Colette In The Men 8217 s Toilet 2
- 3 years ago
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I Let Men Do What They Want, In My Bed. free porn video
I'm talking about alcohol abuse, and a rare occurrence for some people, myself included, I drink too much, and I blackout and wake up, usually in someone's bed, hence the later part of my opening statement.
For me growing up in my home town I was instantly recognisable, so when things started going wrong, I had to get out. In my late teens I would snuck out and have a few beers with the guys, I always preferred their company, to girls, I suppose I had a tomboyish streak in me, and besides, as one girl, a lesbian, told me, 'You're too freaking tall and pretty, all the bitches hate you for stealing their men'.
Now that confused me, 'Stealing', what was she talking about?
In the morning I found out, she was sleeping with me in the same bed, we were both naked, and I had a woman's taste in my mouth.
'One minute you were nodding, yacking-on about the same thing over and over, then the next, you were out cold, and I mean right out cold, so I put you to bed'.
I was in despair, I went home and scrubbed my body, poured a coffee, and thought really hard until my brain ached. How did it happen?
I went to a ther****t and opened-up to her, and when I mentioned I had blacked out, she looked shocked, which confused me, 'Does everyone not black out', I asked her?
She shook her head, 'No, some do, but the bulk don't'.
Then I learned the medical reason as to why this happens, it's to do with the amount of alcohol in my bloodstream, and at a certain level, part of my brain shuts down and stops recording, long term memory that is, the short term goes on, so you can continue talking, over and over, but the long term has gone, and that's when things start to happen.
I can remember ordering my round in the bar, then a cold feeling, I was on the ground and a guy was on top of me, I was naked and having sex.
'WTF', was looping in my short term memory, I was cold, but he felt good inside me so I blacked out again, and so on it went, until the daylight suddenly appeared.
I was still naked and having sex, but frozen stiff. Had this been going on all fucking night?
The guy on top of me was a down and out, and he smelled awful, so much so I wretched and threw up over him. When I did wrestle myself to my feet, I found my short floral print dress flung over a wire fence, and thankfully it had hooked on and not blown away, otherwise I had to go back to my flat naked.
At 5' 10" I stood out, everything about me attracted men, young and outlandish, liberated and in a mental fight with society, always receding to the booze, and popular with the men around me, who plied me with plenty, before guiding me down into the basement toilets to act out their sexual frustrations, their older wives who imposed restrictions on the type of sex they desired.
Even on the family front, my tight body and looks inspired my uncle to lusting for his niece. I went for a visit and stayed forever, not by my own wish to do so, but because a short injection of booze, kept me firmly in my place, and available for his home movies and dirty sex.
It started of innocently enough, 'What's this', I remember asking him?
'bloody Mary Slush', he replied, putting me at my ease, 'a sorbet to clean your palate', he added, so I took one and ate it. His apartment had been very warm, so like a subliminal 'coke', advert I drifted to the freezer where instead of finding frosted coke, I found his home made bloody Mary's, and the Vodka worked its charm, as uncle inseminated me for the next two weeks, unabated and unrestricted, flipped and turned, sampled and poked.
No one knew I was there, trapped in his sexual quest and in return, all I wanted was another drink. The next time I saw him, was to talk about maintenance for our daughter.
Living in the halls was great, our security was protected by a concierge who guarded the entrances to the individual halls, where the females slept.
I arrived back around 2am in the morning, something I found out the next morning when I made enquiries. I could remember getting to my door and going inside, after that nothing.
In the back of my head I could hear a phone ringing, then what appeared to be much much later, having sex and settling into a rhythm which was soothing and pleasing.
The daylight finally broke through the open curtains, and I saw my clothes were strewn across the room, some ripped and some stained with fresh semen.
I swallowed hard and called the concierge and asked him to come to my room. He was a man in his late fifties and when he entered the room there was nothing that did not indicate sexual activity.
I was in a thin cotton housecoat, heavily hungover and not too careful with my coat flashing open and giving the poor sod a full view of my nakedness.
'Who did I come back with'?
He looked at me, I must have looked a mess and stank of booze, I tried to focus on him but I was having difficulty in keeping my eyes open long enough to hold my gaze, he on the other hand was looking at my fully exposed frontal display.
'You arrived back with a young man you met on the way here' he answered.
I groaned in my inner despair, and began sobbing at the futility of it all. He came across to me and gathered me up in his arms, his hands under my house coat and holding my nakedness.
I looked up into his face, suddenly my mood had changed, 'Why not I thought', as we fell back onto my unkempt bed, at least I enjoyed the sex.
His force spoke volumes of the times he watched me and the joys in the eyes of the men about to act out their sexual fantasies on my wretched body, abuses that were never recorded by my long term memory, only witnessed by semen stains, and anal aches of a violent anal penetration, something I would never consent to in a normal days sex, but with alcohol induced blackouts, there would never be any resistance.
I lay quietly in the folds of his arms, 'I masturbated one time he said'. I looked up at him, 'When', I queried?
'You came back alone one time, and almost caught me doing it', he said, looking down at my upturned face, 'I stood up as you approached the desk, and I hid my myself behind the desk as you were asking me something', he explained, his eyes distant as he recalled the incident.
'I was rock hard and realised you were not registering anything as you talked, and when I stood back a step, you looked at it, but continued with your question'.
'What did you do', I asked, for I could not remember anything of what he was talking about?
He smiled, and I could feel his chest shake as he chuckled, 'I continued having my wank, and shot my load onto the desk in your presence', then he looked down at me, and sensed my vulnerability, 'You just stood there watching me, acknowledging what I was doing, what made it feel better'.
He pulled my shoulder and my body gave way to his tugging, and I turned over onto my face and bit into the pillow. His thrusting was determined as he continued with his story of lusting for me and yearning for a moment such as now, and as I closed my eyes tightly I felt his hands gather my breast and squeeze them tightly as if he was not sure if I was real or a figment of his masturbation.
The deep warmth a woman feels, when a man ejaculates into one of her orifices, was slowly surfacing deep inside my bowels and spreading throughout the surface area of my cheeks, having my ass fucked in such a manner, by a man who only a short time back could only yearn to be atop of me, was a feeling of total subjection, a feeling itself that lends a girl to being dominated and going out to drink again and again.
Two decades have been lost, from my late teens and into my thirties, and here I lie under another man, soaked in his semen, and I continue to ask myself that same question, 'Will men ever find an answer to my problem'?
Would you want to find an answer, or do you like to have a girl where you can do all those naughty things and she willingly lies back and forgets everything?
Dani
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Colette In The Men 8217 s Toilet
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