Blacout

I appreciate the wonderful comments from my last entry. Life has been busy and it's been a struggle to want to revisit this, but helpful as well. It goes much deeper and darker than this, but it's important to understand it just didn't all happen over night. This part is something to more or less fill in the gap in between what happened last time and the next incident with Mike. It's nothing I am proud of, but have come to understand that the road to understanding can often go all over the place as our minds and bodies struggle with how things are and how they got there. I feel like very few people are honest about that, and though we are all different, I don't believe I am alone in how I coped with sexuality after my initial encounter I recorded down in my last entry. Anyway, comments are great but please be respectful and supportive. Thanks.

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Time passed slowly after the day Mike came by and used me for the second time. I remember trying to tell myself that sexual flings happen when you're young and that this was just another stupid decision...at least I had gotten him to delete the pictures he had taken of me. Those pictures, pictures of me naked and with his cock in me, were of a time I would never truly remember and yet they will haunt me forever. Mike and I had been flirting and making out a bit one night when I blacked out and discovered the next day that he used me sexually while I was out of it and chronicled the event with his camera phone. My efforts the following day to get him to erase those pictures trapped me into being used, roughly used, by him a second time just to get him to delete the pictures from his phone.

I tried to tell myself it was just another stupid sexual encounter, and I tried to feel some measure of success by making him get rid of those pictures before others at work could see them, and I tried to move on like it wasn't a big deal. I was trying to brush off my own rape and entrapment and it was an uphill battle.

I consider myself a highly sexual person, and well, like most people I have a basic and regular need to release. Back then though, I was younger, full of energy and if I wasn't with someone you can bet I was masturbating nightly. After the day Mike came by to delete the pictures I just couldn't. He had me so wet, so turned on, but my mind and body just churned with sickness and would not release. My body was on edge when he left that day but I was still far too disgusted to even imagine touching myself to cum and release everything that was pent up on edge. I didn't masturbate again for weeks and my body remained tense and on edge but I just sort of got used to it. I was upset, stressed, had a horrible time sleeping, and did all that I could to avoid seeing people.

I kept going to school, and to work, but stopped going to the typical after work parties. Mike didn't say much at work when he saw me but the occasional 'What's up?' or 'Hi' but he tried texting me a few times and I just brushed him off as nicely as I could telling him I was having a rough semester and stressed about school. He wanted to know if it was that I wasn't attracted to him to whom I said no, that I was attracted, but I just shouldn't be with anyone right now. Eventually he let it drop.

After several weeks of pouting and hiding away, I simply got tired of myself and knew I needed to press forward and not let this situation rule me. I went to a movie or two with friends and drinks, and even started doing the after work parties again. Mike wasn't always at them and when he was I played it off as I had told him in texts...that I liked him, was attracted to him, but I just couldn't get involved with anyone right now in any way because of school. I wasn't flirting with him but I wasn't really flirting with anyone like I normally would. Some of the other guys, Ian included, seemed a little offended that I wasn't returning their usual flirtatious quips with my own, but they all sensed I was stressed and seemed just happy to have me back with the group again.

So things got better, I wasn't as stressed feeling like I was facing my fears to an extent and getting back out with people, having some fun, having some drinks, and from time to time even masturbate when I had enough alcohol to get over my own inhibitions. It sounds funny but it can be an odd experience...touching yourself again when you should be so used to the feeling and what to do, what your body needs, it should be like riding a bike...but after more than a month I remember it feeling like someone else was trying to get me off and they were doing a shit job. No orgasm...whatever or however I tried. That alone felt good, getting back to my old self...trying at least.

A few more drunken nights, a few more attempts...fail after fail. It felt good but the release wouldn't come almost as if there was a mental block. In fact there was one. I knew there was. I typically fantasized about someone I liked or was with or had been with. The most recent vivid images that would pop into my mind were of Mike. I had no interest in fantasizing about that asshole. So I would start touching, always tipsy of course, and my mind would start up imaging him touching me...stop. Images of his swollen precum leaking cock...stop. I wouldn't allow myself to keep thinking of him, but then my mind would just blank out all together and there was nothing...just a void.

At times I furiously rubbed away trying to force it to just happen, but I got nowhere. One time I had decided I didn't care, like I was having an out loud conversation with myself tipsy and driving home from one of those after work parties, and that I was just going to touch and not block it out and that it didn't mean anything bad...it didn't have to mean anything.

I remember getting home, and changing into just a really long night shirt I had with Woodstock sleeping on Snoopy's tummy and nothing else. It was like an event I was working up to, and getting most of my clothes stripped away would make for an easy transition when the needy itch started. I wasn't quite ready and grabbing another beer for courage I headed out to my deck for a smoke and to start thinking. The weather had gotten a good bit warmer since the time when Mike had been by, but at night it was still a bit chilly. I lit a cigarette and started on my beer. I wanted this to work, needed this to work, I acted like it was a game...some sort of challenge but looking back now I know in truth I was struggling with desperation and I wanted nothing more than to explode in an orgasm so intense I would pass out and not wake up till the next day.

I started to think about what happened with Mike and I guess in my mind, if I tried to think about that before I touched myself, I could work it out somehow to my advantage when I got to those points I normally blocked out. How simple and playful his first advances had seemed that day in this exact same spot on the deck. Kissing me, playing the little 'you poke at me I poke at you' game and him typically aiming at my breasts and ass, and then again the next day on the deck running his hands up under my shirt and over my breasts...these thoughts ran through my mind. I too began running my fingers over my breasts slowly, the thin jersey fabric of my shirt doing nothing to hide how stiff my nipples had become and did nothing to lessen the sensitivity. I suddenly felt as if I was naked and exposed there on the porch and brought my hand down to my side in a wave of embarrassment.

I opened my eyes, not even realizing I had shut them while recalling the past. Then I remembered it was night, virtually pitch black on the porch aside from the light from my own window throwing a soft glow against the wooden beams, and I was almost surprised when changing my focus down to my body that I was indeed not naked but still completely covered by my long night shirt. I did however focus intently on my obvious tented points in my shirt and as my sudden wave if embarrassment subsided my need, my desperate need returned and my hand came right back up to a protruding nipple as if to inspect this curious sexual oddity like it was attached to someone else and not my own. I tugged at it, twisted it, pinched it so hard like it was one part of some bubble wrap and I was just squeezing away yearning to hear the pop.

It sticks in my head with some degree of clarity just as the almost unperceivable burn mark on my right pointer finger does now. My cigarette had burned down to nothing while I was lost in this trance and managed to get a full second or more of time to burn into that finger before I snapped to, shaking my hand wildly, tossing the butt and a cascade of embers into the darkness. "Fuck...," I groaned as I stuck my finger in my mouth sucking at the ash and pain.

No more smoking, I decided, but I still wanted to finish my beer and the cool night air felt good in contrast to how hot I was starting to feel. I ducked back inside for a moment to run my finger under some cold water, turned off all the lights, and back out to the porch I went.

At first I felt like I had been swallowed up into a sea of darkness and feeling more than tipsy I was making slow wobbly movements towards the wooden rail I had left my beer on. Finding the rail I regained some sense of security and stopped to breathe and look up at the stars which were truly the only lights out for me to see. I noticed the painful stinging ache in my nipple I had been ignoring and instinctively began rubbing the sore thing with my fingers...oh! The sudden and unmistakable feeling of bliss that coursed through my body! I didn't recognize it at the time but it was probably the first time I really made an erotic connection between pain and pleasure. I knew of dirty stories where kinky painful things were part of it and I didn't doubt that for some it really did get them off, but it never had personally clicked for me before. My mind wasn't focused on any possible bigger significance of that at the time, I simply felt the need for more...just more of anything, more attention, more sensation, more touching...I just craved more.

I pinched my nipple again and almost immediately let it go; still sore from everything it was even more sensitive after my gentle caresses. So my fingers quickly found their way to my other nipple and found that it was handling my pinching and tugging just fine. As I continued to work over my poor hard nipple through the fabric, I reached for my beer, quickly found its resting spot on the railing, and resumed drinking. I focused back on Mike, searching for something that would match my feelings. Then I recalled how he wasn't satisfied to simply suck at my nipples but was time and again using his teeth to dig in and pull at my tender aching flesh. No longer just pinching, I had angled my fingertips to dig my nails in hard and in a brief flash my touch matched my imagination and finally the pain started to shoot off little lightning bolts from my nipple into my body. At least, that's how my mind tried to give my reality form and substance as it flashed in and out of my imagined experience of his teeth biting. It hurt like hell but I remembered how good the other nipple had felt after and I wanted this time to feel even better and I knew that meant I had to hold on longer. I wouldn't let go, and even told myself if I wanted to let go I had to finish my beer first. I drank but held on hard and fast, finishing everything but one last swig...why, to hold out longer? Was I teasing myself, pushing myself somehow...I don't recall, but I remember regarding this as some sort of game in which I never thought I would win...just playing was scratching the itch and at the moment that was everything.

Finally I finished the beer and with one last gulp I released my nipple. I felt on fire, I felt so fucking horny and turned on, I felt like I needed to sit down before my legs, now feeling quite rubbery, gave way beneath me. Opening my eyes again as I made my way from standing to sitting, as if that was to help somehow in the pitch blackness, and I found myself focusing on the only light available...the stars. I had spent lots of nights hanging out on my deck, noticing them in passing, always doing something else, but for the first time I allowed myself to stare up at them and even decided to hell with it and just laid down flat on my back to get a better view. At first lying down so tipsy brought a sudden wave of the spins over me, and I had to redirect my focus. I closed my eyes, found my nipple with my fingers and immediately, my body found it's much needed focus point. Like before the sensation of pain transferring over to pleasure was intense and a little whimpering moan escaped me. I opened my eyes again to discover the stars were gorgeous and no longer spinning. I felt so small so insignificant. I knew I was outside, and truly to anyone who might walk down my edge of the alleyway that night...just a quick click of a flashlight would expose a drunken girl fondling herself.

That in reality is exactly what I was...but with only the droning hum of a nearby central air unit, and the darkness so utter and so complete blanketing me all around, I felt like my body and my thoughts, no matter how wrong or dirty, were hidden away from everything and everyone. I felt free and elated to feel something again, and not just to feel...but to feel something so much stronger.

I caressed and rubbed away at my nipple till I thought I would wear right through the fabric of my shirt. I wanted to wear it away, and soon I realized I was tugging and pulling again, and my eyes popped back open wide as I winced at the pain. My eyes had closed, drifting back to thoughts again of wet warm lips sucking and teasing my nipple and then biting, again and again. Oh god, I needed more!

I let my right hand slip down from my breast down my abdomen and did so slowly and with trepidation. Without question my pussy was aching and desperate for attention, but it had gone bad so many times now I was scared to even start. The closer my hand got the more I felt my body tense up, I could sense it and I tried to take a deep breath and focus on the stars above for a moment and just let it happen. With my legs already parted several inches my hand continued down my night shirt and when I felt the small amount of pubic hair poking through the thin fabric I froze. I knew I was just an inch away but I just couldn't...not without help. I closed my eyes and thought of Mike. Sitting there on the couch, him playfully luring me into letting him "check my temperature" and as I imagined his hand sliding over my little shorts I started to let go and my own hand slide down and pressed my nightshirt firmly against my lips.

Just as one of his fingers had pressed hard against the fabric forcing my lips to part to the pressure and allow my wetness to seep through, I did the same pushing and wedging my nightshirt between my lips. I almost couldn't breathe, didn't want to for fear that this feeling of bliss might fly away. I remember how he called me out on being wet, and how embarrassing that felt but I kept prodding and pushing with my finger harder and my nightshirt felt almost nonexistent.

I remember starting to move my finger around more...feeling for the fabric that should be there and as my finger drifted away from the deep crease now formed in the fabric because of my lips I discovered the reason and froze again. I was so wet that not only had the fabric felt thinner when wet but the outside of my shirt in that area was literally sticky and lubricated with my juices. It was only moving my finger away to an area of dry fabric that brought me shockingly to the reality of why I thought the fabric wasn't there. I can get really wet when turned on so it wasn't a complete surprise but that typically only happens when I am with a guy I am really turned on by and kissing and touching. I sat up a bit and grabbed at the bottom of my shirt and pulled it up like I might see the wetness that I had felt but in truth I could barely see the shirt pulled up a foot away from my face. I traced my left hand over the middle area of the shirt and quickly discovered a warped bunched up area that felt like I had been sucking on my shirt for minutes and it was all moist and slimy from my spit.

For an instant I was embarrassed and even a little ashamed, but I soon realized what this meant...that I was finally and truly turned on and that I might just break my streak of masturbating with no orgasm. In an instant I was pulling my shirt back to lie across my chest and my greedy fingers shot down to feel my tender soaked lips. I just rubbed at first not wanting to go too far to quick and jinx myself but it felt amazing none the less. Within a minute I could feel the wetness from the top fold of my shirt seeping through the bottom and I found the sensation very distracting. So I sat up quick and lifting my butt up a bit I tugged my shirt up and over my body. As I started to ball the shirt up into my hands, I paused and stopped breathing and looked around...nothing. I quickly reminded myself of how dark it was and in truth at that point it was giving any excuse I could to myself to continue right there and then. I stuck my balled up shirt behind my neck and head and lay back down and opened my legs wider almost in defiance of my moment of hesitation just seconds before.

Down my hand went and eyes closed I wanted to feel something inside me and my mind ran right back to thoughts of him checking my temperature, sliding his hand in my shorts and slipping a finger deep up inside. As he did it, I did it and my finger slid inside with no resistance. The small penetration opening me more allowed more of my juices to flow and with no shirt to catch them I could start to feel a hot wet trail sliding down to tickle my asshole, linger there for a moment and drip off onto the deck below.

My finger kept up its slow rhythmic motions putting pressure up against the top of my wet canal and my mind worked to keep up with the feeling and I began thinking about his cock. His swollen cock that leaked so much precum and that I found myself coerced into stroking as the sticky stuff ran down my hand. I could feel myself starting to cringe a little because the thought of his cock was just sickening, but I could imagine it very well and I needed more. My eyes had come open at some point thinking this, trying not to think this, but wanting to think about it so much. I grabbed my nipple with my left hand and pinched hard, gasped, closed my eyes, focused on his wet throbbing cock and continued to slide my finger in and out of my wet, wet hole.

For the moment it was working. The pain was helping redirect my focus as I imagined stroking him, my head so close to his weeping member at one point that I could smell the scent of his precum with every breath of air.

Back and forth I went from one nipple to the other, pinching then rubbing, and then I tried to go for it. I started rubbing my clit and came close...oh so close, but I just wouldn't pop. I needed my mind to help me push over and I knew that meant it was time to start pushing at those thoughts that I always backed away from. I started to imagine sucking his wet sticky penis. I remembered how he pushed me down between the couch and table and started forcing the deep throat. I remembered how I put my hands up to try and take control of the action and how he strongly refused and barked at me to keep my hands down.

It was too much, I started to feel sick; I opened my eyes and stopped rubbing my clit. I sat up nearly panting at this point and stared up at the stars. "Fuck..."I grumbled under my breath. I started tugging at my nipples again, not even thinking about it, just caught myself doing it, and I decided yeah...you really want this, don't give up. So I pinched harder and closed my eyes and thought of his cock deep in my mouth. My fingers found their way down to my lips and had started pulling and teasing them a bit as I kept imagining how badly I had needed to pause to breathe and caught myself not breathing. I recalled how his precum just kept coming out, filling the back of my mouth, at times draining down my throat and choking me and fuck was my mouth ever wet and I swallowed my own spit down just as I had his precum.