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Farewell fuck

June 21, 2005

Staring at my calendar on Sunday afternoon, I tried to figure out how to accomplish fine feats of crazy scheduling in the short amount of time I have before I cross the big blue and make mischief in a strange city. As I’m prone to do, I made a list of things I had to do, and in short order it turned into a list of people I’d like to do. The list got a little longer than I knew my schedule could manage, so I had to prioritize. Item one: Todd. I got an email out to him immediately, and we set up a date for Monday evening.

When I got to Todd’s place he was just starting to watch Mario Bava’s Diabolik. We drooled over the latex hood the title character was wearing and leered at his bombshell-hot girlfriend sidekick. We sat chatting, catching up, lightly touching each other here and there.

Todd was really excited to show me the new crowning glory of his sex toy collection: a tear drop cock ring. Seriously, check out that link, because the thing is a gorgeous shiny work of art. He put it on for me, and we experimented with the different ways it could be worn. As he fiddled with it, I unconsciously sunk to my knees – you know, to get a better look at it. I slid his hardening cock into my mouth and stopped only to tell him, “You know how much I love the cock and balls, but this cock ring just frames them so well and makes them shiny. Cock and shiny things – what else could I ask for?” The answer presented itself immediately – cock and shiny things to get my hands and mouth all over.

I spent my time exploring his reactions to different kinds of touch. I like to suck cock slowly, languorously, so I can feel every centimeter of it slide between my lips, explore every bump, vein and curve. Its part worshipful rapture, part production of a cartographic memory as I lose myself in listening to the responses of the body I’m intent on pleasuring. As I swirled my tongue lightly around Todd’s cock, I scratched my fingers ever so lightly across his taut balls with my right hand, and slipped my left hand between his legs to where the point of his cock ring met his perineum, and pressed softly. I looked up at him as he ran his fingers over his nipples, smiled to myself as I remembered him saying earlier that it felt like his perineum and his nipples were attached to the same hot nerve. I slowly pulled my mouth off of him to wipe off some of my drool (how’d I get drool on my ankle?) and he shivered. He was standing with his ass facing the air conditioner’s blast. We made a move to the couch.

Todd sat me down on the couch and helped me wriggle out of my panties as he lightly kissed the soft parts of my thighs and bit softly on the flesh just above my hips. I never used to like this part, the teasing touching before the serious touching, you know, that thing called foreplay. These days I’ve been liking it more and more, concentrating on enjoying touch that doesn’t directly lead up to orgasm. I let my body fold back into the soft leather of the couch, giving myself over to him and concentrating on his caresses. He spent some time warming me up with his tongue, tickling my labia, stroking my clit firmly and then wiggling my piercing so that the lower ball rubbed my clit. I breathed a happy sigh when he slid his first finger into me and I felt my cunt muscles close around him, my pussy hungry for penetration. He set his right thumb to work on my clit and hit just the right angle so that I began to squirt. In my haze of coming, I saw him cup his left hand to catch the come spraying out of my pussy. He slid the fingers of his left hand inside of me, palm still cupped to catch errant girl juices. My body was beginning to rocket into orbit, and I began to shake. He read my body perfectly and picked up the pace a little bit.

He was using his elbow to plunge the full length of his fingers in and out, expertly cradling my g-spot as he penetrated me fully. I felt the tremors of orgasm deep in my womb, sprouting from the base of my spine - the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my toes curled hard. As I moved into full orgasm mode, I felt on the verge of speaking in tongues; the discernable words I could get out were “moremoremore.” I was at the cusp of a series of big, badass, insane-o orgasms, and ready to let loose. As I entered the second wave of orgasm, lifting my hips to meet Todd’s hands, he slipped and I felt the slight sting of a fingernail scratch. I came hard hard hard and then dropped my ass back down on the couch. He straightened his fingers to let my juices run down his hand and I looked down to see just how big the puddle of come was. I was surprised to see that his hand wasn’t full of come at all, but rather big globs of fierce orange red blood. It was coming from my pussy – and lots of it. His hand and wrist were slick and sickly colored with it. Involuntary tears broke from my eyes and streamed down my cheeks. I didn’t feel hurt, but the color of Todd’s hands said otherwise.

He pulled back a bit and said the only thing worth saying, “Oh. I’m… sorry. I’ll get some towels.” I lay back on the couch in dull shock, not moving, afraid to touch myself down there, not really feeling anything. Todd returned with paper towels, and I quickly soaked through half a roll of towels as we cleaned up the growing puddle of blood on my legs, his couch and floor and his hands. I stayed put, not really knowing what to do or say about it. Todd assured me that he wasn’t freaked out or disgusted by the blood. I just didn’t have anything to say. After soaking through a bunch of towels, I wrapped a bunch more around my hand and applied pressure. He wrapped some ice in towels for me and said that he wanted to go get us something to eat and some sugar for me – I was looking a bit pale. When he came back I was still sitting in the same spot, with a towel of bloody half melted ice and paper towel wadded up between my legs. He asked if I was mobile enough to make it to the roof to enjoy the sunset and our dinner, and I said I thought so but I wanted to wash myself first. In the bathroom I saw another pile of bloody paper towels – the ones that Todd must have used to get the blood off his hands. I dropped the towels in the trash can and got in the shower, carefully washing myself. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle, and I wanted to get some fresh air so we ate our pizza on the roof. Todd promised me the ultimate in pampering massages once we got back to his apartment.

After the sunset, we made our way downstairs and finished up Diabolik. I was feeling funky and not at all sexy, but I wasn’t in any pain, so I didn’t mind sitting and listening to Todd’s chatter about the minutiae of Mario Bava’s talent. I got up to use the bathroom, and when I peeled my underwear back I realized I was still bleeding quite a bit. Peeing stung like all hell as the urine mixed into my fresh wound. I felt dizzy, and decided that my night was over. I wanted to go home. Todd and I had a long hug at the door of his apartment and I began the journey home.

On the train I realized that I’d had quite the delayed reaction and that I was much more freaked by the incident than I thought initially. When I got home, I took a mirror between my legs to see how things looked – and I almost fainted from seeing an angry crescent of torn flesh on the inside of my inner right labia, blood smeared all over my labia and down the inside of my thighs. It was still bleeding, hours later, and looked way worse than the surface scratch I hoped it was. I got in the shower, shaking, and watched blood run down my legs – feeling a bit woozy, I sat down in the tub and began to cry. It wasn’t so much the pain as the shock and weird feeling of looking at my body and seeing it broken and bleeding in a place that it supposed to be happy, feeling so distanced from the pleasure, and just… not knowing what to do with myself. I crawled out of the shower, wrapped myself in my big fuzzy robe and curled up in my bed. I reached for my phone and dialed Jane. Having taken another road trip to visit her family, she’d stopped at a hotel in Pennsylvania for the night, but when she heard my shaking voice, she said she’d be at my door in a few hours.

While I waited for her, I wrote in my journal and snacked on some chocolate. She called to give me updates on her journey, and we joked that my summoning her in the wee hours of the morning would help to avoid the traffic she’d surely encounter in the morning. She made sure I wasn’t spending all my time looking at my angry gash in the mirror, and I assured her that I couldn’t bear to look. When she arrived, I dropped my pants and showed her the damage. We decided that since the bleeding was pretty much under control, we’d wait until the morning for me to call my doctor instead of doing a late night trip to the emergency room. Even if I needed stitches, just then I couldn’t deal with the thought of having someone other than my lovely little Lower East Side Jewish lady doctor spreading my legs and prodding at my most tender of tender bits. I put a maxi pad on and curled up with Jane to fall asleep to my ultimate in comfort movies, Singin’ in the Rain.

This morning my doctor said she’d see me right away, so preparing for the worst case scenario of a trip to the ER for stitches, Jane and I gathered our books, a pair of sandwiches and an ample supply of chocolate. My doctor looked at it and said that it looked like Todd had hit a vein, which explains why there was so much blood. The skin is very much broken, but there’s also a bit of a blood blister going on, and it will take a week or so for the cut to close, probably longer for the bruising and soreness to go away.

It will get better – I know I’ll heal and my cunt won’t be broken forever, but I just feel awful today: shaken, sore, and achy. Worse than the physical pain, I feel like the happiness and security of my cunt is a thousand miles away, floating on a plane of dull achy and marred flesh.

Posted by Dacia at June 21, 2005 02:47 PM

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