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Hurt Shoulders (Pt 2a of Broken Shoulders)

This story contains fictional characters engaging in sexual relationships or activities and are 18 years old or older. Please feel free to leave constructive feedback. All rights reserved.

I would recommend reading Broken Shoulders (Pt1 & 2) before reading any further. It does NOT add anything further to the main Incest Storyline other than to explain the beginnings of some of my fetishes.

WARNING

This chapter of my life deals with Non-consensual sex (No Incest). It is graphic and detailed so if you are averse to such a subject, I urge you not to read it.

In Part 2 of Broken Shoulders - I mentioned a guy called Dave and admitted that he was the one who first introduced me to the dirty talking that I was later to go on and enjoy. When I was writing that part, I considered adding a bit more detail, or including this bit in the main storyline but then figured that not everyone would want to read it. Indeed, I considered even, whether I should write it at all -- but when I agreed to do this, I agreed that it would be about me 'warts and all' so here it is.

Dave was a rapist, pure and simple. He was misogynistic and hateful toward women. But I'm sure he wasn't always like that and I do wonder sometimes, how much of a part I played in his downward spiral. Before I tell you that, I'll tell you a little about my upbringing -- as much as I can legally tell you.

Growing up, my mum was an alcoholic and I didn't even know my Dad. I had an older sibling that looked after us (Younger sister and younger brother). She helped us with clean school clothes etc. When it came to food, we ate cheap fast food and packet meals. Most days, mum was drunk from about noon onwards and then would usually pass out around 8pm.

When my age got to double figures, I noticed a slight change in my mum. She suddenly was drinking a little less and was actually making an effort to look decent. Then I found out why. One day she brought home this guy.

Well pretty soon, this guy moved in and that was when the problems started I guess. All 4 of us were under 18 then so I can't tell you what happened.

He didn't stay on the scene long -- but it seemed now, that my mum had re-discovered her self-worth. Because over the next few years, there were a string of guys that moved in with us -- and eventually, they each insisted we called them 'Step-dad'. It didn't bother me -- I didn't really understand the significance. But I knew it bothered my eldest sister.

When I got pregnant with Ben, I knew I had to get out of that house and with the aid of my eldest sister (whom had now already left home) I managed to get into a Mother and Child refuge. It was tough, believe me, bringing up a child and trying to finish my education at the same time. But I did it, and I was so proud of myself for that. But I was so thankful to my sisters -- who babysat Ben whenever I needed them to.

I was about 22 when I first met Dave, through a mutual friend. We talked and then I agreed to go out to dinner with him. Dave was tall, masculine and strong. But he had a gentle side too -- or so it seemed. He seemed considerate and thoughtful in all his dealings with me. He would always enquire about Ben and would occasionally even buy him a little toy. We didn't sleep together -- not straight away, and I was always mindful that Ben was in the house.

Dave seemed like a nice guy to begin with, and I allowed myself to dream and to believe that a full and committed relationship was entirely possible and on the cards. He was funny, clever, attentive and a great listener. He got on really well with Ben, reading him bedtime stories and spending time with him. In several discussion, over a number of weeks I opened up to Dave and told him the full extent of what had happened to me. Dave took it all in without comment -- little did I realise that he was storing it all up for later.

Dave didn't really pressure me for sex, and in hindsight -- I should have realised that that was a red flag. I mean, I had told him I wouldn't sleep with him until I felt comfortable (given what I had been through) and he agreed. Even so, I had half expected him to at least hint at getting some sort of timeline. But instead, Dave just seemed happy to cuddle up on the sofa. I had jerked him off a few times and given him a couple of blowjobs -- on the proviso that we weren't going to have sex. He accepted that without question, and that both reassured and alarmed me.

In truth, the blowjobs had been a little hurried and not entirely comfortable -- done as they were, in the back of his car in a parking lot somewhere. I recalled that the first time he had really enjoyed it, and so had I. He hadn't lasted very long -- and had just spewed his cum over me (over my clothes too) before sighing deeply, saying he had enjoyed it immensely. There was no discussion about how or if I had enjoyed it.

The second blow job was a bit more controlled and he at least managed to get his cum in my mouth 'where it belonged' he sighed as he dripped the last drop of cum over me. Again, there was no discussion about how it had been for me, and it should have made me think. But it didn't. As the days and weeks went on, Dave would send me nice flowers, send some really nice texts about our 'dates' and how he enjoyed them. And in truth, I realised one day that I was falling in love with him.

OK. Admission time. I was fucking desperate to jump his bones by this time. I was fucking gagging for it, and I tried to give him hints whenever I could. Some of you may laugh, and say I should have simply grabbed him and dragged him to the bedroom. But what can I say, I was naive then -- and I really felt it was the man's role to do the strongarm stuff. And despite, a part of me was enjoying the whole 'I wonder when he'll get the hint' feeling.

Up to this time, Dave had been around to the house a few times, of course. But he had never stayed the night -- not even in the spare bed.

Then, about 3 months into the relationship, Dave surprised me by telling me he had booked seats for a Tom Jones concert, and a room at the hotel for one night. Of course my heart was set aflutter. It was the first acknowledgement that we were going to sleep together, and that we were finally going to fuck. Of course I was excited, I was in heaven.

I knew that staying in a hotel -- together, well that was just upping the ante a little bit. There was nowhere to hide in a hotel room. In the back of a car, you can always cut it short by saying that someone's coming (no pun intended) or by saying you're too uncomfortable. In the hotel room, there would be no room for excuses, and it would be our 'first time'.

I was apprehensive, of course - I was scared witless. I was very inexperienced then and more than a little insecure. In the full light of the hotel room, Dave would see me -- naked. All kinds of stupid thoughts entered my head -- and ladies, I'm sure you'll identify with some of these. I worried about whether he'd like my body -- too fat/thin? Would he think my tits were too big/small? Would he think my arse was too wide, my thighs too chunky? Should I make the first move? Would he want me to act all sexy and seductive? Would he want me to put on a 'show' for him? What if I couldn't get wet (my cunt didn't always drench at the drop of a hat, you know). And how often would he expect to fuck me?

Then there was the subject of protection. I had actually gone on the pill 10 days previously in preparation, but I had not had a chance to tell Dave this. This is a significant point, as you will discover later.

I sought some advice and reassurance from my eldest sister (who was looking after Ben while I was away). She talked me through it, gave me some advice and ended by saying that I needed to try and enjoy it.

So on the Saturday morning, Dave picked me up in his car and we drove to the hotel. The hotel was right next to the arena and I was glad of that, since the weather wasn't great. We checked in and then went to the bar for a drink until the arena was open. Then we walked over, arm in arm -- laughing and joking and casually flirting a little. In truth, I felt so content and so happy, as we took our seats close to the stage.

What can I say, Tom Jones was fantastic and before you ask -- Yes, I did. It was stupid of me, because what I should have done was taken a spare pair with me. Instead, during the interval I went to the toilets and removed my panties -- keeping them in my pocket for when they would be needed.

At the end of Tom Jones's concerts, it is tradition that the ladies approach the stage and throw their panties (sometimes bras) at him. And that is exactly what I did. They were a nice pink frilly pair and one of my favourites I have to say. Tom had so many thrown at him that I doubt he even touched mine let alone sniff them. But it turned me on to imaging Tom jerking off into my panties. (And yes -- I know it's highly unlikely that Tom would be jerking himself off, with so many women willing to do it for him).

To be honest, when I got back to my seat - I was really surprised and shocked (and I should have been scared, had I but seen it) by Dave's response. I thought he would have found it a little sexy and exhilarating -- but no, he was furious with me. He grabbed me by the arm, squeezing quite tight so it hurt and the dragged me out of the arena -- even as Tom was still taking his accolades.

Once outside he turned to me, his eyes raging and his face red with anger. "How dare you humiliate me like that?" he demanded.

I asked him how I had humiliated him, and he replied by saying that I was acting like all those other worthless sluts -- throwing their underwear at Tom Jones. It was side of him that I had never, ever seen before -- and I didn't like it.

I tried to get him to see the funny side of it, told him it was a bit of a tradition. He replied that I was acting like a common whore and did I want to be treated like one. I didn't really or fully understand his meaning then. The hotel was not far from the arena, so we didn't have far to walk and as we entered the hotel, neither of us said a word. I had hoped that by the time we'd get to the room he would have calmed down -- how wrong I was.

Once in the hotel room, he exploded with swear words. He'd used swear words around me before, of course, but it was not gratuitous and he had always been mindful not to cause offence.

"You fucking worthless whore." He snarled. "Throwing your knickers at him like a desperate slut. How do you think that made me feel?"

I was about to re-iterate that it was a fun 'tradition' and wasn't meant to represent any desire on my part (which wasn't true of course because I desperately wanted Tom to fuck me) when he snarled once more.

"You humiliated me." He said, sounding just a little less angry. "The people around us saw what you did, they knew I was going out with a useless slut." He hissed.

It dawned on me that he was more bothered about what other people thought of him than he was of what I thought him. So I did what I guess most women do in that situation, I apologised (even though I didn't think there was anything to apologise for) and I said I was really sorry. This seemed to appease him a little.

Then, seeking a distraction - I went to the mini bar and took some drinks out. He took the hint and grabbing the ice bucket (and his phone) he went to get some ice.

He was gone a good 10 to 15 minutes and when he returned he was almost a different man - almost. This time he apologised to me, saying he had over-reacted and that he was wrong to have called me those names. Whether he had used his phone to find out about Tom Jones concerts or whether he had 'phoned a friend' I really don't know. But he apologised profusely and asked me to forgive him.

Did I forgive him -- of course I fucking did. I was desperate for cock at this stage. All the built up anticipation and the thought of Tom sniffing my panties had turned me on and despite this little hiccup -- I was looking forward to a good fuck.

What I wasn't prepared for was just how aggressive that fuck was going to be. Oh it started out all soft and lovely, he nuzzled my neck then kissed me deeply on the mouth. I responded, unbuttoning his shirt and running my hands over his hairy chest. His shirt came off quickly and then my blouse.

"Oh fuck I've wanted to see these tits for so long." He gasped and I took that as a compliment. So I turned and I let him unhook my bra, before turning toward him and then revealing them in a sort of 'titty drop' that you guys seem to enjoy so much.

His eyes went wide and he immediately dropped his mouth to them and took one of my nipples between his lips nuzzling and licking them gently. My hand reached down to his trousers, and I quickly unzipped him and got his cock out. Dave groaned loudly, and I felt his cock immediately get harder.

I dropped to my knees and opened his buckle, pulling his trousers and underpants down in a smooth movement. He stepped out of them then approached me -- his cock swinging wildly while I knelt there -- my mouth open wide and my tongue ready.

I grabbed his cock eagerly and began a slow movement with my hand, while my other hand felt his balls. They were surprisingly light and felt almost empty. I was too naïve at the time to put 2 and 2 together. It wasn't as if I'd handled that many ball sacks.

He wasn't that well-endowed either (something I was soon to be grateful for), packing about 5 to 5.5 inches fully erect, and probably about 3 -- 4 in girth. Again, I wasn't disappointed then -- the few cocks I had seen, had all been around that size so I didn't know any different.

But it was when I put his cock in my mouth that his attitude changed slightly. At first, innocent enough (well, you know what I mean by that) when he said "Ah fuck yeah. That's where it belongs."

I began my ministrations on his cock, letting my tongue drool over it as I licked and sucked. My technique was a little lacking then I guess, since I hadn't yet discovered all the different ways and the different things to do when sucking cock.

I was all very erotic and sensual, and my arousal was obvious to me as my cunt started to get wet. I didn't have a clue about deep throat then, and -- don't laugh -- I really thought the whole point of a blow job WAS to get it all in my mouth. So that's what I did.

When my nose hit his pubic bone, Dave howled his pleasure, shouting "Fuck, I can't believe you got it all the way down your throat."

Now in hindsight, I guess he had ideas of increased grandeur or maybe he hadn't seen many cocks. Either way, he obviously thought he was packing a good length and the fact that I had taken 'all of it' down my throat, delighted him. Truth was, he was barely passed my tonsils and it was feeling quite pleasurable to me, too.

Then he put his hands either side of my head, and began pumping. Bear in mind, here -- that I was naïve and inexperienced. I didn't know what a skull-fuck was, or a throat-pie. I'm not even sure if those terms existed then, but for sure -- that's what Dave was doing to me.

As his thrusting became frantic, so did my breathing. I widened my mouth as much as I could to draw in more air, but more often than not -- it was cut short as Dave shoved his cock back in my mouth, and then with a hand behind my head -- held my face pressed to his stomach.

I felt myself go dizzy, and I know I was drooling from my nose so shook my head and tapped his thigh trying to indicate that I'd had enough. Dave didn't listen, he just started pumping again -- which was mercifully better than being suffocated by his stomach.

The skull fucking was relentless and lasted a good 10 minutes, every now and again he would hold my head right up to his stomach and I wondered if that was how he was going to come.

Suddenly, he pulled out and grabbed me by the hair -- lifted me up and threw me back on the bed. Before I even had time to react, he was astride me -- legs either side and holding his cock just a few inches from my mouth. I knew what was coming, in all senses of the term. I opened my mouth gladly, relieved that the face fucking was over. My chest was heaving, as I tried to breathe, and my tits flopped wildly as I gulped in as much air as I could.

Over me, Dave was slowly jerking his cock. "Oh I've got a good load of cum for you." He chuckled, then asked me "Where do you fucking want it."

I hadn't been asked that before, and stupid as I was, I thought it was quite sweet of him to ask. But his next comment destroyed that thought.

"You know what, I don't care cos I'm just going to cum wherever I want. And there's nothing you can fucking do about it." He snarled.

I should have been excited, maybe turned on -- after all, I was about to get what I wanted, a whole load of cum dumped on me, and in truth he was partly right. I didn't care where he dumped it, I only cared that he did (cum on me).

But again, foolish naivety combined with inexperience meant that I felt the 2 and a half spurts he gave me were normal. It certainly wasn't copious and it wasn't the huge load I was expecting (hoping?) for, but at the time I just thought that was how much he came. Previous blow jobs I had given him had always been in the back of his car -- and I'd never really got to see how much cum he dropped on me. I was so naïve and inexperienced then, that after those blow jobs -- I actually used tissues to wipe the cum off. Can you believe THAT?

Dave gasped as he spurted the first load on my face, in my eye mainly. For the 2nd spurt, I think he was aiming at my tits but managed to hit my neck and then his half spurt sort of dribbled onto my tits -- so he got there eventually. Finally sated, he rolled on his back. I reached out for the tissues and he asked me what I thought I was doing. I told him I was cleaning up and he said that I needed to scoop it up and swallow his cum like a good cum-drinker.

He then launched into a mini-tirade about how his cum was precious and I should treat it as such, not letting a drop go to waste. In my mind (and from what I'd been told from my sisters) women were either swallowers or spitters and so I guessed I was going to be a swallower. I had swallowed some of his cum in the past, and in truth it hadn't bothered me. It was tasteless and not really as bad as it had sounded when I first heard about it.

"Clean my cock up with your dirty mouth." He demanded. "You get every last drop of that cum that you so love, and then you can thank me."

For the life of me I couldn't think of why I should thank him. Thus far I had received very little pleasure and as his cock continued to deflate whilst I licked it clean -- it became apparent to me that it might be the only pleasure I was going to get until maybe morning time. There was no kissing, no fondling or any form of foreplay and so I resigned myself to having to wait till morning for my 'fuck'.

Sure enough Dave pulled the covers over himself and I went to the bathroom to 'clean up' and do my ablutions. When I went back in the bedroom, Dave was asleep. And that would have been that, except I hadn't counted on Dave's predilection.

I got back into bed beside him and drifted back off to sleep. Later - I woke to feel a body on top of me and a hand over my mouth so I went to scream. I guess Dave anticipated this because he said to me. "Don't scream. You emptied my balls pretty good earlier but now I'm ready to fuck you." He declared.

It certainly wasn't the romantic, erotic and sensual fuck I had been hoping for and in truth I was barely awake. Looking at the window, I could see it was getting light and I guessed it must have been about 5 am.

I felt Dave's fingers start to rub my clit, as his fingers fumbled for my cunthole. "You might want to lick me out first." I offered by way of mitigation for my dryness. His response shook me.