Ready. Set. Sail!
(Warning: Contains explicit sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.)
If you haven’t read my previous entry, go ahead and do it right now so you’ll understand the context of this part of the story a little more. Don’t worry, I’ll wait…
…(*Jeopardy theme song plays in the background*)…
OK! We’re back!
The rest of that night was rough. He was much more aggressive than I had ever seen him. Lots of hair pulling and spankings neither of which I condoned. After about a couple hours, I left and headed home to rest.
The next morning I woke up feeling like I’d been violated even though nothing had actually happened. Was Mark trying to intimidate me? I tried shrugging it off but I couldn’t help but feel scared. And the worst part was, the manic side of me wanted more from him. Because although all of the warning flags were up, I still craved the kind of intense sexual attention I hadn’t been getting from my husband.
On top of all of this, my husband, clever man that he is, was able to figure out that due to the change in gas mileage on my car and the fact that I had to fill up my tank, I was spending my night not at my best friend Nancy’s house, but with Mark. Whoops! So much for being careful. He ended up throwing an angry fit and stormed out. Mind you, this was December 31 and we had a friend’s NYE party to go to that night. Let’s just say it was awkward as fuck.
Over the next few weeks, I refrained from talking to Mark. I promised myself that I wasn’t going to see him ever again and I would just ignore his messages. It was easy at first because I soon fell into a deep depression that would leave me mentally crippled for most of January. That’s the reason I went off the radar for so long.
However, as with everything in life, that didn’t last. I received a series of messages from Mark towards the end of the month that were peculiar in nature. For the first time, Mark was starting to become possessive. He would get offended whenever I told him I couldn’t meet, saying it was “too bad” I was married and “It’d be fun to stuff [his] cock in [me].”
Mark knew that I wasn’t allowed to go all the way and it never bothered him before. But the number of times he would mention fucking me were increasing as well as the number of times he would call me out for being married. I didn’t really think much of it and shrugged it off. I mean, what young, 21-year-old college guy isn’t interested in porking every woman he sees?
So I eventually started getting manic again, and with that, caved and decided to meet up last Thursday. It was a nice sunny day and he had a break in between classes so we agreed on a mutual meetup point. We found a secluded spot in a parking garage. Since his windows were tinted, there wouldn’t be any way for anyone to see what we were doing.
He started off slow, caressing my cheeks and chin. A methodical, almost intimate makeout session skyrocketed immediately into the most heated interactions I’ve ever had with him. And, yet again, he grabbed me by the throat, shoving me against the backseat of his Chevy Trailblazer.
Mark: “You fuckin’ tease me, my little married cocklover. Go ahead and suck it.”
With a fistful of my hair in his hands, Mark forced me to perform oral sex on him. He wanted me to deep throat him and kept shoving my head further and further down. I went along with it even though I didn’t like it.
Mark: “Good girl. You loved that thick cock. Well it wants to be in you badly! When was the last time your husband fucked you?”
Jess: “A while ago.”
Mark: “You could use my cock. God I’d love to stick it in you. You think you could handle that? Just the tip. Just for a sec. Please. I need to feel you.”
After a few minutes of going back and forth, I reluctantly agreed knowing full well that “a sec” was flat out bullshit. Almost immediately, Mark dove at me, spread my legs apart, and went in. He was rough and deliberate. Forceful and determined. After what seemed like ages, I told him to leave. He listened and pulled out and we went on with other things.
Honestly, I really don’t know what to make of all of this. All of it felt so good in the heat of the moment. I dunno. I’m still processing everything. It’s the worst because now I’ve ruined something that I can never take back: I’d never been fucked by another dude other than my husband. And THAT is what sent me home crying. I was so distraught I spent most of Friday night in a constant state of panic. I felt used but I didn’t want to admit it. I STILL don’t want to admit it. I’ve always considered myself too clever to fall for something like this.
And as each passing day goes by with no word from Mark, I die a little inside.
And this is the first time I’m admitting this out loud and it terrifies me.
And I can’t…
…I’m sorry. I’m done for today.