Death by Fucking
© 2005 by Andrew Wiggin
Chapter 2: The Gallant Reaction:
Deirdre’s Story
My life has been in a bit of a rut lately, if lately can be construed to mean
three years. I travel, work, eat, sleep.
Those are the four basic components of my life. I know that there should
be more than that, but I made my bed, so to speak, and must sleep in it.
My name is Deirdre Martin and I’m a management consultant. I am brought
into corporations to determine how to make those corporations more efficient,
more profitable. Part of that means that I sometimes (well more than
sometimes) have to tell my clients how to consolidate functions in order to
improve service. That’s a euphemistic way of saying I tell them who to
fire. It’s not a pleasant part of my job, and it doesn’t make me very
popular with the people I work with. They may be the very ones who are
going to be downsized when I’m through, so how can I blame them?
In a consulting business, its people are its product, its inventory. I
put that badly. Once a consulting firm has its people fully engaged with
their clients, they have nothing else to sell. It can expand its business
in two ways. A) Either hire more consultants (and we cost a bundle) or B)
make the consultants they have work longer hours. Every consulting firm I
know always chooses B) first.
I’m not complaining. I knew this going in. I knew that I could
expect long hours on the job followed by boring interludes in antiseptic motels
rooms. I knew that I could expect loneliness. I knew that I didn’t
have time for relationships. I had enough failed relationships in the
past to be a little glad that this was one thing I wasn’t going to have to deal
with any longer.
I was raised in
My primary contact at AWC was to be a systems analyst who I was told was the
youngest department head in the company. He was an up and comer who I was
assured would be the ideal person to learn not only what was wrong, but what
the more progressive thinkers at AWC had in mind for the future. We
talked on the phone, this Andrew Adkins and me. We teleconferenced, we
emailed, we faxed; all in preparation for my spending time at the AWC office in
I was sitting in the conference room in the process control division when he
walked in. He was running a little late and he babbled something about
the traffic, but I didn’t pay any attention. I couldn’t seem to hear what
he was saying. He was just so beautiful.
He was young and tall,
but not overly tall, perhaps 5’11” to six feet. He was slim and
trim. I could see he was in excellent shape. I later learned he had been
on his college tennis team and still played competitively. His face was
soft and hard at the same time. You could tell by looking at that face
that it smiled a lot. It was a sweet lovely face.
He had those deep brown
eyes that were so piercing. I saw him and smiled and then those
eyes! They seemed to be forcing their way into my soul. I reached
to shake his hand in welcome. The touch was electric. I felt tingly
all over my body. I had to sit down but he didn’t seem to want to give me
my hand back. I couldn’t pull away. Finally my knees gave out and I
melted into my chair, my hand slipping from his grip. I had to pull
myself together!
Then I saw it. It
was the gallant reaction. That’s what we girls used to call it in high
school if a boy’s or teacher’s pants suddenly tented. They were having
the gallant reaction.
Andrew had the gallant
reaction to me! I didn’t understand it. After all, I’m quite a bit
older than he is, ten years if you must know. I thought that perhaps this
was some young
The gallant reaction
couldn’t be for me. It’s his reaction to every woman, I’m sure. I
calmed down a little and went straight to business. After all, that’s
what we were here for. We weren’t here for me to have these ridiculous fantasies
about this beautiful young man.
We worked all day, and we
accomplished a lot, but there was this tension. I felt it at every
turn. Andrew was tense. He seemed to be nervous. I had talked to
him on the phone many times. He was always warm, sometimes flirtatious,
but never tense and nervous. I thought that perhaps he had a personal
problem that was interfering with his concentration.
I am less qualified than
many other women to comment on the state of a man’s erection, since my
experience with men is somewhat limited. Work has always been my number
one priority. I’ve seen several men hard for short periods of time - way
too short for my liking if you know what I mean (I’m a fan of “Whose
But Andrew was hard from
nine in the morning till five in the afternoon. I know because I checked;
often. I was starting to wonder if perhaps he was wearing something in
his pants. I just didn’t notice at the beginning of the day what he
looked like down there. It was only after our hands touched that I
sneaked a peek at his midsection. He was hard. He remained
hard. I don’t know how I got any work done. All I could think about
was his erection.
Tuesday I arrived a bit
early and went into the lady’s lounge to freshen up. I came into the main
office area and saw Andrew was sitting at a table with his back to me talking
with several people. It was apparently the kind of pre-work talk session
where company bonding took place.
As I approached the small
group I saw a truly beautiful young girl stroll up to the group from the other
side. She sat next to Andrew, her breasts leaning into his arm, smiling
and touching him in the way of young girls who are trying to elicit a response
from an eligible young man. Andrew appeared to be oblivious to the
machinations of the young minx, but I knew what she was up to. I was
shocked to find jealousy creeping in to my emotions.
When I reached the group
and said hello, Andrew’s eyes turned from the beautiful young thing throwing herself at him. His eyes focused on mine and never
wavered. I had glanced at his crotch as I walked up to the group.
Nothing was showing. I assumed that Monday must have been an
aberration. But he saw me. He smiled at me. The front of his
pants flew in my direction.
I was dizzy. My
god, he wanted ME! He was hard for ME! I excused myself to go into the conference room. I
had to calm down. But Andrew followed right after me. I didn’t have
a chance. I couldn’t calm down. I had trouble looking him in the
eye.
We spent the day together
working. He was hard the entire time. He seemed ill at ease, but
was always a complete gentleman. I felt like his eyes were burning a hole
in my body, but he never made a comment or insinuation that I could assume was
in any way sexual. I was a mess.
Many men have
propositioned me over the years. They tried to get into my pants.
Occasionally they succeeded. But this boy never propositioned me.
He was always polite and respectful.
But every minute I was
with him, his body told me “I want to fuck you”. That’s
distracting. He wanted to fuck ME!! I’m the girl who hasn’t been
laid in three years. I haven’t had a committed relationship in my entire
life. I never even went steady in high school. This beautiful,
intelligent, gentle, passionate, passionate boy wanted to fuck ME! It was
too confusing, too overwhelming to contemplate. Before long I realized
it. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted him to fuck me like I’ve
never wanted anything in my life.
I was a bundle of
nerves. I could hardly concentrate on our work. I tried the
‘personal relief’ method of sexual fulfillment on Monday night. It hardly
made a dent in my arousal. I tried it Tuesday night, too. I just had
to do something. My body was on fire.
Wednesday morning was
only worse. I walked in a little late. Andrew was in the conference
room waiting for me. I reached out to shake his hand again, a business
formality that is usually forgone after a day or two of meetings. But I
wanted to touch him again. He stood and took my hand. Again his
hand felt like fire. Again I saw the gallant reaction. It sprang up
like it was shot from a gun.
This boy found me
irresistible I think. How could that be? He could have his choice
of any woman in this company, I’m sure. He’s the youngest executive in
the entire company. He’s smart, sexy, beautiful.
Every girl here must dream of being the one he chooses. Why would he
choose me? I just didn’t get it.
By Wednesday I was
wondering if we would ever get anything done. I was wondering if Andrew
was ever going to make a pass at me. I was wondering if I should be on
this project at all. I had lunch with Bob Simon, another consultant from
BRMC.
I broached the possibility
of changing business partners. He wasn’t very receptive. I told him
that Andrew and I were experiencing some ‘compatibility problems’. He
suggested we work things out. If no solution was possible, he would
reluctantly change partners. But he felt we should be able to resolve the
problem ourselves.
I knew he was right, of
course. But I knew of only one way to resolve our problems, Andrew and
I. And that way wasn’t exactly a professional solution, was it? It
was to a point where sticking to my principles about non-involvement with
clients might be hurting the project rather than helping it. I had to
keep telling myself that, because otherwise, how else would I work up the
courage to proposition Andrew? It looked like he had no intention of
propositioning me.
After lunch I asked
Andrew to meet with me privately. I even locked the conference room door
to avoid interruptions. I needed him to tell me that he was attracted to
me. If I had read this thing wrong, I would just die.
I said, “Andrew, we have
to talk.”
I was somewhat frank with
him. I told him that he appeared uncomfortable with me around. I
wondered if he would rather work with another BRMC consultant, that I had even
arranged it if that was his wish. He adamantly denied wanting to change
partners. Good. But he still refused to open up with me. So I
insisted. I appealed to his friendship. I needed to know what the
problem was that was making it so difficult for us to work together. (I
knew what my problem was, but I had to hear from him what his problem was.)
He made me promise that I
wouldn’t hold what he said against him. He implied that he was worried
that I would bring a sexual harassment charge against him. I had to
smile. The thought had occurred to me that he might do the same thing to
me.
And then he opened up to
me. For the first time one of us was speaking their true feelings.
He spoke oh so passionately. It was like poetry. He had a
theory. He blamed it on chemistry or something. We were free and
clear according to this theory, not guilty of impropriety, since it was all
outside our control. We were victims of a biological reaction which was
impossible to control and so were not responsible for our own actions. I
liked this theory.
He was worried
that I would be afraid of him. He thought I might consider him a
potential stalker. He asked if it would be all right to just go back to
the way things were, ignoring the obvious for the sake of the project. In
my mind I thought, “I don’t think so.”
I brought up the age
difference. He was ready for it. If it didn’t matter to him, why
should it matter to me? Of course it didn’t matter to me, except for me
feeling inferior to his other possible partners who were certainly younger and
prettier.
Am I paranoid?
Should I be wondering what’s in it for him? I asked him straight
out. Was he looking to get on my good side in order to use me in this
company reorganization effort?
I could tell from his
eyes that he was hurt that I would even suggest such a thing. He didn’t
understand how vulnerable I had become. I’ve been on my own for
years. It was my choice to be on my own. I only regret that choice
every evening when I’m along in my hotel room. But could I give myself to
this boy? How would he use me? I’m so lonely I’m an easy
mark.
It was then I realized
that if I was such an easy mark, why hadn’t I been laid in three years? I’m a
consultant. Sometimes I’m too analytical. But I knew that if I let
this boy into my life, I was at his mercy. That takes a lot of trust.
He reminded me that I
forced him to open up. Of course I knew that. I can’t help my
insecurities. I told him of my inability to be in relationships because
of my job. I put up every roadblock I could think of to our being
together, and he saw through all of them.
Then he started on some
rant about class and business ethics and how I was far too sophisticated to be
interested in a little nothing like him. I couldn’t believe my
ears! He didn’t think I could be interested in HIM! The most
beautiful, sexiest, sweetest man I’d ever met thought I was too good for HIM!
I decided that I had to
have him as soon as possible. I just had to. I’m a
businesswoman. I’m not good with my feelings. I’m good with a logical
progression of ideas. But I came prepared with a business solution.
Actually it was an excuse to get laid, but it sounded kind of like a business
solution.
I told him that we should
do something to alleviate his gallant reaction. Two casual business
associates do not generally sit around talking about one of the associate’s
constant state of arousal and how to address that
arousal. I could tell that he was shocked by my proposal, but desperate.
He agreed. I knew that I had to say more. I knew that it seemed
like I was interested only in the project and was willing to do anything, even
that, to make the project work.
I admitted to Andrew that
I wanted him to have me. I’m not eloquent like Andrew is. He made
my heart sing with his praise, with his poetic protestations of devotion.
I’ve never had a man talk to me like that.
Finally he said
yes! I was so excited. We had to wait till the evening. I
could do that. I’ve waited for years and years. What were a few more
hours? They were eternity. I thought the day would never end.
I was as nervous as ever;
more so. But now it was for a different reason. Would I be good
enough? How could he want to be with me when he could be with so many
other more beautiful women? I’ve got to get that thought out of my
mind. He told me. It’s a chemical reaction caused by our body
chemistries. Yeah, right. I was attracted to him because he was
beautiful, smart, funny, thoughtful, and the owner of an industrial strength
penis (at least it looked that way). But what did he see in me? I
was a nervous wreck.
After work I rushed to my
hotel. I took an inordinate amount of time preparing for the
evening. I did everything I could to make this tired 35 year-old body attractive
to that lovely 25 year-old boy. I’ve never needed someone to want me
before. I’m an independent business person who can look out for
herself. But God, I needed him to want me.
Andrew met me in the
lobby of my hotel, looking dashing. I told myself to remain calm, to go
out and enjoy the dinner, when I really wanted to grab him and drag him up to
my room.
We walked to a lovely
little Japanese restaurant where the food was wonderful and Andrew and I could
talk and learn a little about each other. I enjoyed it so, but by the end
of dinner my patience was wearing thin.
Andrew must have read my
mind, because he paid the waiter as soon as he brought the check, grabbed my
hand and hurried us outside the restaurant. We walked back to the hotel
so quickly that I’m not sure who was dragging who.
We got to the hotel and
went up to my room. I closed the door behind us and Andrew was all over
me. He pushed me to the wall and kissed me for the first time. It
was the most passionate kiss I had ever received. The boy was hot for
me! I felt his hands all over me. They were tearing at my clothes,
stripping me faster than I could have stripped myself. His hands were
demanding, forcing me to his will.
He led me to the bed, I
fell back in a haze of lust and something, maybe it
was romance. My whole being centered on that bed, watching my lovely boy tear off his own clothes with no regard to their
well-being. I hardly had a chance to gaze at his body before he
attacked. He was on top of me in an instant. And then he was in
me! There was no foreplay, no loving caress, no
slow build up. Well actually we had been engaged in foreplay for three
days. I was hot and wet long before we made it to the room.
I felt his manhood
against my neglected pussy lips and tried to open to accommodate him. His
penis hurtled into my pussy. He didn’t make love to me. He took
me. He took me hard. Suddenly he was inside me, pounding his cock
in and out.
I tried to protest.
It was too much, too soon. “No, wait”, I said. “It hurts.” I
tried to stop him but he was relentless. No one has ever wanted me so
badly. It was like he was claiming me, taking possession of me. My
protests became weaker. “No. No. Oh my God. Oh MY GOD. Oh
GOD! Oh MY GOD!”
He couldn’t have made
more than a half dozen strokes before I was crazed with lust. This man
who I thought was a boy was fucking me and making sure that I stayed
fucked. I came. I came harder than I had ever cum in my
lifetime. And still he plundered me. The power of his strokes
increased. I was climaxing again. It didn’t matter to him.
His strokes became stronger, more brutal.
I was screaming.
Every time I came, I screamed again. I don’t know how many times I
screamed. It was a lot.
In the past on the
instances when I had a man inside me I would savor the moment, compare his size
to other penises I had experienced. Andrew didn’t give me a chance to
savor anything. I knew that any man who had had me in the past palled in
comparison to Andrew’s size. He must be huge. He was filling me to
the brim, fucking me madly. I was rising to a crescendo of lust. It
seemed that his penis was expanding inside me. After all this time, I
knew he must be ready to climax. Then it happened.
I felt the amazing
sensation of his hot seed splattering against my cervix. It was all I
could take. I screamed at the top of my lungs. My body clenched,
jerked, clenched again. My pussy grabbed onto Andrew’s penis, spasming over and over again. I saw an unending bright
light. I seemed to be looking down a tunnel of light. My body
went limp. My mind went blank; totally devoid of thought. I felt
nothing but eternity and my own beating heart. I know now what it’s like
to approach death. I was close to death. I could see it in the
obituaries, my name. Cause of death: death by fucking.
How can the human heart
endure such passion?
I heard someone speaking
as if from the bottom of a deep well. I knew he was talking to me, but
the words wouldn’t register.
I finally realized it was
Andrew. He was worried that I didn’t like his method of lovemaking, I
guess. He seemed to think that he had raped me. Well almost.
All women love semi-rape. Maybe not all the time, but sometimes, once
you’ve decided that you are gong to have sex with someone, it really feels
right to have him just take you. Everything is out of your hands and you
are just plain fucked. For a working person like myself who always needs
to be in control, being out of control like that is not just exciting, it’s
liberating.
To say this was the
greatest sexual experience of my life would be to denigrate it by comparing it
with any other experiences I had, when no comparison is possible.
And yet Andrew seemed to
be upset. I pulled myself back to the real world. I had the
strength to let him know that I was not unhappy, just fucked into oblivion.
And then I laughed.