The Burlgary His Perspective

NOTE: This is a non-consensual surprise sex story with characters above 18. If non-con ain't your jam: maybe don't read this. If it is: get wet, fuckers.

*****

The door to her apartment was unlocked. I was standing in the stairway, my feet sinking into the stiff hairs of her welcome mat. Grocery store bags still held in my right hand, her door knob, twisting one more time just to be sure. It turns without resistance. I keep turning it, seeing the meat of my thumb then the back of my hand. A burst of adrenaline electrifies my body, making my toes tingle.

Holy shit. I could do it. I could do it right now.

The milk in the bag vibrates a little. There's a party right across her hall. College kids not giving a fuck about anything or anyone hearing them play Soulja Boy. Everyone's used to them by now. Their loud music, already loud voices. I knew there would be nothing to stop me. And besides, she left the door open.

I run up steps to my apartment, unlock the door, and throw the groceries bags onto the kitchen counter. I go to my room, a messy symptom of working two jobs and just wanting to sleep when you get home. I was tired today, barely wanting to go get groceries. But this opportunity is too good. I'm bouncing on the balls of my feet, feeling fucking

giddy,

of all things. My heart pumps in my chest. I even smile at one point, mostly out of nervousness, a little bit out of excitement.

I'm fucking doing it. I'm actually doing it. This is a thing I'm doing.

I strip to my clothes and walk naked to my bathroom, connected to my bedroom, ski mask in hand. I see my face in the mirror, I see it disappear behind the black fabric. All I see are my brown eyes and thin, wide mouth. I slap myself in the face, pump myself up. The music blares in the background.

Motherfucker. It's too perfect.

I slap myself again, feeling the redness on my face but seeing only black in the mirror. I head back into my room, grab a condom and a mask. Change into black jeans, a black t-shirt, and black boots. I slip duct tape and hand-cuffs in my back pocket.

My heart is beating faster and faster, my stomach feeling like it did before a big speech in Intro to Public Speaking. I shake my hands by my sides like I'm drying them off.

The boots thunk across the hardwood floors as I exit my door, locking it behind me. I stand there, holding the doorknob in my hand, my dick semi-hard, thinking about what it's going to be like.

Fuck it.

I peak my head over the stairwell to make sure no one's there. No one is. I creep down the steps and stop outside her door again. I put my hand on the knob. It's still warm from when I held it last, the cool, curved metal smooth against my callouses. I turn the door and walk in, closing it gently behind me.

I'm greeted with an empty living room. Her apartment is laid out exactly like mine. The first room is the living room. Off to the right is the kitchen, off to the bed a lone bedroom. Her apartment is much cleaner than mine, trendy furniture she probably got from Ikea, a few thrift store finds thrown in. It smells like pizza, but it's hard to see anything in here. The lights are off except for a dull lamp over what looks to be a basil plant on a kitchen counter. She's a would-be gardener. How cute.

I lock the door behind me. I stalk past her coffee table and couch, the thudding of my boots muffled by her gray fuzzy rug. I head for the beam of light spilling beneath her door way.

I press my ear to the bedroom. Over the sound of the blaring music, I hear the sound of water falling, of her softly singing in the shower. I feel a rush of excitement. This is all too perfect. I open the door, peak inside. It's empty too. Her bed is unmade, white sheets balled on the mattress, a lamp on the nightstand illuminating the space. There's pictures of mountains on the wall, and a couple foreign movie posters I don't recognize. It smells like lavender.

I take a look around, make sure everything is how it should be. No cameras, god forbid, should they be in here for some reason. No rando's underneath the bed or something. There's not. It's completely empty in here. Except for me, of course. And soon to be her.

My heart beat quickens as I lock her door, louder than the bass of the music reverberating off the walls.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit. I'm doing this.

The water shuts off and the singing goes silent. My dick swell against my jeans. I step in the closet, close the door until there's just a little crack. I pet myself through my jeans.

A few minutes of waiting and nothing. She must be brushing her teeth or hair or washing her face or whatever the fuck girls do. I can barely wait. My dick throbs hot in my jeans, wanting to get out, wanting to slam into some hot, wet pussy. I keep petting myself, whimpering like an impatient child.

It's happening.

I hear the door open and she walks out. She's completely naked, with wet hair and shoulders glistening with water droplets. She's walking across the room towards the closet. I hold my breath and slip my hand in my back pocket where the handcuffs are. I hold my breath, and hope she can't hear my bass drum heartbeat.

She opens the door. When she sees me, she screams, her eyes wide and mouth a large O. I grab her hands and pull them behind her, snapping the handcuffs around her wrists. Her skin is soft, warm, and slightly moist.

"WHAT THE FUCK! WHO ARE YOU GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM I WILL CALL THE COPS!"

I throw her to the bed. I don't say a word.

"HELP! HELP! I NEED HELP! PLEASE!"

Her voice is deep and rich, smooth like melted chocolate. Too bad I rip out a strip of duct tape and place it over her mouth. I then do two more strips so nothing falls off. Now the only thing I hear is unintelligible

mmm mmm mmmmmmhmmm's

.

I stand before the bed, looking at her. She's wriggling on the bed, trying to get out. Her grapefruit sized breasts bounce with her movement, those pecan colored nipples hard. Her legs are long and thin, her arms slim. Her mahogany hair is slick, flat against her head. She's crying now.

I take off my shirt, feeling the fabric slide against my back. She's watching me, and I don't my eyes off hers. She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head back and forth. I undo my boots and take off my pants. I am silent, standing naked before her bed, some ridiculous rap song squeezing its way into the room.

She stopped wriggling whipping her head back and forth and just watched me, her eyes bouncing up from my eyes to by dick back up to my eyes. I see her chest heave up and dow, breathing hard. There was a moment where there was silence between us. I'm wearing only my mask, she's wearing only duct-tape. I hoped she saw my muscles, bulging from years of gyms presses and sports drinks. I worked hard for these abs, and it all culminates into this one moment of naked bodies. She shakes her head back and forth again. I hear little whimpers escaping above the noise.

The loud music is some fast song about sex and drugs, the lyrics mumbling through the wall. I don't take my eyes off her as I slid onto the bed on my hands and knees.

Here we go,

I think. I feel the same drop in my stomach as I did when I went to a theme park as a kid, waiting for the huge roller coaster. It's like I can feel the wind against my face, this upcoming moment of thrill, of blurred euphoria.

She closed her legs, wrapping ankle around ankle. I slip my fingers softly onto the thin skin of her ankles, that soft firm flesh, and throw my arms apart as far as they can go. This exposes her pink little pussy to the air, for all the people in her movie posters to see. I push her knees toward the walls further, so that her legs make the shape of half a rectangle. She's stretched as far as she can go, and I creep closer and closer to her pussy.

She's still trying to say something under the duct tape, shaking her head back and forth, moving her upper body as if it can do anything. She sits up, her abs bulging a bit. I push her back down, my hand holding her in place by the breast. She makes a sharp noise under the duct tape. I get nervous, let go. She sits up again, and, against my best judgement, a fit of frustration pulses through me.

"Sit the fuck back

down

!" With that last word, I shove her back onto the bed, my hands by her collar bone. "Don't fucking try anything." I warn her, feeling the ice drip down onto her. She shivers, and doesn't move anymore.

Good

, I think, a little amazed by my own forcefulness.

I slide back down onto the bed. I put my face directly on her pussy, smelling the cleanness of her, that slight metallic scent. I lick her softly, slowly. She is stone still. I keep it up, practicing my ABCs, my stars, my whatever the fuck against her clit. Her breathing quickens, but the rest of her doesn't move.

My hand snaking up her belly to grab a hold of her breast, then the other. They're warm in my hands, soft skin underneat my roughness. My hand rises and falls with her breathing. I put my finger inside her, two at a time, pumping slowly, rhythmically with the music seeping in to the bedroom. Her eyes are closed and she's silent.

I don't stop finger fucking her as I bring my head up and put my lips down on her nipple, sucking them and lightly biting one. She moans. I'm glad I feel her softening around my fingers, getting wetter with every pump. I want to slide my dick in without any resistance. I shiver at the thought.

I'm still keeping it gentle, taking my time as I suck and bite and lick her. Her hips, now feeling less tense, gently rock back and forth with my fingers. I bring my tongue back down to her clit, increasing the tempo and pressure. Before long, I feel a tightness clamp down on my fingers in her pussy, contracting wildly. She spasms on the bed, whipping left then right then up, circles of this. Under the duct tape I hear a yell, short and loud like she stubbed her toe, then silence. She's still again, her eyes squinted, looking at me.

I retract my fingers and put them in my mouth. She sweet against my tongue. Then I dip my fingers in her pussy again, taking her wetness and rubbing it on my dick for lube. I don't drop my eye-contact with her. I probe my fingers in deeper and deeper, giving one thrust, two, then pull out to lube up my dick. I'm harder than ever, and tired of waiting.

On my knees, I inch up so that my knee-caps hover just outside her inner thigh. She's still spread eagle, hasn't moved or thrashed around or tried to yell. She's silent, looking up at me. With my lubed up hand around my dick, I give myself a pump, pump, pump, then retrieve the condom from my pants. Womp womp, I know. But I don't want any babies running around with my DNA. Once I roll the condom on, I bend down to rub the head of my dick against her slit. She closes her eyes, her nipples still perfectly erect.

There's a party raging across the hall, and here I am on a stranger's bed, rubbing the head of my dick against her pussy. There's that blurry, foggy sense of

I can't believe I'm doing this,

but I don't stop. I rub her to the rhythm of the song.

I find her hole and place the head of my dick against it. I love more than anything the first entrance, the rush of penetration. I keep the head of my dick right there against her vagina, then slowly, slowly, slowly push in. She closes her eyes, her face perpendicular to the ceiling. I go deeper. The gentle curve of the head of my dick makes its presence in her, her wetness, then finally pushes around the soft, hot opening. There's a slight resistance, then a pop, and I'm in, sinking my dick as deep as it will go, balls deep.

Brows furrowed, no other movement. She takes my dick quietly. I pull out completely, then repeat the process. Slowly placing it against the opening, slowly pushing deeper and deeper until I'm fully in, all seven thick inches buried right here. She sighs, and I start fucking her. My fucking gains in speed, until I'm ramming my dick inside and out of her.

I lose myself, the world melting away so that there's nothing in this room except my body and hers, connected at where I fuck her. My eyes are closed. My mask goes moist with my own sweat, sticking to my face. I barely notice it, though, I just keep fucking her, her pussy getting wetter, warm, pulsing against me.

I feel that familiar build-up of pressure in my balls. With two last, deep thrusts, I throw my head back and groan, the noise heading straight from my throat. My weight shift in the second my soul leaves my body. I throw a hand on the bed to stabilize myself, panting, feeling my cheeks warm. Her hips are still jutting up and down when I open my eyes, feel the movement reverberate through the bed. It smells like sweat and sex. I sigh, feeling loose and relaxed.

I pull out with a small

schlick

noise. I go to my clothes pooled on the floor. I step into my leg holes, pull my jeans back up. Button them, zip up the zipper. She just watches me. There's something different about her eyes. They're not wide with fear anymore. There's something else there. Suspicion, maybe. But, and I could be mistaken, I think I see a little bit of a cocky, smiley squint. I don't know. She looks at the clock, then back at me, then tries to wriggle out of her handcuffs.

I take out the key and throw the handcuff keys on the bed. Then I wink at her and walk out the door back, my hand resting a bit too long on her door knob. It's cold. I stare at it for one second more, then I run up my stares as quickly as I can.

I close the door behind me and lock it.

I can't believe I actually did that.

I can't believe I did it. I laugh out of my sheer incapability to believe what I did. I put my dick inside the girl from below. But goddamn it felt so good. And hey, maybe I'll find her apartment unlocked again.