Maneater Chapter 1

Post time7-02-2021, 08:29

This story is fictional, and bears no intentional resemblance to any person or story, real or fictional, who has existed.

I've desperately needed to tell this story for a long time. I'm not sure I believe it myself, so for years I thought no one else would. Honestly, I still don't think anyone will believe me. I just don't care anymore. I'm not as unique as I thought, so people need to know. This could eventually lead to my incarceration, so please understand the sacrifice I'm making by divulging this part of my personal story. I'm not bragging, and I'm not proud. I find it humiliating, but I did it to myself And a few others, of course.
It started in high school, in my senior year. I had turned eighteen on July 19th. I was well dressed, slender and popular, and my hair had just been straightened. I was looking better than I ever had. I should have been feeling good enough to match, but I wasn't. My self esteem was very low. Boys smiled at me just like with other girls, but then they moved on.
Most girls that age fantasized about the captain of the football team, or the funny guy, or the super cool guy who always knew what to say. I fantasized about intellectuals. My math teacher was the hottest man on the planet!
Within the first two weeks of school, a chess club was started. I found myself hanging out there, despite both my lack of knowledge and my lack of interest in the game. I just wanted to meet the boys who were playing. That's how I met Mike Brown. I feigned interest just so he would spend time teaching me to play when he wasn't playing someone else.
We didn't have any money, so going out on dates just wasn't possible. Fortunately, my mother gave me all the freedom in the world. I was an only child, an overachiever, and my mother had me on the pill. As long as I treated my mother with respect, I could do all sorts of things most parents wouldn't let their children do. Since we couldn't go out, I just invited Mike to my place. My mother would let us sit in the room and talk for hours uninterrupted.
I was desperate to have sex. I hated being a virgin. The first time I brought up the subject of sex, Mike seemed almost to jump out of his seat. I said, "Mike, you know, we talk to each other about everything. Can I be really honest with you for a minute?"
"Of course," he responded in a very nonchalant way.
"I am so FUCKING sick and so FUCKING tired of being a virgin. I know you're a virgin, Mike. Aren't you tired of it?" That's when he nearly jumped out of his seat.
The conversation to that point had been monotonously banal. From kids in school, to schoolwork, to teachers, then back to the kids. He usually found a way to keep it interesting, but that day I just couldn't get sex off my mind.
"How can you be tired of being a virgin when you don't know what sex feels like?" he said. Mike was sitting on my bed, and I got up from a small sofa that I used to keep in the corner, walked over and sat in his lap.
"You told me that you sometimes get tired of being so tall. I'm sure you have no idea what it's like being short."
It was the first time I ever sat in his lap, and I liked it. I reached in to kiss him, then I hesitated when I could feel him trembling. This boy was six foot one, and well over two hundred pounds. I was (and still am) four foot eleven. Back then I probably weighted about 90 pounds. I wasn't the least bit nervous, so the feeling of him trembling had an unusual effect. When I looked into his eyes and saw the trepidation, the labored breathing of a young man who wasn't sure what would happen next, I got turned on. Feeling his nervousness and seeing a drop of sweat roll down the side of his forehead made me tingle. I didn't realize it, but I was getting out of control with desire. I don't remember when I started to kiss his neck. I just remember that he was moaning and rubbing my back while I did it.
At some point I managed to stop and catch my breath. I whispered into his ear, "I want you to have my virginity." He nearly jumped out of his seat again. The look of fear in his eyes was getting me a bit worried that he might be getting a little too scared.
"I I can't," he responded. "You could get pregnant. Someone could catch us. There's just too many things that could go wrong. I think we should stop." He started trying to move me from his lap.
"No," I whispered in his ear. "Don't get up. Please don't."
"I'm sorry, but I have to," he said. He pushed me away from his neck, then gently pushed me onto the bed next to him. "I really have to go," he said, getting up and walking toward the door.
In order to keep him there, I knew I had to do something drastic. "If you try to leave, I'll scream."
"Why would you do that?" he asked, almost inquisitively.
"Sit back down. Try to leave, and I'll scream 'rape.'" That was when I saw an even greater fear on his face. I liked how it felt to make this very large young man do as I told him. I know that's disgusting, but it's honest. I felt like I had power over him, and I decided to use it.
I told Mike anything I had to to keep him from trying to leave. My father lived in California at the time, but I told Mike he was in the next room over with a shotgun. I said my mother would stab him if she heard 'rape,' and then they'd call the police. He was so frightened, he would've robbed a bank if I'd told him to. So I sat him down, grabbed his shirt and began to pull it up over his head. He said, "No!" and pulled it back down. "I don't want to take my clothes off! What are you doing, Rhonda? Are you trying to get pregnant?"
"I tried being nice, Mike. I will scream my lungs out, then say you were trying to rape me. Who do you think my parents will believe? Who do you think the police will believe? Just relax Mike. There's really nothing you can do about this." He began to cry.
I was (admittedly) trying to trick him into having sex with me. I ended up discovering something about myself that would change my life forever: I found great enjoyment in having power over someone much bigger and stronger than myself. From that moment forward, I refused to take 'no' for an answer. I used Mike's body to experience everything I'd ever wondered about being with a boy, except coitus. Knowing my hymen was in place, I saved that for last. It was a good thing I did, too. I got on top of Mike and tried to use his manhood to break my own hymen. I had no idea how painful this would be. Seconds later I was doubled over on my bed, clutching my groin with tears in my eyes.
Mike could've done anything to me. He could've left me writhing in pain, which I would've deserved. He could have raped me while I was hurting too badly to stop him. Instead, he kissed my forehead and said, "I'm sorry you're hurting. I never meant for this to happen." He put his clothes back on but, being the sweet, kind boy that he was, he held me in his arms and rocked back and forth while I cried on his shoulder like a little baby. He had no idea that he was sending me a message that would affect my behavior for years to come.
He didn't act any differently when I saw him in school the following Monday. I remember being unable to understand that. If a boy had done to me what I did to him, I would have been deeply traumatized. Apparently for Mike it was no big deal. I figured it must not be a big deal for any boy. I started to think situations like that were only wrong when boys did it to girls. If it were a bad thing, clearly Mike would have been very angry, or at least a little upset. He smiled at me the same way he did any other day. We held hands as we walked through the halls, the same as we had for almost a month.
Despite all this, I was still surprised when Mike agreed to come to dinner at my house that Friday night. I remember begging my mother to make her famous lasagna.
"Oh, please. You know good and hell well Black people ain't got no bidness making no lasagna!" That was my mother's way of making me beg. So I begged. She rolled her eyes, but then ended up smiling from ear to ear. "Oh, all right. Now Who's so special that I should make this for them?" As soon as I told her it was Mike Brown she laughed with an, "I should've known" look on her face.
That Friday night, after Mike ate three helpings of my mother's lasagna, I grabbed the drink my mother was pouring for him and said, "We've got notebooks full of homework, Mike. Let's go get started."
"Yeah, that's a good idea," he responded, getting up from the table. I'm not sure why it was so easy to get Mike back into my bedroom, but I wasn't letting the opportunity slip away. I let him enter the room first, then I came in behind him and locked the door.
"How do you want to do this, Mike?" I asked, setting his drink on the first convenient surface I could find. Mike clearly didn't get it.
"Well," he said, pulling books from his backpack. "Since we have math together, I was wondering if you needed help with Trig concepts. We can look at these proofs and"
"I'm going to have sex with you, Mike. We're gonna do it this time."
"What?" This time he grabbed his backpack and tried to jump out of the window! He might have succeeded if I hadn't grabbed leg so quickly.
"Mooooom!" I yelled as he tried to get up from the floor.
"Yeeees?" she answered back.
I looked Mike right in the eyes. "I could tell her you tried to rape me right now. Is that what you want? Is that how you want to play this out?"
"I just don't want to be a father. I'm too young."
"Cooperate or I call her and you go to jail." When he stopped resisting, I called off my mom by yelling "Nevermind."
That poor boy cried and cried all night long. I did whatever I could think of to him. The word "sadism" wasn't yet a part of my vocabulary, but I was indeed a sadist. My favorite thing to do to him was to whisper in his ear, "Don't worry, Mike! You're gonna make a great daddy!" then cover his mouth while he sobbed and hold tight while he tried to push me off.
I learned a lot from that first experience. I learned how to take advantage of a man. I learned that just because a woman is half your size doesn't mean you can throw her off at will. Most importantly, I learned that young Black men who are terrified of the justice system are particularly vulnerable to the wiles I had developed.

When we got back to school the following Monday, Mike tried to be as friendly as ever. "Hi, Mike!" I said, greeting him near his locker before classes.
"Hey!" he responded with a great smile.
"I had a great time Friday night. Sorry for being so wild."
"Oh, it's fine." He dropped his tone to a whisper. "Did you ever check yourself out? Did you get pregnant?" he asked nervously.
"No," I responded sheepishly. "I want you to come over again this weekend."
With no hesitation whatsoever he just blurted out, "I'm not sure that's a good idea." He pulled me a bit closer and whispered in my ear, "I mean, you could get pregnant."
I realized at that moment that he was whispering in a crowded hall where people could barely hear one another. It felt like a horrible way to have a private conversation. I wanted to tell him I was on the pill, but I worried that this information would make it impossible to torment him the same way again. Then again, I worried that if I didn't tell him, I'd never get him into my house again. I decided not to tell him. "I'll be a good girl, I promise. I really do need help with my Trigonometry class."
"Listen, Rhonda. I'm sorry, but I just don't think we should see each other anymore."
I remember feeling betrayed. I was the one in the wrong, but somehow that didn't matter. I wasn't going to let him break up with me if I could prevent it. "That's out of the question, Mike. You're my boyfriend. I know I fucked up, but you're not breaking up with me."
He looked me in the eyes with a fear similar to that he showed in my bedroom. "Yes, I am. I have to before something bad happens."
"Fine. That's how you want to play this? Fine." I stormed off angrily.
"Oh, come on!" Mike said to my back as I got further away. "Don't be mad! Why does it have to be this way?" I turned back just in time to see him slam his locker door closed and walk toward his class in a different direction.
The Chess Club met on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I figured I'd meet him where we first met. I'd pretend everything was fine until the right opportunity came. I would softly touch his hand and see if he was going to reject me in front of everyone. The problem was he never showed.
I came again the following Thursday. This time when he didn't show, I asked if anyone knew where he lived. One of his male friends, thinking he was doing his friend a favor, told me exactly where Mike lived.
I called home and got my mother to pick me up a little early that day. I seldom do that, so Mom had no problem with it. We went to McDonald's and got something to eat, then I got her to drop me off at Mike's house. I sat there on his stoop eating most of a Big Mac and an apple pie when he got off the bus. He managed to get right up to his house before he noticed me. The sight of me throwing the wrappers into a garbage can they kept on the porch shocked him. He stopped in his tracks and stared at me for a long moment.
"W What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I told you. You're not breaking up with me. I need your help. Please don't let me fail this class."
"Why you so late today?" I heard a woman's voice say from behind me. "And who dis you talkin' to?" His large, darkskin mother emerged from their home in a nightgown and shower cap.
"I just got off the bus, Ma," he responded. "There was a problem in traffic. It was only a few minutes."
"Oh, okay. And who dis?"
I stood up quickly while Mike was stammered. "I'm his girlfriend," I said, extending my right hand toward her. She shook my hand slowly as a smile built up on her face.
"Weeeeelllll Ain't you a pretty little thang? Michael, why you ain't tell me you had a girlfriend?" Rather than wait for an answer, she ushered me into the house and offered me lemonade. "Well, what's yo' name, sweetheart?"
"Rhonda Stern," I responded quietly, pretending to be shy. I turned to look at Mike, but he was too shocked to respond at first.
After a moment to let it sink in he said, "I thought you'd have a conniption if I had a girlfriend."
"Well, she's not like them other little fast girls you used to talk to. This girl is nice. I like this one!" With that, she told me much more than Mike wanted me to know.
You see, his mother knew almost nothing about me. I was wearing a miniskirt and tank top, panty hose and black shoes, but she assumed I wasn't "fast" like those other girls. I figured I must have been better looking than his previous dates. I could think of no other way to explain his mother taking so well to me after having said less than ten words to her.
She offered us food, but I'd just finished the better part of a Big Mac. I was stuffed. Mike made two hot dogs disappear the way boys sometimes do, which was almost instantaneous. I asked his mother if he could help me with my Trigonometry, which she had no problem with, and we went into his bedroom, with the door open, of course.
For nearly an hour he really did help me with my math. I learned more about how Trig actually worked than I had in class trying to figure out what the teacher was saying. I was fully prepared to do real studying until the right opportunity came. If it didn't come, I'd just spend all evening studying. No big deal.
Mrs. Brown, however, had errands to run. "I got to go to the store and pick up the dry cleaning. The store's right down the street, but the dry cleaner in a different neighborhood. You two think you can handle yo'selves like adults while I take care of a few things? I'll be back in less than an hour. Your little brother will be getting off the bus in about forty minutes if he's not late. Y'all ain't tryin' to do nothin' crazy, are ya?"
"Oh no, Mrs. Brown. I still need a lot of help with this Trig class."
"And I know my boy ain't tryin' to mess up his future by doin' nothing stupid. I gots to go get them eggs and sausages for your father, and the dry cleaners will charge another fee if I don't get there before they close. You think you'll still be here when I gets back, Rhonda?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Study hard, y'all. No failing grades, all right?"
"Yes, ma'am," we responded simultaneously.
I stared into Mike's face as we listened to her walking away. My demeanor had changed. I saw the fear come over Mike's face as we listened to her open the door, walk through, then close it behind her. The room was so quiet we could hear her turn the key to lock the door, and even the screen door that slammed afterward. I closed his bedroom door without taking my eyes off him.
"Now, I know what you're thinking, Rhonda, but we still have a lot of studying to do."
"We have forty minutes. Cut the shit. This happens one of two ways."
"GOD DAMMIT RHONDA! What the hell's wrong with you? You were so sweet when we met! Now you're just acting like like a SLUT!"
I facetiously gasped as though "slut" were the most horrible word I'd ever heard. "A slut?" I responded, but he couldn't tell that I could care less about being called a name.
"Yes, a slut," he responded angrily. "Are you trying to get pregnant? That could ruin both our lives!
"Well, since I'm such a slut," I said, taking off my tank top and tossing it to the floor, "you're gonna eat this slut's pussy. We sluts love to get our pussies eaten."
"I'm not doing shit. You can take these risks if you want, but you'll have to find someone else. I have a future to think about, and so do you. Do you want help with Trigonometry or not?" Rather than answer, I removed my bra and tossed it on the tank top. Then I unbottoned and unzipped my skirt, letting it fall to the floor around my ankles. "We're not at your house. You can't just call your mother and say I raped your or something. We're at my house this time. Now put your clothes back on and get out. I'm serious, Rhonda." I kicked my shoes off and took my panties and panty hose off at the same time, throwing it all into the same pile.
Once I was naked, I took one of his toys off the counter, a fire truck, and hit myself in the head with it. "Mike, please stop hitting me or I'll have to tell your mother that you tried to rape me." I got no response the first time. He just stared at me with his eyes and mouth wide open. So I hit myself again, this time right across the face. "Mike, please! That hurts! You're gonna leave bruises!"
"Stop that!" he yelled.
I ignored him and hit myself again. "Ow! Mike, please! Don't hurt me! You're so much bigger and stronger than me! I know that last hit will leave a bruise. The bruise will be in the exact shape of this fire truck, so it'll be forensic evidence." I even pretended to cry at this point. "Please, don't hurt me, Michael. I love you so much." I positioned the firetruck to hit myself in the face again, but this time he quickly got up from his chair and grabbed my wrist to stop me.
"STOP THAT! I mean, please stop, Rhonda. Please."
"Let me remind you: This happens one of two ways. Either I get what I want or I ruin both our lives. What'll it be?"
The look on his face changed to that of a seething anger, welling up inside him like a fire breathing dragon. "Can I at least use a condom?"
A streak of evil went through my body and ended with a broad smile across my face. "How much time do we have left? Thirty-four minutes? I need at least twenty to do what I need to do with you, and you'll need at least another ten to be showered and dressed by the time your little brother gets off the bus. You wouldn't want him to see or smell anything unusual, right?"
"I'm just asking if I can protect myself. That's all."
"TAKE YOUR FUCKING CLOTHES OFF. NOW." Still looking angry, he complied. I "helped" him by roughly snatching the clothes off his body. "Thirty-four minutes. Get on your knees in front of me."
"You really want me to eat you? I've never done that before! I don't know how!"
Teaching him to pleasure me was a pleasure in itself. "A minute to learn, a lifetime to master," I said to him as his tongue ran circles around my clitoris. I couldn't remember where I'd heard that, but it was definitely appropriate.
To be honest, that was my first time receiving oral sex. I slowly started to lose control, as the world began spinning around me. Now I was the one trembling and Mike was the one in control. I'm not sure exactly when it happened, but at some point Mike began to enjoy himself. I could tell from the pleasure he took in every stroke of his tongue. Rather than admit it, he said, "You can lay on the bed if you want. You seem to be losing your balance standing up."
I completely forgot about my demeanor or any efforts to maintain control over the situation. In fact, I was still trembling when he stopped and stood. "Do you want to get on the bed?"
"I'm trying!" I said with a laugh. My legs were stiff, but the rest of my body was deeply relaxed. Mike yanked me up off the floor, carried me in his arms, and gently laid me on the bed. With no prompting whatsoever he positioned me comfortably and pushed my legs open. My breathing quickened with just the thought of what he was going to do.
For someone who claimed never to have done it before, he most certainly did it well. He didn't attack my genitalia with his mouth. He slowly placed his tongue firmly against my clit, staring up at me as I gasped and moaned. Then he moved his tongue just slightly, and my whole body shook with pleasure as I gasped for air. He moved his tongue again, this time a bit faster, and I found I couldn't help but move my body to match his rhythm. He kept increasing speed slowly. By the time his tongue got to a steady speed, I was having an orgasm. The thing was, I suddenly realized just how inexperienced he really was. He didn't know he was supposed to stop when I had an orgasm!
"Okay OKAY!" I said, desperately pushing against his forehead to get that powerful tongue away from my vagina. He grabbed my wrists and held them underneath my thighs while he continued licking. "Pleeeeease!" I begged. "I'm I'm gonna pee!"
He didn't stop until I did precisely that. I emptied my bladder onto his face without even trying. There was urine all over the bed sheets, my private parts, and (of course) his face, including dripping from his mouth. After flailing and lurching uncontrollably for several seconds, my head felt like a lead weight and dropped to the pillow before I even knew it. I could hardly move. However, my pussy was tingling. I wanted him inside me more than ever before. Mike went into the bathroom to wash and brush his teeth. I don't know how, but I mustered the strength to get off the bed and wash myself as well. When I came out of the bathroom, Mike was putting his clothes back on. I nearly lost my mind. Without thinking, I grabbed a hunk of the flesh on the side of his torso with my fingernails and squeezed. He screamed like a banshee.
"TAKE THOSE FUCKING CLOTHES BACK OFF! WE'RE NOT DONE YET! We've still got twenty-one minutes before your brother gets home."
"I thought you were done!"
"Just lay on the fucking bed, Mike."
That angry look came over his face again as he re-removed his underwear and socks. Seeing how much pleasure he derived from performing oral on me, I fully intended to have just as much fun doing the same to him. It didn't take long to see what was so much fun about it. Once it was in my mouth, I had complete control over his entire body. If I licked it, he responded. If I played with the shaft as it grew bigger, he responded. My favorite response was to take it as deeply into my mouth as I could while playing with his scrotum. The way his eyes rolled up into his head was stimulating to say the least. I felt myself getting wetter as I made him moan. Even when it was diving board straight I didn't stop right away. I was having fun!
Unfortunately time was running short, so one look at the clock put me in a bit of a hurry. I looked at his face as I crawled ominously toward him, trying to make graceful, catlike movements. I could see the fear on his face as I got closer.
"Uuuuhhh Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, trembling.
"Shut up."
By the time I got on top of him he was trembling so badly it was almost funny. When I grabbed his manhood and pressed it against my vagina while holding myself open with the other hand, he moaned as I slowly pushed down. I looked up at Mike and saw that he had begun to cry. A part of me wanted to stop. I ignored that part of me and kept pushing downward until I felt the familiar feeling of him reaching deep inside me. At one point I went a bit too quickly and it hurt. When he yelled "Ow!" I knew it had hurt him too.
It would be fun to make a grand story out of this and tell you all sorts of sexy things that happened in the next few minutes. I could do that, but it would be dishonest. Here's what actually happened: a few more strokes and it was over. Not even one full minute.
It felt nice having him release inside me, but I just couldn't understand it at the time. I had done whatever I wanted to him for hours the previous weekend. This time, not even one full minute. What was the difference?
Friday night he and I had an orgasm at the same time, which basically brought about the end of sex for that night. It was a mind blowing experience that left me laying on the bed barely able to move. I may even have passed out for a brief period. This time I didn't have any sort of climax. He was just as worn out as before, but this time I was able to get right up off him and go wash in his bathroom. I decided it was in my best interests to undergo a serious change of visage. He deserved that much. Since he was almost asleep, I figured he wasn't going to move right away. So I grabbed a clean towel from his bathroom, ran hot water over it, and gently applied it to his waning manhood. I think penises are beautiful, except when they're freshly finished having an orgasm. I actually felt better after wiping him up.
Then I kissed him lightly on the cheek and said, "Come on baby, your little bro will be here in a little more than ten minutes. Go get cleaned up." I started to feel bad when I saw where his face was still wet from falling tears.
"I'm sorry, Mike. I don't know why I did that to you, and I'm sorry." I took a deep breath and sat down. Guilt was covering all other emotions like a wave. I felt like I could keep from crying, but Mike's tears had yet to stop falling.
"Why are you trying to ruin my life?"
"I'm not. Mike, I've been on the pill since I was 14. I asked my mother if I could take it. You want to know the ironic part? I told her it was so that if I got raped, it wouldn't have to ruin my life."
Mike actually laughed. Then he hugged me. I hugged back, but I was utterly shocked at his reaction. "So I'm not gonna be a 17 year old father?"
I hesitated for a minute and then barely whispered ". No."
"That's great! I'm getting into the shower!"
All that guilt felt like it was for nothing at that point. Mike was fine. Or at least I thought he was. At that moment any remorse or any need for remorse were gone from my mind. All I remembered was the thrill of holding him down and making him do it.
More to come if I get good responses!

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