My ex boyfriend had an electric chair: a real, thankfully unplugged, nearly still smoking electric chair. I say in his studio (he was a musician). He was trying to hook it up so that the chair would hold an amp and speakers. The moment I saw him, my doubts about him disappeared. It was so hot. Not literally, thank Eveready. I think I would have married him on the spot if it weren’t for my little bit of good sense.
He brought me to his deserted warehouse apartment. The front section was used as a music store. He had hundreds of guitars hanging on the walls, each collected carefully. He had occult toys, collectibles, and a real coffin. Since it was late afternoon, the lights were off and it seemed as I could see and feel eyes upon my from behind the counters and from the shadows. I had such an eerie feeling. He left me standing there so he could do something in his apartment behind the store. I felt as if I should call out a hello to the demons that called this place, and his head, home.
It was beautiful. I could feel the power of it. I could sense the horror of it. How many men died in it? How many people met their end sitting right on that chair?
The first time I saw it, I could almost hear a demonic Hallelujah Chorus. The room was pitch-black except for the glow and flickering shadows of so many candles placed around his room. He backed me up to the chair, sat me down put my feet on the arms and I slipped my feet into the leather wrist straps. What a feeling! I could already feel the moisture trickling onto the seat. He lifted my skirt and ran his hands up my fishnet stockings. I was shivering with every touch, and could feel his breath on my skin. As he slid his fingers under my garters, I got even wetter. I was getting nervous he would notice. I pushed my legs together. He lifted my feet and let my red heels stick into his shoulders. He slid me forward to him and leaned in to taste my flooding juices.
I shuddered as I felt his lips on mine and could taste myself as he kissed me. I was seemingly mesmerized as he slipped the restraints over my wrists and secured them. I was terrified and yet my body betrayed me. My nipples were as hard as diamonds as he pulled my corset down and licked the tip of each breast slowly, then quickly sucked hard enough to make me yelp in surprise. He forced my legs apart and roughly shoved two skilled musician fingers inside of me. The only sound I could hear was his breathing, my wetness as he penetrated me repeatedly, and my own heart beating in my ears. The exquisite pain as his fingers spread inside me, and the way his thumb pounded on my swollen clit, was causing sounds I didn’t recognize to escape from my throat.
I felt the shadows watching me. He put his mouth on my hard clit. Each time I wanted to tell him to stop and let me escape from this place, I was overcome by fear, luscious pain, and ecstasy. I kept exploding, each orgasm more powerful than the next. I started to gasp, “Please, please, I can’t wait. Please I need you in me!” But you made me wait while he expertly played my clit like his guitar.
I cried out so loudly that I thought I terrified him, finally releasing all of the inner anguish and bad memories that held me back. The realization that no one could hear me made it more terrifying and more erotic. I couldn’t be embarrassed as I usually might while a flood poured from me all over your mouth and chest. He laughed and looked proud as he continued to lick me, enjoying my vulnerability.
When I began to weep, probably from the release, he kissed my tears tenderly but never stopped playing me with his strong, skilled fingers. Finally, he rubbed his very large cock over my soaking, and rather sore and even tighter than normal pussy lips.
It seemed impossible that he would fit into me. But he did! Oh! Did he ever! It was the most intense, hard, and rough sex I had ever had, up to that point!
I screamed and screamed until I was hoarse. It was one of those orgasms that just came in waves but never stopped. It was so intense and even painful and went on for nearly an hour!
He actually held me after. He released me and slid me down into his arms and held me weeping from the release and limp.
After a few months, he made the chair into his amp and never used it for playtime anymore. It was just not the same. He got boring and stopped being wild and attentive. We are still friends. Every time I talk to him, I tell him to tell the chair I miss him.