I got taken advantage of by my senior on my birthday. [The End]

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

I found this while organizing my articles… and wanted to share it with everyone!
It was November in Beijing, a winter's day. A light drizzle was falling outside the window. I pulled up my coat collar, exhaled warm breath, and looked at the hurried pedestrians on the streets of Beijing. Shuang'an was filled with couples going to the movies and having meals.
On the overpass, the wind was blowing coldly. I asked, "Where are we going?"
She said, "Houhai?"
I said, "No, it's too far. I want to go back to school."
"I'll take you back."
"No,"
I thought for a moment, looking at the cars flowing like water on the North Third Ring Road, the dazzling lights flashing before my eyes as night fell. I turned to go down the overpass. "Looking back," I heard her voice calling me. "Hmm?" I turned to look at her. "Tomorrow is your birthday. Don't go back, come to my place."
A quiet moment passed between us. "Okay, okay."
That year, I was a sophomore, and she was a senior. The night deepened, making the streetlights on both sides of the road seem even warmer. People who had been eating gradually emerged from the restaurant in small groups, driving home, continuing their gatherings at Houhai, or heading to places where men and women usually went.
We, on this side of the block, were different from their lively scene. We crossed the street; north of Shuang'an, behind Huaxing, were residential areas, quiet in the night. I held her hand, she carried the bags of things she had bought for me. We were the only ones on the street, breathing in the warm air, the clatter of her high heels on the cold cement floor. We were a happy couple. It
was dark outside, only the streetlights, their heads bowed, guarding a small patch of yellow light, motionless. We moved from one circle to another. We arrived, went upstairs, she in front, me behind. It was an old Beijing-style apartment she rented; the walls were a grayish-white, with uniform green paint on the wainscoting. I adjusted the bag on my shoulder, and we went up to the second floor. We
opened the door, went inside, into the living room. My senior turned on the warm lights, and I was responsible for tossing all the bags and packages onto the sofa, since I wasn't going back anyway. I thought to myself. Her arms gently wrapped around my neck. "Tired?"
"Not tired," I said, "but today's movie was boring."
The heating was on high in the room. That's the only good thing about winter in Beijing—the heating. No matter how cold it is outside, with the heating on high, it feels like springtime inside.
I tossed my coat and gloves onto the sofa and plopped down.
She said, "Take a rest if you're tired." Then she turned and went to the bedroom to tidy up her things. I looked around the living room; I'd been there many times, but it was unusually tidy today. It was as if I'd seen through the lady of the house's careful tidying. A faint blush appeared on her face. "What are you looking at!" she demanded. "I wasn't looking at you, I was checking if the fish I bought last time was still there," I said, pointing to the Nemo toy on her bedside table.
It was a huge plush fish I'd bought for her during the summer when Finding Nemo was all the rage.
"Of course it's here, it sleeps with me every night," she said, plopping down on the bed, hugging the fish. "It's better than you, isn't it?" She started talking to herself, teasing the fish. "Tch," I said, "I'm going to take a shower." I tossed my sweater onto the sofa. Whoosh! Hot water gushed from the faucet, instantly filling the small space around me with steam. I leaned against the wall, letting the hot water wash over my back, looking at my empty reflection in the mirror. I knew my 20th birthday was approaching with midnight, and what had I gained from these two years of university? The novelty had long since been returned to the school, just like my excellent college entrance exam results. The remaining time was simply spent "drifting"—drifting with women, drifting with men, drifting with the student council, drifting through self-study, drifting through exams, drifting through grades, drifting through my parents' lives, and drifting through myself. I wasn't sure if two more years like this, another report card and a graduation certificate, could change my drifting life. But when you don't know where the future leads, you can only do your best in the present, like studying and taking exams. Of course, when you're lonely, you need to satisfy your desires a little. "You're awesome," I said. I grabbed a bath towel, dried my hair, wrapped myself in it, and went out. Then my senior walked towards me and went into the bathroom.
I casually threw on a shirt and pants, lay down on the sofa, and watched TV. I switched between Beijing TV channels 4 and 6, watching whatever came to mind. Sometimes it was about family dramas, lovey-dovey moments, sweet nothings, sometimes it was about competition, arrogance, and sweating profusely, and then there were tons of commercials: "No gifts this holiday season, only accept gifts from idiots," etc. Humans are social animals, really. Strip away your background, your title, your job, and your clothes, and what's left? A naked monkey.
The door opened, and my senior came out. "Wangwang, I'm done washing up."
I didn't turn around and continued watching TV. The lights in the room were off, and only the flickering TV screen reflected my face, along with the soft candlelight shining through the half-open door of her bedroom. After a while, she changed her clothes, tidied up, and came over, saying, "Wangwang, what are you watching?"
I was still lying on the sofa, watching TV, and said, "Just call me by my name, don't call me 'Wangwang,' it sounds like a dog."
“You,” she immediately reached out her hand, and I instinctively closed my eyes. But when it reached my face, it turned into a caress, followed by the scent of Dior’s Dune, flowing from her wrist into every pore of my skin. I opened my eyes and looked at her. She was wearing a light blue washed-out Levi’s denim mini-skirt, over which she wore a thin white sweater, high-necked and sleeveless, which made her chest look very full. Her hair was simply tied into a long ponytail with a gauze handkerchief, with two wet strands hanging down her temples. “I just want to pinch you to death,” she said, her hand changing from a caress to a pinch, and began to pinch me violently.
"What are you doing?" I said, and she stopped as soon as I called her. "Nothing," she said, reaching out one hand. "Give me the remote."
"No," I said. "
Give it to me," she insisted.
"I'm watching TV!"
"Give it to me," she argued. "Why?" I said, sitting up straight on the sofa, putting my hands behind my back. She pounced on me, hugging me and pinning me against the sofa back, making it hard to breathe. At first, I thought she was trying to take the remote, so I didn't give it to her. Our bodies were pressed together, but we were struggling for the remote behind me, panting. Suddenly, I touched something cold, but I couldn't turn around. She was on top of me, and I heard a click. Damn, handcuffs! The thought flashed through my mind. I stared at the TV in terror. She got off me, holding the remote. "Hehe," she laughed happily and wickedly, "Let you take..."
"What are you doing!" I interrupted her. "Unlock me right now!"
"I'm not going to untie you," she said, fiddling with her hair. "Damn it!" Sweat beaded on my forehead. I was exhausted from the argument and nervously wondering what she was up to. "Where did you get this? What are you doing?" I yelled. She didn't answer. I knew she seemed calm when she was nervous.
She shoved me onto the sofa, my head almost hitting the table behind me. I quickly turned around and saw her grab a wine glass from the table, a half-empty bottle of Hennessy in her right hand, and then straddle me. I was completely blank and at a loss. She grabbed the slender neck of the bottle, filled it to about half full, and downed it in one gulp. Then she poured herself another small glass and drank it all. I watched as the clear liquid in the glass flowed down her pale neck, bone by bone, without hesitation. "Ha," she exhaled. "I'll celebrate your birthday with you," she said fiercely, staring at the bottle.
"What do you want?" I tried to struggle, but there was someone sitting on me, the woman's entire body pressing down on my waist and hips. How could I fight her? Because of the unfavorable position, and with my hands cuffed and pinned down, I couldn't struggle at all. Besides, my legs were useless at this point.
She didn't answer, her eyes staring straight at me. She reached her snow-white arm behind her head, untied the handkerchief that was tying her hair, and then handed it to me, covering my eyes.
Suddenly, the only sounds in the world were the television and the blurry image on her handkerchief. Just as I was trying to sharpen my hearing and turn my head, a pair of hands gripped my head to keep me still, and then I felt a pair of lips press against mine, sealing my mouth. "
Kissing doesn't have to be like this," I thought to myself. "How can she be so forceful with me?" But then I thought, "Oh well, a kiss is just a game, a birthday present for me."
Just as I was about to accept it, I suddenly felt a thin liquid seep through my lips and into my mouth. In the darkness, I could only rely on my senses; I felt the wine she had been holding in her mouth, flowing down into mine by gravity. The wine flowed down my throat, irritating my tongue in irregular spurs. I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe, I even felt like the wine was being forced into my trachea, not my esophagus. But I could only close my eyes, hold my breath, and try to force the wine in, trying not to choke.
"Cough cough," I couldn't take it anymore; I choked again, coughing up the alcohol as my cheeks burned. The liquid flowed down my chin and down my shirt collar, down my neck, down my back, down my stomach—it was incredibly uncomfortable. My throat was burning, my trachea even hotter, so hot that I could only breathe out the fiery smell of alcohol through my nose. "Cough cough," I coughed, but the person beside me, without any restraint, stubbornly held my face with both hands, then their lips came closer again, and another mouthful of alcohol went in. I had to hold my breath again, letting it flow directly into my stomach; I didn't want to suffocate from that mouthful of alcohol. My head was throbbing. It
was extremely uncomfortable; I couldn't think of anything to say, or what I was doing, or what she was doing. I only knew that my mouth and trachea were burning. My back was already soaked; the remaining alcohol and the sweat from my back due to tension mixed together beneath me, quickly soaking my shirt. My face was burning hot, a burning flame coursing through my mind. I hadn't expected this sudden experience. The senior shifted her hips, and I could feel her hand on my waist. Having just showered and changed quickly, I was only wearing underwear and jeans, without a belt. While I was still enduring the agonizing heat of her breath, she flicked open the only button on my jeans, gently pulled down the zipper, and slowly began to pull down my pants.
As the zipper brushed against my crotch, I clearly felt myself hard. This shouldn't be happening, I thought. How could she do this to me? This isn't this...this isn't rape!
And I'm a man, in this situation, and in any situation, I should be the one on top. Yet here I am, pinned down by a woman. I could say anything, I could shout anything, but my mouth moved. I couldn't shout "No!" like a porn star. I'm a man, a bound man. What could I do? I couldn't think of a way. I tried to resist, but then my waistband and underwear brushed against me, and I felt a slight pain. She cupped my face in her hands, and instead of leaning against me, she stood up slightly. Then her left hip rubbed against my hip, and I was firmly pinned down by her position, lying flat on the sofa. She knelt on either side of me again, her knees on the sofa, and then slowly, slowly sat down towards my crotch. The moment we touched, I felt in the darkness that she wasn't wearing underwear. She grabbed my hard penis with one hand, her nails already piercing it, and then held it, slowly moving it. She was using me, she was raping me. I knew it in my heart, but I couldn't resist. Until she touched my soft spot, which was covered in wet fluid. She closed her eyes and moved slowly. This seemingly pleasurable action constantly tugged at my heartstrings, and I swallowed hard. She slowly manipulated my penis, stopped playing with it, and then aimed it.
When the hardness pushed open the soft door and entered, we both let out a simultaneous "Oh." Instinct overwhelmed our minds and bodies. My senior lay on top of me, panting for a long time, then gradually straightened up and began to move her waist, moving across my hips. I couldn't take it anymore. I tried to break free of the handcuffs binding me, but then a pair of breasts pressed against my face. Then she held my head tightly against her chest and began to whisper, or rather, murmur. I couldn't breathe. I had never experienced lovemaking like this before. I couldn't think anymore. She began to move faster. Then her breasts finally left me, and I could barely breathe when I felt the buttons of my shirt being undone. It was already soaked, whether from residual alcohol or sweat, the fabric had ripped through my shirt. I felt her hands supporting my chest, and then her hips began to move rhythmically. A woman's weight, pressing down on my crotch, was heavy for a man with his hands cuffed. I could only gasp for breath. Occasionally, I could feel her supporting me with one hand, sometimes both, panting. The humiliation of being a man, being forced beneath a woman, accompanied my breath, yet it kept me shamelessly hardened in the warm in-and-out motion. I tightened my legs, greedily savoring the fleeting pleasure, wanting to give everything to this woman on top of me.
Time was like a warm, flowing whirlpool, enveloping us two panting figures. Sweat poured out, merely filling the space between us, becoming the lubricant of our movement. The piston was moving rapidly. Up and down, accompanied by gasps. The panting grew louder, the whistle blaring, and we felt like we were on a speeding train. The television was still playing, but I could only hear a cacophony of noise; I couldn't make out what it was saying, nor did I have the strength to. She gasped softly, "Ah," "Ah," and occasionally a hungry mouth would bite my lips, its tongue swirling around, making it hard to breathe. Two of her hands pressed against my chest, her entire weight straddling me, rising and falling. Before me was a hazy darkness, punctuated by the flickering light of the television. I knew there was another figure trembling at the peak. My entire world—the sofa I was on, the floor, the house—trembled violently in the darkness, growing increasingly intense. The slapping sounds began to appear rhythmically, pain accompanying the extension of desire, desire expanding, growing ever larger, swallowing all resistance, then retreating, leaving emptiness. Suddenly, it surged forward again, broke through again, and then another great emptiness arose.
It seemed she had touched something; "Ah!" she gasped, her body still, pressing down hard on my chest. Then I felt her twitching there, and I couldn't hold back any longer. I just felt like I was about to come, and in that moment, because before I came, there was always an extra swelling sensation there. I straightened my back, helping her accelerate the piston's operation. The train was going faster and faster, trying to break off the tracks. The tracks and the spinning wheels rubbed together, creating dazzling sparks. The piston had already begun to burn. Just like my enormous desire and humiliation, it was seeking a way out in this darkness, seeking a final explosion. "Ah!" A warm current rushed in, and I couldn't hold back anymore. The throbbing tip burst out with the last and most intense energy, merging with that warm current, releasing my ultimate self... I didn't know the time. My wrists had long been numb from being pressed down. Only now did I react. My whole body ached, and I was still pressing down on a woman's body. Only there was a moment of relief there. I heard the woman's panting near my neck, and then her lips pressed against mine, gently biting my lower lip. My mind went blank. Just like that, on my birthday night, I was actually raped by my senior. "Happy birthday," she said, her cheek against my chest, panting.
What is this? I asked myself, and I didn't know how to answer. Humiliation, like a drop of sweat afterward, trickled down my neck, lay in my thoughts, and rippled in my peaceful sleep.
Then, between heaven and earth, I felt the endless night of Beijing.

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/190814.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=190814&aspx=1

Last access time:

Previous Page : My Lover, Xiaotong [The End]

Next Page : Unforgettable romantic encounters