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He finally left. I was exhausted, hot and sweaty. You never know when someone you pick up for a one-night stand is going to leave. There’s a lot more you don’t know, too, like is he going to rob you, or harm you in some way, or even murder you. One night stands in a big a city is a high risk business. It’s not for the faint of heart. You have to like risk, to live on the edge.
Some people ride motorcycles. Some charter helicopters and lean out the window taking aerial photos of the change of foliage in the fall. Some volunteer for the military at times of war. These days, that’s all the time, it seems. Some risk-lovers work in banks, or hedge funds. That’s me.
I’m not a banker or a trader or anything glamorous. I’m just an executive secretary at a big bank. I’m 24 years old, out of college, and I have plenty of time to advance my career. But I am around a lot of men, and given my looks, a lot of men are around me, too.
The men go to strip clubs to satisfy their needs with some of the girls who provide extra services, shall we say. Once or twice my colleagues used me to get their rocks off, but that didn’t work out so well. It’s just not a good idea to have sex with the men you work with.
The men cannot figure out what’s expected of them: they don’t know how to act towards you when next they see you. Should they ask you out? Should they ignore you? Should they act the way they did with you before you had sex, or differently?
And if they should act differently, then how? Or should they just grab your ass in front of everyone when you walk by? Obviously that’s not done to please the woman. It certainly did not please me.
I thought about writing a pamphlet for these male morons (and yes, that’s redundant), but it was just easier to forget about them, and when I need sex – which is often, although not as often as my male colleagues – I pick up a stranger in a bar and take him home. That’s what I did last night.
I’m not usually satisfied though. My sex life is one of frustration and sorrow.
It’s not hard to pick up men, you know. I don’t dress provocatively. I don’t show a lot of skin, or go without a bra. No crude tricks for me. I just draw men to me like flies to shit; perhaps a better simile would be like a magnet. At least it sounds better.
I think it’s my exotic appearance. My father is Swedish, and my mother is Indian. My name is Priya Julia, the first one Indian and the second one Swedish. It’s the art of compromise my parents used when I was born.
My mother is from India; she is not a Native American. It’s an easy confusion to have; I should know. I have blonde hair and dark skin, and the buxom body type some Indian women are known for. My mother is a truly beautiful woman, and everyone says I take after her, except of course for my blonde hair and my blue eyes.
I think my looks are unique. They are certainly striking. Indian traits are dominant, and it is rare to have someone look as Indian as I do, and yet to have blonde hair and blue eyes. It is just weird. A lot of men however, it seems to me, like weird.
Or perhaps men just like my body, which admittedly is good, probably very good, or as one of my lovers once said, ‘smoking hot.’ My appearance is rather stunning, I guess. As I walk the streets of New York, people sometimes openly stare at me.
Last night was horrible. I picked up the man at a bar in the East Village. He was in his early 20s, and I am in my late 20s. He was a pig. Nevertheless, I took him home with me. While I was in the bathroom he texted two friends to join him, gave him my address and the code to get in the door. We had some more drinks together, I put some nice music on, and I lit some scented candles. It was a romantic setting.
He slowly undressed me, kissing me constantly. I was enjoying myself a lot, and beginning to relax and to get wet, just from the kissing and the slow loss of my clothes. He took his time, but eventually he had me naked. Then he got up and stripped. He wanted a blowjob.
I’m not sure why, I know most girls give them, but the idea of putting a man’s penis in my mouth just does not appeal to me. I tried to explain that to him, and that’s when he got rough. I got angry and told him to leave, but at that moment his friends walked right in! They had the code to the outside door from his text (he had apparently watched me punch it in earlier), and apparently he had quietly unlocked the apartment door, too.
I was of course naked, with my buxom body on full display to these men, with my milk chocolate (heavy on the milk) skin, my large boobs, all my womanly curves, and of course my vagina in all of its glory. The two men smiled at me, their smiles the smile of a tiger about to pounce on its prey. I was trying to cover my nudity and to understand just what was happening.
It was not a mystery what was going to happen. But right then I had no idea why two strange men showed up, nor how they got in!
Quickly the three men combined worked smoothly ataşehir escort bayan together to subdue me and to tie me up. They threatened violence if I screamed or called for help. I had no choice but to submit.
This was going to be some kind of rape, I suppose, but at the time I did not think of it that way. I viewed it as getting lucky. If all three men took me, I was likely to cum, maybe even more than once. And nobody could blame me for being the raging slut that I guess I am.
My intuition was not to let them know I was thinking along those lines, but to act the vulnerable, subdued woman, forced to let them do as they please to me. So that’s exactly what I did.
I don’t want graphically to describe the sex, but I will tell you the original man took me the old fashioned way, fucking my vagina for a long time, while his friends cheered him on and took pictures. He could just as easily have been running a marathon given the way they were acting.
The next guy took me in the ass. That’s not my favorite, but I have done it often enough, especially when it’s my time of month. The third guy wanted my mouth. I said no, but he did not seem to care what I said, so I had no choice, really, and I gave him a blowjob.
It was not my first, nor even my tenth. Just because I don’t like to do it does not mean I do not do it. He blew his load down my throat, he was the first ever to do that to me. I liked the taste, to my great shock.
Then they did the classic and oh so foreseeable, cunt and ass double penetration. I knew that was going to happen. That was when I came, so any protests I was going to make could not be taken seriously, that’s for sure.
I know enough to know that it is irrelevant if a woman comes during non consensual sex; it’s still the same crime. But as I said, this was not a crime for me personally; it was an opportunity.
When they left, I was still tied up. The bastards did not untie me. Now I was pissed. I lay there wondering what to do when the original man I picked up returned.
He wanted more, just the two of us. I said nothing. But he lay on top of me and stuck it in me, and then gently and lovingly fucked me. It actually felt nice. He untied me and we fell asleep together. No words were spoken.
He left the next morning; now we are back to my opening line of the story.. But I didn’t tell you what he said to me the next morning, after he took me one last time. He told me he made movies, and he would like me to star in one. He said I had great potential.
I told him I did not know how to be an actress, and I already had a good job. Besides, I did not believe him; he struck me as more of a car mechanic than a movie director. He saw my doubt, and he explained his movies were pornographic, and they starred exotic looking women. Apparently I was perfect.
I told him I was a banker, which is a slight exaggeration, since I am an executive secretary in a bank. I told him I did not see how, in this day and age, there was any money to be made in such movies. You can get porn free on the Internet, and surely he knows that.
His business model is different he explained. He sells his movies to special customers who have dark needs. They want different things than what one can find on typical porn sites. For example, they want feature length movies, with plots, not just some skinny teenager having sex for five minutes.
Like what, I asked. I figured everything was already available, probably even feature length movies, although personally I did not know. In truth, I was pretty ignorant of the world of porn. He said he would give me an example, and he left a script with me.
I told him I have a good job, working as a secretary for a minor executive at a big bank. I’m well paid and happy at my job. I would probably lose it if I did pornography and the bank learned of it. These days, secrets do not last long.
He ignored my remark, correctly sensing my curiosity, but mistaking it for interest.
“Don’t freak out Priya,” he said. “You would be perfect for what I have in mind. And from what I’ve seen, nothing – or at least very little – phases you.”
I had to agree. “Okay,” I said, “I’ll keep my cool. By the way, my name is Priya Julia, not just Priya. Now lay it on me.” While I said this, mind you, I was lying in bed, my legs spread, and he was gently fingering me. It was beginning to get my motor running once again.
“Bondage and Beastiality,” he said. “It comes toward the end of the movie. The movie is a study of you getting manipulated until finally you succumb.”
“Beastiality?” I asked. “What does that mean?”
“It means that you do it with a very large dog, usually. You’ll be tied up, and the dog will take you. He’ll take you doggie style of course.” The jackass laughed at his own joke.
“You’re joking,” I said.
“No, I’m serious. Lots of men will pay money for such a movie. We can split the profits. We’re talking serious money here, especially escort kadıköy for someone with your looks and the classy way you carry yourself. I almost did not pick you up at the bar, I thought you were way out of my league,” he said.
“I am,” I replied. “I just wanted to use you for sex.”
“That’s what I was hoping, in fact. It was great sex, too,” he said.
“It might have been nicer with just the two of us, you know. I don’t appreciate being bound and forcibly taken by three men at once,” I scolded him.
“Really?” he asked. “It seemed to me you enjoyed yourself quite a bit,” he said.
“I enjoyed myself immensely,” I said. “But that does not justify it. You’re missing the point, and simply lucky I’m so strange. Most women are not at all like me.”
“Yes, you’ve got that right,” he replied.
He left the script with me, and then he left. His card was on top of the movie script.
The next day I told my psychotherapist all about the incident. I don’t think he approves of my behavior, picking up strange men in bars, and certainly this particular episode showed the extreme dangers of the practice. But he never said such things. Instead he surprised me by asking what I thought about having sex with animals.
“Are you nuts?” I said. “It’s disgusting. It’s unthinkable. I’m sure there are women someplace who do it. Catherine the Great of Russia comes to mind, but that legend is not really true, according to what I learned at school. I’ll bet the women who do it are junkies, who need a fix, and this is the price some male pervert extracts from them. No woman would do such a thing of her own accord.”
My therapist quickly dropped the subject, and he tried to get me to say why I continued to engage in risky sex. We talked about it a lot, and it kept coming back to my parents, and in particular my father.
Psychotherapists want to learn your past. The secrets of your behavior are all there, according to the theories. So what follows recounts some key events of my senior year of high school and my college years. It’s basically what I told my therapist that day.
My father loved me with all his might and all his soul. But in one particular way, he loved me too much, and he initiated me to the pleasure of sex with a man when I was celebrating my eighteenth birthday.
I already had a mature woman’s body, and none of the boys at school had failed to notice, but they were just boys, not men, like my father. I gave my virginity to my father, when my mother was away on one of her frequent business trips and she missed my birthday. I was there at home for my Dad to plunder sexually.
Here is how it happened.
Both my parents love hot weather. For my Mom, it reminds her of her childhood in southeast India (near Chennai). For my Dad, he can simply not not get enough heat to compensate for his freezing childhood in the far north of Sweden.
I on the other hand was a normal American girl, who liked air conditioning. On swelteringly hot days, as it was that September when my birthday came along, I slept nude, above the covers. I know my older brother Krishna used to peep in on me by opening the door when he was sure I was asleep. That’s the way adolescent boys are. My girlfriends with brothers complained of the same thing. So I let it go.
But my senior year my brother was away at college, my mother was on one her many business trips, and still someone was peaking in on me. Elimination meant it was my Dad.
I got up to close the door, and there was my father, also naked, with a huge erection, just standing there. I was shocked speechless and said nothing. I just stood there, stupefied. He took me in his arms, then moved his arms and took my head in his hands, and gave me the sweetest kiss on my mouth I had ever had.
He gently urged my mouth open and then French kissed me. I had fooled around with boys my own age, but they had only gotten as far as “second base.” My breasts fascinated my teenage male peers. I enjoyed their fascination I admit. But I did not enjoy it enough to let them explore the rest of me below my waist.
My father on the other hand had me already naked in front of him. And his experienced and talented fingers exploited that fact to the max. He knew exactly how to please my mother, and I guess my wiring is the same as hers, since what he did with her he tried with me, and I was like putty in his hands.
I was so turned on! He led me to the bed, lay me down, and kept kissing, caressing, and fondling me. I kissed him right back. I never reached for his cock, but apparently there was no need since he gently spread my legs, climbed on top of me, and gently stuck it in me. He went right through my hymen and then stopped.
He looked at my nightstand, saw my birth control pills which I had been taking ‘just in case,’ and then plunged into me and royally fucked me. I did the whole harlot thing: I moaned up a storm, and screamed when I came. I knew, since I’m not deaf, that maltepe escort my mother did that too during their sexual marathons.
That’s how it began, and it continued quite often. If my mother had ever found out he abused me this way, she would have killed him. I was sure of that.
One time my father’s workplace had a bring-your-daughter-to-work day. He took me, of course, even though I was 18, and not a little girl as were most of the other daughters there. I enjoyed myself a lot seeing what he did; he worked in a factory that made very high-end tiles, for bathrooms especially. They were stunningly gorgeous. Our own bathrooms at home were tiled of course with his company’s tiles.
I began to get uncomfortable as the day wore on because the colleagues of my father were looking at me with lust in their eyes. Around 3pm, when my father was busy and I was on my own, one man offered to show me the factory from high up on the catwalk overlooking the machines.
I was excited and went up there with him. He gave me the tour, but with his arm around my waist. I did not mind, the height had me nervous and his arm was reassuring. He was used to it and sure footed. But when his hand went down to my ass, it was no longer reassuring.
I did not know what to do. This man worked with my father. He might have even been his boss. I suspected he was, by the way my father deferred to him. So I did nothing, I just let his hand be there. Seeing my lack of reaction, his hand went under my skirt.
Next his hand went under my panties, and he pushed down my panties and I stepped out of them, since otherwise I was afraid I might fall, and on the catwalk that seemed too dangerous. I was trembling with fear as to his intentions.
I should have said something at this point. But I stayed silent, and even now as I write this I do not know why. I think part of me thought my father may have set this up. Part of me still thinks that. It’s a horrible thing to think of one’s own father.
He took me by the hand and led me to his office. He closed the door and undressed me. I knew what was coming, he was behaving quite similarly to my father. That day I had sex with the second man of my life. I also had my first orgasm, ever. It took my completely by surprise. (I had not yet learned to masturbate, that came later.) After that, we arranged to meet secretly, and he would fuck me and I would cum. Once he came to me with a colleague, and they both fucked me.
I was terrified when that happened, but when it was all over, I was more than ready for them to repeat it another time. Standing there naked, dripping cum, with my generous boobs sticking out at them, I kissed them both goodbye while their hands ran all over me.
When it was hot, and I was alone in the house with my father at work, my brother at college, and my mother either at work too or away on one of her many trips, I would go for a swim in the pool in our backyard, and I would swim nude. We had a privacy fence, so it was fine.
I knew one of the neighbor boys would peep on me through a hole in the privacy fence, I could even see his eyeball at times. When I knew he was doing that, I would give him a special show, and pretend my fingers were the fingers of my Dad.
One day when I was doing laps nude in the pool, three colleagues of my Dad came into the house. Our house was always unlocked when someone was home. They were meeting my Dad there, although he was late, but nobody had bothered to tell me.
One of the three men was my seducer from when I was at my father’s factory. The three of them silently watched me through the picture window, from the family room of my parents’ house.
This was one of the times the neighbor boy was spying on me, so I did my little show for him, not realizing I had a second audience as well. The three men came out to the pool as I was nearing orgasm, and I ended up doing all three men, with the neighbor boy getting a fairly spectacular show.
I had my first double penetration. When the session ended however, I told him these jerks it was over, I would not see them again. I was being pushed too far, and as I thought about it, I felt used by these men. I knew that three grown men at once was not normal; all girls know that.
My father’s job be damned, I had endured enough. I had simply put out too much for these men.
Because of all this sexual abuse, I went to college all the way across the country, as far from my father and his colleagues as I could get. But I arrived addicted to sex.
“I think we have made a lot of progress today,” my therapist said. “But our time is up. I’ll see you next week, same time.”
That was it. One never really gets words of life changing wisdom from therapists it seems. Instead they try to get you to see the wisdom through your own words. But of course I already knew I was so fucked up because of my father. I had not even told him about what my older brother and I did together.
My brother had no idea about my incest with my father, and my dalliances with his colleagues. He was a junior in college when I was a freshman at a different college, and he came to see me for a weekend. He had asked me to set him up on a blind date with an Indian friend and so of course I had done so.
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