Breaking Up & Breaking In
Introduction:
A young man’s break up ends with a thoroughly unexpected discovery…
“Hey handsome! I missed you,” she said, moving across the room with a cute-almost stumble. She wrapped her arms around me, but I stood rigid. She must have felt that, sensed something was wrong, because her smile began to fade. Her lips still stayed stretched up, but her eyes started to fill with worries.
“We need to talk, Serah.”
Breakups are nasty. I didn’t want to hurt Serah, but then I also didn’t want to be with her anymore. She was gorgeous, don’t get me wrong: around 5’6 with a voluptuous body that was pillowy and soft around the tits and arse, but still some kind of taut around her waistline. Long, smooth legs, and a pussy she shaved regularly that seemed eternally to be dripping. Maybe not literally always dripping, but the girl had an appetite. It used to be that if I woke in the night with the urge, I could count on being able to wake her with two fingers between her legs and get a good response.
You can probably tell, I have some regrets. Or rather, some misgivings. But personally? The girl was terrible. Constantly trying to ingratiate herself with anyone, desperately grasping for any kind of running joke she could establish. I never minded her flirting with other guys; I’m not the jealous type. But there’s something deeply irritating about watching someone trying to make you jealous. Not lusting after someone else, but rather just pretending to, for a reaction. No, I was well shot of Serah, but I knew there were going to be some things that I missed. Particularly, I thought as I caught a glimpse of her chest heaving through sobs, some of life’s not-so-little luxuries.
I’ll spare you the emotional details. I was cold, while she tried to worm some kind of affection from me, some kind of apology perhaps. I should really have walked out after delivering the breakup, but perhaps my nerve failed me. At any rate, it left me stood here like a gimp while she cried. The emotions weren’t hitting me yet- perhaps they never would- so I was stood instead wondering if her housemates were getting back soon, and if it would be awkward trying to leave once they were. If they’d start a scene too. This was where things got a little strange.
You see, I’d been daydreaming a lot. I always have been a daydreamer, forever drifting in and out of fantasyland. But this detachment I’d been feeling recently was in part from that strange part of me suddenly doubling down. My daydreams were out of hand: just there, stood wondering about Serah’s housemates, I suddenly began to imagine them, vividly. I imagined the smaller of the two, porky little Samantha. I guess Serah had told me some time before that Sam was into BDSM, because I was imagining her all strapped up, her pale little titties knotted and her plump arse up and on display… I imagined her upstairs from this very room, and I imagined that when I was done here…
Serah was looking at me with some mingled expression of disgust and confusion. There was brief panic- had I popped a boner while breaking up with someone? No, no- I was stood just as stoic and impassive as before.
“What?” I said.
“You- did you…?” Serah scrunched her tear-blotched face in confusion, her sadness apparently briefly set aside. “Nothing. Weird.”
Had she just picked up on my little daydream? No way. I thought about it again, about little Samantha spreading her arse-cheeks and looking over her should at me with those big, blue eyes… Proportioned like a round, chubby baby, but with none of the innocence…
Serah was watching me with that same weird expression. I met her gaze, and she glanced down at the ground.
“What?” I said again, letting a little irritation into my voice.
“I… I don’t know. I thought you… I thought you said something.”
“Yeah? I didn’t say anything.” She looked back up at me, and when she met my eyes again I raised one eyebrow and let my imagination loose again. I pictured Samantha, groaning while I furiously finger-banged her with three digits. Serah audibly gasped.
Was Serah reading my mind? Was I projecting my thoughts? This was insane.
“I need a drink.” I grumbled, and walked out from the room purposefully. Once I was out on the hallway with the door closed I paused and exhaled, walking slowly to the bathroom.
What was going on? I thought I should be a little nervous, if Serah was developing psychic powers… there were definitely things from the last couple of weeks I didn’t want her to know about! But I felt weirdly confident.
I leaned over the little sink in her bathroom and cupped my hands under the tap, slugging a little water at a time between my lips. I wanted to experiment with this. I had to experiment with it.
I walked back into the room. Serah had composed herself back into her mask of sadness. I wondered how much of it was genuine now, seeing how quickly much of it had fallen away. She watched me warily.
How was this going to work? I had a feeling, a kind of working theory based on instinct. A couple of times since my daydreaming had gotten out of hand, I had noticed other people gazing glassily at wherever my attention was focused. I’d found it to be a strange coincidence, but now those little recollections were exciting and a little scary. I was broadcasting thoughts!
“Look, I’m going to go,” I said, while looking into Serah’s eyes. At the same time as I spoke, I imagined fiercely that she didn’t want me to go. I imagined the inside of her mind, and something crazy happened- I felt it.
Something snapped and I was briefly there, in her mind. I felt her relief at my leaving, because whatever she had just seen or heard or… or experienced, about Sam… it had shaken her, and she needed to think about it… she wanted me to go, I could feel that…
But then I felt the other thoughts, the one I had imagined. They had a different texture, but they were simple- stay, stay, you want him to stay. I licked my lips.
“What is it?” I said aloud.
She was still wrestling, so I doubled down. You want me to stay, I broadcast. You want me to stay, and you will do anything to make sure I do.
“Stay, please,” she blurted out. I raised an eyebrow again.
“No, I really don’t think I should.” Again, I broadcast more and more desire for me to stay. I started building a scenario in her mind, some ideas to try and keep me here.
“Please… please stay. I’ll,” she hesitated, and licked her lips lightly, “I’ll do anything to keep you here.”
“You’ll- really? Serah, I don’t know what to say,” I said, feigning surprise and confusion. “We’re breaking up, Serah. I don’t want this to be messy.”
“No strings,” she said in an almost whisper. I felt a stirring of guilt, seeing how conflicted she looked. “None, I promise.” I felt the truth of that, built up of my broadcast notions that were lining her mind.
“Maybe I could stay just a little while, then.” I said, letting the ghost of a smile touch my lips. I continued to broadcast, letting the building heat of my lust seep into her. There was still some doubt in my mind that this was me affecting her. I was going to need to push her to do something way out of character to really be sure.
Serah stood, still looking uncertain. She was wearing a denim skirt that buttoned up the side, only coming down to mid-thigh, and a light flannel shirt in blues and reds. She’d done her makeup before I arrived, so her eyeliner had run and was now heavy dark pools over a powdered face and juicy red lips.
She began to fumble at her buttons on her shirt. I closed the distance between us and swiftly started unbuttoning her denim skirt, too, getting it off in half the time it took her to manage the shirt. Her tits were hanging out visibly, barely held in place by a lacy little bra that I could see matched the panties she had on. I tugged the panties down quite violently, and bent her over her bed.
Serah gasped, but carried on unbuttoning the shirt. I spread her arse cheeks and found her pussy lips, two thick lines that pursed almost like a pout. I leaned in close and inhaled, then darted a tongue over them. Already moist.
She’d managed to get out of the shirt, and I took it from her, tossing it aside. I made short work of her bra fastener, and had those soft shapes free and bouncing in moments. Quietly, I unzipped my fly and fished out my dick, stroking it softly and wondering at how quickly it had stiffened.
I ran a finger along her slit, and she shuddered. I could still feel how conflicted she was. I slipped the finger in, all the way to the knuckle, and began to pump it in and out. Serah groaned a little, and I popped in another. Carefully I spread the moisture from her sopping hole all over her crotch, then spanked it gently, getting a gasp. I lined myself up behind her and plunged my dick inside.
Warm, wet and delicious. Serah panted like a dog in heat, while I reached around and fondled the top of her mons and her clit, still driving away at her with abandon. With my fingers still moist with her juices, I spread her cheeks to look down at her little brown rosebud.
Serah had never wanted any kind of butt-play. It had been a firm line that she’d never wanted to cross, and earnestly, I had never been interested. But a thing denied is often a thing elevated, and over time that little hole, so close and yet so far, had become a grail for me. Usually when we fucked I’d let a finger drift close to it, just graze the change in texture and brush against the puckered little hole. She’d always wriggled away artfully.
This time I brushed one finger over it, and watched in fascination as it almost breathed in response, puckering and shifting slightly. Serah gasped. I repeated, and she moved. I could feel, from the strange little corridor into her mind, that she was terrified of giving that part of herself over.
“Do you want this?” I asked, as my finger pressed a little more firmly against that little knot of hers, and my imagination broadcast what it was she should answer.
“Yes,” she managed. I felt her mind doing incredible acrobatics around me to justify that little answer.
I poked my finger into her shitter slowly, feeling the little ring contract tightly about it while I still fucked her forcefully in the pussy. Serah’s mind was exploding in pleasure- this was doing it for her! The taboo she had built up for herself, the loss of control- even if she didn’t realise it was me taking the control away- all of that was really turning her on. And I had to say, she wasn’t the only one.
I ploughed her, hard. Her pussy gripped my dick and my finger reamed her little arsehole, blowing away much of the resistance in her mind that I’d felt before. Just when I thought it was too much, that I was about to lose control and nut, I realised I hadn’t bothered to get a condom on. I was conflicted. I wanted, deeply, to blow my load and fill her up. I wanted to leave her oozing my cum. But she wasn’t on the pill, and I didn’t need the complication of a baby.
I pulled out, and Serah responded to my broadcast idea without me saying a word. She had never wanted to suck dick, our entire relationship. But now, without any prompting, she rolled off the bed and onto her knees and lunged, wrapping her lips around my cock. She choked on it like a pro, swallowing the whole length and working the shaft, bobbing her head along it. Another idea occurred to me.
Again prompted by a silent broadcast, Serah reached down and started rubbing herself frantically, building up speed on her pussy as she started to climb onto the balls of her feet. Once she had clearance from the floor she went for her arse as well, slipping a finger in and frantically frigging herself.
It was too much for me, watching her go nuts like that. I felt my orgasm building and pulled her head off my dick, then watched rope after rope splatter out all over her face and those great soft tits of hers.
I zipped up, and pulled away all of my imagined broadcasts, feeling them like tentacles that moved back towards me. The architecture in my mind was different now though- the changes I had made were there to stay, it seemed.
“I’m going.” I said. “But I’ll see you again soon.”
Serah looked up at me, confusion there on her face alongside the flush of arousal.
I definitely had some more experiments to work out.
