That was the last I saw of the considerate, loving John. I was roused from my swoon by a lubricated cock nudging where his tongue had just been. I desperately tried to relax, but that’s easier said than done. My sphincter resisted. I suppose some guys spend ten minutes getting a girl to relax. Not John. He just pushed until his irresistible force overcame my immovable object. I have no idea how far he pushed in. It felt like a baseball bat and I’m sure it was hitting my navel, from the inside. A searing pain shot through my bowels and continued as John just kept thrusting away. I screamed but he reached over and pressed my face into the mattress. I thrashed and struggled but his size and strength made that futile. After God knows how many minutes, the pain lapsed to a dull ache as, I suppose, everything went numb. I stopped my useless struggling and tried to think of happy thoughts to distract myself.
I closed my eyes and tried to think of happy memories of Dave making love to me and worshipping my body for hours. My eyes snapped open again. I couldn’t remember a single session. For the last couple of months, Dave had taken me just like John did. Now, as I came to think of it, even those had stopped.
To stop myself following the logical trail this revelation incited, I focused on what I was actually feeling. Ouch. How can anyone possibly enjoy this? It was painful and humiliating. I suddenly realised the hand on the back of my head had relaxed a little. With a heave, I lifted my head off the bed. Instead of peering over my shoulder, I looked in the mirror on the wall at the head of the bed. I could see John behind me and the expression of lust and concentration on his face was scary. I knew at that point he was a truly selfish man and didn’t give a fuck about what I was feeling.
As I watched, his face screwed up and he let out a mighty bellow as he unloaded in my bowels. He collapsed sideways, quickly softened, and slipped out. It was a tremendous feeling of relief. A gush of air and God knows what else erupted from me and I raced into the shower, feeling rage and humiliation. I was ready to blast him when I got out, but he grabbed me and squeezed. He thanked me constantly and told me he loved me. I was confused. His words and recent actions were greatly at odds with each other. When he told me it had been the best orgasm of his life, I felt pride battering my resolve. I told him he’d hurt and humiliated me. He couldn’t stop apologising, saying he’d lost control and I should know he wasn’t a selfish man usually. He kept saying it would be better next time. I didn’t let on that there was never going to be a next time. I’d resolved to end this once and for all, while salvaging as much of my dignity as I could.
He fell asleep with a confused me in his arms. The last words from him were that he loved me and would make it up to me. If he really did love me, breaking off was going to be difficult and risky. Would he risk harming his marriage and mine to get me to himself full time? I couldn’t risk that. No, we would have our fun until Monday morning, then I’d firmly tell him it’s over. If he tried to cause trouble with Dave, I’d threaten retaliation with his wife. If anything, he had more to lose than I did.