"...!..."
My legs buckled, and before I knew it, I was down on my knees, trembling uncontrollably.
I'd squeezed my eyes shut tight, terrified I might catch a glimpse of the Stalker's face. But in that instant, I forgot all about it and snapped them open.
This was nothing like before, when the Stalker had been roughly plunging in and out of my pussy.
Back then, it was pure domination—like a blunt demand to submit fast.
My senses had been so overloaded from back-to-back orgasms that I couldn't even tell up from down.
But this was different.
Even when forced, I'd never imagined a woman's body could feel this good. The pleasure hit me so hard my vision sparked and flashed.
Yet the sensation now was at least several times more intense.
(It's completely different from before, isn't it?)
I'd heard about it once somewhere.
Unlike the over-the-top stuff in comics or porn, the pleasure from something forced versus something you actually want is like night and day.
At minimum double, sometimes several times more... but I never dreamed it'd be this extreme.
(When that disgust holding back the pleasure vanishes, you feel it all the more.)
My vision wavered like heat haze rippling over summer asphalt. Then the Stalker's voice cut through.
With my eyes forced shut, it somehow burrowed straight into my ears—deep, crystal clear.
(Then let's get started for real.)
"...? Hii!"
A finger slid in... but it felt off.
Not the Stalker's slender, soft ones... this was thicker, with that artificial rubbery texture you feel from gripping something like a tire.
It pressed right against my rear entrance.
"Wh-what the hell..."
(A thimble.)
I knew what a thimble was.
Back in middle school, our teacher taught us sewing.
To keep the kids from pricking their fingers, she passed them out.
Finger guards to protect from needles and help push them through—thicker and sturdier than rubber gloves, with those textured grips like fingerprints...
"This kind of per... Uwagh!"
What pushed into me now had something raspy attached—like a cat's tongue.
The stimulation was insane, but even aside from that, it drove me mad.
That protective gear I'd fiddled with curiously back then, still fresh in my memory for safeguarding me... now it was inside my ass, teasing my weak spots. The sheer wrongness of it was mind-bending.
(Right there, like before.)
"Uuugh!"
It was humiliating beyond words—losing it like this over a thimble that barely covered one finger joint.
If it'd been a rotor or some mainstream sex toy, even something this small, the thought wouldn't cross my mind.
That's what they were built for.
But not a thimble.
"That's for keeping your finger from getting stabbed while... Hyat?!"
A product homemakers use for sewing without injury.
Zero lewd intent in its design.
It's meant to protect the hand and make stitching easier—a thoughtful little tool, not for this.
That's why getting railed by it and feeling good was so utterly degrading.
-Swish swish
"Stop it!"
That protrusion she'd pointed out earlier kept stroking my weak spot. On my knees, I crawled forward.
I'd never do this normally.
But the shame of being violated by a household staple tied to good memories—it made me desperate to escape.
(Even if you tempt me like that, I won't stop, you know?)
Just moments ago, she'd gripped my hips or ass to pin me in place.
Now, she trailed after me like she was savoring the view—my ass shaking as I crawled on all fours.
She kept grinding that weak spot.
(Already done? It was such a nice show.)
"Kuh...!"
Crawling on hands and knees while she fucked my ass and I begged...
Realizing I'd done the unthinkable—something I'd refuse even on pain of death—I froze.
The thimble whirling inside... the finger attached wouldn't quit just because I did.
It'd only egg her on more.
(How's this?)
"Hyaaat!"
The twirling, teasing finger switched to prodding and rubbing.
The thimble's protrusion swept my weak spot like it was made for it, ramping up the torment.
"St-stop!"
I knew begging wouldn't work.
As a former guy, I knew it just turned her on more.
But pleasure laced with shame? It was pure witchcraft, forcing the words out.
-Swish swish poke poke
Right on cue, my guess confirmed.
The thimbled finger went sticky-wet, toying over a broader range.
Fast and frantic? Amateur hour.
She circled teasingly near the spot, then struck the upper opposite side out of nowhere.
"Haaaang!"
-Pop slurp pop
"Stooop iiiit!"
The instant I shattered, she acted bored—switching tactics.
Pull out, thrust in, withdraw, circle the rim, plunge back.
Like a kid discovering a doorbell, mesmerized by the ding-dong, mashing it nonstop.
Press, savor the chime, release... test if a twist changes the tune.
But doorbells and I? Worlds apart.
"Hauck... Ha...! Aa!"
Doorbells chime the same from any button—same circuit, same sound.
My insides? Different nerves everywhere. Every press, a unique cry.
(Just a little more?)
Like a child thrilled by a toy's endless surprises,
The Stalker relished my reactions—hitting virgin spots to startle, slamming the weak one to jolt,
Pausing as my arms quivered under me, strength fading.
Techniques I'd never dreamed of, toying me senseless.
"Haa... Haa..."
-Swish swish
She seemed to love my shakes.
Sometimes she'd slide in and hold still.
Each time, that hand stroking my back—like petting a brand-new puppy—sent goosebumps racing.
Fourth break already.
First: Clueless, tensed through it all.
Second: Her silence unnerved me; half-rest, eyes clenched like dozing on a bus, scared to miss your stop.
Third: Got it now, awkward amid back pets and the finger inside.
Fourth: This one. Fully clocked the pattern, chills and all, even pondering why she did it—relaxed rest.
Break over.
Odd wet smacks from behind piqued curiosity,
But anal dev time—rear clenched, bracing for unpredictable bliss,
She spoke.
(Clitoris. Touch it?)
"Eh...?"
Brain short-circuited.
Why skip the ass?
Anal time?
Clit where?
"Ah."
Head scrambled—that instant, she grazed my clit.
"Aaaaaaaa!"
Zero warning.
Most neglected spot.
Pinched anyway—the rawest nerve.
The weird buildup from before erupted.
Like a freaky bladder urge unleashing, whole-body catharsis exploded.
(Later: G-spot abuse fills bladder-front pressure; keep going, media squirting happens.)
But fresh as a woman? No clue.
Man me? Ignored female wiring.
Vague: 'Women get beyond-orgasm highs.' Not my problem.
So this—unimaginable, dwarfing climaxes, body-quaking, suppression-shattering thrill, voiceless obliteration.
(Ugh...!)
Thus blind to it.
Those smacks? Her nonstop masturbation.
Her hyper-aroused dick drooling overwhelming precum down to her balls.
Thigh-ball slaps turned wet sloshes.
My guy dick? Smaller, drier.
Missed her jerking entirely.
(Cumming...!)
Even splattering my ass with cum? Clueless.
Lost in release, no room for outside.
Urethra bliss unlike piss, insanity fuel—missed her spurting cock.
Truth dawned quick.
She pinned G-spot upper—squirting nonstop,
Long ejaculation, slow release,
Glans to my squirting urethra,
Semen blasted my inner walls.
"Aaaaaaaa!...Ah?!!!"
That ecstatic absolute freedom?
Defiled.
"...Ah...? Kyaaaaaaa!"
Her dick dwarfed mine; cum pressure another league.
Normal guy? Trickle stream.
Hers? Post-deluge flood.
'??????????!!!!!!'
Female orgasms? Thought mastered.
Dozens under her by now.
Squirting? Alien.
No clue G-spot squeeze builds fluid dump.
Two hours woman? No piss history, no urge sense.
Female bladder? Mystery, squirting moreso.
Uterus vibes different—lower belly tingle, urgency? Pegged as normal G-spot buzz.
Unguarded squirt ambush.
Blissful beyond words.
Catharsis, electric release.
Not now.
Hypersensitive urethra post-expulsion, timed perfectly—felt her gushing heat crystal clear,
Burning inferno + mega pleasure crashed together.
"Aaaaaak! Aak!"
'…???!…?!!!...!!!'
Screams ripped silent—mouth, mind.
Body lesson: extremes silence even pleas.
Eternal two seconds mine.
(Ugh...)
She pressed glans to my blissed-out gaping anus, hand-milked every drop, wringing her dick dry—no waste.
Slightly agape from overload, my hole slurped it up dutifully,
Up close, her dick pondered... then prodded home,
Glans claimed the bitch before it—proper creampie round two.
-Gulp gulp
(Haa... Haa...)
True ejaculation—not hand-squeeze.
Self-throttled max hold; dazed bitch missed hot fill-up.
(Fuu... Save the rest. Gotta dump it deep proper later.)
Anyone spying her muttering from behind: 'Killer ass on that chick. Wait, front—who's she? Holy...'
Post-nut shivers, ass out; me forcibly ass-up, collapsed like passed out.
(Good work, anal dev.)
Semen as lube now—she reamed my ass easier.
To drill in the "stuffed full" memo for the bitch before her.
Pure stim, no pleasure chase—even yanked the thimble.
"Uh... Uh..."
Mind voided, faint external nudge sparked a thread of awareness,
"...S-save... meee."
Finally, slurred, fragile plea escaped.