Date: Tue, 14 Apr 1998 20:34:00 -0400
From: Lee <lburwell@adan.kingston.net>
Subject: The Break-In

This is my first submission to Nifty. It involves sex between two men. If 
this offends you... what the HELL are you doing here???


THE BREAK-IN

I woke up, in the middle of the night, not sure why. I sat up, and looked 
around my bedroom, trying to figure out what had woken me. At first, I 
saw nothing, disoriented by the moonlight which made everything look 
strange. Then I realized that there was someone else in the room.

I stared at the barely-seen figure, then dived for the bedside table 
where I kept my gun, but a chuckle and the glint of moonlight on metal 
stopped me.

"Looking for this, Beautiful?"

He had my gun. I tried to say something, ask what he wanted, but the 
words couldn't get past the cold lump of fear in my throat.

He moved to my bedside, passing through the moonlight from the window as 
he came near. He was huge - much taller than me, and strongly built, 
wearing only black. Black pants, black shirt, black ski-mask, black 
gloves. He sat down on the bed, next to me, and placed my gun on the 
bedside table, well out of my reach. I would have to lunge past him to 
get at it.

One hand came up to cup my chin. The glove was cool and smooth. Leather, 
I thought. Why was I trying to figure out what his gloves were made of? I 
should be trying to figure out how to get away.

"I've been watching you, Beautiful. Watching you for a while." The touch 
became a caress, and I shivered. I wasn't sure if it was fear or thrill. 
Who was he? Why had he been watching me? Had I seen him?

Strangely, though, I wanted to laugh. Beautiful was not an adjective 
usually used to describe me. Average was. Average height, average weight, 
average build, average brown hair, average brown eyes. Neither handsome 
nor ugly. If I were any more average, I would disappear completely. But 
he called me beautiful. 

I opened my mouth to speak, but the hand came over it, large enough to 
cover more than half my face.

"Shhh. No speaking, or I'll have to gag you. Understand?" I nodded, now 
afraid. The hand moved to rest on my shoulder, stroking me, then moved to 
my chest, and firmly pushed me backwards until I was lying on my back. 
The hand started to rub at my chest, while the man's eyes burned into 
mine. I was in my own bed, naked like I always slept, and a strange 
masked man was touching me. I began to shake. I was in danger here.

So why was I so excited?

It was obvious what he was after, though, and I tried to shove his hands 
away, but he grabbed my wrists, and used one hand to press them into the 
pillow above my head. I was restrained, shivering and more aroused than I 
could ever remember being in my life. His free hand moved back to my 
chest, rolling my nipples, squeezing my pecs, tickling my navel, stroking 
my sides.

Then, my blankets were swept away, revealing my erection. I flushed with 
shame. The man's eyes dipped down and he chuckled. His free hand reached 
down to curl around my cock. The touch was electric.

"Oh yes, Beautiful. You're enjoying this, aren't you?" The hand 
tightened, almost to the point of pain. "*Aren't* you?"

"yes." I half-whispered, half-moaned. The hand began a slow stroking 
motion that soon had me gasping. My cock was already beginning to leak, 
and all I knew was that I didn't want him to stop.

The hand moved from my cock to my balls, rolling them and tugging at them 
with a force that was so close to pain that it just made me harder. My 
eyes fell shut for a moment, until teeth fastened shorply on my earlobe, 
sending shocks through my nerves. Then the voice blew warmly across my 
ear.

"Roll over, Beautiful."

I shouldn't. He was going to rape me. I should be fighting him.

I rolled over.

"Keep your hands where they are," came the order. I nodded into my pillow.

The leather-clad hands moved down my back, stroking, carressing, 
pinching, prodding, until they reached my ass. My cheeks were grabbed, 
and kneeded. Pulled apart, then pressed tightly together. A tongue ran up 
my crack, once, making me jump.

"Oh, yeah. The first time I saw this ass, I knew that I had to have it. 
Tell me, Beautiful. Have you ever had a cock up your ass?"

I nodded, embarassed. It had been a few year, but I still remembered it 
well. I wondered if it would disappoint him, if he would be angry that 
I'd been fucked by someone else.

"Good. Then you'll know what to do."

The hands disappeared for a moment, and I heard the rustle of clothing, 
and something being opened. Then the hands were back. My cheeks were 
gently parted, and a finger ran up and down my crack, teasing at my 
hole. He still had the leather gloves on, but the fingers were now slick 
with lube.

The fingers teased and rubbed, then, without any warning, one plunged 
into me. I arched and tensed, crying out at the suddenness.

"Relax, Beautiful. I don't want to hurt you." I took a deep breath, then 
let it out, trying to ease the tension. My ass started to relax. "Very 
good."

For a second, I smiled at the praise, then caught myself. He was going to 
rape me, and I was happy that he had praised me? What was wrong with me?

The finger started to fuck me, sliding in and out, working at me until my 
ass had loosened. Then it was joined by a second finger. I heard a moan, 
then realized that it was me. I realized that I *had* forgotten how good 
it could feel, and it felt *very* good.

Suddenly I realized that not only was he going to fuck me, I was going to 
*want* him to. My hands were free, but I hadn't moved them from where he 
had put them, and now my hips were moving by themselves, pushing back 
against the two - no, three - fingers that were buried deep inside me.

The fingers twisted, and suddenly I was spurting, all over the sheets. I 
screamed into my pillow, caught by the most intense orgasm I could 
remember having.

The bed shifted, and my attacker? - molester? - lover? - stood. I felt a 
tear escape, certain, for a moment, that he was going to leave now. I 
didn't look up, but spread my legs as far apart as I could, silently 
inviting him back, begging him to come back. I heard the welcome sound of 
a condom wrapper being ripped open, and sighed in relief. Then the bed 
dipped again, under his weight.

He settled down on my back. His hands ran up my arms, spreading them out, 
until his hands clasped my own. His legs rested on my spread legs. I was 
spread-eagled on the bed, on my stomach. I could feel the demin of his 
pants against my legs, the wool of his shirt against my back and arms, 
the brush of his mask against my neck. I was naked, and he was fully 
clothed. The only part of *him* that touched me was the condom-covered 
erection that now rested against my loosened hole.

Then he stopped. I groaned in frustration, but couldn't move - his weight 
held me still. Lips moved against my neck, right below my ear, and he 
spoke again, almost in a whisper.

"Do you want this, Beautiful? I thought I would just do it, but I can't. 
Not unless you ask me."

Ask? I can barely breath, and he wants me to *speak*? I gasp, trying to 
draw enough breath to say it.

"Wanted you for so long. Watched you for so long. Needed you for so 
long." The words continued, while I tried to find my own words.

"please..." I croaked.

"Please what?"

He was going to make me say it. Admit it. I couldn't. I had to.

"Please fuck me! Please!" I was sobbing, drawing deep breaths, trying to 
move under him. I was ashamed of my reactions, but didn't care anymore. 
The only thing I cared about was having him inside me.

And he was.

He was big. Bigger than I'd had before. I thought, for a moment, that I 
would be split. I could imagine the blood running down my legs after I 
was torn apart. But he was gentle, slow, stopping often for me to adjust.

Finally, he was buried, balls deep inside of me, exactly where I wanted 
him. But I also wanted him to move, only I couldn't push the words out. 
Luckily, he seemed to know this. A slow withdrawal, then he pushed back 
in. And again. And again. Each thrust sent electric shocks through me. It 
had never been this intense for me before.

He withdrew, lifted up, and pulled me to my knees, then plunged back in, 
deeper than he'd been before. I rested my head on my forearms, and pushed 
back into each stroke, as hard as I could, but he was still too gentle.

"Please," I begged. "Fuck me harder. Please!" He responded, without a 
word, by picking up the tempo.

Soon, he was slamming into me, as hard as I could take it, and I was 
loving it. This was what I'd been waiting for. He was big enough, strong 
enough, to break me in two without even trying, and I loved it.

When he reached around to grab my cock, erect again, I bucked and 
screamed and emptied my balls into his hand. I couldn't remember the last 
time that I had come so hard, twice in one night.

Then he swore and shouted, and slammed me back into the mattress. Inside, 
I could feel him jerk and spurt, filling the condom.  He collapsed on top 
of me, and the world went black. I couldn't remember ever feeling this 
satisfied, before, in my life.

* * * * *

When I woke the next morning, I thought that maybe it had all been some 
sort of really intense wet dream. The ache in my ass soon convinced me 
that it had happened. I rolled over, but my mysterious lover was gone. I 
was a little surprised at how disappointed I was.

My gun was still sitting on the bedside table, and there was a note lying 
on top of it. I picked it up, a little uncertain.

     //Morning, Beautiful.

     Last night was fantastic, but I won't fool myself. It 
     was rape. I'll understand if you call the police, 
     though I didn't leave any evidence for them to find.

     Or maybe you won't. Maybe you enjoyed it enough to 
     want me to come back.

     If you do, leave your curtains open tonight. If they 
     are closed, I will never come near you again.

     Your choice, Beautiful. Your choice.//

My choice? What was I supposed to do?

I could call the police, I supposed. Then what? Explain how a man broke 
in to my home and raped me? How it was the best sex I'd ever had in my 
life? No, thanks.

Leave the curtains closed? Probably the safest thing to do. No worries 
about what he was like. Who he was. What he did for a living. Was he just 
after quick sex, or was he "the one".

Or open the curtains. Take the chance. Maybe he *was* "the one". Or maybe 
we'd just have hot sex for a while until we drifted apart. Chances. 
Choices.

He called me 'beautiful'.

I eyed the curtains speculatively, then moved towards them.

Who need curtains, anyway?

THE BEGINNING?


Liked it? Hated it? Think I should hang up my keyboard? Let me know at 
lburwell@adan.kingston.net