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I imagine myself bent over, waiting my turn. Maybe on my hands and knees, maybe my elbows. Maybe neither, my arms instead tied behind my back, my cheek pressed against the hard ground. Or, maybe against the cushion of a bed. I like the idea of the bed. Maybe I wouldn’t be on my knees, but instead standing at the bed, bent over. Or maybe not, instead looking over to you, waiting for you to get to me and make me bend over.

I imagine you are preoccupied, however, with someone else. Another girl, like me. Naked and tied up, like me. Bent over the bed, like me. However, she is luckier than me, as it is her you are behind, your muscular arm pressing down into the arch of her back. I look at her, watching you take her from behind, a jealousy in my eyes, a hunger in my heart. I watch her moan, her face full of pleasure and ecstasy. I want that pleasure, I want that ecstasy. But it is not my turn, and I know what will happen if I try to rush you. So instead, I wait, eyeing her, and then you, the movement of your hips, the force of your arms, wishing for nothing more than taking the place of that lucky fucking whore.

Fortunately, at least, one of the few things I don’t imagine is waiting alone. I imagine there being three of us, standing around or bending over the same bed. There is the girl you are behind right now, me, and one other girl, to your right. I look at this girl. She isn’t across the bed like me, she is at the foot of it, watching. She is next in line. Maybe she has long, messy brown hair, and deep green eyes. Maybe she has a small mousey face and a mess of freckles which litter her complexion. I look into her eyes, I see the fire alit within them. She is standing, looking almost dazed, her jaw hanging just slightly agape. I can’t hear it trough the other girl’s moans, but I can tell she is breathing shakily. She is nervous, I can tell. Excited, but nervous. Maybe this is her first time being used by you like this. She is looking down at the other girl, listening to her screams, taking in her moans. She is acutely aware of what is coming for her. She is close enough to feel it, your power, your hunger. You are showing no mercy.

You are not having sex with the girl you have bent over before you; you are fucking her. You are fucking her hard. Fast. You are holding her down, talking to her, degrading her, calling her the slut she knows she is. You are relentless. You spank her, slap her, hurt her. She is almost crying. The girl with brown hair, she sees this. She knows this. She knows that this is coming to her. And the brown haired girl, she is afraid. She is afraid to be hit, she is afraid to be hurt. She is afraid to be fucked. She hears you degrade the girl in front of you, and she recoils, because it seems insulting, because it seems wrong, because she knows that you will degrade her next. She thinks the girl should be disgusted, and maybe the girl is, but she is too distracted to care. Because, despite all of it, the girl with brown hair can still tell that the girl in front of you is savoring every moment.

I imagine the girl with brown hair thinks, deep down, that she should be better than this. She sees you fuck the girl, use her, degrade her. You thrust, she moans, you call her a perverted whore. The girl with brown hair winces; she isn’t like the girl in front of you, right? She isn’t a whore, a slut, right? I watch her look down, away from you, and to her hand, which had drifted down to touch her self. She turns her palm around, and looks at it, seeing the glistening wetness that covers it. She sways, and then after a moment returns her hand to where it was, not rubbing, but holding on, trying to smother the flames that are flickering at her core.

She could leave right now; she has the time. But she doesn’t. She can’t. Because, no matter how hard she tries to convince herself, I can see by her soft gasps that, despite herself, she knows that she really is the desperate slut that you are gonna call her. And, despite all her reservations, I can tell that she wants nothing more than for you to slap her, to hit her, degrade her, spit on her, use her, push her, fuck her.

With almost no warning, you pull out of the girl in front of you, removing your hands from her back and letting her fall helpless on her chest into the bed. She gasping, weak, exhausted. The brown haired girl is frozen in surprise as you turn to face her, the hunger barely sated. You walk to her, and she instinctively recoils before you grasp her arm, and pull yourself behind her. With a swift, almost violent movement, your other arm presses into her back and shoves her over onto the bed. I hear her yelp in surprise, before she is again silenced by fear, silenced by anticipation.

I watch you lean over her, slowly, gingerly. You are almost completely covering her, your broad shoulders enveloping her small frame. Your hand runs along her side, massaging her, comforting her. Ironic, I think, and I stifle an immature giggle. With your other hand, I see you lift your cock and guide it slowly up and down the length of her slit and bottom, and I see her stifle nervous moans. The girl with brown hair and green eyes, I see her, I see the moment she realizes that, while she could have left before, she can not anymore. I see panic in her eyes, for just a moment, but then it is gone. I look into her eyes, and where I saw nerves, I now see a new realization, as she realizes that, while she can not leave anymore, she doesn’t actually want to leave. I see the moment that her eyes seem to dilate and widen, the nerves gone, the excitement and pleasure now all that remains.

I imagine looking back to the other girl, now having regained her breath, now looking to the girl with brown hair. She is smiling. She might be tired, but I can tell she could see all of the same emotions that I did in the girl with brown hair. She then looks to me, biting her lip, smirking, a mischievous glee exuding from her being.

“Well damn, now I have to wait for her, and then you, before I get another turn… that’ll take forever…”, she says to me, teasingly. I can still hear the tired breathlessness in her voice.

I laugh. I bite my lip, and I look over to you again. I gracefully bend over the bed, pretending it was you pushing me down. I watch you press down on her, her eyes closed, her mouth whispering silent moans. You aren’t paying me or the other girl any more attention. I lay there, on my chest, imagining being in her place, you pressing down onto me, holding me down. I see you then, slowly rise up just a little bit, and move your hand from her side to her mouth. You ease your fingers into her mouth, pry it open with almost no effort. And then, you smirk, and hook your fingers to pull her cheek back as you finally thrust into her, a shriek escaping her open mouth.

As you start fucking her, I, still lying bent over the bed, look back the other girl. “Well, at least he’s given you a go…” I begin, the sound of the brown haired girl’s pleasure now filling the room. I turn my face back to look at you. “Some of us are still waiting our turn.”

NSFW: yes

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