunken penis.
I took it in my hand, not looking at his face, and stroked the meat and played with his balls. He massaged my breasts, fingered my pussy, and played with my anus. With the threat of a knife facing me, I wasn’t going to be easy to arouse. Soon, his cock was at full staff, pointing straight up.
“Kiss it, baby, all over, and my balls, too.”
I did as I was told. I put my lips to the head, along the side, and took his balls in my mouth and sucked on them. I continued this for some time and thought he should be ready to come again. I was surprised when he stopped me.
“Now, on top. Mount my cock and fuck me like hell.”
That’s why he had been fingering my cunt-to get it juicy so his rod would slide in easier. I eased down on his manhood and felt it open my passage as it slid toward home. Then I started riding. I twisted my body as I maneuvered, hoping to get him to come.
“Come on, baby, I said hard and fast.” He pulled the knife across my breasts, which were dangling above him. He didn’t even take them in his hands or suck on them. I rode him hard and fast. He started humping to meet my thrusts and when he was ready to unload, he put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down as hard as he could, lifting his body into me.
I thought my insides had been torn open, the meeting was so hard. I winced and it only made him smile. I felt the warmness of his fluid as it filled my box.
He grunted as he shot his cum into me. When he was finished he rolled me onto the bed.
Now, I had another problem. His pounding and ramming had aroused me and I needed to come. But, I wasn’t going to let him know. I lay there, quietly and without moving. If he had even touched my breasts or cunt, I would have begun gyrating.
Neither of us spoke for a long time. I was hoping he would fall asleep or let me go. He was evidently trying to decide what next to to do me, or with me.
This gave me time for my emotions to calm somewhat, and I was less aroused than before. I felt I could hold off and not give him the satisfaction of making me come.
I felt the bed give and I opened my eyes. His big cock, now hard as a rock, was above my face. Before I even had a chance to take a breath, he shoved it into my mouth and began pumping. He was rougher than before and I had to take short breaths when he pulled his cock up, because he shoved it so far into my throat that I choked. Again, he filled my throat with his white fluid, and this time I strangled and coughed up some of the stuff.
“You need to do this more often, beautiful. Your throat should be a lot bigger.
Maybe I’ll enlarge it for you before the day is out.”
His threat scared me to death, and I began to shiver.
“Can I put my clothes on? I’m getting cold.”
“No. A body like yours should never be covered.”
Those were the last words he spoke for several minutes. He sat in a chair, playing with the knife. His prick was lying limply between his legs. I sat huddled on the bed, not moving, and afraid to speak. I had no idea how long this orgy was going to last, and couldn’t do a thing about it.
The man made a movement and I glanced in his direction. He was stroking his pole and I could see it beginning to rise. Oh, God, here we go again! When he had it erect, he motioned for me to come to him. I got off the bed and walked to the chair.
“Spread your legs.”
When I had done as he said, he put his hand between my legs and rubbed my pussy. The more he rubbed, the wetter it became. He pushed his finger into my hole and I inhaled quickly. I wasn’t especially aroused, his action had just taken me by surprise. But when he continued fingering me, I did feel some heat inside. Then he quit, just as suddenly as he had begun.
“Have a seat, beautiful. Right here, on my joy stick.”
I straddled the chair and sat down easily as the piece of meat entered my cunt.
I was facing him and this time he played with my breasts, tweaking the nipples and rubbing my globes. I was in an awkward position, but it didn’t seem to bother him at all. He slid down in the chair so that his cock would go deeper with each thrust. My legs were cramping and his penetrations were like a steel rod inside my box. I felt tears come to my eyes and, on top of all that, I was getting hot. With him playing with my breasts, and my box aching from his pounding, my emotions were reaching the boiling point.
I must have made it too apparent, because he quit rubbing my breasts, and pounded his hunk harder and faster into my hole. I could hardly stand it anymore, and wanted to come so bad I could taste it. I rode him faster and faster, but he came first, filling me up and I felt his juice trickle down onto the hair around my box.
Even though he had come, I continued to ride his prick, wanting to unload. He didn’t let me. Quickly, he pulled me up, off his cock, and held meat arm’s length. My eyes were closed and my hips were moving. I know there was a pleading on my face.
“Say, baby, do you want to come?” he asked, teasingly.
I nodded my head.
“Come on, I didn’t hear you.” He placed his hand on my mound and pushed. I shoved toward him and he withdrew his hand.
“Yes. Yes.” I was breathing heavily, lustfully, and my hands wouldn’t be still.
Yet he held me firmly, a full arm’s length away.
“Yes, what?” he continued. He was tormenting me and knew it. But it was his game. He would alternately play with my breasts and then my mound. I had to come! “Yes. I want to come,” I almost screamed.
“Well, now, beautiful, just how do you come? What does it take to make you come?”
When I didn’t answer, he bent over and sucked on my nipples, driving me insane, and then rubbed between my legs. I groaned, pitifully.
“You fuck. You have to fuck.” I almost yelled it out.
“Then ask me for it.” His tone was deep, sadistic.
“Please. Please. Fuck me. So I can come. Please.” I was almost hysterical with desire. My body was gyrating and sweat was on my forehead.
I don’t know how, but his cock was already rigid. He pushed me back on the bed and I spread my legs, waiting for him to drive home. Wanting him to drive home.
When I felt nothing, I opened my eyes and saw that he was just standing there, looking at me, watching my hips move, staring at the moistness between my legs.
His steel hard cock was pointing straight at my burning hole.
When he didn’t mount me, I looked into his eyes. A sinister smile came across his lips. Instead of climbing on me, he took my hand and laid it on my mound of damp hair.
“You want to come, baby? Then do it that way. Finger yourself.”
I looked at him, stunned.
“That’s the only way you’re going to shoot off your wad, beautiful. With your own hand.” He put his hand on top of mine and pressed down. I could feel the pressure and lifted my hips against it. I leaned back and closed my eyes. He took my middle finger and forced it into my hole. Then he began pumping with my finger. In just a few short strokes, he removed his hand and I continued by myself. I couldn’t help it. I had to come! It didn’t take long. I was in such a frenzy that even my small finger did the trick. I came and came, moaning, groaning, twisting, turning. I poured out a gallon it would seem, before I could finally control my body and remove my finger.
I wept softly as I rolled over on my side. The frustration, the embarrassment, the fright, it all came pouring out.
I wasn’t on my side very long before he pulled at my hips and the next thing I knew I was on my elbows and knees and that iron pipe of his was pounding me unmercifully. He pulled out to where only the head was inside and then rammed in as hard as he could. I thought I would pass out before he came. But he held my, hips in a strong grip and there was nothing I could do except let him pound away.
The man was thrusting so hard that even, he was grunting. Our bodies clapped as he slammed into me each time and I knew he must be ripping my insides apart. My box would never be the same.
Suddenly, he yanked his cock out of my hole. I knew he hadn’t come and wondered what he was up to. Before I had time to contemplate, I felt a sharp pain in my anus. He was pounding my ass! Tears came to my eyes and I almost cried out loud. I was on the verge of yelling my head off, despite the knife he had, when he pulled his prick out and put it back in my pussy. A few hard strokes and be was finished. His fluid caused my box to burn. When he finished, I fell forward, aching, sore, scared, and tired. Surely, now he would let me go. What else could he do to me?
Much to my regret, he wasn’t finished. He walked out of the bathroom, washing his cock with a cloth. Looking at me, my hair a mess, my body sore in every spot, my joy box no longer a joy, and my asshole so tender I could hardly sit, he gave a broad grin.
“Look what I’ve done, beautiful, I’ve washed your dinner for you.”
Oh, no, not again! Before I could say a word, I felt the hunk of meat in my mouth and his hands on either side of my head. Tears were streaming down my face and I was choking. I could hardly breathe. But that didn’t stop him. He shoved his cock as far into my mouth as he could, then pulled it out. In and out. Deeper and deeper. Just when I was on the verge of passing out, I felt his hot fluid flushing down my throat. He held me tight against him, draining every drop, making sure I swallowed everything he poured into me.
I lay back on the bed, completely helpless. I was bruised from his rough handling. My stomach churned. My head hurt. My cunt was so sore I could hardly put my legs together. My breasts even had teeth marks where he had chewed on them.
As he walked toward me, I didn’t know what to expect next. I was surprised when he brought towels from the bathroom and tied my feet and hands, then used another to put around my mouth.
“I’m leaving you now, baby. You’re lucky. But you’ve been a good fucking partner. If you hadn’t, my knife would have made mince meat out of you.”
It was too good to be true! Was he really leaving? Was I soon to be rid of him?
The man dressed, put the few clothes he had taken out back in his suitcase, and walked to the door. Hardly looking at me, he walked out the door and closed it behind him.
I lay there for long moments, fearful he would return. Several times I heard footsteps in the hail. I broke out in a cold sweat, afraid it was him. After a long while, when I had gathered some of my strength, I squirmed until I had loosened the towels. I slipped into my clothes and made it to my apartment without being seen.
Once inside, I double-locked the door, sit down in the nearest chair, and cried. Finally, when I had no more tears, I stumbled to the bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as I could stand it. I stood there for long minutes, letting the refreshing water run over my body, hoping to wash away the memory.
It wouldn’t, of course.