Ménage à Text

Truth be told, Elise didn’t even really like him. That’s not to say she wasn’t already wet when she got off at his subway stop and climbed the familiar stairs into the lingering evening sun. She hadn’t been to his apartment in weeks. She hadn’t walked through the dirty streets of his neighborhood, next to the big school with the high metal fence and the little stores with the weird religious candles and the exotic smells.

All right, maybe she liked him in some weird way. He could be a good friend, in his own fashion, if he wanted to, but he was so very full of himself sometimes, so very Mark. They had dated for a while around two years ago, and maybe they were even in love for a couple of minutes, but Mark was an ass and that all disintegrated quickly. He was a much better fuck than he ever was a boyfriend.

Mark could be a good listener too, when he was in the mood. If he got interested in what you were saying and thought your little problem was entertaining he could set his mind to solving it. He was an egomaniac but sometimes that gave him the detachment to give you really insightful advice. Also he was really good in bed.

Sometimes you want to fuck someone you’re not in love with. It’s good to have someone like that who you can trust. And then there was the fact that Mark always had a way of making things dirty. Elise craved that sometimes. More than craved it, she needed it. As she walked down his block she knew that this was one of those times.

It was hard to ask someone new for those things. When you are falling for someone and you want everything to be perfect and so you can’t have the awkward conversations about how you needed to be held down or spanked or called a slut or more.

Mark knew all her boundaries, though. He read her like a book and said out loud all the dirty things that were in her head and made her blush. He made her blush! Elise was always the bold one, the brash one, but Mark could make her feel like a veritable prude sometimes. And as much of an asshole as he was, he never crossed her lines. He knew just from looking in her eyes what she needed and what was too much. That kind of connection could take years to create and there was no reason to waste it just because they couldn’t make a relationship work.

The truth was, she had met someone the day before. The truth was, every time she thought about this new guy she melted a little and her knees almost gave and her heart started pounding. This guy was serious, though, no one night stand. This guy was amazing.

Elise swooned as she pictured him. He was tall and handsome and so very gentlemanly. He worked for some kind of not-for-profit organization. He recycled. He was a genuinely nice person. He had good skin and a crooked smile and used big words and had a nice ass.

Her stomach dropped. There were things she needed though and she wasn’t sure someone so “nice” could give them to her. She thought about Mark, who certainly wasn’t a bad person. Mark who drank too much and make crude jokes about horrible tragedies. Mark who admitted to a somewhat criminal youth. There was also Mark with the bookshelf full of interesting things and his world-traveling past and there was the fact that his cockiness was all bullshit and he was actually very humble about how smart he really was.

She thought about the last time she saw Mark, his hand in her hair, his body on hers. There was something that pushed the moments in his apartment to hyperreality. The way he half-closed his red curtains which made the light from the street glow crimson on his white walls.

Half way to Mark’s apartment Elise’s phone vibrated. Pulling it out of her bag, her heart was beating hard. It was like being in high school again.

“It was cool meeting you. I’m kind of really excited about our date,” said the text message.

Elise stopped walking and let out a happy little noise. Then she looked around quickly to make sure no one heard her. Swooning she looked up to see Mark’s building, an old brownstone with a sort of ominous array of little angels and demons carved into the staircase and windowsills.

She texted back from Mark’s hallway. “I’m pretty excited too. Can’t wait. See you soon.”

She rang his bell twice without an answer. She knew he was home because he had buzzed her up. When he opened the door she saw his familiar face a bit stubbly, his graying hair a bit messy, the piercing blue eyes never focusing on her completely. He nodded hello to her, “give me like five minutes, okay?”

Elise stood confused at the door as he quickly walked back into the apartment and picked up a book on his big leather chair and started reading something intensely. She came in, looking around a little confused. The apartment was cool, with a fan in the window and the evening air flowing in. It was tidy, but cramped with stuff. Books, computer parts, a couple of leather floggers peeking out from under the Sunday Times.

Walking around the room she saw things she remembered. There had been three months when she was sleeping over every night. The salad days when she learned how badly he snored and how decadent his breakfasts were. She smiled at the little box of Peruvian Worry Dolls he’d told her the secrets of one summer night.

She jumped when she heard the thump of a book closing. Turning around she saw Mark get up from the couch and stretch.

“Okay. Sorry, I was in the middle of this… intense chapter.”

She shrugged, he was already smiling at her with that predatory smile.

He used to play this game where he made her admit why she came. He made her tell him that she needed to be beat up and fucked. That got old a while ago, but sometimes he just watched her. He watched her until she squirmed.

She fingered her phone, wondering if he would text her back, wanting to check, wanting to know more and tell him more. Mark eyed her, she was extra nervous and she knew he could tell.

Mark walked over and she backed up until she was against his bookshelf. He laughed, “I’m just saying hello.” She looked up with her big eyes. He had good lips, soft and expressive. He kissed her on the cheek and she tensed, unsure of what he was doing. Mark always changed the game, never wanted her the same way twice.

“I like it when you’re nervous,” he whispered, already husky-voiced.

“You’re an asshole.” But she couldn’t look up at him.

“You should take off your pants.”

She shook her head, “no.”

He pushed and pulled her, like a child getting out of her winter jacket. He pulled off her shoes and socks. He roughly unzipped her pants and pulled them down, bending her over and pulling each leg off.

When he was done she steadied herself on his bookshelf, her hair in her eyes and her legs looking extra naked with her only in a shirt. She didn’t wear underwear with jeans, Mark was never really sure why. Her cunt was bare, Mark could tell it was freshly shorn from the slight redness and complete smoothness.

He grabbed her arms and just moved her around. Shaking her a little and pushing her here and there like a rag doll. He liked how docile she got when she was like this; when she wanted to be hurt and controlled. So different than the Elise on the street. He pushed her over to his bed and slapped her ass once.

She growled, feminine but feral, when hit. The first time Mark hit her he had been a little surprised. It was lovely though, the way her bright eyes and smart mouth just vanished. This brilliant girl rendered dumb by nothing more than pulled hair and a spanked bottom.

She crawled up onto the bed and got on her knees in his sheets, her butt in the air, her chest against the bed, face buried in the blanket, trying to hide her red face and open mouth. The red lips of her cunt peeked out from between her closed legs in the way that made him aggressive. In the silence between smacks, the room was suddenly filled with the dull echo of a phone vibrating.

Mark watched as Elise’s head shot up. She was breathing hard and fast. She looked back at him and then to her handbag.

“Oh, I get why you are so nervous. It’s a boy, isn’t it? Is that him?”

She whined and buried her head in the blanket.

“What’s his name? Is he dreamy?” he mockingly fainted.

“I hate you so much. You’re such an asshole,” she said as she crawled away from him, trying to reach her phone.

Mark let her get up, then stood and looked down on her as she laid on the floor pulling out the Blackberry and reading the new message.

“What’sit say?”

“Fuck off.” She rolled her eyes and bit her lip as the little device blinked to life.

The first blow came to her ass, then it was followed by five more. He was on her, straddling her legs as he grabbed her hair and pushed her face against the floor.

“Tell me what it says.”

Her heart was pounding against her chest and against the hardwood floor. His weight on her legs and ass made her pubic bone press into the floor and she could feel the grain of the wood on her bare mound.

“It’s private,” she wanted to yell it but it came out a choked little whisper.

She wanted to tell him this was too personal, this wasn’t part of their game, but her sex throbbed at the intrusion and she knew he loved it.

His fingers snaked into her hair, closed on it and pulled. Elise let out a high whine as she pulled up the text.

“Ow! Wait, okay!” she paused — this was something different, there was a weird line that she couldn’t put her finger on. Mark’s hand tightened in her hair.

“I really…” she swallowed, her throat felt like it was closing — “enjoyed kissing you that night. Hopefully I…” his hand tensed in her hair, she felt individual strands being pulled out. “Hopefully we’ll get to do more of that next time.”

Mark’s laugh was a slow rumble. She could feel it on the back of his legs, the slight vibration of his body as he chuckled. Her face was hot and her hands were sweaty.

“Is he a nice boy? Is he going to bring you flowers?”

Elise tried to squirm away. “Shut up.”

Mark took her wrists and pulled her arms behind her back. In his struggle, his hardening cock pushed between her legs, not inside of her but rubbing, poised. She tensed.

“Is he gunna be your boyfriend?” Mark stretched out the word like a playground chiding.

He leaned down and whispered into her ear. “Are you gunna wait until the third date to put out? Why buy the cow when you can get the milk free, right? Are you going to marry him?”

“Shut up, shut up.”

It was stupid. He was making little kid jokes. It was such ridiculous teasing, but she felt cold in her chest. Her eyes were itching, maybe even wet. She whined, she shook her head but he kept talking.

“Maybe you’ll get drunk one night and ask him to spank you. What if he knew the girl I knew? What if he saw the little slut who sucked three boys off in a bathroom?”

The images flashed into her head. It had been a year ago. Mark had taken her to some event of some kind. Some kinky club, hidden entrance, secret password. They’d watched bodies writhe, they’d seen a boy hung up with rope. Mark had eyed two friends of his and when he’d pulled her into the bathroom, they had followed.

It was the most embarrassing memory in her head, and it was also the one her mind went to every time she couldn’t come and needed that little push. The dirtiness swirled in her belly, like their come had. Her tongue was thick.

“What if he knew even more? What if he knew about the parties? Will you tell him or should I?”

“No. Stop it. Shut up.” Her throat closed and the words came out as squeaks.

“What’s his name, Elise?”

“I… I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

Mark laughed loud and let go of one of her arms. She felt him shift on her, reach for something, then the sharp pain of a leather crop on her ass. Then his hand because he couldn’t get the right angle with the crop.

“Okay! Okay. It’s…” she struggled, thinking maybe she should lie, but that was no use. “It’s Todd.”

The spanking stopped. The pressure on her wrist loosened.

“Todd?” he said with a much lighter voice. “Toooodd,” the chuckle was different, not dark and angry but silly. “Fucking Toooodd?” he laughed.

Elise squirmed from under him and pouted, folding her arms over her naked breasts.

“Fucking asshole, just stop,” she mumbled, getting up and going to his bed.

Then there was the look. She glared at him and he glared back with his wicked sarcastic gaze, but then it shifted. The questioning look. “Is this okay? Should I really stop?”

She swallowed. Was it okay? She shifted on the bed, a dark spot on the gray sheets where her dripping sex had rested. His eyes were light, gray and blue, but they seemed to change depending on the light.

Was it silly to see so many things in a look? How much of it was wishful thinking? She could have sworn she saw something else, behind the sadistic grin and the questions, some little hurt, some primordial jealousy.

He got off her and his grin wavered but didn’t fade.

She panted as she laid back on the bed looking up at him. He walked over to the window and looked out. He picked up the book he was reading when she came in and he licked his finger and then turned the page.

She waited. She knew this game even if it did have all sorts of new dimensions.

“Why do you have to make this so fucking hard?” she whined, her voice gone sad little girl.

He looked over the top of the book at her, his eyebrows raised. The tiny hurt hiding somewhere in those cool blue eyes was all she could see now. His big ego bruised because this was supposed to be their time, this was supposed to be their game, even if it was just a game it was all they had and she didn’t realize that was important.

The sadness of it made her feel small. She pulled her knees up to her chin and cradled her legs and gave Mark her puppy dog eyes.

“I’ll put my phone away,” she said meekly. “Can you come over here and cuddle with me?”

Mark put down his book and glared at her appraisingly.

“No. You brought your phone here and wanted to read the message, so now it’s fair game. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

She bit her lip. This wasn’t turning out how she wanted, not at all. She liked it when he was mean, but not like this. She sighed, laughing at herself. She thought, “you can’t want someone to be an asshole to you and then complain that they aren’t being the right kind of asshole.”

On top of all of that, she was curious. What was he going to do? What could he do?

He walked over to her while she was thinking and picked up her phone on the way. He pulled her and pushed her around, pushing her face into the bed right next to the phone, pulling her legs so that she was up on her hand and knees, ass high and head low.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this but all day I’ve been thinking about doing a lot more than kissing you,” his voice was flat and rough.

She looked back at him. He was taking off his shirt and then unbuckling his belt. He looked down at her and smiled.

“Type it,” he said sternly in that voice that made her reach for the phone before she knew what she was doing.

She stopped, though, and looked back at him.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this but all day I’ve been thinking about doing a lot more than kissing you,” he said it slowly, enunciating each word.

Her fingers lingered on the little keyboard, her thumbs at the ready. She typed the first two words and then stopped, feeling him shift behind her, then his fingers, wet with his saliva, grazing her clit. He knew how to barely touch her so that her body whimpered and begged for more. He did it again so softly that she could swear she could feel his fingerprints like rough little Braille dots tormenting her most sensitive spot.

She typed a few more words. Her head was buzzing, her eyes were stinging, her cunt was itching with need.

He slipped two fingers into her, the way he always did. Fingers bending and finding the spots that made her stupid, made her make silly noises and do what ever he said. She pushed her ass back, wanting more of his fingers, more of his attention.

“Keep typing,” he growled, and then she felt the wet warmth of his tongue circling her asshole.

She should have been over the shame. After all, in all the time she’d been a sexual being, people had done all sorts of things to her ass, but there was something instinctually naughty about this little intimate act. As he rimmed her, his tongue pushing slightly into her, she blushed and hid her face in his sheets and groaned with pleasure. His fingers inside of her, his tongue playing with that secret, dirty place.

When she looked up, she saw the sentence he had told her to type. The nervousness and embarrassment and need and lust were all swirling in her stomach, crawling through her veins. She hit “send” and heard Mark chuckle low and quiet.

His fingers worked her harder now. She was so wet she took three of his thick fingers, she felt them press down, she felt filled up and overpowered. The orgasm was building, but she wasn’t sure she could get there because of all those damn emotions.

The phone buzzed and he slipped his fingers out of her. They both waited. She felt him leaning over her, looking over her shoulder at the little screen.

“To tell the truth, I’ve sort of been thinking the same thing for most of the day,” the tiny letters read.

She bit her lip. His cock rubbed against her ass, hard and hot.

She continued to stare at the screen as he slipped off of her and walked into his little office. Her body shuddered as she heard the familiar sounds of him opening his little toy drawer.

When he came back, she didn’t look at him. She knew she should have stopped this little scene of his, but somehow her hands were on her phone, thumbs waiting.

He slipped something under her, then positioned her. Her breath was coming faster. When the vibrator started he pushed and pulled it under her until the head was pressed on her clit. Elise let out something between a gasp and a wail. Then she heard the rip of plastic; she knew he was putting on the condom, and soon he would be fucking her. She knew the vibrator and his cock would be almost too much.

“What have you been thinking, exactly? I shouldn’t tell you this, but I have some particular tastes,” he dictated in that commanding tone that told her she should type it word for word.

Worry flooded her again. Was this going too far? Would she scare Todd away? She should tell him these things about herself eventually, but like this?

Her eyes unfocused as the vibrator pounded her nerves and pleasure rang through her, spreading out from her clit and making every part of her body tingle.

As she typed his words she felt him pressing against her, the thickness of his cock meeting the wetness of her sex. He was just waiting, slipping the head in and out a little, holding her hips and pressing her down against the vibrator’s unrelenting buzzing.

“You sound like you’re in a frisky mood. I’m no prude, tell me about your intriguing particulars, please.”

Half of her brain was filled with elation about the text, imagining Todd, the boy she was so smitten with, also being potentially kinky. At the same time she was about to be fucked by Mark. Then there was the vibrator. Then there was the shame — she realized what a slut she was being. Then the embarrassment turning into that white-hot emotional pleasure in her head. At the same time, Mark slipped his cock into her with a smooth slow push.

Mark voice was straining to stay steady. “I like to be spanked.”

“Hard,” he added.

She started typing when the first orgasm came. She screamed into the mattress and balled her fists in the sheets.

“Type the fucking message!” he said, slowing down as she bucked and writhed under him, the vibrator suddenly far too much for her sensitive parts.

“I like to be spanked. Hard.” He repeated the massage and she typed it, her finger lingering over the “send” button.

He started fucking her seriously then, his legs on either side of her, pushing her legs closed so that her sex was almost painfully tight around him. As he fucked her he pressed his chest against her back , his mouth on her neck, biting the pale skin.

The phone buzzed as his thrusts started getting spastic and his grunts loud and animal.

“I think our next date is going to be very interesting.”

He let out a chuckle just before he came, grunting hard and punching the mattress and then throwing a pillow across the room. He always got like that, violent when he came.

He turned off the vibrator, dropping it on his night table. Elise was still trying to settle her body enough so that she could think. She felt a huge wet spot under her and her face flashed red. She hadn’t even felt herself squirt, but when she was forced to come like that it usually happened.

She looked at the phone, scrolling through the messages. She hadn’t really said anything that crazy. She could tell him she had too much wine with lunch.

When she looked up Mark was dressed in a t-shirt and boxers.

It always seemed to end up like this, him clothed, her naked. She pulled the sheets up to cover herself and then felt silly. He always seemed to do that, keep her dangling on the edge of aroused and ashamed.

“Hope that wasn’t out of line,” he said, pulling on a pair of jeans.

She didn’t know if it was or wasn’t, but she did know that she hadn’t come so hard in a long time.

“Let’s get something to eat. That was fun, but quick. Round two should take a while and I need food. We can talk about your boyfriend.”

She winced, but it faded into a smile.

“He’s not my boyfriend. We only went out once,” she complained as she pulled her jeans back on.

“We’ll talk about it at lunch. You know I don’t like you going out with boys I haven’t fucked first.”

Elise sighed, trying to make herself presentable.

“You can’t fuck him, Mark!” But the thought made her knees weak.

“We’ll see. We’ll see.”

Elise smiled to herself, remembering at once why she loved him and why she could never stay with him. She was happy to have these moments, though. She was happy to have a friend who could make her feel so deliciously dirty.

14 thoughts on “Ménage à Text

  1. This is my first visit to your site (found you via Twitter). Love your stuff — you actually do a good job of writing erotica from a feminine perspective — a rare talent. The Mark has the same sense of the perverse that I do, only I would have used my strap-on on her ass :)

  2. Pingback: Welcome | Writing Dirty

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