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that fatal mistake, and turn to the internet.I met a man on a dating website. He was nice, divorced, not terrible to look at, and seemed fairly normal. We began the normal process of chatting and emailing. After an acceptable passage of time, we met for dinner, and afterward humped like, well, people who hadn't had sex in a while. It wasn't terrible. He had a very decent wang, and was covered in body hair
like a barbarian. It was kind of manly, in an old fashioned, rugged way. After this sexual encounter, he admitted his secret fetish to me: that he liked for women to wear strap-ons and fuck him. "HUH," I thought to myself. "That's kind of interesting. Ya know, I've always wondered what that would be like…" (Dum dum duuuummmmmm!)
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to be absorbed in the moment. All I could really focus on was how submissive he suddenly became, begging me to pound his pretty pussy, to punish his little whore hole. It was freaking hilarious. I cannot really dirty talk myself, and while he might have been looking for a dominatrix, I am not one. Apparently my laughter at him worked, as he liked to be
degraded, so I was unintentionally filling this role for him.Why I saw him again, I'll attribute to the memory of eight months without sex. But the next two times I saw him, it was all sex for him, no sex for me. He continued to cry like a pretty little princess, and after the second time, I called bullshit on the whole arrangement. I didn't get anything out of fucking him, I wasn't getting mine, and we weren't going to end up as a
couple, so thanks a lot, but I'm done.Why I let him talk me into one more go, I'll attribute to me being a retard. He kept calling me his goddess, and telling me how amazing I was, and all sorts of bullshit, but it worked. I agreed to fuck him one last time. The day of the arranged meeting, I had a headache and was tempted to cancel. But, I thought to myself, that will only draw this on longer. I can just go tonight and be done with it. I show up at his house, and the scented candles and cheap wine do not help my headache. I put on my "outfit"--a corset, a harness and the big dildo, and my knee high boots. And I get to fuckin' him. But obviously, my heart was just not into it on this night, and no matter how much he cried at me to punish him harder, I couldn't give it 100 percent. After trying several of his favorite positions with no getting off, he asked me to lay on my back so he could just bounce on top of me, doing all the work himself. This seemed like a good idea at the time.
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off of me. I know some girls don't mind getting a load in the face, and hey, with the right guy, it can be special. But this wasn't the right guy, and I was PISSED."Motherfucker," I yell at him. "Fuck you, you piece of shit. FUCK! Fucking fuck, fuck, mother fucker," I scream out, wiping jizz off of my face and off my neck, flinging it at the ground. He is rolled into a ball clutching himself and crying out in pain. There I stand over this crying man, corset twisted, boobs flying out, the big lube-covered dildo flopping around like crazy as I jump up and down yelling FUCK and trying to scoop cum out of my eyes………..and then I see his 8 year old son standing in the doorway. The kid he never told me about. This 8 year old, standing in the doorway, wet eyes glued to me, saying "Daddy?" in a meek and timid little voice.I was out of there in a flash, ignoring pleas to wait while the child was calmed and soothed. I ignored all calls and emails. I wanted to pretend it had never happened, but I also wanted to tell everyone I knew, because no one was ever going to believe what had just happened.
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