Sexual Harassment By A School Bully

During the previous ten years of my life, I had despised Darrel. He'd made my school years a living misery. He'd tugged my hair, scribbled harsh insults on my locker, and once thrown a block of clay at my head during an art class. That left my hair with a strange grey hue for days, earning me the moniker 'Granny.' His friends thought it was amusing.

I attributed his rudeness to our differences. He was stunning, with his large blue eyes and cool-back-then blond curtains, and all the females adored him. He was also the football team's captain. Me? I was the geeky outcast.

I was in a pub celebrating a friend's birthday twelve years after high school when Darrel strolled in. I noticed him and instantly glanced down, hoping he wouldn't recognise me because I'd gotten my hair chopped into a pixie crop. But he continued gazing over and ultimately came over and patted me on the shoulder.

I may have been rude to him when he inquired how I was, since he apologised almost immediately. "I was a jerk at school," he said, explaining that his parents were divorcing, which was why he was such a jerk. I relented, and his buddies finally came over and joined us.

I soon found myself flirting with Darrel a little. His blond curtains had become ruffled waves, and his blue eyes remained completely naughty. He was nearly more attractive than he had been in school. He was lovely at first, but then he started bragging about his career, the stocks and shares he had invested in, his income, and his expensive house. He even bored me with his workout routine. He was the same arrogant show-off he'd always been to me.

It should have made me quit flirting, but it really turned me on. I started wondering what he'd be like in bed. He'd always been a wild child at school, and I imagined him as an animal in the bedroom.

I kept making seductive remarks as he gave it his all. Afterwards we all headed to a club. Darrel and I started kissing on the dance floor. I desperately desired him, and he agreed with me. "Let's go back to mine," he snarled in my ear.

We kept going, with him controlling the shots, until we collapsed from tiredness.

In the bedroom, he revealed a subservient side to me that I was unaware of. He stripped me naked and tied my hands to his bed - I was entirely under his authority. He tormented me with his tongue and fingers until I screamed for him: I needed him inside of me.

Darrel pushed within, my legs over his shoulders, and thrusted hard. "Darrel," I moaned. "Denise to you," he yelled. I challenged him "F*ck me harder as much as you can please! " I yelling and shouted I wanted to play tennis with his balls. My nipples erected when he twisted it, because the breasts and nipples are sexually sensitive, caressing them may be pleasurable. During sexual intercourse, Darrel having my breasts stroked and slapping is till reddish red.

Ordinarily, that would have been a deal breaker, but the psychology of it all, as well as the shared history, made everything electric. I felt like a lamb in a lion's lair, and Darrel lived up to my expectations as well - he had boundless energy. We kept going, with him controlling the shots, until we collapsed from tiredness.

He turned over and grinned at me in the morning. "You do realise I was simply trying to attract your attention in class, right?" It was lovely to hear, and the sex was fantastic, but was there anything else? Darrel was not worth the effort.