Nyameko/ December 3, 2019/ Archive, Works/ 0 comments

I was starting to erect a very visible trouser tent, when my friends and family walked in to give me an intervention.

There are those moments in life when all you can do is say “FUCK”, pull up your pants and run. Run before life recovers it’s senses enough to ask: “why you are naked in your old girlfriend’s house while there is an intervention for your stalking happening? This is was not one of them. That fucken bitch did this to embarrass me in front of my family and friends! She lured me to her house with promises of exotic threesomes then she led them out to see me in my compromised state.

The sad part was the betrayal by Mzi. How could he go along with this? He must have planned it with her. They must have come together to discuss how they could push me down. They could see I would soon be like him. That I would be better than him. He was too scared I would be him. He did not want to have competition. I had always looked up to him. I treasured having him as a friend. We could always talk, to ease the pain of what was happening at home. He always listened, understood and was always there. He was perfect. I had even felt a little jealous of the attention he gave women. I wanted to be him and still bathe in his light. Now I could see him for what he truly was. He was a backstabbing girlfriend stealing weakling. I couldn’t blame the slut for having fallen for his charm, he was the ultimate man. I wish she thought of me like that.

All of this went through my mind as I stared into the surprised, bewildered and appalled faces of ex colleagues, friends and family. The banner was crunched on the floor, now long forgotten, the focus was on me. My flabby half naked body and my rapidly diminishing erection was the focus now. I would not look down. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me ashamed. I had nothing to be ashamed of, they did, after all they are the ones who snuck this on me. They would all pay in embarrassment, she would pay in other currency.

For an intervention, not a single word was spoken. We just stared at each other. My gaze moving from face to face. Slowly the herd thinned, as people excused themselves to smoke and never came back. This left only Mzi, her and myself. We stood there watching each other, silently.

As I watched her, saw her face I could see the gentle yet pronounced curve of her bosom under her t-shirt. I watched her steady breathing, thinking of how her breathe would speed up and catch as she rode me faster and faster. Yet there were no stirrings, no familiar unfurling of blood vessels, no urgent need to have her, to hold her, to own her. There was no feeling. I was empty, she was nothing.

Instead of arousal, all I felt was rage. She had betrayed me. She had belittled me as a man, she had embarrassed me in front of my family. She was evil. I couldn’t have her in my life anymore. She had even poisoned Mzi.

There he was next to her. Watching me, assessing what I was thinking, his broad shoulders hunched, his handsome face frozen in a bare expression. He was as handsome as the first time he had met me, helped me up from a fall. I wanted to go to him to hug him, hold him. To squeeze all that bitch’s poison out of him. I wanted to feel close to him to feel his head on my shoulder, maybe his lips would brush my neck.

Those thick, juicy, luscious lips, I had often wondered what they tasted like. I imagined his lips and tongue tasted salty sweet. His teeth were always immaculate, he must be a nibbler. I wanted his teeth on my neck, then up to my ears, with his strong, solid body up against mine. I wanted to feel his muscles move under my fingers. After he had run that tongue down to my nipples and stomach. I wanted to bend over and let him take me hard, fast and rough with the reckless abandon of dogs.

I could feel myself getting hard. I didn’t want him to see. He might read my mind. To distract him from my bulging penis, I put on my pants. “Mzi can we please have a moment?” Said through clenched teeth it sounded threatening, but it was in ernest. I couldn’t have him here. I couldn’t let him even guess what I was thinking. I wanted to swing from his penis like Tarzan through the jungle, I could only imagine the sounds I would make.

I was staring him right in the eyes. Pleading and begging him to leave. Reluctantly he left, but only after he made sure, I was fully dressed. He thought I didn’t notice that. The bitch had really gotten to him. “Was he really still my friend?” I couldn’t tell anymore.

We waited until he closed the front door and we could hear the car pull off. Then we turned to each other. “Sweetheart why do you do these things, when you know how much I love you?” It was an honest question, but I doubted I would get an answer. “You think you love me, you don’t know what love is” her first shot across the bow! It was designed to hurt me, to anger me, she wanted to see my passion. The whore wasn’t looking to sort things out, she wanted to hurt me. ” how dare you talk about my mother like that?” I wouldn’t let her get away with that. I wanted to take off my belt and put her over my knee. That would teach her a lesson about how to treat the man you love.

“You are a cheating slut that won’t amount to anything, same as your mother. That’s why your father left you. What do you think you can tell me about love?” I had struck a nerve, I could see it in her face. She looked as if I had punted her with steel-toed boots. I liked it. I could feel myself getting hard again. “Was it possible she was getting turned on as well?” “Don’t you dare talk about my mother, you weakling of a man” She replied, trying to hurt me more.

She was coming closer as the argument got more heated. I could see her breathing heavier and faster. She wanted me, she wanted me to take her. She was telling me that I treated her like a prized house. I threw money at her to renovate her, but never showed her real love. “I gave you real love, I gave you everything you could ever need, all you wanted was new dick, you whore!”

All I heard was the sound, then the heat on my cheek. “WTF!!! The bitch had actually hit!” It took me a moment to realise what had happened. “Who the fuck did she think she was?” I grabbed her but she struggled. I couldn’t believe how much this was turning me on. With my other hand I took off my belt and tried to put her over my knee, but she wouldn’t accept that I had her and I was in control. I pulled off her top, tearing it in the process and using it as straps to hold her arms together. She kept up the pretense of protest, so I shoved my T-shirt into her mouth. I lifted the belt and brought it down hard on her butt 7 times, to teach her a lesson. She was struggling harder, her muffled screams a deep hum through her gag. She was still trying to get out of her restraints so she could hold me closer. She was as turned on as I was. I thought how the spit soaked gag was a metaphor for her panties right now.

I wanted to empty my seed into her. After all that’s what she was for. I put her on her back and tore her panties off. With one long thrust I plunged into her, echoing her muffled tones. She was sobbing with joy as I plunged deeper and harder into her.

She was making too much noise, it always irritated me. I put my hands around her neck to stop it. It felt comfortable, now I knew I had always wanted to do this. A brief memory of the kitten I had killed as a kid, for eating my food sprang to mind, it had felt a little like this. I was squeezing now, harder and harder. Each time I plunged into her, I tightened my fingers around her neck. I couldn’t hold back, I had to see where this path would lead.

Her eyes were bulging, red with veins popping out. Her struggling had decreased as she allowed herself to feel the ecstasy of me in her. She wasn’t even struggling anymore, no more sobbing as I emptied myself into her. We were now both empty again.

Share this Post

About Nyameko

Nyameko Ishmael Bottoman (Nimz) is a professional paragraph wrangler. He spends his time with his head in the clouds and his boots on the neck of misbehaving metaphors. He prides himself on being a super nanny to adolescent puns.

When he is not busy being the gatekeeper to unruly onomatopoeia he keeps himself busy with writing children’s books, English education fan fiction, and noun-verb erotica.”

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*
*

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.