Thought's of a Mad Man

She called out with a moan that was thick and raspy, which came right from her loins. It resonated in the cheap dirty hotel room with dingy lights and what barely passed for a clean bed. The room made her feel even more dirty, degraded and despicable. She felt humiliated for being naked, fucked and used in this place, like a piece of trash that doesn’t deserve the basic human rights of a clean room.

She innately know's that she's rolling in filth, in dirty obscene filth. It fills every inch of her being inside and out, as well as covers every inch of her as this room covers her body in it. But it’s befitting of her stature, her position in life, who she is as a slut. At least that is what the man pumping his cock inside her has been telling her since the moment she arrived. And as she listens to him, she knows he is right. It's exactly how she feels about herself right now. But to be here frees her from her bonds. It transforms her into a creature that is more lustful, desired and sensuous than her day to day prison of subdued, overlooked, meek existence gives her.

Within his arms, under his body, him between her legs gyrating and thrusting inside her as if she’s nothing but a wet velvety hole to fuck, his vigorous humping has her caged and she cannot escape as she serves as his sex meat. She tells herself that at least she’s desired. At least she’s being a woman.

Under him, she is in a tight confined small space that prevents her from being able to move. It captures her and traps her to his desire so he doesn’t have to fight against her in order to cum deep inside of her, his own gratification being fulfilled. Feeling him above her, hovering his body just above her erect nipples, she can feel his heat, his presence, his body moving and straining to get his lust satisfied with her body. Though she feels cheap
and lowly, she can’t help but enjoy how he feels above her, inside her. His tempo is just right as it’s causing her to really start to feel good inside. And that pleasure is why she allows him to do what he does.

She can feel his cock, thick, long and hard sliding through her body, the ridge of his straining head scraping her walls and giving her that extra sensation that she desperately wants more of. She’s unable to physically spread her legs wide enough to let him in deeper into her. She can’t arch her back far enough to have him suck her small tits, her nipples, those fucking tingling nipples that beg to be bitten.

Her body is physically compelled to arch, then fall as she must rock her pussy for him, to pleasure him with her pussy so that she will be more appreciated than others he may have had. But she cannot resist the need to arch again as it feels so fucking wonderful. She bucks against her cage, but his arms are too strong, too powerful and big for her to break his containment of her. She drops her back letting his 8 inches plunge into her.

“Oh god.. Fuck me. Please fuck me. Harder, harder, harder.”

She can feel his body in her hands, his muscles bulging and relaxing as they contract and stretch. The feel of a body that is not hers between her legs, over the top of her. In her hands. She can feel him lusting for her, needing her as she has the only thing he wants, her sex.

She reaches up and grabs a hold of his head as he sucks and licks and pulls at her nipple with his mouth. She runs her hands through his dark black hair, course yet soft. She balls up her hands and takes fistfuls of his hair as she tries to push his mouth harder and deeper into her tits. She needs to feel the pain, sharp and rough, that lightning of agony shooting from her breast that sends pure electricity right to her dirty cunt. She can feel the wetness, the sloppy wet thick lube as his body claps against hers.

Together they have created an impenetrable glide that allows him to ride her like a frantic teen about to have his first orgasm. She can feel his thrusts getting shorter, his back getting more arched as his teeth begins to tare her nipple. She lets out a scream as he cannot control himself the closer he gets to filling her fucking honey hole. The pain of his teeth actually ripping into her flesh causes her to need his cock even more as she relaxes and opens her pussy to his orgasm. As she feels the thrusting, jerking, reflexing ejaculation of his dick inside of her, it’s the sensation, the whole mental and complete image of being used so completely and sexually that she cannot control her own mental release of intense lustful desire as her body reacts to his cum and she orgasms like a whore. Her walls contracting, her body dipping into the pool of seaman inside her. As her body goes to
work doing its job as it is mean to, she is held helpless to his continued thrusting as she orgasms without any control over her own body as long as he keeps fucking her. His cock has control over her and she cannot do a goddamn thing about it, but spread her legs wider for him.

As his last spasm of cum is shot inside her, her orgasm breaks and she relaxes as her legs begin to shake immediately. Control over he own limbs are restored as she lets them wrap around her willing contributor of her lustful want. But it doesn’t last long as he quickly sucks her tits, gives them a slap and gets out of bed.

These interludes are always the same, the same tit slap and the quick exit. The pain of his hand on her tit hasn’t even subsided as he has his pants on already and is working on his shirt. The young cocky, self-assured stud pays her no attention as he quickly puts on his shoes and socks. She feels the cum he left behind beginning to roll from her crotch as he grabs his suit coat from the chair. He reaches in, pulls out his wallet, tosses $400 dollars on the bed and tells her to buy something nice for herself. He then heads for the door.

She watches this man leave the room, leaving her in filth of so many others which has been left behind before her. In a filth that she and he together have added to. She feels so used, dirty and filled with shame and remorse as she sees the small trickle of blood flowing from her throbbing nipple. He opens the door without even looking back. But before he can leave, she calls out to him. Maybe in a futile attempt to get even just a little affirmation of what she gave to him.

“Dear, don’t forget to pick up the kids after work,” she said breaking the cardinal rule of their lunchtime meets.

He stops in his tracks and for a moment she worries he is going to come back and spank her ruthlessly the way he does when she breaks the rules and shatters the fantasy. She can almost feel the burning, stinging pain on her ass already, the welts and the troubles she’s going to have sitting down at work at her desk. She bites her lip in eager anticipation of what he might do, if she will be punished for her insecurity. But instead, he smiles, has that twinkle in his eyes as he looks at his most beautiful adoring loving wife a man could have. He has that look in his eyes and that smile on his face as he gives her a wink before leaving to head back to work which sends her into orbit as she felt fucking alive.

The sexy and seductive sparkling red dress betrays her secrets. It tells everyone of her desires to be wanted and her wish to radiate sultry femininity. It also gives away her youth like a pimp handing out free samples. Yet her innocence and her beauty gives credibility to the dress, transforming a rude clod into a sophisticated, complex object of true art.

From the bar, he watches her stand at the entrance to the room as others dressed to the hilt pass by her. Her insecurity and her inexperience causes her to shrink and fold when he knows that she, more than anyone else, should be proud and be gleaming with confidence.

He wastes no time going to her side as he cannot bare to have someone such as her being insecure and apprehensive of herself. He quickly reaches her where he takes her hand causing her to look up and smile. Immediately her reaction is known to all as she begins to stand tall, assured and captivated by his presence.

In a coupling that many would take offense to in the outside world, in here, these two are safe knowing they face no judgement or cruelty for their happenstance. For it isn’t her pubescence that drives him to her, and it isn’t his experience that drives her to him. It’s what happens when they are together that washes away their doubts and leaves them clinging to each other with intrepidity.

Standing before him, she grows and emanates with witchery as he gently places her gilded collar around her neck. The pride within her swelling to exuberance as he connects himself to her with a jeweled leash that she boldly accepts. Together they enter the room filled with people, many of whom are tried to each other like wise. They say nothing to each other, yet the communication between them would fill volumes.

The room is as opulent and dripping with occasion more so than any other she has ever seen before. Though he is not a stranger to such events, she is as new to this as any can be. As they cross the room together, she obediently follows her leash, trusting that the delicate tether will carry her, save her, guide her and protect her as she feels her own body move and jiggle in such a way that others are sure to notice. To pretend that she doesn’t care that others can see what she normally holds so privately, gives her a thrill that she isn’t accustomed to. But all these sensations and intrusive thoughts are all mere twinkling moments of distraction to her core of dedication to serving him, making him proud and giving him what he wants.

They cross the room to a small open area where he is able to take her into his arms and holds her tightly. She is protected in his arms as she looks around the room at the many people, the many adornments and the overwhelming spectacles that fill her senses with awe. He gazes down upon her small stature as she doesn’t even notice him looking at her. Safe in his arms she is free to take everything in and experience it all without fear.

He reaches down and nudges her chin upwards to him. She looks to find his eyes, his wonderful charming eyes looking back at her and she knows that he sees only her. In his eyes she is more beautiful than anything else that could possibly be in this room, not because of her appearance, her sexuality or her parade that makes her so beautiful. It is who she is to him that makes her the most valuable and meaningful person he has ever beheld before.

He lowers his head to her and kisses her as a woman. It is more than she has ever given to him before in such a public forum. But she gives her lips, her body and her arousal to him openly, holding nothing of her youth in observance of the moment. This simple kiss has laid her bare as a woman for all to see and she has given it without regret to her man that adores her.

The night has made her wet. As the world dizzily spins around her and she struggles to keep her feet beneath her. She struggles to pay attention to him as she can’t help herself to watch the room. She can feel the erections on her chest, the dripping of moisture between her legs, the engorged swelling of her round petite breasts. But she makes no care to hide any of it. She wouldn’t care if her man was to strip her naked right here in front of everyone and take her wildly. She would only moan and call out for more.

He is patient with her. He is happy that she is so taken with what is happening. He is proud of her. He is even more proud that he is able to give this to her, to let her be able to experience such an event in a way that so few ever get to. As she pays little attention to him, it only takes a small tug on her leash or a simple brush of his fingers on her bare arms to cause her to give everything of herself to him. So he is happy to let her be free and to watch her. Like dwelling on a fine sculpture or painting, it is what he sees of her that is so impressive to him.

In the air, a small bell is heard above the murmur of the crowd and people begin moving in unison towards another room. With eager anticipation she forgets her place and for a moment she tries to lead him towards the next step of their night. He takes her hand and reels her in as they move together in the crowd.

In the other room she begins to hear the melodic vibration of strings and the wispy tones of flutes and other instruments beginning to warm up. When the crowd thins out she is less eager to lead and is more content to cling to his arm as she is unable to see where she is stepping. There is far too much else to see for her to know her own footing or where he is taking her.

He guides her to a few rows back from where the orchestra is. He points the way for her as she moves into the center of the row with him closely behind her. As she makes her way to her chair, she sees that some have already begun other activities as some women are on their knees, heads bobbing up and down as their men enjoy themselves. She is turned on by the openly sexual acts all around her as for the first time she is able to see that some women do not even have clothes on as they sit next to their escorts. Only a few items of lace on their legs, a leash and collar to tie them to their counterparts and their own natural beauty to adorn themselves with.

She takes a seat and turns her attention once again to the stage as the man on the other side of her has his cock sucked. She doesn’t even pay attention to it as she leans in and take the arm of her man with eager anticipation of the music to come. In the back of her mind she knows if this were any other night, in any other place, her behavior and her lack of focus on him would have her skin burning with lashes from a whip. Lashes she knows she would well deserve. But tonight she is free to enjoy herself without forethought of others as long as she does it with boldness and enthusiasm. She knows the little cheats that she’s able to use with him and tonight she is using every single one of them as she anticipates the pleasure of a wonderful performance.

He is keen to watch only her as he is impressed that she is taking all of this so casually. He spent a considerable amount of time explaining to her the other night that such sexual acts and more would most likely be performed in public at events such as this. But having no experience of her own, he couldn’t imagine she would truly understand until seeing it for herself. But like royalty, she lets nothing betray her calm demeanor and her composed conduct. He sees something reaching out from within her that is much greater than her years. And his pride is swelling as he understands he has found someone that he has always hoped of meeting. But what shocks him most is him finding the woman of his dreams in a place he never intended to look.

His own experience has taught him that this young lady has struggled to show him she is capable of so much more than just youth and energy. Her actions have given away everything she’s dared not say to him. Such as how much she wants to prove that she can satisfy him on every level. At times she has overstepped and she has been disciplined. But even then she astounds him with her courage to accept her discipline and her encouragement to have him do more than he ever thought possible before. She has destroyed all notions of what he has assumed about her and proven time and time again that she can surprise him with her poise and grace, her wisdom beyond his own, and still have such a desire to be subservient to him. For his desires and his wants are all that matter to her and she would do anything to give those to him.

It isn’t long and the lights dim. Spotlights illuminate the center of the room as an overwhelming volume of pleasure begins to emit from the orchestra. He is able to feel all the apprehension melt inside his wonderful girl as she listens to them play. He freely takes in the sights of her body, as much of her is on display in the generously cut dress that covers her. With others in the past he would normally taken his pleasure and made his counterparts perform some kind of sexual act. But with her, he has no desire to do so. He knows he will receive all the sex he can imagine from her later on tonight in front of the fireplace. He will do things to her that will pleasure himself in ways that he's only been able to fantasize about until her. But for now it is all about the visual pleasure and the taking in of what he can only describe as the presence of something greater.

The evening is filled with wonderful moments. Moments where she is acutely aware of herself and her own wants. Moments of astounding complex sounds meant to stir emotions within. Moments where he sees something so subtle and so small, that if he were not really paying attention to her, he would have missed them. And most of all, a moment when he realized that for all his searching, for all his suffering and pain that he has experienced, for all the failures and misery he’s endured, this one moment is greater than everything else in his entire life. This tiny moment when he is free to say without reservation or hesitation,

“I love you.”

It’s an interesting question I’ve asked myself. One in which I have no idea what the answer is. But its like the immovable object meeting the unstoppable object conundrum. My own stubborn bullheaded ways absolutely forbids me to try, and yet I find myself asking, wondering and flirting with the idea over and over again. Do the flames burn if I put my hand in the fire? Should I put my hand in the fire?

In the broken pieces of myself that lay all about my feet, I think to myself that they are better left where they are as I have little desire to try and put them together again. So the obvious answer is that of course fire burns. Yes, you’re going to be burned if you stick your hand in moron. Get real. How many times do you have to do this before you learn not to stick your hand in the fire?

But here I am, yet again, wondering, will something better grow from underneath this destroyed flesh like a new set of wings inside a cocoon of ash if I try again? But these positive thoughts of hope are always quickly dealt with: harshly and with vengeance, like a nuclear bomb that consumes with malice and rage and has no chance of letting any faith survive. And I blame them, and I blame myself and I blame the empty heavens above for the fires I start within myself, the fires that burn around me and the fires that others have started that have all left charred flesh in their wake.

But if these fires still burn my tender unhealed skin, then why does this desire still continue to haunt me? Why am I here writing this letter addressed to no one, with no intentions of it ever landing in someone’s hands? Is it possible that I’m trying to reach myself by exiting my own body and circling around the brick wall that I’ve built to hold me in? Or am I simply sending words into the darkness wondering if they will find light where I cannot see any?

If you haven’t figured it out by now, it’s a simple thought. In my own blindness, fear keeps me from reaching out what is tender and soft into what could be more flames. Sure, it’s easy to say that without getting burned we risk nothing. But words are cheap and often meaningless when soothing the very real pain of being scorched to blackened embers. But does healing begin with words? Words unspoken? Or words given to someone else? More questions I cannot answer.

So here I am, writing in vain, moving head first into the unmovable brick wall that I have built around myself, asking why. Why am I on this website, wanting to stick my hand into the fire, and writing things that are traditionally best left unsaid to others? They are good questions. And I don’t have any answers.