Quiet

I heard his footsteps coming through the laundry room. I looked out of my storage unit, and caught his eye. He smiled.

If I had wanted to escape, I couldn't. My knees went weak.

By the time he crossed the remaining thirty feet, I was panting. I couldn't believe how aroused he made me.

He stepped in the storage unit, and looked around for a second, one of his hands sliding up my belly and over my right breast as he surveyed the contents.

He closed the door, and pushed me towards my stack of boxes. He tested them for sturdiness, and then took the flashlight from me, and switched it off, plunging us into darkness.

I felts his hands explore my body, pressing into the crevasses, eliciting little gasps from me. His hands then went down my sides. He calmly took hold of my wrists, and brought them together, holding them with one hand. I moaned. With his now free hand he explored some more, touching my face, my belly, sliding under my shirt and bra to circle my breasts. It slid down again, and he pushed down my pants and panties, one side then the other, stopping to caress my mound in between.

When he could get his hand to the middle of my panties, he pressed them down, out of the way. I thought about foregoing them in the future. They seemed to get in the way. The fact that this idea came to mind made me burn with arousal, and a hint of shame.

The hand around my wrists twisted, telling me to bend over. I spread my legs as far apart as I could. He pressed down in the small of my back and pulled on my arms, making me arch my back. I was completely open to him, or as much as I could be with my pants around my ankles. Maybe more skirts?

He lowered me onto the boxes. Again he commanded me not to move, and so I didn't, ass in the air, wrists crossed, panting, as he prepared himself. I didn't have to wait long. He grasped my wrists again, using them to pull me onto him. My eyes were just beginning to perceive a tiny bit of light. I decided I didn't want it, so I shut them, and enjoyed just feeling things.

He thrust into me forcefully. Images flooded into my head.

Many women have rape fantasies. No one want to be truly raped, coerced, threatened with harm or death, but many of us harbor a small desire to be taken against our will by someone who we know deep down wouldn't actually hurt us. The violence without the fear. The violation without the loss of security.

This is what I felt. In the pitch black of the musty storage room, the tall stranger held me down and fucked me, used me for his pleasure. I was just an object, a conquest, an opportunity. Yet my hind brain felt no real fear; it was howling for release.

He pounded into me relentlessly, pawing at my breasts, pulling my wrists and arms painfully. The slapping of his legs against mine was couple with the sounds of my breath and his, ragged from the exertion.

I came first, moaning through clenched teeth. He followed me soon after.

He pulled out of me, and was swiftly gone. I pulled up my pants, and switched on the light again. I didn't care so much about the book I had been looking for, but I found it anyway, locked the unit up, and stumbled back upstairs.

His door was closed. I went through mine. Sitting on the couch, I tried to imagine what he was doing now. Watching TV? Getting ready for bed? Working on his computer?

Lurking, waiting for his next "victim"?

I became aroused again. I wasn't in a gentle mood, either. I swiftly removed my clothing, and plunged several fingers into my burning vagina. I found twisting a nipple to be much more exciting then I would have imagined something painful would be. I came to a violent climax, pounding the back of my head on the back of the couch and groaning loudly.

Spent, I tossed the book I had retrieved onto my night stand, showered the sweat and dust off, and fell into a deep sleep, wondering what was next.

-----------

The problem with working with people is that people are also vectors for disease. Thus it was that I came down with a cold. It was the middle of the day, and I was uncharacteristically listening to the radio in a quest to stave off the boredom. All my books were read, and I didn't feel like getting more at the moment. My favorite authors hadn't released anything new lately, and I wasn't in the mood to reread anything.

Having a cold is nasty at best. My nose was red from blowing and I felt gross. I was dressed in a yellow robe and an old pair of pajamas. This is how I looked when he knocked on my door.

Somehow I knew it was him before I looked. I opened the door.

"Hello, Jones," I said, in all my stuffy nosed glory.

"Oooooh," he said, and clucked his sympathy. He gingerly hugged me. The change in his demeanor warmed me, and I relaxed into him.

He squeezed me again, and stepped back.

"Have you eaten?"

"I was thinking about soup."

He nodded. Giving me a smile that served as a warning, he picked me up under my legs and arms, and deftly carried me back to my bed. I was surprised by this. I was more surprised when he didn't immediately start undressing me. I expected him to, though I wasn't quite feeling up to it.

He walked out of the room, and I heard him banging around in the kitchen.

"Chicken noodle?"

"Yes, please," I called.

A few minutes later, he came in with a steaming bowl of soup, and a few saltines.

He sat with me as I ate the soup, listening to the radio. When I was finished, he took the bowl and plate away. I heard him washing the dishes.

He came back and turned down the radio, and then kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed with me, putting an arm around me. It made me feel very cozy and loved.

But I was also acutely aware of the fact that he had an erection. I glanced at the bulge in his thin pants a few times.

How can you not like a man who finds you sexy when you are looking terrible?

He started caressing my belly, watching me for signs of protest. Seeing none he slid his hand under my pajama tops, and gently circled a breast. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation.

I had to sneeze. He stopped and retrieved a tissue for me. I blew my nose and gave him a wan smile.

He smiled back at me, and continued. Eventually, his hand slid lower, brushing my pubic hair, as he once again checked for a reaction from me. I kept my eyes shut. He would find me wet.

Max came nowhere near me if I was sick. The boyfriend before that was a little better, but the idea of him touching me like this while I was sick failed to arouse me at all.

Jones made it healing somehow. I still don't think I could have refused, either.

His fingers dipped in between my labia, and came up lubricated. He gently moved up and down my outer labia, and then my inner, and slowly circled my clitoris, coming in gently, giving me as much time as possible to get comfortable with it.

The truth was he could have started fucking me hard and fast and I would have been ready for it. But the gentleness hit me just as hard, making me feel radiant, despite the cold.

His middle finger dove deeper and deeper, finding that special place inside, while his thumb circled my clit. I felt the fire begin, and started moaning loudly. He sped up just a bit, and I accelerated over the top, thrashing violently against him.

He stopped at just the right time, and slid his hand out of my pajama bottoms.

I closed my eyes to enjoy the afterglow. He held me for several minutes as I became sleepy. Then he slid his arm out from underneath my head, and tucked me under my covers.

I barely heard him leave.

-----------------

A few days later, feeling far better, though not one hundred percent, I stepped out of the apartment to go to the store. I heard him sneeze, and blow his nose. I had obviously given him my cold.

Before I knew it, I was knocking on his door.

He opened it with a smile, and let me in.

His apartment was as spartan as I imagined it at the beginning. The living room was devoid of furniture. The cases that I thought were guns were open near one wall, and contained some sort of test equipment. The boxes were set on end nearby, and contained a few books.

More books were on the kitchen table, with some printed circuit boards and a few manuals, plus his computer. An empty bowl was next to them.

Oh well, that left one thing.

I led him to his bedroom. He lay down on the bed. Slipping off my shoes, I cradled him as he had me, and caressed him. He closed his eyes, a smile on his face.

I watched his erection grow, but stayed away from it for a while. Eventually I moved my hand down lower, and moved his boxer shorts' fly aside, and gently grasped his phallus. I stroked it gently, fascinated by it, as well as my own state of mind. Sex as nurturing, as care taking, was a new thing. It had just been for fun before.

I slid down the bed, and pushed apart his legs and crouched between them. I took him into my mouth, and moved up and down, sucking gently on him. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sensation.

He wasn't long in climaxing. He stopped me and I carefully withdrew after he went soft, then pulled his shorts over his penis to keep the cold air from hitting it.

Getting up from the bed, I covered him, and kissed him on the forehead. His hand shot out, and caressed my ass, so I stood there fore a few seconds so he could get his fill. It was hardly unpleasant. He then pulled his hand under the covers, and settled in.

I locked his door as best I could and left. I had to return to my apartment and masturbate before I went to the store. Would that all Good Samaritan missions be so arousing.

Weeks went by. Jones came to me every few days and had me. That's the best word. The love and affection of our sick days not withstanding, when we were both feeling better, we went back to the old encounters. A knock at the door, and several minutes later I would be draped over a chair or the couch, or on my knees.

I realized that he really liked my ass. He never failed to caress it, and he always bent me over to fuck me.

He also always had fingers up in it. Now he was up to four. I knew what was coming.

The other thing was that about a third of the time, it was a vigorous, violent time. More than once he was holding onto my wrists while he pounded into me, or holding my hair while he fucked my mouth.

I felt an exhilaration to think of things this way. The violence of the word fuck became erotic. Sometimes it was lovemaking, but most of the time it was fucking.

Once he climaxed, and pulled out, but I hadn't gotten off yet. He looked at me.

"Kneel," he commanded. I got onto my knees. "Masturbate, do it," he said.

My hand dipped into my already engorged cunt, and closing my eyes I started to stroke myself. I felt him move next to me and take a breast into his hand. He started to cruelly twist the nipple. I clenched my teeth and groaned. His other hand was stroking my ass in firm strokes. Suddenly he slapped it. The pain jolted me, causing me to gasp. It was incredibly arousing. He spanked me five or six more times. I spread my legs more and attacked my cunt violently. The hand on my breast moved to the other, and gave me it the same treatment. He spanked me several more times.

I came violently, thrashing against him.

As I came down, he stroked my inflamed buttocks, and kissed my neck.

He helped me up, and hugged me. As he kissed me, he stroked my derriere more. Then he left as wordlessly as always.

I found myself becoming more and more wanton in my fantasies. An on-line sadomasochism site caught my interest at one point. I masturbated at work a couple of times, feeling pleasantly naughty for doing so.

The great thing was that I wasn't being adversely affected by this. My work was more than up to par, since I was more relaxed. The dull moments were filled with fantasies, and the work amused me.

The randomness of his visits also kept me on my toes. He came over at all hours, once catching me just before I need to leave for work. A swift blow job later I was on my way, just a few minutes late.

One Saturday, I heard him knocking around in his apartment. Just hearing him made me randy. Except for the one time, I had never gone to him, always waiting for him to come to me. I don't know why, but I found myself in front of his door.

The door opened swiftly, and he grabbed me and pulled me in. The smile he gave me was a little ferocious. He shut the door and pushed me to the bedroom.

"Hello. Strip," he said. I swiftly complied.

He looped my belt around my neck and led me to the bathroom, making me get in the tub. Stripping off his clothes he got in with me. He then pissed in my face, and all over my breasts.

I should have been disgusted, but I was aroused. He was growing hard even as he finished.

He turned on the shower and rinsed me off, then himself. He stuck his now hard penis into my mouth and aimed the sprayer in my face, forcing me to keep my eyes closed. I tried to get him off, but he wouldn't let me move my head, so I just held on while he sprayed me.

He stopped and turned off the water. He looped the belt around my neck again, and hauled me up. A moment of incongruity crept in when he carefully stepped out of the tub, and helped me out. The force came back swiftly as he dragged me to the bed.

He threw me down face first with my legs hanging off. He put one of my arms into a hammerlock and held me down. I felt him dangle the belt near my well exposed ass.

There was a swish and a crack. Searing pain spread out from the stroke of the belt. I cried out, but was muffled by the bedding. Just as well, I didn't want him to have to stop.

I lost count of the strokes. My buttocks were throbbing, but my cunt was inflamed.

He threw the belt on the bed, and said "Don't move."

I lay there and throbbed as he moved around the room. Suddenly I felt a cold sensation as he squeezed a tube into my rectum. I shuddered.

"Lay on your side."

I moved up onto the bed, my ass at the edge, giving him the access he wanted.

He thrust a finger into my anus, then two, then three. The weeks of preparation were worth it, I opened up quickly.

He swiftly impaled my anus with his stiff cock. I could feel his public hair on the inflamed cheeks of my rear. He waited scant seconds before beginning to pump in and out. There was the slightest bit of pain as my anus fluttered, but I concentrated on relaxing, and just accepting what was happening.

Like the time in the storage unit, I had the feeling of being willingly violated. I contemplated this as he rammed into me and abused my breasts.

Suddenly I felt him explode into me. I realized he wasn't wearing a condom. I was surprised by this, but too aroused to consider its implications at the moment.

He stayed in me, and kept pumping, but now he lifted my right leg, which was on top, and held it up. With his other hand he stroked my cunt, getting as far into as he could. I twisted my nipples and moaned into the pillow. Minutes later I came, thrashing and grinding into him.

After few minutes of cool down and a shower, I was back in my apartment, still feeling the heat on my derriere, and the afterglow. I picked up one of my new books and read it beginning to end, not really comprehending it, as my thought kept being interrupted my the violent scene in which I had just participated.

The thought came around again that he had come inside of me. I wasn't worried about pregnancy, obviously, but disease was a real concern.

As it turned out, it occurred to Jones as well.

-----------

A week later, he showed up at my door. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me. I fell into my usual role, following his lead, saying nothing. Getting aroused was, at this point, pretty much automatic. We didn't even leave my front hall. He unzipped my pants, and pulled them off of me. I started to turn around, but he stopped me.

Getting on his knees, he gave me a new treat. His tongue parted my labia, and licked me straight over my clit. I shuddered. He buried his face and went to work. I loved every minute of it.

Just as I started to fly towards the peak, he stopped, and turned me around. I looked at him over my shoulder. He grinned at me at he opened the condom and rolled it on. He bent me over the hall table, inserted himself and started pumping. Once again I was moving towards the peak. Without stopping he opened a piece of paper and put it on the table in front of me.

It was a sexually transmitted diseases test for one Felix Jones, with a date five days in the past. Negatives, all the way down.

It's amazing how a medical report can be sexually exciting, and even romantic.

I came like mad. Felix (I knew his first name now!) didn't. When I stopped thrashing, he was still pumping.

"Jones," I said, "put that anywhere you like."

A second later he was pressing into my anus. I guess I was sufficiently loose and lubricated, because he was in quickly with no pain. He took it slowly, caressing my ass and occasionally kissing my back and playing with my breasts.

He climaxed and stopped moving, staying in my ass until he got soft. Then he got on his knees and smothered my ass with kisses. He stood up again and patted it.

"It's just the right size," he said.

"So is this", I said, indicating his penis. He smiled, and kissed me, not missing the opportunity to grope my ass some more.

As always, he left swiftly.

-------------

Weeks later, I was amused when a work friend, Frieda, commented, "You know, you've been more relaxed lately. You finally dump that loser boy of your, Max?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Find a new one?"

"Something like that."

"Well, good. It's good to be in a nice healthy relationship."

I laughed. Healthy? I wasn't sure. It was fun. Sometimes it was inconvenient. Every time I was late for work, it was because I was getting fucked. I started wearing skirts to make things a little faster. Sometimes it was a little messy, since he didn't let a little thing like menstruation stop him. In fact, it seem to make him more aroused.

Sometimes it was surprising. He once picked my lock and woke me up with a hand over my mouth, then tied me up and fucked me up the ass. That one shocked me, I climaxed when he did. He replaced my locks the next day. I noted with a certain amount of pleasure that he kept a set of keys for himself.

He also turned the worst day of my life around and made me feel incredibly loved.

I was at work when the director of research for the company called me into his office.

"Look, I won't beat around the bush," he said. "Due to the merger, we're closing the library. They already have one five times the size of this. You're low woman on the totem pole, so you get the axe. I'm sorry."

I felt like hell. I had worked there for three years. Worse yet, I was only offered two months of severance pay. It had taken me five months to find this job in a good economy. There was no way I could find one this good in two months, and my savings were meager because of my student loans. The only saving grace was that the loans were mostly gone. But I would still have to move out of my beautiful but expensive apartment.

And away from Jones.

When he came into my apartment that day, he looked really excited. He stopped short when he saw my face.

I looked up at him.

"What's wrong?" he said.

I explained the situation. He held me when I started crying again.

He calmed me down, but seemed to be pensive. Suddenly he stood up.

"Get your coat," he said.

Even through my sadness, I couldn't refuse him. I trudged over to the closet, got my coat, and followed him. I was faintly amused when he pulled his keys out and locked my door for me.

He led me down to a car (It never occurred to me to wonder if he owned a car) and sat me in it. It was a really nice vehicle. From the contents of the back seat, I decided that Jones must be an electrical engineer.