Just after my tragic comedy of a marriage, I met the Librarian. He was fun, spontaneous, sexually meek. A perfect revenge fuck to get me over the loss of my failed marriage. We met at my favorite dive bar at the time Riches 93 on 9th and Mission (what a dump), only a block form my little alley apartment. They knew me there, served me, understood my binges, vices, random meeting of men, random leaving with men, love of scotch, all the drunken rants regarding the ills of married life. A good bar always understands and gives you just enough free drinks to keep you coming back night after night.

I arrange to meet the Librarian at 9, I show up at 10, he is still there. What kind of man waits for an hour? The bartender jokes, “we thought that one was yours.” I raise my eyebrow, give him a sly smile in acknowledgment, that—yes– he is my victim. Muuwwwhaa ha ha ha ha.

We proceed to get thoroughly intoxicated. When the time comes to leave, being the depressed, drunk slut self I was at the time, I take him to my little apartment, where we proceed to have unabashed debauched drunken sloppy sex all over that little place. As I mention he was meek. I am not. I squashed his body and rode his face until the early morning hours.

After this, we took up with each other on a more regular basis. The relationship was one soaked in, liquor, sex and depression. What a mix, not my first and certainly not my last relationship of this variety. He would often come to my place, and I to his little apartment in Oakland. It was good, for awhile, but the meekness began to change me. It made me long for revenge. It made me long to fuck him with no regard, no emotion. There was not mutual exchange of power, I had it all.

Eventually the day came when he requested me to fuck him. In my jilted mind, at the time, fucking him was the best idea put there. I flashed, I wanted to fuck him so hard, fuck him for all the fucks in my past. Fuck him like I was fucking my ex-husband, fuck him like I was fucking the pain out of my body and transferring it to his. I wanted to ram my hard cock up his ass, a conduit of pain relief.

The next day, on his dime of course, we hit Good Vibrations. I asked him if I could fuck him with a big black cock, he nodded eagerly. I picked out a beautiful leather strap on device with shiny silver buckles (I love shiny silver buckles) and a hot sleek black cock with, as suggested by the helpful sales woman, a clitoral stimulator. Like kids, we raced back to his sunshine filled apartment, stripped our clothing and I harnessed my cock on. It looked so damn hot. I strutted around the apartment stroking my hardness, shaking it, grinding it in my Librarians face like I was male stripper. It felt liberating, like wearing a wig, I became someone else, someone with a hard black dick.

We took a roll of B&W photos, old school style. For the camera, I am strutting, waving my dick, stroking it, thrusting it, posing with my hard-on. In many of the shots the cock left a blurred trail of action movement, my body still in focus but the dildo ready for exploit. I looked hot, powerful, threatening, but fun—like I really really want to love your ass.

I chased the librarian around his apartment, old blues music in the background, romping, hopping over furniture, scaring the cat, as my cock bounced and knocked into things in an animated inanimate way. Finally I corner him in the bedroom and pushed him to the bed on his back. I climbed on top of him, my thighs straddling his face, the dick bouncing in front of his lips. “Suck my dick, put it in your mouth.” He begins to swallow like a pro, I demand “slow down there, slut, just the tip, you cock hungry little slut, I didn’t say you could have my whole dick.” I watched his hungry mouth fuck my prosthetic limb, his docile tight lips being spread open, my pussy getting wet watching this act, this play, this other me.

I abruptly pull out—“that’s enough slut, no more cock for that mouth,” leaving him with a slap on each cheek from my fun loving dick as I descend his body. Yanking open the fly of his pants, then with my new found manly dominance I yank them down to his ankles and tell him to flip over.

I crawl back up the length of his body my cock dragging along his body, catching on the skin, not like a real throbbing dick would, but like hard rubber, the skin pulling slightly then releasing, causing the dildo to skip and do a little jump before careening against his flesh again. I impel the back of his head into the pillow, my hardness pressing into his back, lean over his ear, and whispered “are you ready?” Nodding-unable to speak, but only a muffled grunt, his eagerness is apparent.

I drop my body back down, my always hard cock is near his ass, I suck my own finger between my lips and coat it with spit, ask one more time “are you sure your ready my cock?,” as I slide my coated finger into his tightest space. I hit his spot, massage it, then pull back out, responding, “yeah–I guess you are ready, get your ass pointed to the sky, all fours, ass up.” I coat my cock with lube, stroking it like a porn scene that has been burned into my memory, then I slide my tip towards his hole. Clinch. “It’s not going to go in if you do that.” Placing my hand on his lower back, pulling him toward me, on me, My other hand firmly around his erect dripping cock, he begins to relax and the shiny lubed tip pops in. That is all it takes, the rest comes easy. My hand so naturally slips around his hips and I begin to coax, to pull, to persuade his ass to open up for me. My male traits are in full bloom, yet my cunt appears to dripping. I was fucking him. My pussy so wet, a mix of clitoral stimulation (thanks Good Vibes) and power. I was high. My tempo increased, the rhythm of appearing and disappearing, a black metronome keeping time of the thrust into his fleshy ass.

Soon his body has melded into the bed as I continued to fuck him with little regard, but he liked it. I was gone, I was thrusting, whispering sweet vulgarities into his ear “you like my dick? Does it fill you up? You want me to come inside you, slut?” Grinding my past away, drilling it into his hole.

Struggling to lift his head—mumbling “I’m gonna come…I’m gonna come.” I collide and thrust one last solid hit of my hard cock into him as his body goes limp, spent, whimpering. I remain for a moment in him, my mind whirling, unable to comprehend this woman,landing on top of him, two sweaty sexed bodies, cock to cock.