Hookup Horror Stories again!

Hiya! Long time, no talk.

Well, I recently had another hookup horror story for you. So, I thought I'd share (helps me out too mentally).

CW: lack of consent and watersports

So, I have had numerous hookups (let's say 10-15) with a guy I will name Randy. Randy lives across town, is a much older guy (we're talking like 60s). Part of the allure for me as a sexual partner with Randy is the regularity and expectedness of the kinks involved.

And he knows all my limits. We've talked about them a few times. Hard limits for me are watersports, fisting, scat, blood, medium and heavy s/m, sounding, piercing, diapers, anything illegal.

So, put another way, sex is always the same with him. But sometimes that's nice. It's good to have a predictably safe but kinky session with a regular. I enjoyed it anyway.

Here was our usual session:

I'd text him that I'm there. I'd walk in. He'd make me strip. He'd collar me, blindfold me, gag me, tie up my hands, lead me down to his basement where he has a sex dungeon. Then he'd usually popper me up and facefuck me and/or make me rim him for a while, maybe 30 minutes. Then, he'd put me in his sex sling, toy my hole a bit, and then fuck me. For about 30-45 minutes. Afterward, he'd get me out, lay me on my back, and sit on my face or facefuck me more, usually until he came. We'd sit around there and talk for ten or twenty minutes, go upstairs. I'd get dressed. We might talk another ten minutes, and then I'd leave.

I liked this for its regularity, yes. But I also liked it because it was kinky. Got to be tied up. Dominated. Put in a sling. It was good to feel objectified a little bit. After a long couple weeks where a lot is expected of me (between editing, school work, and managing different groups), it feels nice to just be someone's plaything. To be in a sub headspace where I don't have to worry about doing things. It's nice. And we had talked safety words and limits often, so that was always there.

But two weeks ago, something happened.

Again, this was like our fifteenth or sixteenth time hooking up. I went over to his place after a while of not having gone, and we started the usual stuff. I stripped. He collared, blindfolded, gagged, and tied me...but he didn't take me down to the basement. He laid me on the hardwood floor and sat on my face. Wasn't comfortable, but it was fine. I like rimming, so didn't mind it.

But things got weird.

Randy has always liked dirty talk.

It's usually fine for me. But he kind of does that thing a dentist does. "How's your day been? What do you do? I do this..." all while their fingers are in your mouth. With Randy, he asks a lot of questions while you're gagged. Or says a lot of things that seem like demands. Ten minutes into rimming, he'll go, "Yeah, rim me, boy. Eat that hole. Eat it!" And the increasing ferocity of that makes it seem like he wants you to go harder, but at the same pace, he'll keep going: "Oh yeah, that's it. That's it, boy." So I think it's all just flavor text for his own mind? Anyway, I usually just try to ignore what he's saying. I know he's not really asking anything of me with this, so it's fine.

But this time, the dirty talk was different...

"Yeah, that's right. Clean my hole. Clean it. Clean it. That's right. You're my little toilet bitch. Keep cleaning that hole."

First, I should state his hole was and always was clean. But, with all of the focus on "cleaning" and "toilet" I got severely grossed out by this. Randy knew I wasn't into watersports / scat play, so this seemed jarringly odd. Plus, because Randy often pushes out when he's being rimming, so you're licking this external, prolapsed anus, I even gagged a couple times when accompanied by the words. He found a way to make something I usually enjoy very grotesque.

Throughout this, I kept internalizing anxiety. Going, "Well, he's probably about to stop" or "Maybe he's just in an odd mindset."

This went on for far too long. Almost a full hour of just this. When he got off, I said I needed a break before we did anything else.

 

He was fine with this and just started sucking me off.

Well, that got me in the mood again. He put me back in gear and led me downstairs. I was thinking, "Finally, back to the routine."

And generally it went as usual. Had a shorter oral session. Then in the sling. He started to finger me. I'm very picky about how I'm being fingered, and he wasn't doing it right. We usually didn't do any fingering stuff so it wasn't an issue. And the few times he had in the past, it was for like...a minute. But this time it was for like...thirty minutes. And he wasn't using much lube. When I'd squirm, he'd just popper me up again. And I didn't feel as bad then at least, true. And I'd keep thinking, "Oh, well, surely now he will switch to just fucking me. Surely this time." But it kept going.

When that was finally over, he fucked me for like...ten minutes. That was it.

When he pulled me out, we just talked. Neither of us had came. I thought the timing of this session was particularly weird, particularly off. But I was glad it was over.

We talked about usual stuff. Work, school, politics.

Went upstairs. I got dressed as usual. Kept talking.

Next thing I know, he walks up to where I'm sitting in the front room, his dick out and hard and tells me to suck it.

I shrug and say sure. At this point, don't mind just giving head. If it gets him off, cool. Must be close anyway for him to suddenly say it. Again, this is not the norm, but I think why not.

Within thirty seconds, he orgasms...and pisses full stream in my mouth. Not just a little. Like full water bottle level. I let my jaw drop, and it just poured all over my front. Over my shirt, my shorts, hitting my sandals, pooling on the hardwood floor.

He moans in pleasure and went to the bathroom to dry off. He didn't come back with a towel...a washcloth...or any apologies.

Just opened the door for me and told me good night. On the way to my car, I spit over and over into the grass. Just trying to get the taste and smell out of me.

I got to my old apartment to check the mail, and I rinsed my flip flops off in the sink. On the way home, I rolled the windows down so the stink wasn't just in my nose. I cried so hard.

I felt violated.

He knew it was a limit. A hard limit. And he did it anyway. And had no remorse.

Just threw me away like a used tissue.

Of course, I have no intention of seeing him again or even talking to him. But...even writing this, I'm still shaking a bit. It wasn't as bad as the time I was raped, but it felt (feels) really bad still.