Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

I was jolted from a deep sleep by a heavy body covering me as I lay on top of the covers on my belly. Swimming up from unconsciousness, I drunkenly tried to turn and push the weight off me, but the sharp crack of a backhand across my cheek snapped my head to the side and brought bright orange stars to my eyes. Before I could recover, my wrists were being bound together and tethered to the rails of the headboard.

I started to cry out in shock and indignation, but my bikini briefs were being stripped off my legs and stuffed in my mouth.

I gagged for breath as I was being forced up to my knees on the bed, and I felt the wetness of a tongue at my asshole. I moaned deeply. This had never happened to me before. I had dreamed of it happening to me, but I’d never been brave enough to bring reality to fantasy.

This was no fantasy, though. My cock was being pulled through my legs and was being swallowed and worked and my balls were being licked and fingers were invading my asshole. I squirmed and tried to pull away, but big hands roughly pulled my hips back into position, and my buttocks were slapped hard.

“Stay still,” a low growl commanded.

And then I felt him crouching over my hips, his thighs encasing me and a fist between my shoulder blades forcing my chest into the surface of the mattress. And I knew it was a “him,” because I felt the cock head at my hole. Moving insistently inside me. Spreading my virginal hole, making me gasp and groan at the thick invasion of him. Until suddenly his bulb was past my sphincter muscle, and I felt my channel drawing him in—different from any of the dildo work I had done on myself: warmer, throbbing, more pliable and filling. And moving with a purpose of its own.

I panted hard and moaned deeply as his cock moved deeper into me. And then he began to pump inside me and I writhed under him in agony mixed with ecstasy. I never knew it would be this way. Fully possessed; fully under his control. Whimpering for release but now not wanting him to stop either. A fist on my cock, stroking me. For the first time being stroked by someone else—being worked at someone else’s whim and rhythm other than my own. I couldn’t help myself. I quickly creamed the sheets beneath my pelvis.

But my tormentor fucked on and on. My knees got weak with the exertion, and I collapsed onto the bed, but he just followed me down, straddling my pelvis between his knees, and continued stroking into me in long, deep thrusts. At last I felt him stop abruptly, nails dug into my hips, and then a jerk and a little cry and he was finished.

I felt the weight of him leave me, and then he turned me onto my back on the bed. Even though it was dark, the lights of the city coming through my uncurtained window let me clearly see my attacker. He was a big brute of a fellow, all muscle and dark curly hair. His head was covered with a ski mask, but I had little trouble identifying the rest of his body as the bodybuilder from one of the apartments in the high rise across Columbus Street from me.

No more mystery. He had been watching me just as I had been watching him. And I had little doubt who had burgled my apartment and taken my computer—no doubt wanting to verify in a search of my favorite sites that I was drawn to what he was doing to me.

And I was, in fact, drawn to it. And perhaps he could see that in my eyes, because, as I watched him, he stripped the condom he’d been wearing to fuck me off his cock, which was still half hard, and scrambled back up onto the bed and straddled my chest. He pulled the sleeping briefs out of my mouth and pressed his cock head at my lips. I opened my mouth to him, not knowing what to do but, having now been taken over the edge, more than willing to learn. I gagged as he possessed my mouth with a cock that was coming to life again. But he held my head in place with a palm on my cheek and a thumb under my chin and face-fucked me in shallow strokes that weren’t too taxing, as I sucked on his cock head. Meanwhile, he raised the other hand, holding my sleeping bikini to his nose and sniffed the essence of me.

Then he was untying my wrists but rebinding me as I laid on my back, trussing up a wrist to an ankle on either side in a form of hogtying that had me helpless, bent over, and spread wide.

He disappeared for a while, and I heard him rummaging in my refrigerator. He returned, drinking a beer from a bottle—just sauntering into the room as if he possessed it—and me—and at least for now he did possess me. I should have been scared and angry. But I was beyond anger now. He was doing to me just what I had fantasized for months and had been too much of a coward to initiate myself.

He set the beer bottle down on my bureau, and I watched in fascination as he rolled another condom onto his rehardened cock. Then he walked over to the bed and pulled me down to the foot so that my rump was on the edge of the bed. He leaned over and took the beer bottle from the bureau top, tipped me over so that my hole was pointed to the ceiling, and let a stream of the cold liquid tipple into my hole.

Then he was fucking down into me again, lubricated by the cool beer. On and on he stroked inside me—until I was exhausted and had passed out.

When I awoke, he was gone and my wrists and ankles were free of bonds. My bikini sleeping briefs were missing and the fingers of dawn were creeping down the canyon that was Columbus Street.

I rose, sore, but exhilarated and padded into the living area. He wasn’t there either, and the door to the apartment was shut. My computer had been returned and was turned on. I keystroked it to life and there on the screen was an e-mail address and the words, “If you liked it.”

I sat down at the computer and, with tremulous fingers, opened my e-mail and keyed in the e-mail address. “Yes, yes, yes. Again tonight, please. Door unlocked.”

And then I made myself a cup of coffee and sat back in the chair and luxuriated in the hassles that had been removed from me today—no missing computer, no need to file a police report, no need to replace the lock on my door, and no reason to sit for hours in O’Donnell’s and try to build up the courage to walk across the street and enter the world of the gay leather bar. And above all else, no need to buy drapes for my windows.

The only thing that had been stolen—other than a few soiled briefs—was my virginity—spectacularly stolen—and I certainly wouldn’t miss that now.