Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Cocaine is a powerful drug.  I know what it can do to men . . .  and I know
what those men can do to me.  When I was in college, experimenting with
drugs, I slept with a man.  My first.  My only man, but my first.  It
lasted for hours.  Drunk, drugged, screaming in pain as only my spit on his
dick lubricated his way into me.  Begging for him to stop.  And then the
pain passed.  I moaned like a whore for him -- it makes me warm to remember
it -- begging him to fuck me, asking if my asshole was tight enough for
him. When the theatrics subsided, I crouched there on all fours while he
fucked me.  I would groan, then he would groan.  It felt silly.  I didn't
know why I was doing it.  And, eventually, I became bored and gave him a
fifteen minute time limit that he didn't reach.  I'm not wired to love men,
or even to enjoy sex with them, I don't think.  Still, since that night, I
like getting fucked.



   My first experience with a woman came years later.  We met at a writer's
group and became friends, exchanging emails for weeks after the group
ended. Stories, then personal details.  Finally, we agreed to meet again.
She invited me to her house for coffee, to help her edit a story for tone.
We kissed.  We made love.  We fell into a relationship.  She could smell it
on me.  Little things, the way she would nudge my hips from behind with
hers, and my reaction.  One night she volunteered that a former lover had
enjoyed what she called butt-play, detailing all sorts of obscene acts he
asked her to perform, from enemas to feeding him whipped cream until he
threw up.  She closed with, "Henry always, and I mean always, either had or
was about to put something in his ass." I laughed self-consciously.  "Come
on," she nudged me.  "It's kind of fun to be taken." It was then that I
told her about my own experience.  We made love afterwards and no further
mention was made of it for a week, when she appeared in the bedroom with a
cock strapped to her waist.



   I stared at her for a long moment as she waved it back and forth and
then climbed off the bed, fell to my knees, and took it in my mouth. 
"Attaboy," she said and slowly began fucking my face, gently.  "I wish you
could make me cum like this, honey." After a minute or two, I withdrew. 
She nodded her head in the direction of the bed and I climbed atop it.  I
watched her lube the didlo with a bottle she retrieved from the dresser,
then she held the bottle up.  I nodded and she tossed it to me.  I pumped
some of the anal lube onto my fingers and then, lifting my legs so she
could watch, I smeared it over my anus, sliding a finger in and working it
around.  "I don't want to hurt you," she told me.  "I couldn't bear to hurt
you." I tossed the bottle of lube to the side and began to crawl up on all
fours.  "Off," she said.



   So I climbed off the bed and bent over, steadying myself on the edge of
it.  The next thing I felt made me groan, her cock pushing into me.  She
took me very gently at first, though it felt rough to me.  I stood there,
whimpering, gasping, and moaning as she fucked me.  When her hand began to
touch my dick, the moans turned to whines of pleasure.  Her hand withdrew
and the pace began to quicken.  When I started pushing back against her, I
heard her giggle in the back of her throat.



   Suddenly, she slid all the way into me and held me against her.  For
minutes we stood there, in silence, my asshole pulsing around her cock. 
"Fuck me," I said finally.  "Please."



   "Up on the bed," she told me.  "On your back."



   I lifted my legs and she climbed between them, draping then over her
shoulders.  I wanted to see her slide into me, watch the penetration, but
couldn't.  The pace quickened, my ass loose.  My cock grew in quick pulses
with her thrusts and I groaned.  "Oh, yeah.  Oh, god yeah."



   When her hand returned to my dick, my voice rose two octaves.  "Oh god,
oh god, oh god," I spat again and again.  She worked my dick gently, make
me squeal and cry.  I began jabbering, "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum." Only
I didn't ejaculate.  The orgasm took me and my eyes rolled back in my head,
and I came, but I didn't ejaculate.



   Her hand withdrew and she fucked me and again I grew hard, and again I
came.  Twice more, I writhed and begged to cum until no efforts of hers
would arouse me physically.  Then she hammered me with her cock and I
moaned loudly, being truly fucked now.  "Fuck my asshole, fuck my asshole,"
I told her.



   "Whose asshole?"



   "Yours it's yours.  Fuck it harder."



   Her hand returned to my dick and began masturbating it furiously and the
pleasure built again, racing tendrils through every part of my body.  My
head lolled to the side and reality disappeared.  I heard my voice, crying
out louder and louder, pleading with her to take me, to let me cum.  When
my cries got too loud, she withdrew her hand and I begged louder, more
insistently.  Finally, her hand returned and so did my cries, wordless
shouts of pleasure.  Then I screamed.  I screamed three times, the last a
high pitched shriek, and shot all over myself.