It Is Dar

It's dark.

You open the door to your second-floor apartment, sighing softly as you enter. It has been a long day. You absently move to flick on the lights, but your hand never reaches the switch.

Your wrist is gripped, tightly, the shock of this new feeling more curious than anything else. You gasp. You don't fully comprehend. But, as your other wrist feels a force surrounding it as well, comprehension quickly dawns.

Your first instinct is to scream, and yet not a sound exits your mouth. The door is closed behind you by a force unseen, but felt. And now, you are alone in the darkness with him, and he is holding you by the wrists, from behind. It is now that you begin to feel him against you. His body is pressed against yours. There is no possibility of escape.

And just as this realization comes to pass, you are pushed away from the door, his body pressing you on towards the window. The shades are open, it was nice out earlier. You can nearly imagine leaving this morning, admiring the view. Now it is dark, the view is of street lights and moonlit greenery. You are looking out the window, you realize, because he is pressing you against it, hard. He is holding you by the wrists, even still clenching harder (oh, they will be so sore tomorrow, you think absently in the back of your mind), as your body is pressed firmly against the cold glass, your breasts aching.

His cock is hard, and it is rubbing against you. In retrospect, it probably has been for a while, but the surprise, the utter shock of the moment lent itself to an uncanny detachment far more terrifying (erotic) than you have ever felt. And with this realization comes another, equally as disturbing (electrifying). You are wet.

So there you are. Your professional, well ironed skirt and matching blouse are still straight and respectable, for the most part. Except that your skirt, in an instant, is cut from your body, and your blouse ripped wide open. Your bra...what happened to it? And your breasts...yes, they are pressed against the window now, fully exposed, and hardening as they feel the cold pressing up against them.

What just happened? It is as though in a dream, and yet more vivid than any feeling you could ever describe. The chill against your breasts is real. The hand, now on your mouth, you realize, is real as well. You were about to scream (out loud, this time), and he knew it. And so there is his hand, pressing against your mouth, denying your instinctual urge, snuffing out the breath you would have used. Instead, only a soft moan escapes. This only excites him, of course (and you?).

Somehow, you became naked. Naked, and pressed against your apartment window, looking out on the veranda below. Your eyes focus. There is someone down there, not walking, not moving. But staring straight up at you. It is so dark, there is no way to see the face, nor identify any gender. But you know, somehow, that you are being watched.

Something is running down your leg. Oh God. It is you. It is you, uncontrollable, unavoidable, and so very warm. In an instant, you are no longer dreaming. You are here, this is real, and his cock (Oh God his cock) is hard. And it is rubbing against your naked body. At some point, his clothes disappeared. And your mouth is still covered by his hand, even though screaming is beyond you once again. You look outwards. You are still being watched.

You are being watched from both the front and behind. You can see his reflection in the window, a trick of the moonlight no doubt, but his face is impossible to make out. All you can see, really, are his eyes, as they look in to yours, as he enters you.

There is no mistaking this feeling, no detachment here. He is fucking you from behind, and he is not gentle. He pushes inside you with one hard thrust. Even with all your wetness, you grunt against his hand loudly, instinctually. And another, loud and feral as he pulls back and pushes in again. He is so deep inside you with each thrust that your eyes widen and your back arches in the way only a woman who is being fucked senseless from behind can.

You are pushing back against him. Yes, it goes against everything you know you should be feeling, and yet you are anyway. You want to feel him deeper (as if it were possible), to clench against him as he pulses inside you, to be truly fucked. He is moaning now, but your sounds are something more. Primal, relentless, these are not moans, but rather the only way you can express having your cunt being fucked, and loving every second of it (and yet you tell yourself you want it to stop).

You are still being watched. You can't look down below, you can't even think, as your face is now pressed against the hard surface, but you know it to be true. His nails are digging in to your wrist as he holds them; your lips are being pressed apart by his other hand. Your body is his.

And he is going to cum. You can feel it, and cannot stop it. You try to whisper, to ask him to stop. Your whispers are ignored. Either he didn't hear you, or he isn't listening. Either way, his speed is increasing (as if it wasn't fast enough before), his breath is fast and ragged against the back of your neck, and before you know it you are cumming, your whole body shaking as I fill you with my warmth, my cock pulsing over and over inside you. You came for me, and I you.

For a time, we cannot move. I'm still pressed against you, inside you, and for the first time tonight your eyes focus, and you can see my reflection clearly. You know who I am, of course. Your lover. And you close your eyes, sighing.