Message-ID: <785eli$9705122353@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: Path: qz!news.accessus.net!not-for-mail X-Path-Preload: news.accessus.net preloaded to thwart rogue canceller there Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: From: "AnonEMoose" Subject: STORY: The Logic of Suicide: A Woman's Experience (MF, rom, 1st) From: an52783@anon.penet.fi Date: Fri, 17 Dec 1993 14:23:34 UTC Message-ID: <143302Z17121993@anon.penet.fi> Subject: The Logic of Suicide: A Woman's Experience Warning: Standard, this is sexually explicit material. Request: Don't plagiarize. The Logic of Suicide: A Woman's Experience * * * About two years ago, I was in the depths of depression. I wouldn't eat; when I did eat I forced myself to vomit. Neither the psychiatrist nor the drugs were helping me. After years of emotional pain, I decided that I could not live with myself, and concluded that my only option was suicide. The guy I was dating stopped by my apartment during this emotional crisis. When I didn't answer the door, he forced his way in. He knew my history of self-hatred and when he saw me in tears, he accurately predicted my plans. He told me that he loved me, needed me, and not to kill myself. I told him that I liked him but he was "full of shit." Another dam of tears broke from my eyes and couldn't I speak anymore. Neither did he. He simply whipped out a sheet of paper, wrote the following note, and forced me to read it. "The logic of suicide: A syllogism People who don't fuck are stupid. People who commit suicide don't fuck. Therefore, people who commit suicide are stupid." In a failed effort to be "sensitive," he pointed out to me that I was 24-years-old and still a virgin. Tenderly, he said that he would support me in my efforts to commit suicide. He would help! He was going to help me kill myself! I wanted to die, but I didn't want to die in solitude. A smile came to my face when I realized that he wasn't kidding -- he would help me kill myself. Yet, there was one string attached. He would assist, only if I would comply to sleeping with him. In a kind-sort-of way, he pointed out that if I didn't sleep with him, he would foil my suicide efforts by telling my mother. My life then would become a living hell. What a come-on line! He trapped me. If I had sex with him, he would help me. If I didn't have sex with him, he would tell my mother who would have me institutionalized in a psychiatric ward -- as she had threatened many times before. Mom liked him. If he told her, she would believe him before she would believe me. In this case, a lie wouldn't work with Mom. The psychiatric ward is a fate worse than death. It is a fate worse than losing my virginity. Part of me was outraged with the proposition, but another part of me was flattered that he wanted my body. He wanted the body that I was about to destroy. At the time, I didn't care what happened to me. With an evil expression on my face, I matter-of-factly replied with a "yes." He was shocked. Yet, I don't know what was the cause of his shock. Was it that I agreed to have sex with him? Was it that I wanted his help and support with my suicide? I'll never know. Like the scene from "An Officer and a Gentleman," he carried me off to my bedroom. Frankly, I couldn't understand his interest in me. I hated myself, I was tearful, I was limp, I felt ugly, I didn't feel sexy. With all my unsexiness, he still wanted to deflower me. When we arrived in my room, he didn't put me in the bed. He had me stand in front of him. As I walked away from him, he took my hand -- I was startled. I reached for the light switch. I wasn't going to have sexual intercourse with the lights on. I didn't want him to see my naked body. He wouldn't let go of my hand and walked with me as I switched off the light. Instead of walking back to the bed, he moved to the electric receptacle and flicked on the night light. How did he know that was there? At any rate, it seemed like a fair compromise. Not enough light to clearly see my body, but just enough to know what was going to happen. The silence was uncomfortable, but I couldn't speak. I stood in front of him as he sat on the bed. Starting from the bottom and with a deliberate slowness, he began to unbutton the front of my dress. The silence was killing me. He stopped when he reached my panties. They were simple -- just white -- not sexy. He pushed my dress around to my butt, held it there, and pulled me forward. His face moved toward my panties and began kissing my private parts. I wanted him to stop! I wanted him to never stop! I didn't know what I wanted, but it didn't make any difference because I was frozen in place. I couldn't move or speak -- or maybe I could, but just didn't want to. I knew I was about to lose my virginity and began to have doubts about suicide. It felt good. It felt right. I began thinking, "this isn't going to be so bad." Suddenly, I became aware that my dress was totally unbuttoned. He pulled it off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. As a reflex action, I wanted to tidy my room by picking up and folding my dress, but I realized that I was in the presence of a man who was gazing at me. I had only my bra, panties, and shoes. I felt embarrassed and attempted to cover my private parts, but he pulled my hands away and kissed me passionately on my lips. It felt good, but I noticed that my panties were damp. I didn't want him to stop. First, it felt good. I loved that tenderness. Second, I knew what was coming next and I was afraid. Yet I was breathless and just stood there as he removed his shirt, pants, shoes, and socks. When he was finished, he took me by the waist and sat me on the bed. There, he removed my shoes and began to massage my feet. It felt great! He kissed my feet and gently pushed my shoulders to the bed. It was about to happen, I thought. He, with a calculated slowness that was killing me, pulled off my panties. I couldn't believe how wet they were. I felt cold and hot at the same time, but then he gently rested his hands on my thighs and stroked my sides till he reached my waist. I was paralyzed with fear -- I think? I didn't know what he was going to do to me. He pulled his lips down to my wet private parts and kissed me. He continued to do it until I started to relaxed. In fact he uttered his first words to me, "relax, relax, enjoy, enjoy." His soft and gentle tone was reassuring but an unfamiliar sensation began to come over me. I thought that I was about to have my first orgasm. THEN HE STOPPED! He removed his underwear and t-shirt. It was the first time I saw a penis. However, I was happy that I couldn't see it clearly in the dimly-lit room. He stood naked before me and laid next to my emotionally-paralyzed body. Then he finally decided to remove my bra. I was lying naked next to him. No man has seen my naked body. He took a nipple into his mouth until it got hard. Then he moved to the other one and repeated his treatment. I felt embarrassed, but I wanted to lose my virginity. He held me close and told me that he loved me with his whole heart and could not imagine a life without me. Before I could say that I loved him too, he kissed me on the lips with a passion that cannot be put into words. He repositioned my body with a series of gentle strokes. It felt warm and good. He placed his head between my legs and began to kiss my private parts for the second time. I felt the emergence of that strange sensation -- again. I guess I started to moan, because he stopped and asked, "Are you OK? Do you want me to stop?" I wanted to scream but I couldn't. It took all my energy to burst out and say, "Please -- don't -- stop." He moved to my face and kissed me passionately on my lips -- again and again. I couldn't believe the passion in his kisses. I was breathless. Then, he began to insert his penis inside me. I wanted to close my eyes, but he commanded that I watch. I'm glad I did. I watched every inch disappear inside me. I don't have the words to express how it felt to have a penis inside me, except to say that I never experienced anything like this -- it felt good. What an understatement! He told me, "We are now one. I love you like I have loved no one." He insisted that I continue to watch as he rhythmically moved in and out of me. He wouldn't stop talking! He told me that I was the most beautiful woman in the world. I believe he meant it. With his penis inside of me, I really felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. Gradually, I began to feel that strange sensation. On the verge of tears, I pleaded that he not stop. He replied, "talking or pumping?" "Both," I muttered. I loved the feeling of his penis. I loved hearing him tell me I was beautiful and important. It came to pass. I felt like my body was being pulled apart. My legs, arms, and back went stiff. There was a brief moment of almost bearable pain/pleasure, then the sensation snapped and immediately I became sensitive. It made my entire body feel as though it touched a deep secret within my soul. I screamed uncontrollably. I fell into a coma-like state for a few seconds. When I recovered, I heard him say that he wanted me on top. He pulled his penis out of me. I didn't want his penis to leave me! but could not find the strength to tell him. But he laid on his back and I mounted him. He adjusted our bodies, and slowly his penis moved inside me again. This time he didn't need to ask me to watch. I wanted and enjoyed the feeling of being impaled. As if I had done this for years, I began moving my hips. It felt too good to express into words. This time the orgasm came with greater speed. I began to have the strange sensations again. But he stopped telling me how beautiful I was and I needed to hear that. I took my eyes away from our united mid-sections and looked at his face. He had a beautiful face that I never before noticed. He was moaning. I found myself moaning. I was approaching the peak of another orgasm. I felt a pulsing of his penis inside me, quickly followed by his sperm shooting into my body. The sensation of the sperm pushed me over the edge of another extremely intense orgasm. It was better and more intense than the previous one. I loved the feeling of the sperm entering my body. It was the first time in my life when I felt important and beautiful. I began to believe I was beautiful. Perhaps beautiful and pregnant? No, thank god! As soon as possible, I got a prescription for birth control and started having sexual intercourse two to three times a day with him. More, if I was depressed. It was my salvation. When I make love to him, I feel like the most beautiful woman in the world and all my thoughts of suicide disappear. When I told him that he makes me like the most beautiful woman in the world, he replied that I should feel that way -- because I am. He got really tired of having sexual intercourse so frequently. I feared that if I stopped making love regularly, I would return to those terrible suicidal feelings. He had to limit it to once or twice a day. One time, we skipped an entire day, and I still felt good about myself. In fact skipping a day improved the intensity of my next orgasm. So occasionally, I intentionally skip a day. The story of my first sexual encounter took place two years ago. With regular sexual intercourse, I now feel like a normal woman. The orgasms have encouraged me to drop the idea of suicide. In many ways, I think I'm doing better than the average woman. I love my man, he loves me, and I love the sexual intercourse he offers me. He was right when he wrote: "The logic of suicide: A syllogism People who don't fuck are stupid. People who commit suicide don't fuck. Therefore, people who commit suicide are stupid." I'll keep his note forever. It will be easy because tomorrow we will get married. ___________________________________________________________________ -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /