A former officemate used to come to my small apartment once in a while. We would talk about music while he played the guitar. Little by little, he would inject sex topics in our conversations. He got more and more vulgar in time. Me, I was a virgin then and very curious. I liked the way he stared at my legs, as if he was going to grab me. On his birthday, he visited me at around 3 a.m. There were other people in the house but we had the living room to ourselves. There he started to make advances, grazing my shin, inner thighs and boobs as we talked. He begged for me to let him see my breasts even for a second, so I lifted my shirt and bra. He started suckling on my breasts—it tickled but I loved it. He even made a compliment about my pink nipples. He breathed on my neck and cheeks, provoking me to kiss him, then pulled me away from the chair to stand with my back against his hard cock. He worked his hands from my hips up to my breasts. We had company so imagine the torture when he slid his right hand into my pants. I grabbed his hair and let out a groan as I came.
That time, I was still in love with another guy who didn't really give a damn about me. Still, I didn't want to keep leading my officemate on. I moved to a new apartment and it got to a point where I blocked his number. After a few years, I got a text message from him, inviting me to jam with his band on his birthday. I couldn't believe he still wanted me after such a long time. I realized I’d missed his company so I obliged. They played a couple of songs that he actually wrote for me. I slowly fell in love with him. Now he’s my boyfriend of seven months. Every time we make love, he bangs me hard and slaps my butt cheeks for making him wait for so long. And boy, do I love the punishment.
Leng, by email