The Revisit

This story depicts exhibitionism, manipulation, humiliation, rough sex, reluctance, degradation, dubious consent, gaslighting, and DARVO. It is a work of pornographic fantasy and isn't written with the intention to promote or condone such acts.

It was 9:20am, and Elisabeth was sitting with her phone, a coffee, and a pain au chocolat on some of the verdant courtyard's brutalist stonework. It really was overgrown -- intentionally so. Large palms, and small, low-hanging trees, a pleasant humidity and fresh air amid the concrete blocks. This was the campus of her alma mater of roughly a decade prior. Her hometown -- where she still lived and worked -- was just 30 miles down the road. She had never felt at home in either place, having considered herself a social abomination in her youth, and with plenty of bad luck to boot. This spot had been a haven, a place to come for breakfast and lunch during the quieter moments of the day.

She had dressed in skintight black jeans and an oversized, crisp white men's silk shirt styled in a French Tuck. Something she felt was vaguely defiant in its professionalism. She had a preference for striking differentiation in her fashion sense. It suited her mop of dark ginger hair, too. Her messy curls and honey complexion she had inherited from her father, her hair colour and smattering of freckles from her mother, the latter of whom had also imparted a softness of tone to her figure that, though slender, rarely yielded definition save for a cinch at her waist that allowed her to lay claim to the barest hourglass-ness.

She had unbuttoned her shirt down to the last, arranging the plackets to frame her breasts; as soft as the rest of her, small enough to hide in a billowing shirt like this, but pronounced and shapely when undressed. There was enough cover from the plants, and few enough people on campus at this hour, to get away with a naughty selfie. The greenery and daylight made it irresistible. She chose a few angles, including her own sultry smile, and buttoned up to set about editing. She stirred a little at the dappled morning light illuminating her chest, bounced to produce a gorgeous uplight on her face. She looked good. Caleb had better appreciate this.

Elisabeth loved showing off in the open air -- PDA, sex, playful nudity -- it was freeing, yes, and brought about the dirty thrill of risked embarrassment every time. Her kink had been seeded on this very campus, though if it hadn't been quite such a painful couple of years, it might not have ended up so strong. Years later, maturing and processing her feelings, she came to reclaim that feeling of risk and exposure for her own excitement, titillating herself when clear opportunities were presented, and reminding herself that she was beautiful, sexy, when her nature pulled away from that conclusion.

She and Caleb had been messaging for a week. Caleb was nice. Cheerful, preppy in his dress sense, but respectful, and emotionally available. She'd scouted the apps ahead of schedule for a decent lay the week of her work trip. Truly, she'd been looking for anyone, of any gender, who'd looked half decent and hadn't been completely horrible. Caleb had been so warm from the off that Elisabeth had almost refrained from discussing sex at all, in case there might have been something more to foster there. But he'd also proven himself deliciously filthy; when he sent cock pics and cumshots, he kept the rest of his lithe body in frame, posed and presented for her, and with plenty of pleasurable moaning and dirty talk audible in every video. And she responded in kind, of course, his habits titillating her past caution and letting her exhibitionism come to the fore. Caleb had seen her cum face as much as he'd seen her body and holes, and it overjoyed her to listen to him gush with excitement at everything she sent.

"Liz?"

Fuck. That was Dominic. Elisabeth made a quick spot check in case she'd missed a button, or smudged her makeup, or anything that he could latch on to and start a wheedling commentary. Dominic was exhausting -- an alumnus in his own hometown, he and Elisabeth had gotten to know each other in dorms and coed Field Hockey, a situation that had culminated in a lot of social distress and upheaval for Elisabeth. At 29, she'd shown up to the Content Writer job she'd barely been in for a month and found, to her deep disappointment, that he'd landed back in her life at the very next desk to hers. Three months sharing desk space with Dominic illuminated one fact: he hadn't changed a jot since they'd dormed. Boorish, reckless, rude, and with an apparent need to space out his day by mocking and undermining Elisabeth at every juncture. She'd quickly learned to vacillate between guarded and hostile with him, but it only drew more shit-eating grins from the most pig-headed fucker there was.

When they'd been asked to travel to Career Day at their old school together, she hadn't dared look at his face. She knew he'd be relishing the innuendo of an overnight trip, and sure enough, he'd immediately begun cracking wise about "separate beds" and "what happens on Career Day", et cetera. She knew she had the choice of turning the trip down, but something about giving him the satisfaction of altering her own trajectory repulsed her as much as he did.

"Liz? Liiiiz--"

"Elisabeth." She didn't turn around, putting her phone out of sight, and replying in an irate singsong. "You know my name, it's got an S, not a Z, and more syllables than you're accustomed to."

This was part of the problem, she knew -- rising to it. That, and her lifelong habit of getting more verbal when frustrated, nervous, or plain scared.

"Sorry, Elisabeth." He deftly over-pronounced her name, just enough to annoy her further without truly incriminating himself. It worked; she sighed, resisted the bait, and turned to face him as he wandered through the plants.

Dominic had kept his hair shorn in their younger days, but it was evident that this was a pragmatic choice at the onset of baldness now. He was gargantuan: Elisabeth stood at 5'6" and he was a whole 9 inches taller than her, his shoulders wide, his body a stocky monolith of undefined musculature, his outline that of a wrestler, jawline delineated by a sharply cropped half-beard. It was impressive that he'd managed a fitted dress shirt for the day, tucked into soft grey chinos and finished with a leather belt, an look that said "I am running a stall at an on-campus Career Day".

"You look very smart" she offered, gathering her things and slipping the pain au chocolat into her bag to avoid the trap of eating food in front of him.

"Thanks, you look..." she pointed her eyes skyward and waited for whatever pointless barb he was working on. "Avant-garde."

"Do you actually know what that means?"

"I think it's like... the type of person who walks around with uneaten pastries in their bag because it seems moody and French not to actually eat breakfast."

"Moody and French. Alright. That is actually kind of what I was going for, Dominic, that's fine."

He didn't seem to be laying it on too thick this morning. Small mercies. She glanced at her phone, and couldn't help but smirk a little at the slew of emojis and filthy speculations that Caleb had sent in response to her tit pic. She let Dominic stand there while she composed her response.

E: Glad you like. I was thinking I'd ditch my dipshit coworker tonight and finally slide your cock into my throat instead. You free?

"Who're you fucking?"

"Shut the fuck up."

C: Fuck. Fuck

C: I have a friend date tonight but you can come hang until they leave?

"Seriously, what's that smirk about? Are you blowing one of the local Dads?"

"Shh". She couldn't argue and type.

E: Sounds perfect, I literally can't be around this guy a second longer than I'm obligated.

C: OK great. We'll make you forget all about that loser.

"Does he know you dress like a Mime? Let me talk to him."

She pulled her earbuds from her pockets and slipped them into her ears, making sorry-I-can't-hear-you gestures as she walked past him to the doorway.

Elisabeth couldn't focus for the entire day. A meeting with Caleb was on the menu now, and they texted throughout. She tried her best to ignore Dominic's inane patter, his remarks about her clothes and hair. Worse still, he wouldn't let go of his quite correct assumption that she had a hookup; whenever they weren't talking to students, he'd be craning his neck to get a look at her screen, demanding to know details, or dropping discouraging remarks about how she'd presented herself this day.

Towards the middle of the afternoon, she escaped to the restroom to take another selfie for Caleb. Bathroom selfies were a mainstay of Elisabeth's exposure fetish, and usually she'd be more than comfortable partially undressing out in front of the mirrors, or at the very least, she'd leave the cubicle unlocked, tempting the possibility that she might be discovered -- and that the discoverer might like what they saw. She hadn't been able to enjoy the habit at her job yet, specifically because of Dominic. She slid the bolt across carefully and leaned against the door, unbuttoning.

She took her pictures, shrugging off the large shirt so that it gathered around her breasts and shoulders like a white rose. Seeing herself exposed in the bathroom of her old college aroused her more, and she felt compelled to take more pictures, capturing the renewed hardness of her nipples and the inviting pink blush spreading beneath her freckles. It seemed inevitable to unbutton the shirt all the way, and unzip her jeans a little too, revealing her belly button, her soft tummy skin, and the dark red of her pubic hair, all but guaranteed to make him as hard as it made her wet. A few more clicks, and the shirt had to come off altogether, and it seemed to Elisabeth that denying him the curve of her hips would be a wasted opportunity; the jeans came down to her knees, and her panties with them, and in a matter of short minutes, she was standing naked, her heart thumping and her pussy turning slick as she posed herself like a trashy bathroom slut with the sounds of students bustling past, coming in and out of the adjoining cubicles.

A sneaky selfie had quickly become a photoshoot, making sure that no curve or angle went undocumented. She was looking far too good from below, too -- the angle accentuated her contours to no end, her pussy dominating the shot with her breasts and sultry stare looming down from above. She gave into the temptation to pull herself open with her free hand, giving him a closeup of her pink wetness. Her middle fingertip rolled and slid over her clit, mesmerising her with her own image. She didn't think twice about going further.

Part of this was delight in showing off, delight in herself; but part of it was a stress response. Elisabeth's need to fuck herself, or be fucked, or simply act slutty and take risks, was routine at times of distress or tension. Dominic was at fault here. Trying to hold a conversation with him was like trying to focus while someone stood behind you, flicking your ears. His presence, his manner, and numerous mocking quips, were driving up Elisabeth's cortisol and putting her in need of release. She placed the phone on the floor, setting it to record video, and stood over it, leaning her shoulders back into the door so that the vertical shot captured the slant of her body. Leaning back like this, with both hands free, she could easily reach around behind, sliding two fingers into her now dripping wet cunt while she massaged her clit from the front. Her hips swayed forwards and backwards, and she allowed herself to breathe more heavily, letting the slightest moans emerge, careful not to drown out the wet trickling sound of her fingers moving inside her.

The sound of the outer door opening only piqued her arousal, and she stuffed her fingers in as deep as she could, thriving on the knowledge that an unseen person was only a few feet away. Conscious of the video, she affected a shocked glance in the direction of the sound, fucking herself more vigorously, her hips moving up and down in time with her own penetrations such that she was almost bouncing on her fingers.

"Liz? You in here?"

The realisation that it was Dominic hit her with such shock that the building tension in her pelvis erupted into a shameful orgasm. She clamped every muscle in her leg tight, narrowly stopping herself from falling to the floor where her bare ass would be visible under the door. Her bare back slid up and down the door. Her mouth gaped wide in a silent moan, and she pulled her left hand upwards sharply to stuff her fingers inside, muffling herself and tasting her juices. The humiliation of cumming at the sound of his voice, and the fact that he was right on the other side of the door, fed back into the orgasm, tension and release fluttering outwards from her cunt through her thighs and belly, her lower body throbbing with pleasure that she couldn't dismiss or take back. She wanted to scream at how frustratingly, offensively good it felt. And he was still pacing, tapping on doors.

"Liiiiiz?"

"For fuck's sake, get out, Dominic." It was still going, her knees quivering at the effort to stay upright. The only way to mask it was by barking out the instruction in not-insincere rage. She tore herself upright, pulling her jeans up and grabbing her shirt off the floor, staggering to the toilet and sitting down to allow the shockwaves to pass. It was still bliss. The wrongness of the orgasm had punched through her love for exposure and to something uglier, more fraught. Something that she would need to hide from anyone.

"Are you jerking off in here?"

She gathered as much breath as she could, attempting to keep her voice level. "I'm taking a dump in here, and if you don't get out it's going in your fucking eye."

He banged on the door once; it shook. So did she. The sound of footsteps, and the outer door closing.

Elisabeth sat and watched the footage play back. She loved looking at herself -- her own nudes were better than porn to her, on some days. This footage already felt forbidden. Witnessing an orgasm that she hadn't intended, triggered by the voice of a man who repulsed her, while its embers still stirred in her body; it wasn't right. It felt like it was intended for someone else. Stolen. Caleb certainly couldn't see this, and at that point, she'd almost forgotten why she'd gone into that cubicle.

She made her way back past the various stalls jotting the spacious lobby, still sensing the warm ache in her pussy. Dominic was towering over some student, a girl who couldn't have been older than 18.

"...you'd have to do something about your wardrobe, dress more flattering, take up cardio." The girl was staring wordlessly. To Elisabeth's mind, she looked like she was contemplating punching his balls. "And it doesn't hurt to have a good friend or two to help you get ahead. I'd be happy to talk it through with you more--"

There was a clattering sound as Dominic's rucksack fell from the table, spilling a few bits of paper and quite a few empty drinks cans on the floor. Elisabeth tucked her hands into her pockets and affected her best how-did-that-happen stance.

"Nice, Dominic. Are they special cans? You need those?"

"Are you a fucking child?" As he stooped down to clear them up -- inexplicably scooping the cans back into his bag -- Elisabeth calmly tried to defuse the situation with the girl he'd been talking to. "He was making a dumb joke, it's that kind of office."

"Uhuh. It didn't feel... it felt like--"

"Dominic? It was a joke, wasn't it? A bad one?"

Dominic stood back up, slinging his bag protectively over his shoulder, and reading the room, for once.

"Yeah, of course, I wasn't... I'm rarely serious. Nobody should take anything I say seriously."

"Right." And she was away.

"For fuck's sake Elisabeth, I liked her."

She didn't look him in the eye. "What was that, a pickup routine? Where did you read about that?"

"I was having a conversation."

"Everyone knows what negging is, dude."

She still didn't look -- after the bathroom, she couldn't -- only pictured the Who Me grin he was surely wearing, having been called out. "I was having a civilised conversation with an attractive young woman." He was still gripping his bag protectively.

"Is that what you've been trying on me?" It wasn't a new suspicion. Dominic's behaviour had all the hallmarks of classic hair-pulling, and almost always seemed deliberately contrived. It didn't diminish the stress Elisabeth felt in his presence that he might actually be trying to fuck her.

"Please."

"Well, good luck, because you'll be lucky if she doesn't email the company at the very least. Then you can cry Cancelled to your pickup artist forum or whoever."

"Your hair's a fucking mess." He was rattled. "You want a comb?"

"I didn't see one in your bag."

------

Dominic had gone off somewhere by the time she awoke from her early evening nap. She hadn't even considered inviting Caleb to her hotel room; Dominic was staying at his parents' house while they were in town, but she couldn't risk a hookup that he even knew the location of. She got herself showered, and slid a new dress over her head. It was a vaguely-fitting beige sundress from Antropologie, with enough looseness in the fabric to invite the imagination, and for wandering hands to easily slide underneath. The neckline was only just above her breasts, thin straps holding the garment up, the freckling over her amber shoulders virtually unimpeded.

She slipped on some panties, and then slipped them back off. Sitting there with a single layer on, with the possibility of flashing him while waiting for his friends to leave, this was too good a prospect. Into the handbag went the wand.

It was around 8 o'clock in the evening that the Taxi passed the suburbs and into country roads. She guessed Caleb lived in one of the quaint cottage-like homes that dotted the fields out here. It seemed isolated enough that she could get in the mood a little in the back of the cab. She produced her phone from her bag, and flicked through the footage Caleb had sent. Aside from having a very grabbable auburn mop of hair adorning a truly handsome face, he was nicely toned. His torso was long, his abs pronounced by a single vertical line, his shoulders defined without being bulky.

And he had a phenomenal butt. Toned, yes, but... juicy. Like it was the main place his body gained fat. He was a master of the butt selfie, too, which she appreciated endlessly; dramatic angles and deep squeezes. An artist of the medium. She couldn't wait to grab it with her own two hands.

It was about his cock, too. She couldn't deny that. She swiped to a closeup video, his fingertips leaving enough space for the network of veins to throb on its underside as he stroked up and down, dragging the slightly glossy skin with them, his balls pulling and relaxing in the same motion. She bit her bottom lip and smirked as a thick load of his cum streamed down the shaft and over his knuckles.

She was easily turned on enough to start engaging in risky behaviour, now. If she wasn't on her way to a hookup, she'd have begun seeing what she could get away with before the driver caught on -- maybe even tempting him to join in. She'd been railed in an Uber before, in very similar surroundings. In fact...

She slid her legs open a little, riding her skirt up, and let herself feel the air on her cunt. Being turned on and ready to fuck in the presence of a complete stranger, a favourite.

Do you really need to save yourself for Caleb?

She adjusted her dress straps, toying with the fabric, making sure her fingers were visibly playing with the hem. There was no tease finer, none more innocuous, than casually making sure one's dress was on straight. She sat up a little in her seat, arching off the backrest just enough to make herself a little more pronounced, continuing to straighten and pluck the beige cotton, glancing at the rear view mirror until she finally made eye contact.