All Shook Up

My research partner and I had an argument, an almighty argument. It started because he sent me a video to watch on my laptop. It was a sex tape; a gang bang if you like, featuring him, his ex -girlfriend and two other guys. When he first told me about the tape I laughed and giggled about his antics with his ex, just another example of just how far he would go to get his next sexual high I chuckled.

Seeing the video however was another matter entirely, it left me feeling sick. I still don’t know why. As my previous post ‘21^st Century Vera Lynn’ documents I have been party to group sex, granted not in person, certainly not actually having group sex but I did very much enjoy what took place down the end of phone line. I am not sure why my research partner’s gang bang left me so sickened, the only thing I can put it down to is that there was certainly a different tone to the two different sexploits. When I had phone sex with my research partner and two other girls the tone was fun and flirty, there was no pressure, everybody got on as friends and there was mutual respect. The tone of the gang bang I watched was very different, far from fun and flirty it was seedy and dirty, with other men jeering and leering as my research partner fucked his then girlfriend, cheering him along as they waited for their turn to cum. It wasn’t a nice video to watch, filmed on a mobile phone it felt cheap and desperate.

After I had watched as much of the video as I could my research partner called. ‘Well?’ he asked ‘what did you think?’ Despite the churning in my stomach I tried very hard to be diplomatic at first simply telling him the video wasn’t my cup of tea. My stomach continued to churn as he told me more about the video, how it was all his ex-girlfriend’s idea and how she had a become a porn actress on the back of making that video. What got me was that he had gone along with the whole thing, watched as his then girlfriend got fucked by other men, went along with it as he fucked her and they cheered him on to the sexual finish line. The more details he gave me the more repulsed I felt until I snapped. I told him ‘You have no standards.’ The moment the words left my mouth I wanted to swallow them back, it’s not my place to judge my friend, not my place to tell him what is and is not acceptable. I think what made me snap was the comparison he drew, his ex does porn, fucks on film for money, I write porn, for him he argued it was all the same thing. And yes, he is right I do write porn, I enjoy telling all about my word bound sexual adventures. What I don’t do and would never do is shag random people for money and certainly never on film. I like to titillate with my stories, not have gangbangs on film. For me the latter crosses the line into something dark and sordid, something that feels wrong.

After my spiteful words of ‘You have no standards’ my research partner, his temper flaring, he hit back just as hard if not harder. He said ‘It could be claimed you have no standards for carrying on fucking your ex-boyfriend after he hit you’. To my shame this is true. I was in a violent relationship with a guy; I stayed for a year despite the abuse, despite the pushing and shoving, the slaps and the head-butting. It was a while ago now and I don’t often think about the relationship, he was older than me, had his own place, I moved in far too quickly believing that I loved him. It wasn’t long before I saw his violent temper. I cowered as he flew into rages over the smallest of things. For me the worse thing about domestic violence isn’t being hit, it is waiting to be hit, walking on eggshells trying desperately hard not to offend but realising the futility of this, that yes , you are going to take a kicking, it’s not a question of if, simply of when. I became terrified of him, frightened to breathe; I was living in his flat and didn’t have enough money to leave. I didn’t know where to turn so I stayed, I carried on having sex with him and I tried to make it work. It didn’t work, I dropped down to seven stone, my skin looked grey and my hair began to fall out. It was a horrible time, not least when my abuser would comment on how terrible I looked. He would sneer that when he met me I looked glamorous, ‘what’ he asked rhetorically ‘had happened to me?’ He was what had happened to me, his violence had drained me of all my spirit and almost all of my fight. But not all of it, thankfully, as I found a way out and another place to live in the end.

Bringing up this terrible chapter in my life was a low blow by my research partner, a cheap snipe that equalled the spite of my comments. All’s fair in phone sex and war. Clearly. So we were even, both as bad as each other as we each held our phones to our ears in complete stunned silence. For a long time we said nothing, there was nothing to say until the deathly air of silence was cut by my research partner’s laugh. He chuckled ‘I bet you are wet.’ I couldn’t help but laugh, laughing at the cheek of the devil that he was displaying even though I was still mad, I told him ‘I am definitely not checking.’ ‘Go on, check’ he said, coercing me, daring me to have fun with him despite our argument. I took him up on his dare and I checked. I placed my hands down my trousers and my fingers found their way underneath my knickers. Sure enough, the heat of the argument had left me wet, as I touched my pussy my fingers were engulfed by sweet wet juice. I had to taste it, all the while being mildly annoyed that my research partner had been right, the argument had left me horny, wet and willing.

With my fingers buried down my trousers and underneath my knickers I touched my clit that was lightly throbbing and was grateful for my touch. I felt a familiar feeling of desire cutting through the anger and harsh words of moments before. As my fingertips stroked my aching clit and I heard my research partner undress, I heard the zip of his trousers undo and this made my cunt ache all the more. Soon I was undressing myself, I slipped off my trousers and my top until I was sat half naked in my room in just my underwear. My knickers were becoming even wetter, I slipped them to one side as I lay back on to my bed and vigorously rubbed my clit side to side. I enjoyed the feeling of my juice on my finger tips and I couldn’t resist another taste. I was horny, both of us were in a sexually wanton state after our disagreement, just as love and hate are different sides of the same coin, anger and desire can also overlap. Both demand passion. So we passionately continued, fired up with an urgent need to phone fuck.

As I stroked my clit hard and fast I reached over to my bedside cabinet drawer and grabbed two things. First my toy, on which I had turned the dial up to full power, secondly some tingle lubricant. I squirted some on my fingers, rubbed it onto my clit and then placed my toy on this most sensitive of areas. The sensation was explosive, white heat, furious fire, my clit pounded with need as my toy rocked against it. I pressed the toy harder and harder into my clit, rubbing it around and around and side to side, I couldn’t get enough of the pleasure. So turned on was I that with my free hand I started to stroke my arse and I encouraged my research partner to do the same. With sheer delight we both moaned, loud and with pleasure. I took another squirt of the tingle lubricant, running some of the cooling liquid on my throbbing clit which by now felt like it was on fire. With what was left of the lubricant I rubbed some on my arse, I massaged away until a finger found its way inside. The fire that was my clit continued to burn away and to satisfy it I continued to press my toy hard against it, feeling my desire rage. I could hear sounds of pleasure from my research partner and this only added to my sexual wantonness. As my legs began to shake I knew I was going to cum from clit stimulation alone, I didn’t need penetration from my toy or my fingers, not this time anyway. I just needed to carry on doing what I was doing and so I did; a finger inside my arse and my toy on my burning, raging clit. My body continued to shake; the shaking became ever more violent, I was overcome by waves of pleasure and the building of pressure that was to very soon become orgasmic. All shook up does accurately describe the experience. As I came I began to float on clouds of exquisite ecstasy, as I squirted hot sweet thick juice my body became like jelly and my head spun leaving me feeling lightheaded and a little bit disorientated. I had cum hard and fast. In fact it’s true what I have said in a previous post, the best part of fighting is making up.