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I could never quite put my finger on what was wrong. But the fact remains that I fucked Jane for a year, we were actually going together, seeing movies, having dinner, the stuff you do when you go together, but I never told people we were seeing each other, and would even deny it when someone asked.
Once, my former boss brought her up in a conversation — we had all worked together — and said “She’s probably great in bed. The ugly ones always try harder.” I didn’t think Jane was ugly, she was kind of cute. But I thought maybe the reason I hid our relationship was I was worried what other people would think of me.
It was a lot later that I realized the real reason was that she was kind of nuts.
But really, the sex was great. I’m not exactly sure why, but Jane was into it and into me. I was at the stage in my sex life that I was interested in trying everything, interested in women who would try anything. And for whatever reason, we set ground rules that kept the relationship kind of secret, and that seemed to fuel our fires.
We started together at the beginning of our careers in television and always got along. Sometimes we traveled together and had a casual flirting thing. At one point she actually kind of reported to me and that seemed to cement a little friendship.
I was at my single-est, meaning I was on a promiscuous tear that had me sleeping with more than fifteen women in five years. I ate dinner out almost every night and, inevitably, I’d eat out with women, whether or not I was dating them. I was often pretty naïve about these dinners because it didn’t occur to me that having dinner with a single female colleague was anything more a meal with a colleague.
Anyhow, it was at a second or third dinner with Jane that the flirting got interesting. She was complaining about some female infection and when I innocently asked about it she told me her doctor said it had probably come from some “anal sex play.” Oh.
We went out to a movie the next week, still as friends. I walked her home, we talked a while at her apartment and I got up to leave. As I leaned over to kiss her cheek something came over me and I grabbed her breast through her low cut dress. Cut to rug burns and an apartment smelling, reeking of sex.
And that was it. We had sex wherever we could, which was usually all weekend, and one or two nights a week. We’d see a movie, have some dinner, and fuck at my place. Or, fuck at my place, have some dinner, and see a movie.
At first, we didn’t tell anyone because we worked together, but then I quit to set up my company, and we still didn’t say anything. I didn’t because I think I was vaguely embarrassed by it. Not many people I knew particularly liked Jane, in fact she ended up being one of the very few people fired from the company. I’m humiliated to admit it, but bahis firmaları what people thought affected me. Though now that I think about it, it must have been something else too, because I’d gone with women that my friends didn’t care for before. In any event, I think Jane went along with my reticence because she really liked me, and if I wanted to hide the relationship, she didn’t want to risk losing me.
But in the meantime, we had a great time. The movies were good, Jane was an entertaining and intelligent dinner companion, and we fucked like rabbits.
Jane liked sex, and it seemed like she always had. She told me stories about hanging out with a group boys when she was twelve while they read Playboy and liking it as much as they did. When they asked her to take her clothes off and pose her breast-less, just sprouting pubic hair body for them, it turned her on being the only naked girl in front of a gaggle of erections. Almost as much as when she told me about it. She was one of the few women I’d been with up until that time who jumped in with gusto when I started whispering dirty stories in her ear, and she totally got into talking dirty herself.
Obviously, Jane enjoyed thinking of herself in a sexual way and she had fun with it. She liked her lingerie, and she liked wearing sexy underwear under everyday, knock-around clothes. I particularly remember one day when she stripped off her jeans and t-shirt and ended up in a trashy, lacy, whore-purple teddy. She giggled and pulled the crotch aside and told me to eat her out. I did.
Her biggest turn-ons seemed to come from being slightly forced into sex. Not just physically pushed, though that was good too, but resisting me when I wanted something new, protesting that it was too dirty, too humiliating, too extreme, and being cajoled into it. Like the first time I told her to say something dirty in a voice above a whisper, or when I pushed her to spread her ass cheeks for my tongue. Or when I’d want to fuck her ass. She’d always say “No,” she’s always clamp her holes shut. And she always do it. Always. And then beg for more, and more, and still more.
She loved having her nipples pinched. Pinched hard. Her breasts were small, her whole body was thin and small. But her breasts were sensitive, and we could be fucking and I’d just touch her nipple and she’d have an explosive orgasm. But what Jane really wanted was for her to straddle my cock, push it in really deep, and have me take her nipples between my thumb and forefinger and just squeeze the shit out of it. Or maybe put a nipple between my teeth and just chew it hard. The harder I squeezed the more she’s scream, and the more she’d scream, the faster she’d fuck. She’d be screaming, I’d be biting, we’d be fucking, and we’d both cream like crazy. Geez, I’m almost coming just thinking about it.
Jane kaçak iddaa started to tell me that she loved me. I said thank you, you flatter me, but nothing more. We’d screw some more, or go to dinner.
I really wanted Jane to pee on me.
It had only dawned on me a couple of years before that this fetish turned me on. I think it was the second time around with the second Susan that I had first mentioned it. Not that I wanted it, but using peeing in some dirty story I was telling her during sex. Knowing Susan she probably reacted well, got turned on, and said the right things back so we could both come. But I never had the courage to push it, and probably didn’t even know yet that I wanted any more than erotic chatter.
But, by the time I started up with Jane I knew. When I was with a woman keep the bathroom door open when I urinated to see if there was a reaction. In the right circumstances I’d ask a woman to hold my cock while I peed. They always would and they’d always like it, but I couldn’t go any further. I was chicken to watch a woman too closely when she went. I wouldn’t ask her to spread her legs on the toilet. I’d never say let me put my hand down there. Ruth always leaked out when she came, and so I’d get her to sit on my face as often as possible, so I could put my thumb in her asshole, make her come with me tongue and feel her dribble down my face. But I never asked her out loud, I never asked her to just shoot on my hard cock.
But I did ask Jane. Why? I have no idea. But I guess we’d done everything else I could think of by then, and we were as dirty and trashy as I’d ever been. So, what the hey!
She meant it. The whole thing freaked her out a little bit, and while she was up for anything sex, nipple pinching, ass licking, come spurting, the works, maybe this peeing thing was a little too much. She didn’t mind peeing in front of me, holding my peeing cock, she just didn’t want to pee on me, and didn’t see the sexual charge.
So I backed off.
But whenever I could, I tried. When I fingered her, I’d whisper just how soaked she was. When she was on the toilet I’d insist she open her legs, and maybe spread her lips with my hand and let her see me staring at the stream coming out. And I’d hold my erection for her to see at the same time.
Soon we’d be fucking and I’d ask again. The “No!” would be weaker. She’d get on top, put me inside deep and pull up and off, and she’d spurt a little. And then “No. I can’t. I’m trying, but it won’t come out.” And she’d push down on me again, and come in gushers. She’d try again and again, she wet herself enough that I’d feel it, but I wanted her to open her lips and see it shoot out all over my cock, like my come would shoot out all over her tits.
I couldn’t keep doing this. It was mean. I loved the sex, it was kaçak bahis hot, beyond hot, it was crazy. But it was not right. But I kept asking her over, kept whispering dirty things in her ear, kept fucking and coming in every hole she had.
I went out and slept with Jill. Jane suspected something and went to the hospital with an anxiety attack. I slept with Lidia. Jane never knew, but I almost had an anxiety attack. I was guilty even though I thought we weren’t really a couple.
Jane kept saying she loved me.
Once we had Sunday brunch with my buddy Roy. I think it was the only time we went out with anyone else.
She was sitting up, fucking me on top, trying to bounce her tiny tits. She pushed down hard and came off almost as hard and let go a gusher of pee, all over my dick, over my stomach, all over. She couldn’t stop. She collapsed on my soaked body, crying, laughing, humiliated, exhilarated. My cock was coming everywhere. I was over the top.
I was still in love with Linda. I tried to start it up again. When she shut me down I asked out her secretary Kimberly. We slept together. I broke it off with Jane.
“You can’t do this! I humiliated myself for you, I peed for you! I love you!”
It was over.
Except for the screaming.
Kimberly and I went to a party that had a lot of work friends. Uh-oh, there was Jane.
I was walking through the room when she grabbed me. And started yelling. At the top of her lungs. How could I do this to her? Was Christine more helpful to my career? Would she shame herself for me more? Christ, it was like a bad movie. Kimberly, and everyone else, just stared. I just stared. As soon as I could move, we got out of there.
The day before Kimberly and I got married, Jane, now married herself, sent me a dirty letter. She told me she wanted me to fuck her, wanted me to fuck her ass. She wanted me to take Polaroids of her doing nasty, dirty things. She wanted to pee on my cock. She’d booked a hotel room around the corner, it was my wedding present.
I did not respond.
Jane came down to visit my new office four years later. She told me she was pregnant again. I told her Kimberly and I split up the month before.
I was still having an affair with Mary, but we were starting to break down. I became a heel again.
I went to Jane’s weekend house in the Hamptons and I fucked a married pregnant woman. She peed all over me. She put my cock up her ass. As her tummy and tits got bigger over the months she come to my studio and ask me to take her from behind. I did.
I moved to LA. She’d find excuses to visit her folks without her husband or kids. I fucked her once, but never again. She didn’t stalk me, but she made friends with both my sisters, and other friends. She kept tabs on me.
How did I get into this?
I got married again. She’d gotten the message, sort of. No dirty letters. But she’s stayed friends with my sisters, my brother-in-law/ex-partner. I try to ignore it.
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