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exploring8709 · 2 months

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Went back to the Gymbro

I went back.

I tried to think of a million reasons not to, but in the end "I just wanted to" was reason enough.

He's not my type. He's arrogant. He isn't that bright. He's inconsiderate. He was leaving the city forever.

But I still called him. And he knew what I wanted. What I needed.

I was giddy through my dinner with Amanda. And she noticed. She also noticed I was a little more dressed up than I normally would have been. Still fashionable. Still respectable. But Amanda saw right through me.

He answered the door in gym shorts and a ripped muscle shirt. He didn't even fucking try to clean up. It was almost a deal breaker for me, but he pulled me into his apartment and I immediately felt that rush of excitement, that surge of . . . I don't know . . . arousal? Again, I felt small and delicate in contrast to his bulk. His big hands grasped my arms and I immediately went back to the last time. His knowing smirk infuriated me, but deep down turned me on even more.

I tried to remain more assertive. More me. But it was just not meant to be. I was immediately pressed up against the wall and his hands explored me over my clothes. GOD I love his hands. They were so strong and brooked no argument. On my breasts. On my ass. Rubbing me over my thong, not even bothering to lift my skirt up. Possessive.

I tried to keep up, grabbing his length through his flimsy gym shorts. Trying to even out the score. His deep growl reverberated through my head, eating away at something deep inside me. I felt him pushing down on my hips and my shoulder. It took me a second. I thought he was breaking away. But as the realization dawned on me, a switch flicked. I paused, gave him a wink and sunk to my knees.

I've never been on my knees in front of someone like this before. As many blowjobs as I've given, this just wasn't a position I've ever entertained before. The opportunity to be in this position just never presented itself. It felt a little demeaning, honestly. Awkward. The position speaking volumes about a power dynamic. One position a dominant one and another a servicing position. A submissive position. My head filled with emotions not all bad, mind you. I was out of my head with arousal though. Here I was, my back up against a wall, teetering on my heels, pulling his shorts down to his ankles. There was only one next step.

Like everything with Jackass Gymbro there was no ceremony. His cock filled my mouth immediately and there was no stopping him. I tried to stay in control. Tried to manage his depth. But he used my mouth with no delicacy, with no tenderness. I gagged. Tried to remain calm. Present. While his cock filled my mouth and throat aggressively, I tried to pull away a little, but the wall behind me stopped me short. Tears started to fill my eyes, but I wasn't going to break. This wasn't a contest I was going to lose.

Just as I was getting the hang of it, he pulled himself from my mouth and he lifted me up gruffly and we kissed and stumbled towards what I thought was his bedroom. Halfway there, he spun me roughly and I balanced myself on his kitchen counter. He then squatted down and ripped my tights off. I heard the expensive nylon tearing and I remember attempting to turn to ream him out for ripping my favourite pair, but all I heard was an animalistic growl and felt myself pushed to the cold tile of his kitchen island. I yelped at the shock of it all . . . the force, the cold, his strength, but then the passion as his long, flat tongue, his fingers and his mouth forced me open from behind and he devoured me. This beast was exploring every part of me . . . his tongue entered me, teased me, tantalized me with arousal. Even as his fingers, one finger at first, then two, then three . . . overwhelmed me with different sensations. The flat of his tongue, circling, his fingers thrusting, then his thumb, my god his thumb. Then, with one motion he lifted one of my legs onto the counter, holding me open even wider so he could attack me even harder. And I fucking came. And I was not quiet about it.

He gave me a second of respite. I remember the cold tile against my flushed face. I remember trying to rise, perhaps to move to the bed where it was a little more comfortable. But he just growled. A guttural, low growl that spoke volumes. He pushed me back down onto the tile and gripped my thigh and my hips as if to secure me in place. I acquiesced quietly, just wanting more, but attempted to lift a little from the counter to be a little less strained. He was having NONE of it. I felt my hands being pulled from the counter, as I was pushed unceremoniously down on my face, and he held them in the small of my back. I was totally cowed. Totally made to submit. My mind howled some wordless scream, as he took the opportunity to enter me in my moment of weakness. And that scream turned to a moan of passion, desire . . . a realization of a helplessness against his strength that made my stomach drop to my knees and my mind go blank.

And then the thrusting. The sweet friction sending soaring waves of pleasure emanating from my core, outwards. I could feel every part of my body . . . his big hands holding my wrists to my back . . . the ache of my leg that was hiked up on the counter to provide him better access . . . the other leg stretching to find purchase on the floor, my pump long lost . . . .

We never made it to the bed like I wanted. He had me for ages on the counter. Then he effortlessly lifted me up and let gravity lower me down onto him. I was up against the wall at one point. Then on all fours on the floor, my skirt hiked obscenely all the way up to my hips. He spanked me in this position and I just moaned, my mind not knowing what was up and what was down. I remember the burn against my knees, now exposed since my tights were ripped to shreds. Then I was on my stomach pushed down to a prone position, now just hunching along with his powerful thrusts, my mind just scrambled, wires crossed, not knowing how to even react any more.

And then it was done. Again, he finished on my back.

The tidal wave of passion, desire and arousal, just as quickly left my body and only the detritus was left to clean up. My tights were a write off. That was a mistake I won't make again. And my blazer was still near the door where I dropped it.

I was a bit at a loss in the moment, not knowing what to expect. Not knowing what I wanted next. Last time we just lay there. Breathless. But this time, I sensed no empathy. No lingering . . . anything. So just I left. I took my shredded tights off, cleaned up as best as I could, found my shoes and blazer and purse, pecked him on the lips and bade him farewell. For good. He seemed non-plussed and was in no hurry to stop me.

I'm not going to lie. Aside from the bumps and bruises, I felt a little raw. It felt like we shared something really visceral. Not emotional, but a shared vulnerability, a connection over something private that was quickly severed and . . . unacknowledged?

I knew what I wanted when I went over there. I knew that this was not going to go anywhere beyond tonight. I called him for fuck's sake. But I couldn't stop myself from feeling . . . not used. Empty? Not that I wanted a relationship with this jackass, but what we just shared pushed a lot of buttons that had never been pushed before and I was feeling . . . vulnerable?

I held my tears in through the Uber ride home. But as soon as I walked into my room, the dam burst.

#confession #singlegirl #singleinthecity #sexyconfession #sexlife

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