The Orchid The Storyteller
- 4 years ago
- 58
- 0
Andi’s Story free porn video
My name is Andrea, but I will only answer to Andi. Seven years ago, when I was eighteen, I was raped. I had a date with a man, I don’t even remember his name now, though maybe I’ve just blocked it out. Anyway, he got me drunk and took me somewhere quiet and then simply didn’t hear the word ‘no’ even when I was screaming it. God, he hurt me so much. It was the most devastating experience of my life, and whatever you might hear to the contrary, rape is not fine, it’s awful. It’s frightening, humiliating and utterly demoralising, as well as extremely painful. Show me a woman who say’s she enjoyed being raped and I’ll show you a liar. I was a virgin then, and it was years before I let a man get near me again. This is the story of how I eventually managed it.
I didn’t tell anyone about my rape. I just walked home, crying all the way and being ignored by the people that passed me, then I got in the shower and scrubbed myself raw. I wanted to clean every bit of the dirty bastard’s contamination off of me, every bit of skin that he might have touched, every possible atom that he might have left behind. I felt so unclean, so polluted by him, defiled and degraded, and, silly as it sounds, I felt guilty about it as well. I just wanted to put it behind me, but that was wishful thinking.
The physical bruises soon went, but the mental hurt remained and I went into a period of depression and agoraphobia. I couldn’t even face opening the curtains some mornings, let alone going out and facing the world. Needless to say the company I was working for soon got fed up with a continually absent employee who couldn’t give a reason, and they decided they could do without me altogether. That was the worst period of my life, the arsehole was still beating up on me inside my head, pushing my nose into what he’d done. He’d probably forgotten the quick shag that he’d had to fight for from a petite, naive teenager, but I could never get it out of my mind. That time lasted for a full year before I began to take heed of the bastard’s words as he pushed me out of his car.
‘You’ve just been fucked, that’s all. Get over it.’
So I did get over it. I used his words as my mantra and I fought my way back to reality, making some sort of viable life for myself. I’d been working at a graphic design studio, and I figured that I could do that from home without having to go out into the world. I wasn’t ready for exploring the world again then, not that I am now, really. I studied online, and found to my delight that I was good at it. Eventually I began to take commissions, small at first but then bigger and better. Now I have my own clientele, including a couple of names that you’ll find along the High St, and my bank balance is looking better and better.
But I was still not over it altogether. I didn’t go out if I didn’t have to, I’d still never had another boyfriend and my circle of friends was just one — my lifelong buddy, Linda, who was by then married and lived too far away just to pop round for a coffee. Even she knew nothing about my experience, she thought I just preferred that kind of existence. I don’t think she realised how much I looked forward to her occasional visits, when she would drive over to spend a day with me.
Okay, I was lonely, unbearably, unendingly lonely, not just for company, but bizarrely, for physical intimacy as well. I think nature intended me to be a passionate woman with a strong libido, because although I couldn’t let myself have a man, I frequently felt horny and I often masturbated frantically just trying to keep my urges under control. I needed someone in bed beside me, someone I could reach for in the night, someone to make me feel wanted, and someone to satisfy my needs. I’d even thought of going to bed with a woman, but although the thought of the human warmth appealed, the package it would be wrapped up in didn’t. It was just not my thing. Basically I needed a man, even though my brain wouldn’t let me have one.
But it’s strange how fate intervenes, isn’t it, and it intervened for me just at the right moment. I’d steeled myself for the umpteenth time to the idea of rejoining the dating game to prevent myself from drifting irreversibly down the path that leads to old maids, but before I could actually do anything about it, David wandered into my life.
David was sent around by a software company that I deal with, to reinstall and debug a new software programme that was giving me problems, and I figured that I would take advantage of him. No, I don’t mean take advantage of him in that way, I wouldn’t dream of doing that to anyone – for obvious reasons. What I meant was that I intended to try out my conversational skills on him, just to see if I could get into a friendly chat with a stranger of the opposite sex.
To look at David was quite ordinary – tallish, darkish, and slimish, you know what I mean. He suffered from having the scarring left behind by bad acne, but on the plus side he had lovely blue eyes, as pale as my brown eyes are dark, and a ready lop-sided smile.
As he worked I kept him well supplied with coffee and with my own version of light conversation. It must have sounded a bit forced, but I made the right sort of inane comments about what he was doing, cracked a couple of silly jokes and asked him a few questions about himself. He wasn’t the most communicative of people and so I accepted the challenge and kept chatting, until finally I’d managed to get him to laugh and to give more than monosyllabic answers.
He was twenty-two, lived alone apart from a tank full of fish, and didn’t have a girlfriend. No, he wasn’t gay, he told me, taking my light-hearted, jokey question seriously, he just didn’t have a girlfriend. There was something about the way he spoke. The ‘please don’t probe to deeply’ way he tried to fend off talking about his love life rang a bell with me, and so, of course, I did just that.
It was late afternoon by the time, thanks to my hindrance, that he’d got my computer up and running with the new software and, for some reason I’ll never figure out, I impulsively asked him to stay and eat with me. I’d come to the conclusion, purely instinctively, that I could probably trust him and that here was a fellow traveller, and anyway, I’d felt a slight but unmistakeable bond grow up between us. Perhaps he had felt the same and perhaps that was why he accepted.
Slowly but surely, as the meal progressed, he came out of his shell, and slowly but surely I felt safer in his company. In the end I asked him bluntly how come he didn’t go out with girls, and he responded by turning the question around and asking why I didn’t go out with men. We came to an arrangement. If he told me his reasons, then I would tell him mine.
So that is what we did. A bit hesitantly at first on both sides, but then more and more honestly as we found out more about each other, until in the end we were discussing our problems quite openly.
David’s story was almost a mirror image of my own. It seems that he had made a mess of trying to deflower his first girlfriend, who by way of retaliation had taunted him unmercifully, and when they inevitably split up she had then put it about the neighbourhood that he couldn’t get it up. That rumour had turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy and now he was an impotent virgin, sexually active only between the ears, just like me. His fun, like mine, relied purely on his hand. He’d tried, but as soon as he was faced with taking the sexual initiative with a girl, his erection disappeared like grilled snowflakes. At least I knew that I was safe in his company, a man who couldn’t get a hard on was hardly a potential rapist, now was he?
I was also impressed with his non-judgemental acceptance of my own tale. Not once did he comment on my stupidity for allowing a first date to end in a lover’s lane, nor ask if I’d led the guy on at all. He took what I said at face value, as I did him.
‘Not an easy thing to break out of, is it?’ He observed after
we’d both confessed to feeling imprisoned by our experiences.
That chance remark turned both of our lives around, certainly it did mine and I think the same applies to David. It led to our discussing how we could break out of our past bonds and under what circumstances we could see ourselves sleeping with a member of the opposite sex. In its turn that discussion led to the most unexpected and outlandish arrangement I’ve ever heard of.
As we discussed our needs it slowly dawned on us that we were two sides of the same coin. I was scared shitless by the idea of an aggressively active partner, while David believed he could only respond if he didn’t have to ‘do’ anything. But neither of us believed that we would ever meet the right someone who corresponded to our individual requirements, until David unwittingly pointed out that we already had.
‘What I need.’ He told me. ‘Is someone like you, someone who would be happier to be the ‘doer’ than the ‘done to’. Then I could probably relax and let them.’
‘And I.’ I responded. ‘Might well be okay having a man who is prepared to ‘lie there and let me’.’
We looked at each other silently for a few moments, both of us abruptly seeing a light that was not an oncoming train. The trouble was, nether of us could get up the nerve to say what was on our minds, at least, not straight out.
‘So.’ I said slowly. ‘If I could find a man like you, and you could find a woman like me, we’d both be happy?’
‘That’s about it.’ He agreed, knowing exactly what I was creeping up on.
I looked at him and he looked at me, each of us hoping that the other would make the move. Moments became seconds and seconds threatened to become minutes. It couldn’t go on forever, and I reluctantly came to the conclusion that, as the ‘active’ one, it was down to me to say it.
‘Could you respond to me, do you think?’ I asked in the end.
‘I think so. Could you risk it?’
I took a deep breath. ‘Yes. If you can?’
He nodded a silent consent, and then smiled broadly as if a weight had been lifted.
‘Then, shall we?’ He asked and it was my turn to nod mute consent.
‘Can you stay a while?’ I asked.
‘As long as you want.’
‘I’m gonna need a safety net.’ I told him. ‘I’ve got to let someone else know you’re here, do you mind?’
He shook his head, and I phoned Linda. She was puzzled when I asked her to keep phoning me about once an hour, and to call the police if I didn’t answer, but she agreed without asking too many questions. I think the explanation that I had a man with me at long last was enough for her for the time being, although her tone made it clear that I was in for a grilling when she saw me next.
For the next ten minutes we sat and stared at each other, each of us waiting for some indication that the other was ready to begin. Each of us was a scared for different reason’s, but mainly because we knew that this was going to be our best, if not only, chance to grasp normality. In the end I took the bull by the horns once again, standing up and offering a hand to David to raise him also to his feet.
I led the way upstairs with my heart hammering so hard that I really thought I would either faint or have a heart attack. I was so fucking scared, and yet at the same time I was so excited, so exhilarated at the prospect of the real pleasure after all this time. I wasn’t at all turned on, I was far too anxious for that, but I just knew it would turn out alright and I couldn’t wait to be able to tell myself that I was normal hot-blooded woman after all.
We undressed in silence, watching each other from opposite sides of the bed whilst pretending not to. It was the first time I’d stripped with intent, as you might say, in front of a man, and so I was feeling shy. It took a real effort to show myself to him, to stop my hands from covering the bits that count, and to stop my feet from racing back down the stairs. I forced my hands and feet to behave and I let his eyes wander over me.
At least I was happy with my body, I didn’t mind David seeing that, although the context was a bit scary. I’m small and slim, but my boobs stand up for themselves, with nice dark areoles and nipples, and I’ve a flat stomach and nice bum. My only failing, I think, is that my legs are a bit short for my body.
David was much as I expected. Slim almost to the point of being skinny, with smooth pale skin and long gangly legs. He was no Mr Universe, but then I didn’t want Mr Universe, I wanted Mr Trustworthy, the man who would let me make the running without having to demonstrate his macho strength. I saw too, that I had little to fear about being abused again, because his cock hung soft, shrunken and flaccid, his long foreskin covering the head almost entirely.
As I looked at David across the bed I that he was trembling, shaking from head to toe with nerves. A comment jumped to my tongue, but then I noticed that I too was quivering, scared stiff about what was about to happen, or at least what I hoped was about to happen. We were both fighting hard to control our fears.
‘Do you really want this?’ I asked him, half hoping that he would say no and give me the excuse that I wouldn’t allow for myself.
‘Very much.’ He replied earnestly. ‘I’m never going to find a nicer teacher, and if it’s not now it’ll probably be never.’
I smiled very nervously, happy both at the compliment and because he had taken away any possible pretext to pull out. He was also right about the now or never bit too.
He climbed onto the bed and lay stretched out on his back, his hands by his side, fists clenched with worry, and I clambered on alongside him. I lay on my side, looking at him beside me and wondering how to begin, while he gazed fixedly at the ceiling, his eyes only occasionally flicking across to me before returning to stare straight upwards. It was not the easiest beginning, but I was determined to make it work. I didn’t fear him, and that gave me an opportunity that I just daren’t miss.
We lay together for nearly a minute before I dared act. I know that doesn’t sound long, but I suggest you lie naked next to a man and wonder if you dare touch him, and then see how long it seems to you. Eventually I gritted my mental teeth and reached out.
I didn’t aim directly for his penis, I wasn’t yet confident enough to do that without the fear that I would react by pulling my hand away as soon as contact was made. Instead I just softly laid my palm flat on his stomach, feeling his muscles instantly contract at my touch, the little flutter of movement beneath his skin, startling and yet pacifying me slightly. I smiled inwardly, I was touching a man’s skin and I wasn’t screaming in terror.
I started to move my hand, gliding it over his abdomen, taking in the difference between his skin and my own, the slightly coarser texture of male skin feeling right and a little bit wonderful. I gained in confidence and let my hand wander further afield, across his chest, touching the tiny buds of his nipples, down and over his hips, along the length of his near thigh, marvelling at my own audacity and at the lovely sensations I was receiving.
But I still hadn’t touched him where it counted, I still avoided his groin. I knew I needed to do it, I wanted to do it, to feel his manhood in my hand, but I couldn’t quite get myself to hold him. My hand went back to his chest while I plucked up the courage, roaming over his nipples, not sure but thinking them to be slightly larger, slightly harder than the last time and taking heart from that tiny fact. I was going to do it, I was going to touch him.
I brought my hand onto the centreline of his body, and then with my eyes fixed on his face ready for any reaction, I let my fingers trace a gentle path southwards towards his groin.
A slight indentation, a little crater in his flesh, surprised me, making me wonder where I was on his body, but then a quick glance told me I had found his navel a
nd I grinned at my own silliness.
But now I knew I was on the last lap, just bare inches from his cock. I let my hand venture nearer, raising my palm from his skin and feeling my way with fingertips, searching for that ultimate prize, and then finding it. At first just the tips of my two longest fingers touched him and my hand froze, not daring to move until I became used to the idea and he had the chance to react. His response was just a quick little exhalation, just a tiny acknowledgement that he could feel me there and that he didn’t object.
With my heart thumping even harder I moved further to lay my palm flat over his cock, feeling it as a soft and supple roll of cool skin under my hand, his wiry pubic hair now against my fingertips. I let my hand rest there for a minute or so, watching David’s face closely for any reaction, any sign of a macho man resurfacing, but he simply lay there compliant, his eyes still fixed upon the ceiling.
I closed my fingers around his cock, making an ‘o’ between finger and thumb, an ‘o’ that he failed to come close to filling. Was this little fleshy tag the weapon that I’d been scared of for so long?
Taking it between the pads of finger and thumb I started to play with it, I rolled it, bent it back and forth, gently tugged at it, and then squeezing gently I started to move up and down, making it’s loose skin move along its short length as if masturbating. All this time David had not made any response other than that first little sigh, but now he groaned quietly as if enjoying my attentions, but his cock remained soft and flaccid to make a liar of his noises.
I was feeling far more secure now, far happier to take things that little bit further, because I was definitely the one in charge and it would be my decision as to how far things progressed — just so long as David eventually became hard for me.
After a short while I stopped manipulating him to rest my hand flat once more and then slid it down until my fingers could cup his scrotum and gently fondle his balls. Now I was very much aware that I was touching the engine house of a man’s urges, the very things that drove someone to do what had been done to me. For an instant the irrational thought flashed through my mind that if I tore these two little glands out, then every woman would be that little bit safer in the future. But my past experience was hardly David’s fault and in any case I’m not naturally a violent person. I brushed the thought away and concentrated on the novel and pleasant sensation of rolling his balls in my hand.
David groaned slightly again and parted his legs to give me better access, and I realised that his noises were not yet those of pleasure, but of encouragement for me to go further. I smiled at him, a genuine smile of contentment, and reached to hold his sac in my palm, my fingers just lightly stroking his perineum. At last his cock responded, twitching slightly as it uncurled itself on his abdomen, like some little animal awakening and stretching on its bed.
I squeezed and massaged his balls gently, pleased with myself for getting a response, watching as his cock lengthened and straightened with little twitches and jerks until it slowly lifted itself from his stomach to stand hard and proud away from his body. David was clearly not frightened of my actions any more than I was of his, and I knew, just knew for sure, that we would be alright together. I smiled happily at him once more and this time, a little hesitantly, he returned my smile. It was time I touched a real hard cock, a man’s erect and primed maleness, but this time at my own instigation.
‘Thank you.’ His whisper was unexpected.
‘For what?’ I asked, puzzled.
‘For making me hard. I didn’t think it would happen.’
‘My pleasure.’ It was too.
This time when I tried my finger and thumb could not close around his cock. It was far larger, longer, harder and even warmer than before, its vein wrapped shaft throbbing gently under my touch. My heart was beating faster again, but this time not from fear or trepidation, but from simple anticipation.
Wynona
- 08.09.2022
- 29
- 0
