2 comments/ 14901 views/ 0 favorites On the Edge By: Something_More She had stopped loving him so long ago, she didn't know exactly when it happened. One day, she looked up from her oatmeal, and saw his face. The lines that had formed, the distant expression as he read the paper, and realized that he had become someone she didn't recognize. But, it wasn't just that. He no longer held any interest for her. She could, if she tried, find fault with everything he did. She wanted to get out, but she didn't know how. They drove to the party in silence, the cold leather of the BMW feeling good on the warm summer night. It was his father's birthday and they were going to their huge house to celebrate. Once they arrived, he would disappear into the smoky den, to talk politics and finance with his father's rich cronies. She would wander around talking to no one, drinking and sneaking cigarettes on the balcony. Everyone else would smoke in the house, but he disapproved of her smoking, especially in front of his parents. Out in the night air, she breathed deep the scent of the flowers in their lush garden. The moist wind reminded her of her carefree days after school let out, playing outside until the sun disappeared. She lit her cigarette, letting the smoke fill her tight lungs. She exhaled, and looked over the balcony. She looked at the stone that surrounded the border. Grey marble, carved with patterns and shapes. The railing was wide, and she noted that her torso would probably fit over it nicely. She leaned onto the cold stone, just a bit a first, then further. She was right, it allowed her head to rest beyond it's border and her feet barely to reach the concrete below. She leaned further over the balcony rail, hesitating for a moment, before lifting off her feet, her hands gripping the edge tightly. She let herself dangle there, all her weight forward. The feeling made her tingle, with a mixture of fear and excitement. Leaning just a bit further, she dangled her head, feet off the ground, the cigarette falling into the shrubs below. "What are you doing?" She heard the voice behind her, making her head snap up and landing her feet back on the floor. "Nothing." Looking at him in the dim light, she saw his telltale black vest, signifying that he was a waiter. His hand moved to his mouth, as he inhaled his own cigarette. "Shouldn't you be inside? Don't you have to mingle, or something?" "What about you, don't you have a job to do tonight?" "I just needed a break, I wasn't expecting company out here." "Sorry to disappoint you." "Oh, you haven't." He inhaled deeply and blew smoke in her direction. She stepped closer still, noticing his broad shoulders, his large hands. "I've seen you here before, you know, at other parties." "Funny, I don't remember seeing you. I must not be spending enough time out here. Who are you hiding from anyway, your husband?" "Fiancé." "Oh, sorry." He smirked in the dark. "He must be a real catch." "Well, no, but he's rich." He cracked a smile, and laughed at her admission. "I can't believe I said that. I shouldn't have said that." "Why not?" "Because it's terrible." "I don't know, not if it's true. Is it?" She didn't know how to answer. He took another drag of his cigarette. His eyes looked at her expectantly. "So, does he know what you do out here?" "I don't think he cares what I do out here. I could do anything." "Really, is that a fact?" "Yes, it is." "Interesting." He just stood there, staring at her. At that moment, she felt her face go hot, and he took a step closer to her. He smiled again. He closed the small gap between them, eyeing her up and down, holding a cigarette between his fingers. She took it without thinking, and he raised a lighter towards her. She guided his hand gently with hers, and deeply inhaled. Just touching him caused an electric current to run through her. It felt foreign and strange after months of dormancy. Close up, she saw his face more clearly, with it's deep green eyes and slightly crooked smile. He stood just a bit too close, waiting for her to retreat. She didn't. Their combined smoke pooled around them, as the sounds from inside faded and grew. She thought of asking his name, but didn't really care. He didn't ask for her's. As she finished a long drag of her cigarette, she took it from between her lips, and threw it over the edge. She wanted to watch it fall, but resisted looking away from his intense gaze. He threw his over to join it, and he ran his hand over the side of her face, gently brushing hair aside. The next few moments ticked by at a snail's pace. She waited for him to nudge them over the edge. Behind them, she heard the first words of Happy Birthday echoing through the room. She knew she should go inside, do the right thing. But as she turned, he grabbed her wrist. He pulled her against him, his fingers digging slightly into her back. Their faces almost touched, and she was unsure of what to do next. Making up her mind for her, he kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth. It felt more right than anything had in months, maybe years. His teeth caught her bottom lip, and he tugged gently before covering her mouth again. His fingers traced down her neck to her collarbone, his fingers glancing under the fabric of her dress. Pressing her against the facade of the house, he ran his hands into her bra, pinching her nipples between his fingers. His breath tasted of smoke and scotch, just like her fiancé's would after a long night in the den. But somehow, this was different. Giving herself over to the moment, she realized she wanted more. She freed her mouth from his, and tasted his neck with her tongue, biting the soft flesh between her teeth. He reached down and lifted the hem of her skirt. He slid her panties down to her knees, and she moaned as his fingers touched her softly between her legs. He smiled when he found her wet and her own heat overwhelmed her. It was as if he had unlocked her cage, and set her free. He held her and continued stroking, her hips bucking along with his rhythm. The balcony door was open, but she didn't bother to muffle her cries of pleasure. She almost willed someone to come out on the balcony and find her. She whimpered when he removed his hand from her moist pussy. He put his two wet fingers up to her lips, and she stuck out her tongue to taste herself on his skin. Her fingers pulled at his zipper, as if they were controlled by someone else. Turning her around, he pushed her onto the balcony's cool stone rail. He nudged her forward until her head hung heavy at the edge. She was barely standing. He knelt down behind her, and ran his tongue over her wet lips, spreading her wide with his long fingers. He teased her clit with his fingertip, as he speared her pussy with his tongue. She looked down over the edge, and allowed his mouth to devour her, until she felt her knees begin to weaken. Before she lost her footing, he stood up, and grabbed her by both hips, rubbing the tip of his cock over her wetness. Entering her gently at first, his teasing strokes caused her to push back against him, her cunt anxious for him. But, soon, he was pounding harder, deeper. He grabbed both of her hands roughly, and pulled them behind her back. His hips surged her body forward on the balcony rail, and her feet came off the ground, high heels dangling from her toes. Her hands were tense in his hands, she gripped onto him furiously. Her fear started battling her pleasure for her brain's attention. He pushed into her deeper, her body moving further over the rail. Swirling his hips, her pussy swallowed him hungrily. She wanted more of him, but she couldn't move. He had her suspended. He fucked her slower, slower, easing himself and her forward inch by inch. Her body felt out of control, his cock barely leaving her cunt before plunging back inside. Slowly, he pulled his cock from inside her pussy and she felt his grip loosen on her hands. She clawed at him, digging her nails into his soft flesh. He seemed to be letting go. Just as the thought crashed through her mind, he pumped his cock inside her again and again, her hands slipping a little. Her thighs tightened, trying to keep her steady. A scream started to form in her throat. She teetered on the brink, staring down into the darkness below, paralyzed. Seconds passed by slowly, as she felt herself inching towards the ground. Suddenly, he pulled her back hard onto his cock, releasing her hands, her toes touching cool cement. Pleasure ripped through her, and his hand clamped over her mouth to keep her quiet. She rode back against him, the waves of ecstacy and adrenalin rushing together like a tide. Shuddering, she felt the convulsions deep inside her pussy. Biting into his palm, she shook and rocked as he violently fucked her through her orgasm. He had started her revolution, her liberation. She felt him slow down his pace. His cock tightened, and with one last push, he broke, shooting cum deep inside her. Slowly, she realized she was back on the balcony, her shoes by her feet, her body safely where it belonged. Straightening up, she felt her heart pound in her chest. She heard his zipper and she turned and saw him walk back into the party. She had not felt this much of anything in so long. Her panties lay next to her feet, and she looked at them for a long minute. Lighting another cigarette, she glanced at them one last time before turning and walking off the balcony. On the Edge "Jump", she said, as the wind whipped her long black hair into his already stinging eyes. He looked down at the ants below, crawling along their daily lives, oblivious to what was happening right above them. They didn't seem real. Even while he was among them, in their plastic worlds, he knew they weren't real, weren't alive like he was right now. "Jump", she said again, smiling at him, her bar feet dangling into space. He slowly took his gaze from scene below, where she sat on the ledge to his right, holding one hand loosely. He gave a slight smile, squinting his eyes a bit, and raised her hand to his lips. "But then you would miss this...", and he drew the tip of his tongue across the tips of her fingers lightly. "And this," he said as he drew his other hand up her thigh, her skirt riding higher. He could feel the heat radiating from her sex. His pulse raced. He pushed his hand farther, and felt the folds of her pussy with his fingers.. "Mmmmm..", she moaned as she closed her eyes. She was wet. * * * Far below, the ants kept going, never stopping but for brief moments, as if to catch their breath before continuing on their mindless, endless journey. * * * She leaned towards him, and he kissed her deeply, tasting her lips hungrily, as if for the first time, as if it was his last meal before dieing. They leaned back against the wall, and he felt the cold concrete against his bare skin. He slid his fingers up her pussy, rolled and played with her till she moaned and squirmed... She took off her shirt, looking at him, dropped it into space.. Neither of them saw it fall slowly down the side of the building. He took her head into his other hand, and drew her to him, kissing her again, his hands following her body down... her neck, her back, her ass. As he teased her pussy, massaged her thighs, she found his already very hard cock through his pants, and unzipped his fly. She drew away from his kiss, and smiled, licking her lips.. He didn't have a chance, and she knew it. He was powerless in that smile. He stopped playing with her pussy, as she smiled and licked her lips again. She leaned down, hair taken by the wind, hiding from him her face, and the source of all his pleasure right now. Right now... his back against the cold concrete, crumbling slightly, and the warmth of her mouth, her tongue, her lips, caressing his cock slowly. Faster... Slower... Hands caressing his balls, already tight against him. Then, she stopped, looked up, smiled, and looked at him again, in that way only she could. He was caught in ecstasy, powerless. She pushed him down, the other way on the ledge, mere inches from the empty space which separated them, from the unreality below. She pulled off his pants, and soon they too sank out of sight, and out of their minds as soon as they left her fingers. The sun was hot, and sweat beaded on her skin, around her breasts, around her lips, on her neck. She loved to wait, and watch him. She enjoyed keeping him in wonder, in this moment, waiting for nothing else but to feel the touch of her skin on his, and nothing else was there. She leaned forward until her body was above his, her face inches from his face, her hair draped around his head. Her nipples grazed his chest, her legs wrapped around his, the fingers of one hand curled around the edge of the concrete ledge. She breathed in, and felt everything. As her breath left her mouth, he inhaled, taking her in. She then opened her hips wider, lowered herself with a sigh, and took him in. Slowly, feeling every twitch, every touch, every move, they were one. Nothing was lost. Everything was gained. Faster, and faster, her legs against the concrete, her pussy filled with his pounding cock. She pounded back uncontrollably. Leaning forward again, hand gripping the side of the ledge, his lips on hers, her breasts brushing his chest, every thrust was lightning, until they both came, crashing down, she, collapsing on top of him, arm dangling where their feet where only minutes before... On The Edge Many thanks again to my editor and friend TekNight. Read the tags for warnings and/or spoilers. :) Hope you enjoy this new experiment, dear Literotica.com readers! - Allyourbase. ------------------- As a kid, I used to spend hours on a ditch bank watching the insects. The short grass growing taller near the waterside, iris and reed rising up, softly rustling, like a bead curtain. We used to live near the river and all along it were were intricate little waterways and pools to get lost in, to find little treasures. There, in that labyrinth on the borderline between land and water, I would hide from the other kids. My boots slowly sinking into the soggy clay, looking for shells, watching the dragonflies, the sticklebacks, and those curious tadpoles that morphed into equally curious amphibians. Animals in between everything. Ugly, but fascinating. I take a deep breath, smell the night air, smell the river that runs through this city, the silt. That scent, it's what triggers the memory. I'm not sure I want it. But it's better than thinking about what I have just done. Hiding... watching until I'd forget everything. Disappearing. How I'd like to disappear like that again. I hunch into the hood of my sweater, zip up my coat. It is dark, but not dark enough for my taste now. The city skyline casts an orange glow on everything. The bridge that defines this city looms over me like a frozen tidal wave. The air is cooling. I look down. My sneakers are resting casually on the pavement of this walled in river bank, like they're not mine. Like it is the way it should be. I know it isn't. Nothing is how it should be tonight, especially not me. I should never have given in to my curiosity, but it was inevitable. I was just not going to say no. She was one of those girls who pushed buttons I forget I have half the time, since I've only dated guys until now. Pretty faced, slightly obnoxious, cheeky. The kind that annoys and arouses me at the same time. The kind that feels like a different species altogether. From the first time I saw her, I wondered what it would be like if she'd be interested in me. But girls like that never are. The time I went shopping with her flashes through my mind. I sat on one of the chairs outside the dressing room, waiting, while she tried on skirt after skirt. Next to me, boyfriends, in the same predicament. It made me feel something entirely new, something I never really told the boyfriend I had back then. Being subjected to her whims, watching her try on sexy clothes, walking next to her in the street - she even held my hand, like some girls' day out thing or something - I felt an unusual kind of pride and a slight form of humiliation at the same time. It made me understand, instantly, what it must feel like to be a guy. Or, at least, I think it did. Hell, what do I know? Thinking of how her soft hair smells still turns me on, even now. Even after this night, though it is tinged with melancholy. She would always hug me when we met, her hair against my cheek, her soft, curvy, tiny body against me until my heart fluttered and I hoped my face wouldn't have turned red. She would sit in my lap at parties when there were not enough chairs, making me ache to taste her neck, slip a hand under her shirt. How I wondered about how her tits would feel. All of it, it would've given me a rock hard boner if I'd have been a dude. Still, she must've known what she did to me. Why else was she so cheeky around me? But I could tell it was just the attention she liked, she wasn't interested in me that way. At least, I thought she wasn't. Her new boyfriend, however... I don't know what was up with that guy. He was smart, good looking, made jokes, seemed friendly, but I couldn't make him out. And I guess he saw right through me. "He so wants to bang her..." he said to me, watching his girlfriend flirt with one of our friends. We were standing outside, smoking a cigarette. Through the garden door with the sea shell curtain we watched the living room, where people had wordless conversations, like they were under water: their bodies moved in telling ways, their faces said more than their mouths at any given moment. Amongst all of them, her, with her magnetic appearance. Those big eyes, that sly smile of hers, that tiny, sexy body, the teasing and taunting. Fragile without the innocence. Like a dragonfly: fascinating, fairy-like, a little scary. "Yeah, well," I replied. "Who doesn't?" I knew I was giving away how I felt, a bit, but I'd been drinking and in a way I was wondering how he'd react. "I might even let him," he said, glancing aside at me. I looked him in the face, to be sure I heard that correctly. He didn't seem to be joking. "What?" I asked. Like I was that innocent, but I didn't know what else to say. He chuckled, took a sip of his beer. "She's pervier than you think," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Way pervier..." His voice trailed off a little. He gazed in the distance, smirking. "We kinda found each other, when it comes to that." I hated how this made me hope I could fuck her one day. Like sex was all there was for me when it came to her. It wasn't, that was the problem. But she aroused me, I couldn't help it. I wondered what he meant by 'pervy'. He brought his cigarette to his mouth again. Looked at me with squinted eyes. "She loves to be used, you know." Oh, what the fuck. There I was, knee deep in someone else's shit. He grinned at me, but his smile was just off. I couldn't think of anything to say. What do you say after something like that? I pushed away flashes of her being fucked by that friend she was flirting with. Brutally. With her boyfriend watching. It aroused me. It made me feel guilty... I lit another cigarette. "You'd do her, right?" He asked me, bluntly. "I see the way you look at her." "Yeah. I would. Probably." There was no point in denying it, though I trusted him less and less. "If she'd be interested. But she's not. At least, not as far as I can tell." A sly grin shot across his face, just for a second. He played with his cigarette. He scared me a little. "I could make her..." he said flatly, watching my reaction. "Interested, I mean." Holy crap. Suddenly, someone else's shit had become my shit. I remember passing on the offer, saying 'No, thanks, probably not such a good idea,' or something like it. But the look on his face made me fear that whatever I said, it would not make any difference. I felt worried. Out of control. It felt like he found something interesting to play with, and he would, no matter what. After that night, something had changed, she had changed. Or maybe it was my imagination. The next time we met for drinks, she had become flirtier, cheekier, found reasons to sit on my lap, while her boyfriend looked on. It blew my mind, made me drink twice as fast. Was it real? Was my desire making me see things that weren't there? Whatever it was, it aroused me and made me increasingly nervous. I felt manipulated, played with. And I was. I was being played with. I could tell, by the looks they exchanged. But when she and I bumped into each other, getting another beer and she - seemingly by accident - pushed into me, I couldn't help but say something. "Watch out, girl," I said. "Your flirting... it's fun, but don't go too far." "Oh?" She grinned. "Because?" I placed my hand on the wall behind her, looked her in the eyes. "Because I know you're not serious," I said. She made a mocking face. I should've shrugged it off, because she was getting to me. "Listen, stop it," I said. "You know you won't want to give what I want to have." An expression I couldn't place slid across her face. What was she thinking? I suddenly felt like a predator, looming over her like that; vicious, grimy, ready to snatch her whenever I got the chance. I didn't trust myself. "What if I want you to take it anyway..." she said, unexpectedly, with a twinkle in her eyes. My heart missed a beat. And then she licked her lips. Damn, she should never have licked her lips like that. I suddenly kissed her, hard. She pulled back a little, but not enough for me to stop. It felt like I was dragging her down under water. My tongue assaulted her, invaded her. Her moans were muffled by my mouth taking hers. She tasted so sweet. Her wet lips and her soft tongue made my knees week. I couldn't believe I was doing what I had longed to do for so long. And I couldn't believe I was taking it with so much confusion over whether she actually wanted it. But that, exactly, was such a turn on. I had the urge to push her against the wall, force her legs apart, and fuck her. Make her scream, make her face contort with agony. I wished I had a dick. In the corner of my eye, I sensed something. From across the bar her boyfriend was watching us, with a curious, amused look in his eyes. It gave me the creeping sensation of being on display: dehumanized, grotesque. I needed to go. Really. And I did. I left. But from then on, my mind was in this haze, I wasn't able to think right. This whole thing had gushed into my head, leaving putrid pools of guilt and arousal everywhere. It distracted me. It forced me to think about who I was and what I wanted. Whether this was a good idea at all. I wondered if it would break the friendship. I wondered if there was purely a friendship to begin with. I feared the point when my other friends would notice. Though most of 'em knew about my occasional crushes on girls, I had never tried to explain how much it confused me to feel this way, and I really didn't feel like explaining it now. None of them would understand why wanting her made me sad about my own curves, made me long to buff up my arms. How this all made me feel as if there was someone looking out of my eyes who didn't match my body. Or even my brain. Both of which made me do and want girly things half the time, to the wry amusement of the guy inside of me - if that is what he is. Such a mess inside of me. Fuck that. I should just stay away from girls. Date men, wear dresses. Would be so much easier. But their next phone call was an invitation for dinner, at their house. I should've said no... I watch the river. I have no idea how long I've been here already. I think of how I used to look for empty mussel shells. I wonder what I did with them. I don't remember. Suddenly, I become aware of how tight my chest feels. I can't breathe. I sit up, reach under my clothes, to find the clasps on my back. I unhook the heavy duty sports bra I put on to flatten my tits: my half-assed attempt to change my look in a way nobody around me understands. It only makes them go down to a B-cup anyway... I breathe, feel the fabric crumple up under my shirt. I don't know why I put them on in the first place. Not for her. Even though I had fooled myself - getting dressed this afternoon, putting on a sleeveless shirt that shows off my arms - that it was for her. But I knew it's not something that does anything for her. I could tell. That is exactly why I just can't get up from this bench, why I keep sitting here, slowly getting cold to the bone. To avoid the regret. She should not have been my first girl. But she straddled me on their couch, wearing that skirt, that sexy top. We had been drinking, eating, joking and I don't really remember how she got there. Whatever. She was on top of me, her chest right in front of my face, and the playful atmosphere rapidly thickened into a tense moment. The reluctant kiss from the time before hung heavy between us. Her boyfriend sat across the room from us, slouched in a chair with a beer dangling in his hand and his gaze piercing into his girlfriend's back. He followed my every move, watched me size up his girl, he saw how my eyes betrayed the desire inside. My hands lay on the couch, numb, paralyzed - like they didn't want me doing something stupid. I didn't want to become part of their little fucked up game. I would regret it. But I was so fuckin' turned on. My struggle amused him. "Stop staring at her tits, dude," he grinned. They both laughed. I blushed involuntarily. I felt caught. I wasn't sure I was still enjoying this. "Show her your tits, sweets," he said, in a low voice, as his girlfriend's eyes locked with mine. Oh, my fucking god. Did he really just say that? It stunned me. She didn't move. Thank god she didn't move. This was not her desire, it was his. She didn't want me for me. But show me those tits... and I'd be lost. I felt trapped on this couch, I couldn't stand up, cool down. Somewhere deep inside, a part of me was panicking. "I bet she's dying to see them," he grinned. I glanced at him. He looked at me intently. "You are, aren't you?" Yes, yes I am. Fuckin' hell, I am. My breath was shallow, my face tense. I couldn't speak. "Come on," he urged his girl. "Lift that top. Give her something real to drool over." Slowly, reluctantly, her hands moved. Her face showed a mix of amusement and embarrassment. Carefully, she revealed her soft belly, her pretty little red bra. My fingers dug themselves in the couch. She stopped. Her breathing was heavy. "Almost there," he said, in that deep voice of his. "Be a good girl. Show 'em." She scrutinized my face, seemingly happy with the torture showing on it. And then she lifted her bra. Soft, luscious breasts, cute, pink nipples. So sexy, so exposed. I couldn't help but stare. I swallowed. I wanted to taste them, badly. My hands seemed no longer numb. I hoped they would still listen to me and behave. "Say it," he said. I wondered what he meant. But she knew. They had done this before. It disturbed me a little. "Please..." she whispered, sitting in my lap, cupping her breasts in front of my face, offering them. Making my heart race. "Do whatever you want." She had this sexy, lusty smile and big, innocent, begging eyes. Eyes that could make my hands disobey. "They are yours," she said, under her breath. Mine... Oh, goddamn. I grabbed them, tasted them, hungrily. We went from the silence before a storm, to a feverish mess of moaning, writhing bodies. My possessive hands were everywhere, on her tits, on her waist, under her skirt, pulling her tight against me. Trails of my saliva on her collarbone and her jawline. I loved how she whimpered and protested - her hands on my head, grabbing my hair - when I used my teeth on her nipples. Just a bit too mean, the way I like it myself. And I loved her kiss, that soft, reluctant kiss. I loved to see the intense tug-of-war inside of her between lust and repulsion, pulling her apart. It was strangely satisfying to push her like this. I could lose myself in it. If it weren't for him, watching us, rubbing the hard-on in his pants. "You know what's next, baby," he said. Glancing over her shoulder, she met his commanding stare, tried to catch her breath. As she climbed off me, I missed her damp heat in my lap. There was a wet spot on my jeans. Her panties had become soaked. So had mine. With the same reluctance, she sat on the couch, her tits still exposed. She pulled up her knees and let them fall to the side. Her skirt fell wide open, showing the messy, wet panties covering her pussy. She blushed, but didn't avoid my gaze. What a sight. Her boyfriend groaned approvingly. "And now?" He asked her rhetorically, condescendingly. She glanced at him, blushing some more. "Come on," he chuckled. He was incredibly amused by her embarrassment. "We can see you like it. Offer her your pussy." Biting her lip, frowning a little, her hands moved towards her wet panties, lifted the fabric and pulled it to one side. Her gooey lips glistened. I could smell her, feel her heat. I stared at her pink pussy. How satisfying it must be to feel that soft, tiny, slippery hole strain to stretch around your cock, your mind centered there, gone from the rest of your body, shut down, except for that primal part. She smiled a mocking smile. I was slightly stunned. "Go ahead," he said to me, as he unbuckled his jeans. "Enjoy yourself." My hand was drawn to her pussy, like I didn't control it anymore. My lust had taken over. It had decided to ignore that I had no idea how to fuck a girl. My fingers slid between her lips. Her juices coated my hand. I rubbed her clit with my thumb. It felt natural, familiar. As I pushed a finger inside of her, she moaned. Her boyfriend groaned approvingly. I scrutinized her face. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes, staring into mine, showed a mix of lust and shame, enjoyment and distress. In the back of my mind, it worried me that I found her conflicting emotions so very delicious. But I did. I wanted her to suffer some more. I added a second finger, started fucking her. Such a hot girl, lying there with her legs spread, letting me finger her. I leaned forward, sucked on her tits. Slowly, my mouth went down on her body, eager to know how it would be to taste a pussy other than mine. I found her clit, sucked it the way it felt right. Her juices soaked my chin. The sexiest noises came out of her mouth. They went straight to my clit. My other hand slid inside my jeans. My panties were a wet mess. She felt so tight. Lucky boyfriend. How much could she take? I tried another finger. She squirmed. It slid in. So hot. I wondered how far I could go... I looked at him, carefully stroking his cock as he watched us. It was an obscene sight. For some reason, I forgot my concerns about whether this was what she wanted. I forgot about her. I asked him: "Can I stretch her?" He smiled a sly grin. "She's tight, isn't she?" He said. "A cunt like that is so asking to be stretched." He looked at his flustered, anxious girlfriend. Softly, she pleaded: "Please, no, it will hurt." He seemed incredibly entertained, paused for a moment. "Stretch her," he said, grinning. "As much as you can." She looked at me with shock. "Make it hurt," he added. I couldn't help it, but my hand obeyed. On my knees between her legs, I fucked her. I took her mouth, her tits, her pussy, and she let me. Her hands held her thighs apart for me, like a good girl. My fingers entered her deeper and deeper. My sense of time got warped, I had no idea how long I had been trying to open up that pussy just a bit more, and a little more after that. Each time, she uttered those hot little desperate shrieks. She was soaking wet, she enjoyed it in spite of herself. So addictive. Surrendering to my assault, she opened herself up to me, until four of my fingers were knuckle deep inside of her. I folded my thumb in my palm. I had the urge to stop being careful and just push that hand inside. This, exactly, was the point she started pulling back. "No, please," she urged. "It won't fit!" "Relax," I said. "Just relax, you can take it." She looked at her boyfriend, bewildered. Hoping he would save her, maybe. But of course, he wouldn't. His jeans and boxers were on the floor now, his cock rock hard, glistening with precum. He stood up and sat down next to her on the couch. As I pushed my hand deeper into her pussy, she tried to persuade me to stop, tried to close her legs. I wanted to calm her. But he just grabbed one of her legs. "Take the other one," he told me. I took my hand out of my jeans, fingers sticky and hot, and pushed her other leg aside. "Now, sweetheart," he whispered in her ear. "Relax those muscles, or we'll destroy your cunt. That hand is going in." The look on her face was incredibly torturous. As I slowly worked my palm in, bit by bit, he kissed her, swallowing her desperate moans. "Good girl. Such a good, good girl," he whispered against her lips. "You're gonna take it all." He caressed her hair and her face with a gesture so caring. The contrast with the brutality of what we were doing to her was painful... and incredibly arousing. On The Edge Apparently, it turned her on like nothing else, too. Gushes of pussy juice lubed up my hand. Suddenly, I could push in. She cried out, her hands tried to stop me, but we were forcing her legs apart. And then I was inside. Her muscles closed around my hand. Damn, she was tight. "Oh my god!" She cried, frantic. "It hurts... It's in. I can't believe it's in." Carefully, I started to move my hand. It had an incredible effect on her. Her boyfriend chuckled. "How does it feel, hm?" He asked. He played with one of her tits while she writhed in his arms, close to tears. "It hurts. I'm getting close, I'm close..." she whimpered. "My god, I have to cum. Please. Oh, god, it hurts. Please, can I cum?" He was enjoying himself immensely. Her body was so exposed. Her muscles milked my wrist, as I was slowly fucking her with my hand. She was begging him to cum. He softly kissed her face, her neck, as if he didn't hear her. It was the hottest thing I had ever seen. "You like that hand inside of you, hm? It gets you off to be forced. Doesn't it?" He wasn't going to let her cum just like that. She had to admit it. But she didn't want to. "Come on, say it," he whispered in her ear. "We know you love it. Say it. Tell us." She blushed deeply. Her breath was shallow, fast. "Tell us what a slutty, slutty girl you are," he kept urging her. "You want to cum, don't you? Tell us how much this gets you off." My hand working inside of her, stretching her, was getting the better of her. She needed to get off. She couldn't think anymore. "I love it," she softly whimpered, defeated. "I love to be used." "Good girl! You can cum now," he smiled, satisfied. "Lick her," he ordered me, as he jerked her leg aside a bit more. My mouth found her clit. I sucked on it, played with it between my teeth. I twisted my wrist inside of her. It made her cum like crazy. She screamed, cursed, her face red, eyes rolled back. Her hands grabbed my hair. Spasming around my hand, her muscles tightened so much they almost hurt me. As she came down, she cried. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Her body shook. I carefully took my hand out of her pussy. Her boyfriend comforted her, hugged her, whispered things. But on his face, I couldn't find any empathy. Finally, he got up. "Let's see the damage..." he said, as he sank between her legs. He opened up her pussy lips with hungry eyes, to check up on what a red, raw mess she had become. "Oh, I just love a used cunt..." he groaned. "Now it's my turn." He lifted her shaking, tired body, put her on her knees and made her bend over on the couch. Forcefully, he pushed his cock inside of her. He fucked her, slowly but deep. She was too exhausted to protest. It showed that this was a painful fuck. It aroused him. It aroused me too, all of it, the whole filthy mess we were in. My pants and panties were on the floor, my hands were rubbing my cunt, trying to get off. "Let her eat you out," he said, in that manner that didn't leave any room for discussion. I didn't feel like adding my body to the equation. I hadn't exposed my tits either. In spite of it, I moved my pussy towards her face. Her eyes were far away, but she opened up her mouth. Dutifully, she started licking me, while that controlling bastard was saying all kinds of humiliating things to her. About how sloppy her pussy felt, about how much of a slut she was. Asking her how my cunt tasted. Telling her she was his, to play with, to cum in, to give to others. I had never felt anything like this before. It was degrading, but such a turn on. It blew my mind. And then he came, pushing deep inside of her, grunting. Softly, she muttered thank-yous, with a satisfied glow on her face. As he took out his cock, his cum oozed out of her, trickling down her leg, dripping on the floor. She didn't make any effort to stop it. Neither did he. He stood up, left, didn't seem to care about her, nor me anymore. "She's yours," he said, as he walked away to get a shower. I needed to get off badly, but no matter how hard she tried, I couldn't get there. I was on the edge, but it wasn't going to work. With his commanding presence gone, my sense of reality rushed in. Rapidly, like a tsunami, crushing everything in its way, filling me with a growing panic. Here I was, in this living room, with a shadow of the girl I thought I knew before, between my legs, while she didn't really want to. It felt wrong. So wrong, all of it. I suddenly didn't want to be here anymore. A ship on the river pulls me back to the here and now. I feel the low hum deep in my belly. Nausea lingers persistently from having relived the memory. I can't think of how I just left them, left her there on that couch. I don't want to have done what I did, but I have. And I have no idea how to deal with this unbearable feeling in my stomach. I used her. How come I feel so used? My arousal has disappeared. All there is left is this cold, sticky mess in my pants. The muscles in my hand feel tired. It makes me feel embarrassed. I play with the package of cigarettes in the pocket of my hoodie. I don't feel like smoking. There's also still a couple of beers in my messenger bag that I have no desire for. I have never felt this resigned. For a moment I lose myself, staring at the intricate patterns in the ship's wake. The waves fan out, die down until they hit the embankment. Slowly, the nausea dies down with it. I think of all kinds of labels to describe me, to define me. To justify what I have done. They don't stick. I wonder how far upstream or downstream you'd have to go to be able to walk in the sand with bare feet, and look for mussel shells. Black and rough on the outside, but shiny inside, where it's always dark. Ironic. I think of amphibians. Being able to breathe everywhere, does it make the entire world feel like home, or does it make you fit nowhere anymore? These paradoxes feel like zen koans. Unsolvable, yet comforting. I look up to the giant bridge looming overhead, silently watching me disintegrate. All those people who have stood on the edge to jump off, since it was built... How many of them must have stood there, for hours, watching this river, just to return home again. I wouldn't jump. But I don't want to return home either. What is home anyway? I feel I need to leave this city. I need to leave this place full of eyes, watching me and watching me, scrutinizing my outside until I don't feel real inside anymore. This river feels like a friend. I think if I stay here long enough, watch her long enough, she might take me and all there would be left is her. Someone might find my shell here, maybe. Washed clean, empty. I wonder if I'm shiny and pretty on the inside after all. I guess I'll never know. ----------------- Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story. Loved it? Hated it? Suggestions for the next one? Please, let me know. Comment, send feedback! (And vote of course, vote! ;)) On the Edge... You sperm-slurping, dick-craving, clit-rubbing, fuckwhore cunt...it's been a long, long time, hasn't it, bitch...but we both know you are still the same faithless, worthless, cock-seeking cum-slut that you have always been, don't we, whore...oh fuck yes we do...we know that you still have relationships with worthless, trusting men because they fill up the dead spaces in your life and provide you with some sort of half-assed crutch...but you lie to them, don't you bitch, after a while...you lie to all of them eventually right through your teeth because you are a slut and you can't stop being a slut and you don't want to stop being a slut...do you, fuckwhore... You are what you eat, and you eat what you are, and you eat cock and sweat and cum and words like these, hungrily, because they fill the empty spaces inside you that nothing else can reach...empty, aching, dead spaces that can only be filled with the mirror-image reflection of the lust and worthlessness you feel inside...and, hey, that last relationship of yours worked out really well, didn't it, dick-licker - or, it worked out right up to the point where the sheer drudgery of it all drove you out of your freaking mind and you dressed up one night in a mini-skirt and high heels and no panties and drove off in a frenzy to the wrong side of town, so you could get your fuckholes stuffed with hard, strange, cum-shooting dick...and hey, wouldn't you know it, my cock is hard right now, whore, as I type these words of sex to you, because I know that you are on your way over to my hotel, right now, and I want you to read this when you go home tonight, while you sit in the darkness and play with yourself, after you have spent a half an hour or so nodding in agreement with everything your "boyfriend" says to you as you smile and act like you've been shopping while my cum drips out of your pussy and ass, right into your fucking panties... Because you do like that feeling, don't you, cunt...you like to stand there and realize you fooled his moronic ass yet one more time while you feel that slow, oozing, drip-drip-drip of semen into you thong...while you stand there and nod and think about the suck marks on the insides of your thighs and the bruises on your legs and ass and tits, and exactly how you are going to avoid being naked in front of him for the next few days, so you can extend this little game you play just a little bit longer... You play the game with him because you need validation - if you don't have someone to fill up the dead spaces in between the times you are playing the good girl, and the times you are getting raped - with someone who loves you and is totally fooled by you, someone you hate because he doesn't see the real you - well, you will go completely insane then, won't you, whore, instead of partially insane, like you are right now...but I understand all of this and the men who fill up the dead spaces in your life, they just don't get it and they will never get it because you have to hide what you really are from them... We both know your self-esteem is determined at any given moment by the number of men who express an interest in fucking your brains out...yeah, slut, I get it...you could have the best freaking day in the world, where everything goes right - but if not a single man gives you the eye, or smiles at you in a way that lets you know he wants his dick buried in your cunt, you feel worthless...don't you, slut...and you ARE a slut and you can't BE a slut all the time because you have to get by in the world, even if you hate the world in which you live...and yes, I get it, it's a tough nut to crack - so you let nuts crack all over your face and inside your fuckholes whenever the fuck you can get away with it... When you get here this afternoon I have a surprise for you, cunt...four big surprises, in fact...me...and three of my big-dicked friends...and we are going to rape the fuck out of you and videotape it and play it back for you, and rape your fucking ass again and again, over and over and over, until you lose your fucking mind and let yourself go and wallow in that red blur of straining cock and grunting lust and red-faced release and orgasm after orgasm after fucking orgasm...yeah slut, I know what you need like no one else ever will and that's why you come back to me again and again even though you hate yourself for it...and my dick is harder now, slut, as I type this, because you will be here in about 10 minutes and I love the way your tramp stamp looks, as I mount you like a dog from behind, while another big dick is already pumping way inside your tight, pink, wet, grasping pussy from underneath, while I slide my thick cum-shooting cock into your asshole and bite your neck and whisper, "Let the games begin...bitchhhhhh", low in my throat, the way you love to hear it, the way you need to hear it as you tilt your head to the side and start to grind against the hot meat stretching you out like stove pipes, as you give into their big-dick thrusting - tilting your head just so, as the muscles tense up in your neck, and your jaw starts to clench and your eyes start to roll back inside your head and you moan in total release while your hands reach out frantically and grab hold of the big cocks that have been bobbing against your face for a couple of minutes, and you finally let it all go, don't you, fuck-slut, you finally let go of all your inhibitions ("Rape") and you stuff the dicks into your wet mouth ("Suck it, slut") and you suck and bite and lick the undersides of them, and inhale their scent, until you drift away to that world where nothing else matters, until you smile like a fucking cum-drinking slut who has finally come home again, and we keep pounding your holes until you cum so hard that you think you are on the edge of death itself... Because that's the only time that it all makes sense. See you in a few minutes, bitch. (To be cunt-tinued.) On the Edge Thank you all my wonderful fans. I know it's been awhile and while this isn't quite my usual style I'm sure everyone will enjoy my torment. I wasn't allowed to cum for a couple of days but I could play and edge myself as long as recorded it, which, of course I complied with!! * * * * * Click Here to listen: .mp3 format or .ogg format. (10 min/mp3) * * * * *