My alarm clock buzzes, and I don't move to turn it off. I'm lying in my bed, sweating despite the air-conditioning and the fact that I'm naked. It's a cold sweat. I feel empty, and realize the seven-inch vibrator that I had fucked myself to sleep with had slipped out of me during the night, and was lying silent on my bed between my legs. I lie back, and remember.
After humiliating me, spanking me and ass-fucking me, my boss Mr Wong had left me in the garage, naked and wrists tied with my bra and bent over his car bonnet, at the mercy of the drivers and chauffeurs of the guests at his New Year's party. I remember Ahmad's dick slapping against my butt cheek. I remember straddling a Malay man, impaled on his thick cock, as another behind me, all the while sucking the third man fucked me in the ass. I had been gang-raped by a group of six Chinese boys once (read My Story Pt.2), but they had been boys who were overly excited and worried about getting caught, and they hadn't touched my ass. They hadn't tied me up and had worried about making too much noise. At that time, in my flat where they had caught me and raped me, it had seemed pretty intense. Since then, the most I've done is two at once, and with love and care. And one of the guys had been bisexual. These were nothing compared to what happened that evening at the party.
So this was new to me – four, or was it five or six? I can't remember. All I remember was they were all Malay save for one Indian, and that they were much more than boys, they were grown men, and experienced. They were rough, and physical, and had slapped me around a bit but not too hard. The fucking, however, was. It's one thing to be loved, another to be fucked. And I got fucked.
I was pounded, hard – cocks pistoning in synchrony in my pussy and my ass and my mouth. When they fucked my mouth, they didn't run fingers lovingly through my hair, they gripped it tight and pulled it, they pulled and pushed my head up and down their long, thick cocks. In my fear and panic and most of all, in my maddened, desperate lust, their cocks seemed magnified. I'm sure they were normal, but my horniness made everything intensified. There seemed to be more cum. There was more fucking. A minute seemed like an hour. I lost track of the time as they took turns to sample all I had to offer. My tits were mauled and my nipples were pinched and tweaked painfully – I had love bites all over my chest and shoulders and my inner thighs.
My last memory was of having orgasmed, deliciously and powerfully, over and over and over again.
I remember I had lost consciousness. When I came to, I found myself on cold cement floor, in the cool night air. It took me awhile to get my bearings but I realized I was at the void deck of the block of government flats I lived in. And I was still naked, but my wrists were freed. They chafed, and I had red burns around them from my initial struggles. It was the wee hours of the morning. I made my way up to my flat, and fished out my emergency keys that I kept hidden under a potted plant – I had collapsed inside my flat.
I examined the damage done. I had come all over my face and tits and hair. Sperm slowly leaked out of my pussy and ass and I had left a little trail of gobs of cum on the floor. I had red marks from love bites all around my breasts and neck and shoulders and inner thighs. My wrists were chafed and red. My shoulders were aching from having my wrists tied behind my back for so long, and my pussy and ass were throbbing in pain. They felt on fire. I was light-headed, and I could barely stand.
I forgot how I managed to shower and wash myself and I forgot how I managed to roll into bed. And when I woke up and found the vibrator on my bed – well, I was a little surprised. The throbbing pain in my pussy and ass had subsided into a dull ache, but the fire still remained. I sat up and looked myself in the full-length mirror, and admire my slim, Asian figure – a little on the buxomly side. If I were a lesbian I might have fucked myself. My hair was all messed up, and I needed another wax. As I picked up the vibe and touched myself again, I found myself thinking, "This is a whole, new, year." And then, sufficiently wet, I slid the dead vibe into my pussy and used it as a dildo.
It is a public holiday today.
I spend the morning reading the papers naked, and I laugh. The headline article is about a man who walked around in his flat nude, and indignant and disgusted neighbours had complained to the police. He was then arrested for indecent exposure. In his own home! They can do that. It's in a sweeping new policy that covers an omnibus of indecent acts – I should know. I'm a lawyer. The irony was that he had only started walking around nude for three or four days before he got busted. I've been going nude in MY flat for the last two years and no one has uttered a word. I'm sure my neighbours can see me through my constantly opened windows – not for the thrill, but for the breeze – so I guess it has something to do with the view offered, I guess.
