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Click here"I have some moisturizing cream. Let's try that."
Megan leaped off the couch and ran to the bathroom. When she returned, she knelt and slathered Matt with the cream. Then handed him the tube. Resuming her position, she felt her body throb with electricity as Matt applied the the makeshift lube to her.
"Enough. Let's do it. But slow, please. And if it hurts, promise you'll stop."
Matt's assurance that he would be a gentleman was slurred and not deeply reassuring. But Megan knew she wanted this. She buried her face in the back of the couch and held her breath.
Then pressure. Pressure like she had never felt before. And opening, reluctant opening. The a sudden yielding. Megan screamed as Matt slipped into her. She reached back and put an open palm on him, stopping his further progress. Fuck! That hurt. She panted, her tears running onto the couch's material.
It was painful. More than that, unnatural. Megan wanted it to stop. But she wanted to give Matt what he craved even more. Holding back her tears and preparing herself, she spoke through clenched teeth. "OK. It's OK. Fuck me."
Matt drunkenly lunged forwards and a bright white light of pain erupted in Megan's brain. No. No. No. That was too much. Much too much. But the voice was only in her head. What she said out loud through sobs was, "fuck my ass, make me yours."
With permission, Matt let go. It was all that Megan could do to stay conscious, to hang on as tears streamed down her face. But it was mercifully short. With one final lunge from Matt, Megan felt a warmth flooding her insides. Matt collapsed onto her back, his mouth by Megan's ear.
"Fuck, Megs. You're the best."
With that he rolled off of her. She grimaced at his hasty withdrawal and grabbed her ravaged asshole, intent on avoiding spillage.
Matt was already snoring as Megan retreated to the bathroom. Even the sight of blood in the bowl couldn't dim her sense of achievement.
She felt punch drunk. But those words. 'You're the best.' Megan was happy... happy.
It was Sunday afternoon before the two of them stirred. Megan woke first and, kissing Matt, said she was going to take a shower. As she waited for the water to warm up, Megan touched herself gingerly where she had been invaded for the first time; it felt different. Bumpy. She scrabbled in a drawer for a hand mirror.
But, as she finally located it, Megan heard Matt's voice. His voice, but what he was saying was unintelligible. Curious, she left the shower running and padded quietly to the door. Opening it just a crack, and as quietly as she could, she peeped through. Matt was lying on the couch, head nearer to her, feet resting on what, to Megan at least, was expensive material. He was on the 'phone, she guessed to Ben. At first she could hear little, but shifting to place her ear by the crack, his words became audible.
Megan felt bad for listening in, but something compelled her. And soon she had other, more pressing, issues to contend with.
"...next Sunday? Sure... And Sherry is feeling as kinky as last time?... Yeah, of course... Megan?" He laughed. "No, she won't be coming, three's company, four's a crowd."
Matt laughed again. "That's not fair, Ben. She's not that bad looking. OK, she's no Sherry, and she's really high maintenance. But she's pretty good in the sack, super keen to please... Yeah, tight in all the right places, all of them. And she's a lot cheaper than a hooker. What's not to like, for now anyway?"
More laughter. "OK, see you and Sherry next weekend."
Megan quietly closed the door. For a few seconds she could hardly breathe. Then, recovering just a little, she got into the shower. She closed her eyes and let the warm water bathe her face. Let it relax her. Wash away the hurt and disgust and shame.
Sherry! What a fucking slut!
She breathed the moist air in deeply, calming herself.
It's was OK. It was her pattern. It was familiar. A role she was accustomed to playing. She'd got good at it. 'Not that bad looking,' she'd take that. 'Cheaper than a hooker,' well that was a positive surely. And she knew, in time, she could be more than just Matt's whore. If she really gave herself to him, she could be better than his whore.
Time. All she needed was time.
And all she had to do was to love him more.
- COMMENTS
- yeah, not really a stroker. Just what teh song lyrics suggested to me. Glad you didn’t hate it. Emily
I was looking for a stroke story and somehow ended up reading this. Ouch. But well done. You got me to go read the song lyrics and, yeah, I see the connection. I bet you also like "Seventeen" by Sharon Van Etten. That's on a playlist I titled "Songs that bring tears to my eyes".
- the challenge was to bare a story on song lyrics - that was my interpretation - maybe Ellie Rowsell had something else in mind 🤷♀️ Emily
Well written. But my god how depressing. How about a part 2 where she meets a guy who helps her self asteem instead? Ashamed to be a man.
- it’s what the song suggested to me. Could be other interpretations, but Ellie Rowsell (the lead singer and primary musical influence) can get a bit dark. She’s very open about writing a real female experience. Emily
Don't know the song. Very depressing if a woman has so little self esteem and self worth.
Well written, hated the ending.
V.
PS Nice to see an author who replies to comments
- I was working within the confines of the song lyric, or at least my interpretation of it. Thanks for the kind feedback. 😊 Em
Hi, Emily, this was well written and allowed the reader to really get into Megan’s head, feeling her need and her lack of self confidence. I was really hoping she’d turn a corner by the end; she may have but, unfortunately, it was probably the wrong one for her self esteem and her long-term happiness, though that matched the category I hadn’t noticed until the end. Great job.
- the song lyrics are kinda depressing. Ellie Rowsell writes about difficult things soemtimes. Not really autobiographical (for once 😬). But I’ve know women like Megan - OK she is exaggerated for effect. But thank you for the comment. Em
How depressing. I’m worried there’s a bit of an autobiographical component here, as well.
I love Wolf Alice, and I love this song. Like that you mixed references to Blush and Fluffy (at least) in as well.
- thanks. It’s what the lyrics say to me. And no, it’s sadly not an uncommon situation. Em