Prologue

This isn’t a love story – it’s just about sex, about what perhaps was the most erotically and sensually charged experience I’ll ever have – and also the most painful and humiliating.

The story has its roots in an observation I made some years ago, when Eddie was a student in my geometry class. He was a fairly nondescript boy, a little bit on the smallish size. He was a fairly nondescript student as well. I can’t remember a thing about how good he was in my class, which means he was just average. But one thing did attract my attention – and it made enough of an impression on me that the memory of it influenced my actions years later.

I don’t make a habit of looking at men’s crotches – and especially not the crotches of my students, who are just boys to me, and never very appealing ones at that. The guys who appeal to me are sophisticated, highly intelligent, elegant in thought and style. Usually they are ten years or more older than I am. I’ve never had a boy in any of my classes who ever even struck me as having the potential of developing into a man like that.

That’s a digression, reflecting my embarrassment about what I’m trying to tell you.

One day, I happened to notice that Eddie’s crotch created a bulge in his jeans that was arrestingly noticeable, even a little alarming. The unbidden thought crossed my mind that the cock that created that bulge must have been huge.

Okay – it was a fleeting observation, and I took care never to cast my eyes in that direction again. But the memory of it did stick in my mind.

Ten years or so after that fleeting and rather startling observation of the bulge in Eddie’s jeans, I ran into Eddie on the street while I was walking out of a department store. I saw him first, and was going to walk on. But before I could look away, he looked me straight in the eyes, which instantly glittered with recognition. “Hello, Leigh,” he said confidently, almost boldly, while running his eyes down the length of my body and legs, then back up again, lingering for a moment, as most men do, on my breasts. “Hello, Eddie,” I said casually, resisting the urge to subject his body to the same inspection. It said something that he called me by my first name; every other former student that I’ve ever run into has always called me Ms. Whistler. He then looked me squarely in the eyes again, with a very slight and oh-so-confident smile on his face, and said, “Have a drink with me.” It was more command than question – and I was about to say no, very firmly, when a very clear, visual memory of that bulge in young Eddie’s jeans popped into my head. So I stopped myself from making an immediate reply. I looked at him for a moment, thought to myself, “What the hell,” and replied, “Okay.”

He offered to take the shopping bag that was in my hand, then gestured to a nearby pub by way of suggesting that we go there. As we walked, I took charge of the conversation, asking him about what he’d been doing, where he’d gone to school, where he worked. It turned out that he’d blossomed as a student since he’d failed to impress me with his academic ability so many years earlier. He’d gone to a very good public college, gotten a degree in accounting, gotten a job at a good firm, and was on the verge of taking his last exam for a CPA.

He’d also blossomed as a man. He was inches taller than I, though I am 5’7” and was wearing high heels. He was rather slender, but exuded youthful vigor and a level of self-confidence (which I like in a man) that verged on arrogance (which I don’t like).

I did like his sartorial style too – navy blue blazer, gray slacks, blue striped button-down oxford-cloth shirt, and black loafers that were polished to a subdued sheen.

We sat at the bar, where he asked what I wanted, smoothly caught the bartender’s eye, and asked for two cabernets, naming a good California vineyard.

His bar stool was turned toward me. So while he was engaged with the bartender, I took a swift and surreptitious glance at his crotch. And there it was. In spite of the loose fit of his slacks, it was clear that what Eddie was packing was formidable.

Continuing to take charge of the conversation, I asked Eddie (wondering if anyone ever called him that any more) why it was that he’d wanted to have a drink with me. Was there anything in particular that he wanted to say to me? He smiled full in my face then, and said, “Let me tell you something, Leigh – I always thought you were the hottest woman that I’d ever seen – and I still think that. I will be very clear and open with you. I want you, and tell you candidly that if you allow me to have my way with you, you won’t regret it.”

I felt the heat rising up my neck into my face, but maintained my composure. I frowned slightly, looked him in the eye with directness equal to his, and said, “Well, Eddie – I have to tell you honestly that you really aren’t my type at all, though you do have a lot more promise than I ever would have expected when you were my student. They guys I like are leaders in their fields, are polished and elegant in their styles, and are considerably more subtle in the way that they approach me.”

Eddie was unabashed by this rebuke from a woman who was fifteen years older than he. Turning fully toward me, he took a lingering look at my cleavage, then again looked me in the eyes and said, “I have something that none of those men have. When you are with me, you will experience heights of sexual intensity such as you have never experienced before.”

I couldn’t help myself. I looked down at the bulge in his pants and saw that he must have developed a partial erection – the bulge in his trousers seemed impossibly big and seriously threatening.

After a moment of allowing my eyes to linger over that amazing sight, I looked back into his eyes, but any advantage I’d had was lost. The impact of my long look at his crotch must have been written plainly on my face. He knew what I’d seen – and he surely could tell that I was amazed, fascinated and more than a little bit intimidated.

“Look, Leigh – my apartment is only a few minutes away. Let’s make a trip there – and I think you know that you will experience something new in the realm of sexual pleasure.”

I gulped, and waited a long time before I was able to speak. I was, quite honestly, torn. Part of me was annoyed by Eddie’s behavior, and wanted so much to penetrate his smug self-assurance with some cutting comment. But the words that came to mind seemed lame and ineffectual to me. In fact, I was absolutely sure that if I attempted to say anything dismissive or condescending, I would fail, and he would laugh at me. My second thought was simply to grab my purse and shopping bag and bolt our of there as fast as I could. I am a connoisseur of men, and of lovers, an appreciator of skillfulness and stamina in the bedroom. I have several lovers whom I see regularly, including two who travel long distances to visit me. They are all well-to-do; they pamper me with expensive gifts. And they are all delightful lovers, with varying skills and interests, but sharing the most important quality in a lover – the ability to please me. This very young man, with his presumptuous air of self-assurance, had almost none of the qualities that I find most appealing in men.

But hammering away at my consciousness was a powerful libidinous impulse – I wanted this experience that Eddie had promised to me. Intimidated though I was, I was also intrigued, fascinated, excited. I was also conscious of the fact that my panties had suddenly gotten soaked with the lubricating juices of my pussy.

Still, I was undecided. I turned my head and gazed out to the street as I pondered my options. It occurred to me that Eddie would have to say something soon – and that it would make my decision for me. Perhaps it would be something even cruder and more arrogant than anything he had said so far. Or perhaps it would be something soft and graceful – a carefully crafted compliment that would display a special insight into my sensibilities. Or perhaps he would find some subtle way of inflaming and exciting me even more.

But I waited in vain. Eddie had nothing more to say – and that was annoying to me too. Was he so sure of himself that he just took it for granted that he could have his way with me, as he had so incautiously put it? Soon it became apparent that he was a lot more comfortable with the silence than I was.

Still undecided, I looked at him, and saw that he was as cool and calm as I was in turmoil. The look he gave me was simply interested, as if he was enjoying the drama as a spectator – wanting to know how this story would turn out, but having no personal investment in it either way.

It struck me that what I was seeing in Eddie wasn’t smugness or arrogance; it really was simply confidence. Nothing I could do or say would touch that aspect of his consciousness.

And that decided me. His self-assurance infected me with a profound conviction that he would affect me exactly as he had said he would.

I paused a moment longer, willing the rapid pulsing of my heart to slow down, then said, simply, “Okay, Eddie, I will go to your apartment with you.”

He’d left his car at home that morning, so told me he would ride with me and show me where to park.

After I’d parked the car in a visitor’s slot near his apartment, he kissed me for the first time. It was powerful, in its way, and ended with his biting my lower lip in a way that was rather painful. He also tweaked one of my nipples cruelly, almost causing me to cry out. I was stunned by his actions, but also incredibly turned on. It was my first intimation that the experience of being with Eddie would be different for me in ways that I hadn’t expected.

When we got into his apartment, Eddie became a wild man, literally tearing my clothes off. When I protested at the damage he was doing to my blouse, tearing the fabric and popping buttons, he slapped me so hard it turned my head and almost knocked me over. He didn’t bother trying to unclasp my bra, but simply stretched it out and pulled it roughly up and over my breasts and shoulders, forcing my arms up over my head. I was stunned by his harshness as much as by his strength. He picked me up and threw me on his bed, then ripped the buttons off at the closure of my skirt and unceremoniously flipped my legs in the air while he dragged the skirt off, practically holding me upside down in he process. I was wearing a thong, a garter belt and stockings. He snapped the thong and the garter belt into pieces, and ripped my stockings off. I was crying and screaming, and tried at various times to hold my clothes around me. But he was far too strong for me to resist him. He slapped me on my breasts and my ass, reducing me to whimpering helplessly and fearfully.

In a matter of seconds, it seemed, I was naked on his bed, sobbing piteously. He was still fully clothed except for his jacket, which he had removed as soon as we entered the apartment. He began biting and slapping me all over, leaving tooth marks on my neck, shoulders, arms and breasts and reddened skin on my arms, breasts, ass, tummy and thighs. I tried repeatedly to push him away, and once clawed his upper arm. That led him to turn me over his knee like a small child and to spank me severely on my ass and my upper thighs. By that time, I was wailing from pain and distress. He grabbed me by the upper arms, shook me like a rag doll, and told me forcefully to be quiet if I didn’t want to get hurt.

That scared me into silence and submission. When he told me to unzip his pants and pull our his cock, I did as I was told without a moment’s hesitation. In spite of my expectations, I was shocked at the length and girth of his cock. He told me to suck it and take it deep in my mouth – and I tried to do that. But it was too big around for me to get much more than the very tip in my mouth. But I grabbed it with both hands and pushed my mouth down and around it as far as I could. It wasn’t very far – less than three inches, I think. He grabbed the back of my head and began fucking my mouth forcefully, and soon had squeezed his cock so far into me that it blocked my throat and made it impossible for me to breathe. He held his cock there, and I began struggling to pull my head away and push his body away, just so I could grab a breath. But I was powerless to dislodge him, and I began to fear that he was going to smother me with his immense cock lodged in my throat. I was desperate and struggling, but in vain, Finally, as I was starting to get light-headed, he pulled his cock out of my mouth and I gasped for breath. I was calling to him, “Please, please, please stop, you’re hurting me and choking me. Please don’t do this.”

At that, he pulled me up from the bed, hurting my arms, threw me over his knees and began spanking me again – harder and longer this time. I was crying loudly. He said to me sternly that I had to be quiet – that he would hurt me more and more if I didn’t shut up. I tried as hard as I could to stop crying, but was unable to keep myself from sobbing and whimpering. That seemed to satisfy him, though, as he soon stopped spanking me.

He flung me on the bed and left me there while he took off his clothes. I lay there on my side with my legs drawn up, shaking uncontrollably. I can only describe my mental state as stunned. I was also disbelieving, in a way, though the pain and the fear were all too present and real to me.

He grabbed me roughly and shoved me over onto my back, which caused me to shriek. He slapped me, to remind me not to cry out, then grabbed my wrists, held both of them in one hand, and began slapping my breasts again. The pain was unbearable – but I suppressed the urge to scream. He stopped slapping my breasts, let go of my wrists, then grabbed my ankles and pulled my legs apart, exposing my pussy, which I’d had waxed recently. It felt naked and vulnerable. Like me. But I could feel that the whole area around it was soaked with the lubricating juices of my pussy.

His cock was gigantic – far thicker and longer than my forearm. I felt tiny and helpless. I knew he was about to fuck me – and the prospect of that happening was frightening.

But somewhere inside of me, a little part of me was excited and turned on. I knew that forcing that extraordinary cock into my pussy would be immensely aided by the natural lubricant that my excited body was producing. Faced with an atavistic male, far overmatching me in size and strength, a wild beast who had mastered me and now wanted to fuck me, something inside of me had yielded all ability and even desire to resist. His cock was clearly too big for my pussy – and I feared the damage that would be done by his cock stretching and tearing me – yet I desperately wanted it inside of me, filling me, hurting me if need be, but filling me like I’d never been filled before.