It had been 3 months since my encounter with James. Well, since I had sold my cherry to him. I never did make it to my date. I told my girl that I had gotten into a fight and we did not meet up until the following Monday.
She was worried and scared, but I was able to play it off with bravado and a few made-up scenes of my supposed fight.
At work, I told my boss the same thing and he just shook his head and said, “Good thing you kids can take a beating and come back for more,” as he put me back to work.
It’s been 3 months and since then, I have paid all my bills, I have saved the extra that was left over for a rainy day and things have been looking up.
I got more hours at work and I even signed up for some overtime doing stocking overnight.
Ever since that night with James, things in the bedroom with my girlfriend have taken a wild turn. She's absolutely delighted, almost electrified, by the new rough and commanding edge to my touch. It's like I've tapped into a deeper, darker part of myself, and she's all in for the ride.
Before, our lovemaking was tender, almost predictable, but now, I bring a sense of control and authority that has us exploring boundaries we never knew we had. I've found myself more assertive, more demanding. It's as if the experience unlocked something primal within me, and she can't get enough of it.
I take the lead, setting the pace and the intensity, pushing her limits and mine. The transformation in our nightly escapades is palpable; the air charged with raw energy as I have her coming all night long. The sounds of our bodies, the gripping, the moans—they fill the room with relentless fervor.
"More, please..." she gasps between breaths, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and insatiable desire. I can't help but oblige, driven by a newfound hunger to satisfy this deep, carnal craving we've unearthed together.
Each session leaves us both breathless, her thanking me with kisses laced with reverence for the newfound heights of pleasure I've brought her to. And as she drifts to sleep, curled up next to me, there's a smirk on my lips—part triumph, part disbelief—at how my dark secret has serendipitously ignited our passion.
I won't sugarcoat it—every now and then, flashes of that night with James sneak up on me. One moment I'm fine, and the next, I'm caught in a torrent of conflicting emotions. My skin heats up and my fists clench as those memories of submission flood back, stirring a wild, unsettling mix of anger and arousal within me.
It’s been three months, yet these unbidden recollections have a way of ambushing me when I least expect it. But I’ve gotten good at slamming the door shut on them, burying those feelings deep as soon as they surface. It’s the only way I manage to keep moving forward. So far, this strategy has held up, and I tell myself I’m okay with it.
Another day winds down at work, the staff turnover high enough to keep things unpredictable. But one constant remains—Amanda, the closing supervisor. She’s a veteran here, her eight-year tenure speckled with endless complaints about everything from the temperamental air conditioning to her philandering husband and the endless antics of her rambunctious kids.
Despite the chaos of her personal life, Amanda’s approach to closing the store is nothing short of military precision. There’s an art to the way she manages the end-of-day routine, a methodical pace that ensures we're never late clocking out. She starts her closing duties an hour early, her actions swift and decisive, making sure that by the time the clock strikes 9 PM, everything's set for a prompt departure.
Tonight, as usual, she lays out the plan with that firm, no-nonsense tone of hers that brooks no argument. “We close the doors at 9 PM. I take the till and shut down the register while you tidy up and straighten the store aisles,” she directs crisply. Her eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief as she adds, “We’re out by 9:30 PM and leave this shithole behind,” her smile breaking through the stern facade.
It’s this blend of toughness and efficiency mixed with her dry humor that I’ve come to respect, maybe even admire. In a job where every day can bring a new challenge or headache, knowing Amanda's got the closing shift covered brings a strange sort of comfort. She’s the unsung maestro of our nightly routine, making sure that no matter how chaotic the day, our evenings wrap up clean and tidy.
I nodded in agreement, as she walked off I began to go into the aisles and fix stock and end caps, it was slow today and it gave me a chance to get more done.
I was fixing the area around my register as the last of the customers walked in. I was fixing magazines and candy at the lower area of the front display; kids always mess up the area, and sure enough at the very bottom was a Snickers candy bar.
I got on all fours and lowered my body to reach in and get the fucking thing, it was just out of reach between the pegboard and the metal hangers that were always in the way. “Fuck me,” I grunted in frustration.
The hum of the store was punctuated by the chirps of the checkout scanner when a familiar voice sent a chill down my spine. “It’s nice to see you too,” the voice said smoothly from behind me. As I turned, my eyes locked onto a pair of sandals—those stereotypical California tourist sandals—and my gaze crawled upward. The sight of the loud Hawaiian shirt made my stomach drop. There, smiling at me with an unsettling ease, was James.
“It’s me, James. It hasn't been that long,” he said, his voice light and breezy, a stark contrast to the heavy thud of my heart. As others queued behind him, my mind raced with panic.
“Oh sorry, let’s get you checked out,” I managed to stammer out, rushing over to the counter to scan his items—a tub of Vaseline and some gloves. The very sight of the Vaseline jarred me, sending my thoughts spiraling back to that night. James’s thick fingers working the gel, preparing to breach me. A shiver ran through me, and not from the cold.
As I scanned the items, my hands trembled slightly, fear mingling with a forbidden thrill. James had brought me to heights of pleasure I had never known, but at what cost? Now here he was, possibly threatening the mundane stability I had clawed back into my life. The mix of fear and the visceral flashbacks of ecstasy made my breath hitch.
“I’m just picking up a few necessities,” James commented casually, his eyes piercing into mine. I could almost feel his gaze peeling back the layers I had built around that night, exposing the raw memories I had buried. He leaned in slightly, a smirk playing at his lips as if he knew exactly the turmoil swirling inside me.
Shit, I was terrified—not just of what he could do here, but of the dark desires he had awakened in me, desires I had vowed to bury. As I handed him his change, our fingers brushed, and I recoiled not just from his touch, but from the part of me that yearned to lean into it.
"This really comes in handy," James remarked, his voice dripping with irony as he held up the Vaseline, his smile broadening as he caught my uneasy gaze. "What’s the code to the bathroom?" he asked casually, but the grin that spread across his face was anything but casual. It was predatory.
"Uh, 0454," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Come find me when you’re done," he whispered back, his tone low and inviting as he took his bag and began to saunter towards the back of the store. The casual flick of his wrist as he waved goodbye sent a shiver down my spine.
Shit, shit, shit, I thought, my mind racing with the implications of his presence here. He better not bring this—whatever this was—into my workplace. I felt a surge of protective anger mixed with a haunting desire. I will fuck him up if he tries anything, I promised myself, but even as I thought it, a mocking voice echoed in my mind: 'Yes, daddy.' A cold sweat broke out across my forehead as I wrestled with the echo of submission that James had ingrained in me.
Dread and a forbidden anticipation twisted inside me as I watched him disappear toward the bathrooms. The fear of losing control again, right here in my place of work, of all places.
I made short work of the last 2 customers and 15 till I called up Amanda.
"What’s up, Adam, I’m counting the safe and balancing deposit bags from pharmacy and photo," she said before I could even speak.
"I really need to use the bathroom, like badly," I said. "It’s 15 min till closing, no problem, I’ll keep an eye on the register from here," the office had a single two-way window that only had a view of the sun register.
"Ok, thank you," I said as I ran back to the bathroom, I was scared, what if he tried to blackmail me? What if he wanted to buy me again? "I’m coming," I heard my memory flash.
No, it was a one-time thing and that was that, I pushed in the code and walked in.
There stood James, stark naked, his belly distinctively rounded above his impressively engorged cock, glistening with lubricant in the dim light of the bathroom. "What the fuck!" I exclaimed, my voice a mixture of shock and a creeping, unwanted arousal.
But James was quick, pulling me close with a firm grip. His teeth grazed my neck in a sharp bite before his tongue lavished the tender skin, tracing circles that sent shivers down my spine. "Mmmmmm," he hummed into my ear, his breath hot and heavy, laden with desire. I stood frozen, every nerve ending aflame with the flood of sensations overwhelming my senses.
"I know you close down at 9 pm. You have 15 minutes to make me cum," James stated with a commanding tone, his words punctuating the air with a stern urgency. "Or your boss can walk in and catch us both in here."
His threat hung between us, a stark reminder of the stakes, as he backed me into the stall without waiting for my consent. With a swift movement, he yanked down my pants, exposing me. My hands shot out, grasping the cold, hard plastic of the toilet seat for support as I was bent forward, vulnerably positioned for his taking.
"Ooo Shiiit," I gasped out loud as I felt James ease his well-lubed cock into me. It was like a searing spear, hot and unyielding, piercing through me. I was sure he had split me wide open; his thick 8 inches relentlessly stretched my insides, each inch pushing further as if challenging my ability to take him all. The overwhelming sensation was a mix of sharp pain and deep, dark pleasure—a battle between body and mind, each thrust testing my limits.
“No, James, wait,” I pleaded, but James pressed his hand firmly against my back, pinning me helplessly over the cold, hard surface of the toilet seat. “Here we go, slut,” he grunted, his voice a low growl as he began to move inside me, rough and unyielding.
“Aaa,” escaped my lips, a mix of pain and unexpected pleasure as he withdrew slowly, only to fill me again, inch by excruciating inch. “Yes, Adam, that’s it, relax,” James murmured hotly against my ear, his breath a tantalizing contrast to the stark chill of the tiled bathroom. “Ooooo,” I responded, my voice a tangled chord of discomfort and arousal.
“Here, let me see,” James said, his hand reaching down to grasp my erection. His touch was firm, knowing. “I fucking knew it,” he chuckled darkly, a smirk in his voice as he tightened his grip, “let me give you what you want.” His words were a seductive promise, laced with the power to turn the overwhelming sensations into a forbidden craving.
Suddenly, James shifted his rhythm and began to thrust into me with unrestrained vigor. "Oooo fuck," I groaned as the initial discomfort morphed into exquisite pleasure.
"That's right, slut, you needed to remember how much you love this," James grunted, his voice thick with arousal as he drove into me relentlessly. "Aaaarrggghh," I cried out when he pinched my nipples fiercely, sending a shockwave of electric pleasure through my body. "Fuck, I have to resist," I gasped, overwhelmed by the intense stimulation.
"You almost forgot how much you crave a bit of pain," he whispered huskily, his breath hot against my ear. His tongue traced tantalizing circles inside my ear, heightening the sensation as he continued to tease my nipples.
"Fuuuckkk yeah," I moaned involuntarily. "That’s right, slut, you love it just like this," James taunted, his delight palpable as he increased his pace, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge.
Now, I was lost in the throes of sheer pleasure, fully surrendering to the sensations. James's firm grip on my hair, the sharp tweaks to my nipples, and his dirty whispers somehow made the moment intensely satisfying. I hated that I loved it so much.
"Yyyeeeszzzzz," I moaned loudly, feeling the weight of his balls press against me as he buried himself deep inside me, not holding back. "Yes, that’s it," I grunted, a mix of shame and undeniable arousal coursing through me. I was so fucking horny, helplessly caught in the raw intensity of the moment.
There I was, hunched in a bathroom stall, face perilously close to the toilet seat, being ruthlessly taken by eight inches of thick, unrelenting desire.
The irony wasn't lost on me—a fat, unremarkable man pushing me to the brink of ecstasy. His vigorous thrusts sent me spiraling, and despite everything, he was driving me wild, utterly dominating my senses.
Amid the relentless pounding, James' voice cut through the haze of pleasure, his command forceful. "What are you, Adam? Tell me what you are," he demanded, each word punctuated by a deep thrust that echoed through my core.
"I'm a slut," I confessed, the words laced with a mix of shame and an inescapable truth. The intensity of his grip tightened, compelling me to speak again as he overpowered me completely.
"Say it again, Adam," James ordered, his voice rough with desire.
"I’m a slut, daddy," I repeated, my voice breaking under the strain of conflicting emotions. I was on the edge, fighting the urge to pull away, yet too consumed by the raw pleasure to stop. Each word, each confession, made me realize how deeply I had succumbed to the sensations he commanded.
James was grunting loudly and pounding my ass with no regard; he had thrown caution to the wind and was chasing his climax, and he would not be denied.
My cock was swinging side to side like a wand, slapping around as my balls jumped and bounced. “Ohhh fuckkkkkkk,” I moaned.
"Here it comes, slut," James roared, his body tensing as he neared the brink. The room filled with the sounds of his desperate moans and heavy grunts.
His cock and balls were buried to the hilt, pulsing violently as he delivered his final thrusts. His hands, fierce and unyielding, pinched my nipples until they turned a fiery red, adding a sharp pain to the overwhelming mix of sensations.
I trembled uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the torrent of sensations as I felt the hot, thick rush of his release flooding my insides. The sensation was both violating and intensely intimate, leaving me gasping for breath and clutching the cold porcelain of the toilet.
As the echo of his climax faded, I found myself slumped on my knees, hands gripping the toilet seat, a humiliating reminder of drunken nights spent in oblivion. But this was no drunken stupor; I was painfully sober, left bent over the toilet like some discarded plaything as James swiftly pulled out.
Silently, James adjusted himself, his movements deliberate. As he stepped away, I felt the stark contrast between the lingering heat of his presence and the chill of the cold tile pressing against my skin. I was left exposed, hollow, the ache of his absence a physical void within me.
He sauntered to the sink, the sound of water splashing as he meticulously washed himself—his cock, his balls, his hands—each motion calculated and precise. "I knew you’d love it, Adam," he murmured, his voice a seductive promise as he glanced over his shoulder. "I can’t wait for you to crave more of it," he teased, a wicked glint in his eye.
Still sprawled on the floor, disoriented like a frat boy after a wild night, I watched as he approached me again. He lifted my chin, forcing me to look up at him. I opened my mouth without a word, and he rewarded me, letting a long string of spit fall into my waiting mouth. I swallowed eagerly, savoring the taste of him, the intimate act binding me further to my submission.
“That’s a good slut,” he praised softly, his voice a caress that sent shivers down my spine. With a final smirk, he turned and walked out, leaving me flushed and wanting on the cold bathroom floor.
Regaining my composure, I swiftly rose to my feet, hastily pulling up and adjusting my pants. With hurried steps, I exited the bathroom; the clock struck 9 pm. As I approached the register, I attended to the last two customers of the evening. The first was a 35-year-old woman, her eyes smoldering with a predatory intensity. She fixed a lingering, hungry stare at my bulge—not entirely concealed despite my flustered state.
The next customer, a young guy around 18, gave my crotch overt attention, his gaze unabashed and wanting. As he collected his items, his lips parted, and he murmured a breathy "Damn," his voice laden with desire
I closed the door, and Amanda showed up to pick up my register and closing paperwork.
"You okay, Adam?" Amanda inquired with a concerned frown. "You look stressed," and indeed, I was overwhelmed.
I had just been taken in the bathroom. I wasn't high or drunk, yet I had found pleasure in the ordeal. What the hell was happening to me? Why did it feel so unnervingly right?
"Yeah, I'm good," I managed to say, shrugging it off. "Must've been something I ate," I added, trying to sound casual as I moved towards the last two aisles needing my attention for the night setup.
As I stocked the shelves, the memory of the recent encounter ignited a troubling arousal. Thoughts of the event fuelled a persistent and undeniable hard-on that I struggled to ignore. It demanded release.
No, no, it’s just sex, it’s just sex.
I’m just a normal guy... “that loves getting fucked,” I heard the voice inside me say.
We closed at 9:30 pm, and I hurried to my car, driven by an urgent, throbbing arousal that demanded immediate release. The freeway stretched before me as I headed home, but the overwhelming sensation became too much to bear. Desperate, I pulled over to the side of the road, the sparse traffic a distant concern.
Unbuckling my belt, I liberated my aching, pulsing erection. My free hand teased my nipples, heightening the fervor as I began to vigorously masturbate. The occasional honk from passing trucks punctuated the night air, a soundtrack to my frenzied release.
"Yyyyeeasssss," I cried out as ecstasy overtook me, my seed splattering across the steering wheel. "I'm a slut," I gasped, a second wave of pleasure smearing the windshield. "AAAAAaaaarrrggghh," I groaned as the final bursts painted my hand.
Panting and trying to recover, my frantic gaze met a trucker's, who had stopped and was standing in front of my door with a smile. In a panic, I started the car and sped away, escaping into the night, haunted by the intense pleasure and the shame it stirred.
Absolutely furious and ashamed that I had fallen so low, I could not let any of this happen again. I thought as I got home, stripped out of my work clothes, and put them to wash.
My roommates were already in bed; I walked back into my room and video called my girl. We settled into our video chat, the familiar flicker of the screen casting a warm glow in the dimness of my room. As our conversation gently waned, an unspoken agreement passed between us, and a charged silence filled the air. We shared a knowing look, our breaths growing deeper, heavier, synchronized.
She teasingly bit her lip, her fingers wandering across her body in a slow, deliberate dance that captured my full attention. I watched, mesmerized, as her hands traced the contours of her skin, igniting a fire within me.
Driven by the desire mirrored in her eyes, I let my hand drift downward, the electric sensation of my touch amplified by her hungry gaze. I slowly started to stroke myself, my movements matched by her own exploratory caresses. The rhythmic sound of our breaths mingled with soft moans spilled from the speakers, enveloping us in a cocoon of intimacy.
The pace quickened, our actions becoming more fervent and desperate. She arched her back, her features etched with pleasure, urging me on without words. The sight of her lost in ecstasy, combined with the intense sensations rippling through me, pushed me closer to the edge.
Our crescendo built in unison, our separate spaces charged with the electricity of imminent release. With a final, mutual moan that seemed to breach the physical miles between us, we climaxed, waves of pleasure crashing over us in synchronized fulfillment. We lingered in the aftermath, smiles of contented satisfaction lighting up our faces. It was fantastic; yeah, no, I’m just a normal guy.
