As part of a course for aspiring novelists I took in college, one assignment was to write a short story from the perspective of a member of the opposi...e sex. I had to interview several women, get them to relate their most unusual or most enjoyable sexual experience, and then using their point of reference, create my story. The professor pointed out that no type of story is more indicative of the differences in perspective between the sexes than a sex story. In my preparation, I received a few. So I did of course. I settled into the seat and he started the car up and turned to me and said let’s go somewhere more private. I said no worries, cars are private enough for men to work on his hard cock for longer then a bathroom. We drove for about 10 mins until he pulled up at a house. He parked the car and got out so I followed. By this time I am imagening what his cock is going to look like, will he just want a blowjob, will he fuck me? I was getting so turned on. We walked inside the. I lowered my face towards her to kiss and then she pulled me close and turned her head away. My cock was rubbing through my jeans against her thigh as I lowered my lips and kissed the side of her face and her neck, I could feel her breasts through the cotton fabric pressing on my bare chest as I grabbed her head and turned her towards me and kissed her lips. She paused briefly, then said “NO!”, and pushed me away. I retreated immediately and sat up in the middle of the couch and burst into. However sick it was, I wanted it. I wanted it badly. I wanted to see him, them, squirm. I wanted to make him, them, suffer. I wanted to punish them. The thoughts alone seemed to satisfy, even please, me. Heaven could only guess the pleasure I would get from executing it. Every night, nightmares haunted me. I wanted more. James had become my drug. The sex toys left behind did me no good, they only frustrated me. I wanted my master back. — ‘Suck it like the slut I know you are,’ whispered that.