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In terms of my years (19) Matt was my first adult relationship, but damn if it was not the most petty, insecure, Dawson’s Creek bullshit. It’s a reversal of roles that straight men are insecure about, but it’s so common and it happened to us: he got emotionally invested (while I did not) and I wanted sex (often when he did not).
Matt was scheduled to graduate the semester I met him, while I was a sophomore on a four-year track, which stressed him out to no end. I think after a few months of hanging out together, being coupley, building some memories, and also needing urgently to figure out what he was going to do after graduation made him need to find some kind of security in me that wasn’t there.
As I mentioned, I’d gotten into this relationship knowing full well this wasn’t going to be my last in any conceivable universe. I had classic suburban girl ambitions of “marrying up” to start a family and be a high-powered professional with an equally patrician husband. Matt was never going to be that guy, lovely soul that he was. He was barely finishing his degree in anthropology and music theory with a 2.7 average, with no plans of grad school, no job he could count on, and a pretty obvious desire to keep living his current (stoner band-mate) life as long as possible.
Oh yeah, he was in a band; they were ridiculous (as in, worthy of ridicule). If this has you thinking of Andy from Parks and Rec, you’re onto something, except that Matt was legitimately much smarter and deeper; the guy was just never going to figure out how to make money in this world, and…I knew I could do better!
Some of that is ex-post facto rationalization, but some part of me sensed this subconsciously as it happened; when he pulled me in, I pushed back and pulled away. I’ll spare you, but it suffices to say there were many, many nights of endless blathering about our relationship, which was truly blather because though he never said it, he wanted commitment from me, and while I never said it, I refused to give it.
Toward the beginning of April, there were fights. Nothing crazy, no screaming matches, but we were reacting to each others’ unhappiness in oblique, immature ways. It’s the only way I can justify what happened, but trust me, I’m not the good guy here, I’m just hoping for some understanding…
It was one of those days in April where Matt and I had had a discussion the previous night and we hadn’t come to any kind of resolution, but it was Friday, I knew he’d be around, I was horny, and I wanted some company and time away from my house. We’d agreed that I’d come by in the early afternoon and we’d maybe get lunch together, so I didn’t bother to confirm day-of, and just showed up at his house all ready-to-go. By that, I mean I left the house in a dress and sweater to hide from my parents, but underneath my sweater, about 75% of my tits were showing in a halter, and underneath that dress was nothing at all. It was warm, so I took off the sweater as soon as I got in my car.
When I arrived at Matt’s, I showed up at the front door in that dress, and knocked, expecting him to open it and let me in. However there wasn’t an answer after the first knock, so I tried again, a little louder, and waited.
Much to my surprise and disappointment, one of Matt’s housemates, Ro, answered the door, blinking as if he had just woken up.
If Matt is the shaggy, adorable, comfort creature, Ro (short for Yaroslav) was the exact opposite: Ro dressed in black (almost always had a black leather jacket on), and mostly kept to himself, like he had trouble talking (even though he didn’t). Until that day, though I had been visiting the house regularly and seeing him quite a bit, I’d never seen him smile. He never made a lot of small talk, and didn’t really bother putting you at ease. He was a few inches shorter than Matt, but with his black hair and narrow frame, seemed taller than he was, though he was only maybe 5’7 or so. He knew about Matt and me, and often politely just stayed out of our way and let us have the living room if we were already in it.
“Hey, uh…is Matt around?”
“No, I think he left like twenty minutes ago, but didn’t say what for. Did you text him?”
“Well, no, but we talked about meeting…”
“I think he’ll be back. Come wait inside.” Ro stepped aside to let me in and I was surprised; that brief interaction was the nicest I’d ever seen him. Looking back, I’m sure the dress made an impression.
Once inside, he offered me water, beer, and weed. I took the water and wanted for Matt to come over. Ro stayed and chatted with me. Maybe because at the parties there were always a ton of people and loud music, I actually got to know him a little. The other two roommates were at work and wouldn’t be back for awhile, so Ro and I just talked. After twenty minutes, he said he wanted a beer and that time I joined him.
Almost an hour passed from when I got antalya escort there to when Ro suggested a joint. “He’s probably around, but he won’t mind if we get started without him.” Hard to argue with that logic, and I was really getting a taste for weed at that time.
Maybe worth noting at this time that Ro was the supplier for the house and all the party rats that came by: he dealt in weed, shrooms, and acid mostly. Sometimes he would bust out coke, and at one party, he was handing out E like candy, but seemed mostly interested in the hippy shit (maybe because Matt was buying most of it).
That weed, combined with the conversation, had me sailing a bit. Being an amateur, not only was I a lightweight, but over the past few months, I had basically conditioned my brain to know that when I’d had a beer and smoked some weed, I’d be getting some dick. It’s too cheesy to recall the specific things he said or did, or that I did maybe without any prompting from him, but I will say this: I noticed him checking me out from the beginning, though I have to admit, it’s not his fault.
It wasn’t mine either: I’d never expected to wear that dress for anyone except Matt; I’d worn it once before and he adored it, groping my tits and remarking that it was like there was nothing there. It wasn’t a slutty cocktail gown or anything fancy; it was just thin, summery, and showed off my curves way too well. Matt fucked me doggy on the other side of a fence that day because he just couldn’t wait. Now Ro was there, getting an eyeful, but (I could tell) trying not to be creepy about it. Still, we both knew how my nipples were popping, and we were just too polite to say anything.
I was aroused and frustrated, to put it simply. More importantly, I was also sick of Matt’s bullshit. It was maybe some sort of test when Ro scooted close to me on the couch, and I didn’t back away, but looked even more intently into his eyes. “Let’s shotgun this last one,” he said.
I agreed, and of course it was just an excuse to kiss me. It was purely physical, and highly reminiscent of those first magical times with Matt. Sparks, chemistry, insert igneous metaphor here. He went right for the tits, and it made me shudder with relief; I’d wanted to feel groped for what felt like so long. We made out for only a minute and then he pulled the string of the halter, letting the dress fall past my tits. I held onto them with one hand, pushed him with the other, “Wait. Come on, Matt could walk in.”
“We’ll get you out my bedroom window,” and with that, he scooped me up in his arms and carried me down the hall to his bedroom. He was small, but the dude lifted me like I was nothing and I fell limp in those hard-ass arms.
He practically tossed me on his full-sized bed. I said, “we have to be quick. You better not fucking tell Matt.”
He laughed, “You read my mind,” then helped me to yank the dress over my head. “Goddamn…you’re perfect.”
Always nice to hear. Being already naked, I sat back as he struggled to rip his own clothes off; his back was turned and I admired a very cute bare ass once his boxers came down, but when he turned around…
He wasn’t insanely huge, but given that I’d only seen and handled Matt’s for the last few months, this seemed gargantuan. Also, it wasn’t circumcised, which made it look bigger, and I was seeing it in broad daylight in all its glory. I could only have been so uninhibited during a first encounter because of being so inebriated, but when I saw that thing, my mouth literally watered and I *scrambled* to the floor on my hands and knees to touch it and get it in my mouth.
It was like all those videos I’d seen of those teeny-bopper porn stars tackling a massive penis, where they looked absurd trying to get their mouths around it. I’d always found it too funny to be arousing, and just watched a few seconds on a lark, laughing at the contrived distortions of their faces. Welp…
Not only could I not even get it halfway, but Ro (the bastard) had the nerve to wince and moan about my teeth! I know I must’ve looked worse than the girls in the videos, grimacing to get my mouth wide enough while wrapping my lips over my teeth. I thought at that point I was a blowjob expert, but…obviously not. I gagged terribly at one point, and he tapped my head, saying, “Shh, come on. We gotta be quiet.”
Hearing that, I thought ‘what an asshole’ and then started laughing uncontrollably at the irony of his giant erection being in my mouth. That put an end to the blowjob, and Ro grabbed my arms to stand me up, shushed me one more time, and then pushed me on the bed. He got between my legs. He spit discreetly into his hand and then rubbed it on the head of his monster. He put the other hand on my chest to keep me lying flat on my back, so I stared at the ceiling as he eased that fucking thing into me.
He was being so much more careful than Matt, even though kemer escort he wasn’t gentle. But he knew what he had, and knew to go slower-than-slow. It was a small struggle, but when the head pushed past that first muscle, he was fine to pump as I was getting wetter by the second. I stopped gripping the sheets once I felt his slow, easy thrusting and reached up to play with his body. It was nice, but smaller than Matt’s, more jacked and wiry. He looked at me with eyes that wanted to fuck me in a violent way, and instead of fighting it, I just wanted to seduce him.
“Kiss me,” I whispered, as he began speeding up his rhythm.
He kissed me, and it was rough, unpracticed, but genuine, and lovely in its own way. And maybe because he thought I was wet enough, he stopped his little thrusts to get one inch at a time, and pushed all the way in.
When his pelvis hit my clitoris…I have real trouble describing it. It’s not that I came (I didn’t cum at all that day) but my legs, hips, and butt just started moving of their own accord, jolting to keep rubbing and keep that sensation going. I only learned after the fact that I slapped Ro REALLY hard on his ass, which made the tough guy flinch, and yet I didn’t even register it because I was in outer space.
His thrusts were slower than Matt’s, but more powerful. It was the hardest thing in the world to stay quiet, but I managed, knowing that I still had a chance of Matt not finding out and wanting so badly to have this without the fallout. We just stayed in that position, for not a long time. “Fuck me.” The words slipped out of my mouth. “Oh fuck me,” and he took his hand off my chest, sank down, and started pounding me in missionary.
That hurt, but…damn it hurt so good. He kind of let himself go, and then I suddenly remembered, no condom, and while I wasn’t ovulating yet, not a great time to have sperm in me. Still, the sensations and…frankly, I wasn’t going to tell this guy what to do at that point; I was his.
At the crucial moment, he perked up and slowed down a bit to whisper “Where do you want me to finish?”
Oh thank God. “On my stomach…please.”
He got in five more hard pumps, then propped up on his knees, and started stroking. It was a small load that didn’t shoot far at all in comparison to Matt’s, but it was a lot thicker, and whiter; it fell onto my bush, contrasting sharply with the almost-black hair there.
No time was wasted: “Here,” he said handing me a tissue box that he kept by his bed. While I cleaned myself off, he darted to the window and reported back, “No sign of Matt yet. Finish up in the bathroom.”
I took my dress and scurried off as he was putting his clothes back on. While not disgusting, the bathroom wasn’t that clean, and oddly, had been cleaner when I used it during parties. Still, I peed, got my dress back on, and looked semi-normal, but then realized I needed to get my purse back to touch up my makeup that had fallen apart while gagging on Ro’s donkey dick. “Fuck it.” I did the best I could to wash my face with no rubs or chemicals and determined I’d pretend that I hadn’t worn any makeup that day.
When I got out of the bathroom, Ro was chilling on the couch, in all his same clothes, looking like he just drank half a beer and that nothing had happened this afternoon. I took a seat on the opposite sofa, and we said nothing. We knew the scene we were preparing for, and sure enough, not ten minutes later, Matt showed up.
He was smiling, in a great mood. When I went to hug him he held me, and groped my ass over the dress, in front of Ro. I hit him, and told him to stop. “Well what’s all this for?” He asked.
“I got here like an hour ago, babe. I wanted to wait, but Ro and I had a joint, so could we get some lunch? I’m starving.”
“Yeah sure, let’s go.”
In the car I threw on my sweater because my nipples were going crazy; if Matt noticed, he didn’t say anything. “Where to?”
“How about Thai?”
“Are you okay to drive?”
“Me? Yeah. Of course. A little…high but, whatever.”
I paid for the whole thing because I ate two dinners and an appetizer by myself. Matt wasn’t too hungry; he had been at his mom’s and wanted to tell me all about it.
In the moment, I didn’t know what to feel. As Matt told me why he had been gone most of the afternoon (when we agreed to meet), I *felt* bad for him, and so wanted to pamper him, but also, it was bringing up all my usual feelings of not wanting to be “tied down” to this guy, and here he was, all but explicitly saying, ‘Come meet my mom.’ No dude…no way.
But he was 23, and horny. I knew with near certainty that he wasn’t getting pussy elsewhere; not because I kept tabs on him, but because he was so transparent about his schedule and whereabouts, it’s like…who else? Frankly, it would’ve been konyaaltı escort a relief to find out he was cheating on me, but maybe at that point, it was just projection kicking in. That is absolutely a real thing; I can say when I reflect honestly I’d wished on that day that I could find evidence of Matt cheating on me, just to preempt the fact that I had done it first.
I did it in such a sloppy, lazy way. First, his fucking roommate: there’s no way this doesn’t come out. Second, his fucking roommate: impossible to avoid him. Third, his fucking roommate: he’s GROSS! He’s not my type at all! Matt is nice, but Ro is…fucking…ick!
Obligation is a powerful thing though, so I spent the afternoon with Matt just being his arm candy, all sweet, listening to him go on about his mom and his band. His eyes almost never left my tits, and for the first time in a long time, I kind of wished I didn’t have this particular superpower. In the last year, I’d let them out and gotten a share of very welcome attention, and then another large share of very unwelcome attention, though I managed it. It was different altogether to feel that unwelcome kind of attention from the person who’s supposed to be your closest, your partner. But it was obvious; he lusted after me, he groped me. A combination of being high and feeling extremely guilty kept me from recoiling, and I was able to truly act (like a professional actor) for the first time in my life.
I acted like a supportive girlfriend; I acted like a trusted confidant, I acted like I was only there for him. He saw his hot girlfriend, whom everyone else lusted after, and so could claim as a trophy. And when he looked at me and touched me, his heart would race and blood would start flowing to his penis.
The two times we had met before this last time, he had no sexual interest in me; we bickered and cuddled. This time, he wanted me, and I knew on the drive back that he would try for some pussy, and I had to either come up with an excuse, or continue to act.
I opted for the latter; partly as a survival instinct, partly as cowardice, but partly, I had to admit, it turned me on. When we got back from the restaurant, Ro was sitting on the same spot on the couch, looking like he was watching some sports show while he sipped a beer. We gave a quick and casual “hey” before heading to Matt’s room.
I barely heard the door latch shut before Matt grabbed the hem of the dress and flung it over my head like a sheet that was barely there, and I was naked in front of him. He paused for just a second to look at me, and then the paranoid thought came: did Ro leave any marks, something on me that Matt will notice?
Matt pounced on me, and he was rough; maybe the roughest he had ever been. He didn’t say anything, just pounded. I actually got into it. Though I was sore from handling Ro earlier, with the pot wearing off and Matt’s size, I could pretty much take what he was dishing and he rammed my ass, standing doggy with my elbows on his bed spread. He gave me several hard smacks and gripped my cheeks hard. There was no way to know it then, but he must have sensed something; with how loud he got, the crack of those ass-smacks, he surely wanted Ro to hear it all; he was awake in the living room in an otherwise quiet house.
I played my part, doing like the porn girls do, but couldn’t stop thinking about the man right outside the door who knew my (up to that point) dirtiest secret. I suddenly felt Matt’s hands wrap around my hair and he pulled my head up: “Is it okay?”
He meant if it was okay to cum inside me given the time of the month. It wasn’t the best, but in the moment, feeling guilty about what happened that day, I just let him have it. “Yeah, do it.” Obligation is a powerful feeling. He reached down and grabbed my right arm so that the top half of me collapsed and my moans were muffled by the cover. Meanwhile he sped up and popped, squeezing my wrist like a juiced lemon which left a bruise for a day.
When he let go I immediately got myself up from his bed but the change in posture with all the new fluid in my pussy made embarrassing noises. I sat down on the bed and nursed my wrist, thinking (hoping) he’d notice and apologize, but he didn’t. He immediately went over to the window and fanned himself, cooling off from the exertion. He still looked glorious, and his dick was hanging down, glistening, beginning its descent. He didn’t look at me; he was angry. We could both sense something.
I didn’t think in that moment, or even for weeks after that, that Matt and I were “over;” rather I kept trying to shoe-horn some idea of the relationship I wanted (fuck buddies) into what he wanted (a wife). It took some more months of trial and error before we accepted finally that a healthy distance was necessary.
I not only kept cheating on him, but I kept it up with Ro, and two other guys before breaking it off completely. I never did anything so slutty for awhile after that, namely, letting two guys fuck me bareback in one day, but yet another seal was broken: I cheated, got away with it, thoroughly enjoyed it, and now didn’t see why I shouldn’t do it whenever I could.
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