‘Oooh.’ I grip the worn suedette with desperate nails. I know I can’t come like this, but it feels weirdly as if I might. Maybe all the information is wrong?
Then, with a rude pop, his finger is out of me and my muscles contract as if offended by his sudden exit.
‘Oh.’ It’s a little moan of protest, and he knows it, for the next thing he does is to insert two fingers. This makes me open my eyes wide and kick up my heels, but he is firm in his intent and he continues his impaling mission until I feel that pain I have been dreading. But it’s not really the dreaded pain – it’s a pale shadow of it, a vague smarting halfway along the passage, which flares and then as quickly fades.
How does the width of two fingers compare with his cock? I find myself trying to perform a frantic estimation task in my head. His fingers are long and bony, his cock is long and not so bony. Quite thick, in fact. How much more will it hurt? What’s the factor?
He thrusts with the fingers for a while, letting me accustom myself to the invasive feel of them, the push in and the drag out, then I hear his breathing over mine and it is heavy, ragged, on the edge.
‘I take you now,’ he says. I shut my eyes and utter a silent prayer, pushing up my bottom, offering it. ‘But you must turn over. Lie on your back. I want to watch your face.’
‘Oh no!’ This really is beyond the pale. He can put what he likes up my bum, but he mustn’t look at my face while he does it! Nobody must ever see my face.
‘What?’ He removes his fingers, comes around to the side, seeks my eyes, which are pressed into the padding. ‘Look at me. Hey, Rosichka. Now.’
I turn a pouty face to his. ‘It’s too embarrassing.’
‘But I need to see you. Or you might be in horrible pain and I don’t know. You might hate every minute and I think you love it. This is important for me, to know that you are happy with how I fuck you.’
‘If I’m not, I’ll tell you.’
I know before I even say it that he won’t accept that though.
‘But will you, malyshka? I am not so sure.’
He has a point. I probably wouldn’t say anything, just let him pound away and keep my fingers crossed that he would come quickly. It occurs to me that I could learn a thing or two about honesty from Dimitri.
‘OK. I don’t know what I’ll do, to be fair. It’s a new experience, after all.’
‘So you turn over for me, please.’
‘I turn over for you.’
I have to hop off the gymnastics horse and then seat myself on it again. My rear cheeks squish and slide together, the lube at work. I’m also aware of feeling different, the after-effects of Dimitri’s fingering. The passage remains tight, but I know it can take an invasive presence. All the old jokes about anal probes run through my mind as I lie flat and peer up at Dimitri through almost-closed eyes.
He picks up my legs from their dangling position and puts them over his shoulders, then holds me by my hips, angling me so that my bum rises right off the surface. Watching my face intently, he applies more lubricant to my quivering pucker.
I shut my eyes, bite my lip.
‘This is not hurting you?’
‘No, no.’ I gasp the words out, ruffling his hair with my toes.
‘Good. Please to open your eyes. I must watch you.’
He is evil. I reconsider all my opinions of him. Kind, funny, sweet, sexy all turn to evil, evil, evil, evil.
I manage to unglue one eyelid and squint up at him. ‘Whyyyy?’ I wail.
‘Because I like to.’ That smile makes lightning flash to my crotch. His fingertips press against my bud. I watch the way his forearm twists and his wrist flexes in the commission of my anal preparation, then I look up at his face again. His eyes are alight, his cheekbones twitching, his forehead drawn with the effort of concentration.
‘I will do it now,’ he says. He drops his jeans quickly and rubbers up with ruthless efficiency. I watch him stroke more lube onto the tip of his latex-sheathed cock. It is coming for me, coming to get me. Against the advice, I tense.
He obviously feels my calves and thighs tighten against his body and shakes his head at me. ‘Relax now,’ he says, gently admonitory.
I let my shoulders drop and the rest of my body follows suit. I centre all my focus on keeping my rear muscles ready.
Holding his cock in one hand, while the other keeps me raised at the hip, he steps forwards. The blunt tip parts my cheeks further; he rubs it up and down the cleft, gathering more lubricant. The way he looms over me, like a dark conqueror, is both scary and arousing. I sense my vulnerability and I embrace it, let it wash over me, experience it as pleasure instead of fear.