6 comments/ 49848 views/ 15 favorites Angry Sex By: themarquise "Fuck you...you mother fucking asshole! You had your tongue hanging out of your mouth all fucking night staring at that little whore!" I screamed at him from across the living room as my hands moved to undo the buttons on my dress coat. "And you weren't staring at him all night? You're a fucking hypocrite and a bitch!" his nostrils flared as he spat the words at me. "Fuck you...I was not...I could see you talking to her tits every time she sauntered by in that slutty little dress...don't give me your bullshit and try and turn this around on ME!" I threw my coat at him, my hands shaking with anger. We had just returned from the annual Christmas party his company threw every year, and he spent the greater part of the night staring at the bosses' chunk of arm candy and her new plastic boobs. "I cant believe how fucking obvious you were! Your tongue was practically hanging out your mouth every time she walked by!" "She's a sexy woman and I'm not fucking dead!" you ran your hand through your short brown hair in frustration as you spoke, "What the fuck do you expect? It's not like I was going to fuck her!" "Fuck you! Fuck you! Both of us know would if you had the fucking chance...I could tell that just by looking at you! Your cock was semi hard all night and when she bent over the table to refill the nuts, I thought you were going to jump on her!" "Fine then," your patience snapped right in front of my eyes as you walked towards me, "Yes I would fuck her! I would slam that bitch into the wall and fuck her until she screamed like a mother fucking banshee!" You screamed right into my face as you stood close, your teeth clenched, your fists tight. "Is that what you want to hear? That I would nail that slut right to the fucking wall?" "Fuck you!" I pulled my hand back, ready to land a blow, wanting to wipe that smug look from your face. "Oh no you don't! Your hand closed on my wrist before I could land the slap. I pulled back, a futile attempt as you pushed me back against the wall behind me with your body. You raised my hand above my head then captured the other one and held both in one of your much larger hands, pinning them both to the wall as I tried in vain to pull them back. I struggled against you, my feet and knees a blur, trying to get a shot in. You pressed into me hard, the cold wall barely felt along my bare back as I struggled against you. "Fuck you! Let me go you asshole...LET...ME...FUCKING...GO!" I accentuated each word with a strong tug on my immobilized hands. My breath was coming hard as fast as you looked down into my eyes, anger blazing you dipped your head and kissed me. Hard. I bit your lip, tasting blood and you pulled back, "Do that again and you'll regret it." Your words were cold as you leaned back in and kissed me. Hard and rough. Our teeth scraped as you pushed your tongue into my mouth. I kissed you back, as hard as you kissed me. Arching my body against yours as I still tried to pull my hands free from your iron grip. "If I can't fuck that slut, I'll fuck you instead!" Your free hand moved to the front of my dress and yanked. I heard the material tear as you quickly dipped your head and captured one of my now bared breasts between your lips. "Fuck you!" it was more of a moan as I felt your teeth against my hard nip. You bit, hard and I arched pushing more of my breast into your mouth, "FUCK YOU!" I screamed loud as the pain mingled with pleasure when you released one and moved to the other. I was mad at myself as I felt the pool of wetness between my legs, angry as hell at you as my body responded to the feeling of your hard cock pressed against my hip. I arched again, still pulling on my hands. "You like that you little bitch don't you," You lifted your head and kissed me hard again, moving your hand and lifting my body, "wrap your legs around me slut! NOW!" I complied, speechless and my eyes huge as you reached between us to first undo your zipper, then grab my skimpy black thong and rip it from my body. The friction of you pulling roughly and the sound of them ripping as you yanked them from my body almost made me come. You freed my hands and held onto my hips for leverage as you slammed your cock deep inside me. I reached up and fisted my hands in your hair, pulling your head hard to me and kissing you roughly as you filled my pussy, slamming me back against the wall. You dropped your head and bit my nipples again and I came, screaming as you punished my pussy without mercy. "You fucking asshole!" Your smug smile made me want to hit you again, my pussy convulsed and spasmed around your cock as you splayed your fingers over the cheeks of my ass and found my tight puckered asshole with one. I cried out as you slid it into me, stretching me, one...then two. My body moved with yours, my hand moved down and I ripped your dress shirt open then began pinching and pulling your nipples, hard, digging my fingernails into your chest. You half laughed and half moaned as you pushed harder and faster, your fingers teasing my asshole as your cock filled me over and over. You pulled out and turned me, bending me over the back of the couch and holding my head down as I tried to move away. The look on your face kind of scared me. "Don't move bitch...you want to see how I'd fuck her? This is how I'd fuck her!" You rubbed the head of your wet cock against my ass, and then pushed in with one long slow stroke. I moaned out loud as your cock filled my tight ass, groaned as it burned and stretched me. I lifted my hips, I couldn't help myself as the pain turned into pleasure and you started to slide in and out of my asshole, slow at first then fast and unforgiving. Your hand came down and began to flick over the hard nub of my clit as you pumped in and out. I couldn't help myself, I came hard cursing your name as you whispered in my ear "She would fucking love this too, just like you do slut, she would come nice and hard all over my cock. screaming my name." you slapped my ass hard, making my body jump. I tried to pull away and you held me tight as you pounded into me, tears stinging my eyes as you smacked my ass with each stroke. I came again gripping you like a velvet vice and sent you over the edge. You cried out loudly as you exploded into me, I felt your cock pulse inside me, then emptiness as you pulled out and splashed the rest of your juice over the now very red cheeks of my ass. The hot come almost stinging my sensitized skin as you finished yourself off with your hand, then rubbed the offering into my tender skin with the head of your cock. You pulled me up and turned me, your lips finding mine and kissing me softly as your ran your fingertips gently down my cheek, "God you're beautiful." He touched me so softly, like I was the most precious thing in the world. "Thank you." I smiled up at him, basking in the afterglow of our yearly tradition of 'angry sex' after the Christmas party. I already couldn't wait until next year. Angry Sex I shifted my computer bag on my shoulder as I hustled down the corridor. I hated being late, especially when it was my own presentation. I was cutting it close, very close, and at these things audience reviews were everything. The last thing I wanted to hear from my manager was that my reviews sucked because they were preoccupied by my tardiness. Thing is, the convention hotels in Vegas were just enormous. Someone told me that they put on a pedometer to see how far it was from their room to the convention floor - in the same hotel - and clocked in at just over one mile. I was certainly feeling those distances now, that's for sure. Never let them see you sweat, the advertisement used to say. Yeah, right. Try not sweating as you high-tail it down a mile of convention room corridors. Entering the room I strode with all the confidence I could muster to the front, preparing myself mentally for this presentation. I got to the lectern and was completely in the zone of "presentation mode," pulling out my laptop and connecting it to the projector. That's the reason why I was completely unprepared for what happened next. She was sitting there, in the third row of a packed room audience. The woman I hadn't seen in over fifteen years, the woman who... I struggled to clear my head, shaking it in reality to clear the vertigo that threatened me. I couldn't focus on this now. Now was not the time. Now was not good. Now I had a job to do. Time became fragmented, staccato. Unfortunately for me, my emotions and my mind wouldn't play along. I didn't have the mental - no, emotional discipline to put this new intrusion aside. But do so I must. I started my presentation, just as distracted as I was in the days following what she did so many years before. I had practiced my presentation enough, had done it enough times that it was pretty routine by now. "In cases of complex biogenetic computations, we can use high performance computing..." i intoned. Normally I can take the driest material and make it interesting to the audience at hand. Now I wasn't sure if I was even speaking English. The bitch was sitting right in front of the lectern. My mind raced. I lashed out in my head, my inner voice letting loose the tirade that I had promised I would share with her if I ever saw her again. Damn, after fifteen years, I didn't expect this kind of reaction, some detached other voice chided. Yeah? Well fuck you, came the original voice. And then, directed to her, No, fuck you! "... and applications such as sequencing fall into a category we call embarrassingly parallel processes, which..." She was sitting there, emotionless. Almost as if she didn't recognize me, but of course I know that wasn't true. Inside my head raged the war between fifteen years of pent-up anger, an experienced maturity of growth during that time to cool the temperature, and the professional voice of presentation delivery. I was at a loss as to who was winning and who was losing. "Now no process likes to be embarrassed..." A joke, delivered poorly. A few scatters of laughter throughout the audience. What was that on her face? A smile? No, it was a smirk! Bitch. Cunt. Whore. Time's up. The presentation came to a close. Enthusiastic applause; guess I must have done better than I thought I did. No questions asked during the session, but about a half dozen people surrounding the podium. Business cards thrust at me. She got up and gathered her belongings, and left the room. My heart sank, and then surged with anger - but at myself this time. Why did I still care? What did I really expect? Did I think she was going to be one of those coming up afterwards asking me for more information? Did I think she was going to hang around afterwards, loitering long enough to give me an apology? Pipe dreams. Nevertheless, I felt dejected, like it was an opportunity missed. I managed to gather my things and leave the room, half-expecting her to be outside the room waiting to catch me alone. Again, I was disappointed. The rest of the day was a haze, a blur. All the concerns and problems I had been focusing on, presentations, budgets, materials for the conference - all of it was completely obliterated by the swarm of buzzing memories in my head. The bizarre fragmentation of time seemed to smooth out as my heart rate began to calm. I should have known. Go to a supercomputing conference and you'll meet computer scientists. It's a small world. Too small, in some cases. I went back to the room and threw my shit on the table, and lay down on the bed. Unbidden, unwanted, the memories came back. It may have been years ago, but each memory was crisp and clear. I could still see her in my living room on that Sunday evening, although living room is a bit of an overstatement for a grad student's living space. There were books laying around the entire room, as I was preparing for my doctoral comprehensive exams. Five days of examinations without any break, on any subject from any time in my graduate school career. And it started the very next day. "Mike," she said, "I'm breaking up with you and going to be with Adam." The news hit me like a ton of bricks, and to say that I wasn't expecting it, not at that moment, was an understatement. "What?" I asked, incredulous. I wasn't sure if I was more surprised at what she said, or the incredibly poor timing. "I know this is a bad time -" she continued. "You're doing this now?!" I sputtered. "I have my comps starting tomorrow!" "Well, do you expect me to hold my tongue and live a lie?" "YES!" I exclaimed. I had this bizarre sense of priorities running through my head at that instant. It seemed to me if she was going to leave me, the least she could do was wait until after the most important series of exams in my academic career had completed so as not to fuck me up! "Well," she said, clearly not expecting that answer. "Eileen," I said, caught between wanting to shout at her and yet still persuade her not to do this. "How could you do this to me?" I had gotten a lot of shit for going out with her in the first place, but she was very intelligent and I've always had a weakness for she-geeks. I started to resent all the times I had to put up with those wise-cracks. "Look, Mike," she said, starting to get defensive. "We haven't been spending much time together anyway - " "Because I've been studying for my comprehensive exams!" I was close to losing it. I was angry, and rapidly approaching hysteria at the unfairness of it all. She was a graduate student too, although in a different field. She should have known what the stakes were. She was supposed to understand. "And I've been spending a lot of time with Adam as a result," she continued. I remained silent. This was one of those moments where the only thing I could think of was to either call her every name in the book or strike her. Worse, I felt that if I were to start calling her names it might lead to striking her, and I'd never hit a woman in my life. I wasn't about to start now. "I think he can give me the attention that you don't want to give me," she said. I took a deep breath and forced myself to remain calm. I had been studying non-stop for five months, remaining diligent and dedicated to the task at hand. She had said that she understood. We had been planning a vacation immediately afterwards. My birthday was in a couple of days and we were going to postpone the celebration until after the exams... Christ, she was leaving me two days before my birthday, too! "We talked about this," I said, my voice even. I doubt it was possible to sound reasonable but I hoped I was doing a passable job. "We're going to take a vacation starting immediately after the last exam on Friday, remember? We're going to spend the time together, the whole week, just you and me." She shook her head. "It's too late for that, Mike," she said sadly. "Don't do this," I said. "Please... please don't do this." This wasn't just about the timing. It was about the fairness of it all. It was about a lack of respect, both of how she felt about me and how I felt about myself. "I can make it up to you, I swear I can." She shook her head even more emphatically. "It's too late," she repeated. And she left. Needless to say I didn't do so well on my comps. Out of five exams, I had to rewrite three of them. There were moments when reading what I wrote you can actually see where my mind wandered away from the subject matter and got lost in my personal problems. My 25th birthday came and went without notice, by me or anyone else. A few months later I returned home to hear a voice message on my machine from her. She was confused, lost, and had changed her mind. She wanted me again. Like every self-respecting man I did what I should have done and told her to take a long walk off a short pier, right? Yeah, I didn't think you'd buy it either. We went for a walk in a local park. It was the first time I'd spent any time with her since that fateful Sunday night. It was awkward, to say the least. The park had a river embankment, secluded, and we sat down to talk. Well, she sat down, and I leaned up against a tree. "We had some good times, didn't we?" she asked. I nodded. "I miss those times," she said, not looking at me. She then turned to look at me, or rather, looked straight between my legs. "I miss those times, too." To this day I'm angry at how quickly my own body betrayed me. I grew rock hard, and there was no way of hiding it. She was close, and reached up and placed the flat of her palm on my erection through my shorts. "I really, really miss them." She looked up at my face, then, seeing that I didn't push her hand away. "Can... can I suck you again, for old time's sake?" Before I could answer my cock jumped in her hand, giving her the answer she needed. She reached in through one leg hole and retrieved my cock, standing strong and deep purple aimed directly at her face. Before I could have told her "no," her mouth was wrapped around my cockhead, sucking frantically. I hadn't forgotten how good she was, and there was a thrill knowing that the woman who had betrayed me was now betraying the man she had left me for. I started to smile to myself, a smile that she couldn't see from where she was. If she had seen it, she would have likely stopped what she was doing. I was smiling knowing that she was going to be seeing him later, going to be kissing him with that mouth, and that fucker would get a kiss full of my cock. Asshole. She worked the shaft masterfully, as always. She caressed my balls and pulled me deeper into her mouth. She was good, very good, and there was something more than satisfying watching my ex-girlfriend enjoying my cock once more with abandon. Then she stopped. "I have to get back," she said, and started moving back to the car. Bitch! I tucked myself away and attempted to walk up the slope of the embankment - not easy to do with a rock-hard erection. She had driven, and my car was at her place, so we returned to her house. We walked in the door, and she asked, "Do you want something to drink before you go?" "I don't think we're done yet," I said. "Mike, I'm not going to fuck you," she said. Hell, you haven't finished what you started! I thought. Nevertheless, that didn't seem like the best way to get what I was after, so I tried a different tack. "You can at least let me return the favor," I suggested, coming up to her and running my fingers over her breasts. Eileen had very sensitive nipples, and I knew that as soon as I could touch them she wouldn't be able to say no. She liked them sucked, and sucked hard. Her breasts pushed into my palms, and my thumbs rubbed over her aching nipples. I kept one hand on a breast and moved the other down to her crotch, cupping it. It was hot and damp. "Yes," I said. "I think I should return the favor." Right there on the kitchen floor, I lay her down. I started unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them down her hips. She offered minimal resistance at first, but then lifted her hips so that they would slide off completely. I reached up with one hand to keep a constant attack on her nipple while I dove straight for her pussy. She had the capacity to change her mind at any time and as long as I kept at least one nipple going, she wasn't stopping me. I licked her at the same time as squeezing her breast and nipple, my free hand sliding two fingers into her sopping pussy. Immediately her hips started bucking against my face, trying to rub her clit against my lips and tongue. "Oh I missed this," she kept repeating, over and over. "Mike, lick me, Mike." That's it, baby. Say my name. Not Adam's. My name! I felt her body shudder a little, a tiny mini orgasm that was her usual precursor for a big one. With sudden force and determination, she rolled over and on top of me, her hands fumbling for my shorts. They didn't get a quarter way down my thighs when I found my cock buried completely inside her. Eileen's favorite way to fuck was to slide back and forth on my cock, not up and down. She would rock her hips back and forth, scraping the head against her g-spot. She found she could do this and lean over my mouth and offer her breasts to me at the same time. "Suck my tits!" she demanded, and I complied. I grabbed her breasts with both hands and latched my mouth around her nipple and sucked hard. My aim wasn't only to show her what she had been missing, but I wanted to give her a hickey on her nipple that she would have to hide from Adam or explain. Asshole. Even after several months, we found our old rhythm. Her hips rocked back and forth, her pussy clenching my cock with the grip of a vise. I moved to the other nipple to give it equal treatment. The sensation of my mouth on the virgin nipple sent her into overdrive. She started sliding across my cock like a mad woman. "Touch my clit!" she growled. "Touch my clit!" I slid one hand between us and found her protruding button with my thumb. Instantly I felt her entire body shake and convulse, its pattern very familiar to me. Her cunt grabbed my cock as tight as a fist and forced the come from my balls much faster and stronger than normal. As I lay on my hotel bed, fifteen years later, with a long stream of hot come lying on my stomach in tune with the memory, I felt the conflicting emotions of weak victory over spraying the insides of Adam's girlfriend with my come, knowing that she would kiss him with that cheating, cocksucking mouth, and the disgust with myself for allowing myself to be used at the same time. After all, she had asked for - and gotten - the best of both worlds. She was able to use me for her frustration and yet keep her carefully manipulated life intact whereas I was still picking up the pieces, both personally and professionally. Fuck, I needed a drink. I cleaned myself up and went to go find the nearest bar. Hell, this was Vegas, of course there was a bar within spitting distance. It was still early, only about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, so the dinner traffic hadn't quite yet started and I had the bar to myself. "Zubrowka and apple juice," I told the bartender. "I thought margaritas were your drink," came a voice behind me, sending chills up my spine. "Still are," I said, not looking around. "But I've expanded my repertoire." Eileen sat down beside me, cool, collected. Now I really needed that drink! "How have you been?" she asked. Anything other than a standard greeting/response would have been meaningless, so I responded in kind. "Doing well," I said. A pause, then, "And you?" "Good," she said. "Adam and I are now teaching computer science at a university in California," she said. I had heard they had gotten married, with two kids now. "So I heard," I said. "Congratulations. That's often difficult to do." "Tell me about it," she said. "It's hard work, so these conferences are almost like a vacation for us." "So he's here too?" I asked. "Where is he?" "Oh, he's got two more sessions today," she said. "I'm killing time." What a treat. We sat there, making idle chitchat while I downed my very expensive drink in two swallows and ordered another. Eileen did the same for hers. Four drinks later each, and we were playing the "catch-up" game. No, I wasn't married any more, no kids. Lived abroad, left academia to start my own company, then went to go work for a bigger company, yadda yadda yadda... She sat there, and she talked about how she was thrilled with exactly the kind of life that she had told me (fifteen years ago, true) that she didn't want for herself, about how routine and predictable her life had become, etc. With each drink she lost her guarded reserve and revealed that everything with Adam wasn't going as she had hoped it would. I sat and listened, mostly. The memories that I had replayed earlier were still fresh in my mind, and I kept placing us back in my living room on that fateful Sunday night. Bitch! "You know what?" she said suddenly. "This stuff is expensive." I nodded. "My university won't cover all this. I have some more in my room. Let's go where it's cheaper." I raised an eyebrow. She waved a finger. "No, no..." she said. She wasn't slurring her words, even though it was evident that she was well on her way to happyland. "I just can't afford to buy more drinks here." Since I wasn't about to offer to buy her anything, I settled up my bill and followed her back to her room. There's something about going into a hotel room that has been freshly made up by the housekeeping staff, particularly if you've been in the room for a few days. You still have your stuff all over the place, but the bed is made even though it doesn't look like it should have been. It seems oddly incongruous. I had a strong feeling that I really didn't belong, but I didn't make myself leave either. "Have a seat," she said, pointing to the bed. The only chair in the room was occupied by a suitcase and clothing draped over the back. I sat down, and she reached for the champagne in the weight-sensitive tray on the credenza. I opened my mouth to tell her that as soon as she touched it, she bought it (and at a far higher rate than the stuff we were drinking at the bar), but decided that it would be better poetic justice to keep my mouth shut. Soon I had a drink in my hand, and she had one in hers. She finished it in one go. I don't like champagne, so I refilled her glass from mine. "Thank you," she said. "Always the gentleman." I looked at her as if she had seven heads. Was this woman on alcohol, or crack? She downed that glass as well, and took a big sigh. She looked at me with a sudden, no-nonsense look on her face. "Mike," she said. "Do you ever think about..." and trailed off. Truth was that even though I had a good idea of what she was going to say, I had no intention of making it easy on her. I waited patiently, saying nothing. Seeing that I was of no help, she continued. "About us?" "Specifically?" I asked. I really wanted to know what she was going to say. Was she finally going to apologize after all these years? That seemed so drastically out of character for the woman I once knew. One of her hands brushed her hair out of her face, and then dropped down to her breast, a movement which did not escape my notice. "Eileen," I said. "It's been fifteen years..." She sat upright, but her hand didn't leave her breast. "So?" she asked, still keeping a twinge of light flirtation in her voice. "You married Adam..." Her eyes were bright. She may have had a lot of alcohol but she was definitely aware of what she was doing. Angry Sex She started inching towards me. "... and you have two kids now..." "So?" she repeated. "Are you trying to tell me that you haven't thought about the things we used to... do?" With that last word she reached took her hand off her breast and placed it on my shoulder. The touch ignited something in me, something primal. I was tired of her games, tired of her getting what she wanted. I grabbed both of her wrists and held them tightly in my hands. She looked genuinely surprised, but not frightened. "What are you doing, Eileen?" I snarled. "I just wanted to..." "Wanted to what?" I interrupted. "Wanted to see if I still pined for you after fifteen years" "No..." she was trying to loosen her hands from my grip. "What, then? Wanted to see if you could still make me get it up so you could feel like you still 'got it?' My voice was steel, icy. "No, I..." her voice trailed off, and she looked down a little. "Well?" I demanded. "What is it, you horny then? You need a good fuck?" I spat out. She looked at me and her eyes flashed. "Yes!" Now it was my turn to be surprised. I was so taken aback that I didn't even know what to say. She got off the bed and stood in front of me. She was breathing heavy, from desire, frustration, or anxiety I couldn't be sure. "Do you remember when I told you, years ago, that I was afraid that Adam couldn't really give me what I wanted? That he was too dull to make me laugh, and that I was afraid he wouldn't be able to truly satisfy me?" That conversation rushed into my head with the force of a freight train. She had confided in me one night that she hadn't been sure if she had made the right decision, something that I had tried to use to persuade her not to leave, to no avail. I nodded. "Well, I was right!" she said. Her eyes vivid but starting to well with tears. "How many women have you been with since me, Mike?" The question took me by surprise. I honestly had no idea. In fifteen years, there had been several. "A few," I said. "Yeah, a few," she mimicked. "Well, after you there was only Adam. Always Adam. After fifteen years a mediocre lover doesn't get better, Mike." "You made your choice," I said, coldly. She hung her head. She wasn't the type to cry, she found it beneath her. "I don't know what I expected," she said. "I saw your name as a presenter in the program and you were the last man I had before Adam, and... and..." she trailed off. "And you were curious." It was a statement, a matter of fact. It was obvious to me now that she hadn't thought it through, that nerves and excitement and nostalgia were all playing a violent dance in her head, leaving her disoriented. I took a look at her. She looked exactly the same, even after fifteen years. She had kept her hair the same, she was the same weight, the same shape. She had a few deeper creases around the eyes but otherwise this was the same 25-year-old girl. She straightened, and I knew she was going to say it was all a mistake and send me on my way. I was half tempted to simply allow it to end there, but the other half was full of rage and anger. There was no way I was going to allow her this self-indulgence. No way I was going to allow her to use me once again for her own selfish emotional roulette wheel. I reached out and grabbed her blouse and pulled it open, buttons flying everywhere. The violent gesture surprised us both; I had never acted that way before - not with her, not with anyone. Her breasts were now visible to me, encased in a sheer bra with a fine mesh over her nipples. Before she could push me away and cover herself up, I pulled on the shirttails and brought her to me. As I was sitting on the bed and she had been standing, her breasts came towards me first. I latched my mouth on to the closest nipple and started sucking like I remembered she used to like. Apparently she still did, as I felt her knees buckle a little and her hands go straight to my head. She started to push away a little, but she couldn't make herself do it. There was no true resistance, though I could feel her body adjust and shift with each conflicting emotion within. I grabbed her breasts violently, kneading them in my strong grip. Even when we had been together I had never been so forceful and I could see that now she wanted to be taken, wanted to give in despite her uncertainty. The scent of her arousal assailed my nostrils, mixed in with some perfume. It dawned on me that she had perfumed her pussy "just in case," and made a mental note of it. Eileen's bra unclasped in the front, and I unsnapped it with two fingers, springing it open. I stood straight up, catching her off balance. As she started to shift her weight I arced my arm around her and redirected her onto the bed, face up. Her ripped blouse and open bra fell across her body, disheveled. I climbed up on the bed next to her, my hands unbuckling her trousers. I pulled the fly open and jammed my fingers down her panties, through her light pubic hair, and cupped her mound. Bringing them out and up to my nose, I smirked, "You put perfume on." She started to blush, embarrassed. I forced my fingers down her pants and inserted two fingers inside her soaked pussy. "You expected this to happen, didn't you?" "No, I..." she tried to deny it, but I pulled up and across her g-spot with my fingers, interrupting her and causing her to arch her back violently. "Don't lie to me!" I said. Again the anger inside was just underneath the surface, just this side of pure rage. I leaned over and took her nipple in my mouth. She placed her hands on the back of my head and pulled me to her chest, and I sucked harder. She screamed a little, and then started breathing heavy as i started fucking her pussy at the same time with my hand. She was bucking her hips off the bed soon enough, trying to get more and more of my fingers inside her. I took the opportunity at that moment to pull her underwear and trousers down around her thighs. With those out of the way, I started fucking her pussy hard with my hand, putting another finger inside of her. Now filled with three fingers and my vacuum pump of a mouth on her nipple, she was thrashing on the bed. The smell of pussy juice and perfume filled the small hotel room. "Touch my clit!" she demanded. Oh no you don't! I thought. Not this time! "What do you think this is?" I snarled at her, getting onto my knees but leaving my hand pumping away at her pussy. "Why would I ever want to make you come ever again, after what you did to me?" "What... what do you mean?" she asked, looking at me confused. This made me even angrier. "What do I mean? What do I mean!?" With my free hand I unzipped my pants and pulled out my rigid cock. "Remember this, Eileen?" She eyed me hungrily, and nodded. "I don't think you do," I said. I kept fucking her with one hand but placed the other onto her head. "I think you need to get reacquainted." Her mouth devoured me before I even finished the sentence, taking me by surprise. "Been a while, Eileen?" I sneered. She lifted her head off to respond but I grabbed her hair and pulled her back over my cock. "Don't stop. Take me in, bitch." The word came out before I could stop myself. I don't know why I said it - I never said it. But I was livid, angry, rage coursing through my veins, adrenaline taking over. She stopped what she was doing and looked up at me, hurt. I ran with it. "I said don't stop!" and pulled my hand from her pussy. She whined and whimpered and started flailing with her arm to have me touch her some more. She finally managed to grab my wrist and pull it to her pussy. "You want this, Eileen? You want this?" I jammed four fingers deep into her pussy and she screamed around my cock, then started breathing heavy. It was apparently a scream of pleasure because I felt her hand tugging at my wrist to fuck her harder. "You don't deserve this," I said, and withdrew my hand. She whimpered around my cock, her eyes locked on mine but flickering over to my hand. I brought the drenched hand up to my nose. "I'll tell you what," I said, calmly. "You have nice taste in perfume. It mixes well with your cunt." I drew the last word out. She hated that word. It was the kryptonite, the antidote to the poison. She stopped what she was doing and started to pull away. I knew what was going to happen next, reality would set in and she would call a halt to the whole thing. Again. Not this time. I grabbed her and rolled her over onto her front, and aimed my cock pointing directly at her pussy. Her pants were still down around her thighs, restricting her movement. "No, wait," she said. "You should have thought of that sooner," i snarled, and enter her in one full stroke. My balls rested on her clit, rubbing up against the hard nub. She always had a prominent one, and I swore I could feel it pressing against me. "Oh!" she sighed. It didn't sound like noise of someone wanted this to end. "Do you want me to pull out?" I said, and reached around to pinch her nipples. I felt her pussy squeeze my cock as tightly as it used to. "No," she whined. "I have to admit, Eileen," I said, impressed. "You're pretty tight for a woman who's had two kids." "Th-thanks," she said, grunting as I thrust into her again. My cock was iron, I don't remember having been this hard before. "Is this what you miss, Eileen?" I asked, withdrawing and then slamming inside her again, pinching her nipples. I was hunched over her, mounting her like the bitch in heat that she was. "Yes," she cried. "You miss my cock?" I asked. "Yes," she answered. "You don't deserve my cock!" I shouted, and started pistoning in and out of her pussy as hard as I could. I wanted to fuck all of the aggression I had felt, all the pent-up frustration and pain, and empty all that inside of her more than my own ejaculation. I stopped and withdrew, my cock resting, throbbing and bouncing against her entrance. "No!" she cried out. "Don't stop! I'm close" "Why not?" I demanded to know. "Why shouldn't I leave you hanging at the worst possible moment? That's what you did to me!" I thrust my cock inside her and stroked her madly for several seconds, and then withdrew again to yet another cry of frustration. "You couldn't have picked a worst possible time, Eileen. You left me the day before my comps!" I thrust into her and she yelped in pleasure and surprise, but I could tell she was hanging on every word. I smacked her ass with my cock buried inside her and I felt her pussy contract involuntarily. "The day before, you bitch!" I smacked her other cheek. She squeezed again and moaned. I grabbed her reddening ass with both hands and pressed my cock into her up to the base of the shaft. To my surprise she pressed her ass back up against my pelvis, trying to drive me in deeper. I felt a slight tremor run through her as she tried to squeeze my cock tighter from the inside. I slapped her ass cheek, harder than before. "Don't you come," I warned. "Don't you dare come. You don't deserve to come, after what you did to me!" She collapsed her head onto her arms and mumbled something. "What?" I asked, fury coating my voice. No answer. "What did you say?" "Please," she said, whimpering. I could feel her body trying to angle my cock into the right position. She was getting closer and I did not want her to. I pulled out until just the head was inside her. "Why?" I asked, shocked to find my voice was more pleading than fierce. I slapped her ass again. "Why did you do that to me? Did you know I nearly failed?" "No," she whimpered, but her body was trying to suck me in again. I struck her other ass cheek, a huge red welt starting to appear, but her pussy grabbed at me in gratitude. I was infuriated - she was only trying to say what she thought I wanted to hear. I grabbed her hips and thrust into her again, making her yelp. Immediately she tried to fuck me, get the release she wanted. Incensed I slapped her thigh this time. "And my birthday. How could you do it just two days before my birthday!" "Oh God," she mumbled into her forearm, but I heard her clearly enough. I pushed her down completely flat onto the bed and lay on top of her, putting my face right next to her ear. I pulled her hair, hard, to the side and growled low right next to her face. "Is this what you miss, Eileen?" I thrust my cock inside of her for emphasis. "Yes," she said. Her breath was hot and sweet. "You could have had this," I hissed. "I know," she stuttered. "You have no one else to blame but yourself." "I know." She was close to tears, but the way her body moved against me it was still mostly from frustration. "You miss the sex, don't you?" She nodded. I pulled her hair and her head lifted off the bed. "Say it!" I demanded. "I miss the sex with you." I slowly moved in and out of her, keeping the pacing low enough so that she couldn't get the orgasmic rise she craved. "What's the matter, bitch. Didn't get what you asked for when you dumped me?" "No." It was a whimper of a confession, an acknowledgment aloud that she had probably refused to make, even to herself. The tears were starting to well up now, and I was close enough to see them. For the first time in fifteen years I felt... better. "Did your worst fears come true? Can Addy-boy not satisfy you?" "N-no..." her voice trailed off. "Maybe that's your punishment, you bitch. You got what you deserved." I started to pull out of her and lift my body up. Her face turned to me, wild-eyed and panicked. "No!" she yelled. "Don't stop. Don't leave me like this! I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" She was crying now, but she lifted her ass to try to find my throbbing cock. She held her hips off the bed, open and ready to be impaled. Redness coated her ass and thighs, marks that would take hours to dissipate, to vanish completely. There would be some explaining to do. I wished I could have been a fly on the wall for that conversation. Her hand suddenly appeared between her legs, rubbing her clit. I was surprised - when I knew her she said she never masturbated. I suppose fifteen years with a crappy lover will drive anyone to masturbation. I leaned in and took her earlobe in-between my teeth while reaching underneath her to pinch her nipple. My cock brushed against her cunt and I could feel her hand desperately grabbing for it to stuff it back inside. "You miss coming with me?" I asked as sweetly as I could. It sounded sinister. Her body shuddered. "Yes, I miss coming with you." "Do you remember the first time you ever came during sex?" She turned ashen. She was a smart girl, and knew where this was going. The first time she had ever had an orgasm during sex was when I had suggested that we try anal play. She hadn't really ever liked it per se, which I found strange because not only did it provide her the orgasm that she hadn't been able to have before, but opened whatever block she had to having an orgasm through regular sex. "Yes," she said. Her eyes staring straight forward. I took my cock in my hands, completely soaked with her bodily fluids, and felt for her ass with my fingers to guide it. "Do you remember how intense it was?" "Y-yes..." I started to press my thumb inside her ass, priming it and making it ready for my cock right behind it. She sucked in her teeth and gasped. "I should leave you right now," I said, but I slid the cockhead into her sphincter. "No, don't leave," she said, and I could feel her legs shaking. She wanted to get away and press back into me at the same time. "You deserve it," I said, and felt the head pop just behind her tight wall. "I know," she said, her cheeks wet with tears. "What kind of woman leaves a man the day before his comps?" Another inch "A bitch. I'm sorry," she whispered. "What kind of woman leaves a man two days before his birthday?" Another inch. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." she was mumbling repeatedly now. "You better be sorry," I said, starting to fuck her ass. She was moving back and forth against my cock now, locked tightly inside her body. "I'm sorry... so sorry." I picked up the pace. "That's not good enough, Eileen." I slapped her ass, and she groaned. She was fucking me more than I was fucking her now. "I'm a bitch," she said. I slapped her ass again. I could feel myself getting close too, and fifteen years hadn't masked the telltale signs of her oncoming orgasm either. "No you're not, you're not a bitch. What are you?" I was fucking her deliberately slow, trying to prevent her from finishing. I needed this... this conquest. I needed to reclaim something I had lost fifteen years ago. I couldn't help myself and I started increasing my speed, long deep strokes into her ass. The lubricant that her pussy had provided was starting to wear off and the friction was becoming uncomfortable to me, as I know it was to her too. Nevertheless, she kept fucking my cock with her ass. "I'm sorry, I said I was sorry." Another slap. "Not good enough, Eileen!" Slap. "I'm a bitch! I said I was a bitch!" Her breathing was extremely heavy and the words weren't coming easy. I pulled her hair with one hand and slapped again, pounding into her ass now. "What are you. Say it! Say what you are!" Pull. Slap. She was fucking me at breakneck speed, and I knew that I was done. I could feel the beginnings of a powerful force tearing through my hips and balls and only seconds away. "I'm a cunt!" she roared and slammed her ass back on my cock, the walls echoing her depraved confession in both our ears. Her entire body shook and convulsed as her orgasm took hold of mine, drawing it out of my body with such a violence that I, too, yelled at top volume. I could feel the ropes of come fire into her ass, never slowing down. It was as if i was marking some perverted territory that I had once lost. I felt primeval, neanderthal. The rage and anger left me, hitchhiking along with my ejaculate and emptied into her body, the justified vessel and target for my inner demons. I had kept it in, held it in, where it festered and metamorphosized into something unhealthy, something animalistic. Looking down I saw her body still quivering from the immense power of her orgasm which appeared to still have aftershocks. I saw water fall onto her ass from where I was, and touched my cheeks to find that it was my tears, not her sweat, that coated her back and ass. I don't know how long I had been crying, or how much, but I wasn't truly surprised. I withdrew from her body and went into the bathroom. Taking a cloth I soaked it and gave myself a quick cleansing - a proper one would have to wait until I got back to my own room. She still lay on the bed as I had left her, her ripped blouse and open bra falling almost comically askew, her trousers bunched down around her knees, her body still quivering from the emotional, physical and sexual outburst. Her breasts and ass were beet red, almost glowing in contrast to her pale white skin. I almost felt sorry for her, but I realized that she had left me in a metaphorically similar state years ago, a state that had lasted for years. I choked down the urge to try to comfort her as I would have done once before. It was hard, because I just showed her a side of me that neither of us ever knew existed. She just watched me as I redressed, not saying a word. My own tears had stopped now, and I was beginning to feel the beginnings of a resigned peace. It was as if a demon attached to my soul for so long that I didn't even realize was still there was suddenly exorcised. I needed this, had to have this, in order to finally let it go. Angry Sex "We all make choices in life," I finally said, after gathering everything. "I hope you can live with yours." She was a smart woman and would understand the multiple meanings of what I said, and that, too would haunt her. I left her lying on the bed, not touching her in my departure. I wanted her to feel as she had left me so many years before: used and discarded. It dawned on me that I was wrong at first: I hadn't gotten rid of my demon altogether, I had just passed it on to her. I left her hotel room and as I walked down the corridor I thought about how she would have to face Adam, who should be done with his sessions very soon, her kids and how she would face them. I realized she might get a divorce, though I doubted it, but then it occurred to me that I really didn't care. She had never shown any remorse, had never apologized for what she did, never even acknowledged that what she did was wrong, until she was so debased that she couldn't function without doing so. In a strange way, it was just as cathartic for her as it was for me, though in different ways. By the time I got to my hotel room and showering I was humming to myself. I hadn't felt this good in years. I looked down and found myself getting hard again at the memory of her desperately grabbing for my cock. The memory of sliding into her ass was fresh and I started stroking myself. This wasn't going to be a huge orgasm for me, but rather a quick one, and as I felt the come erupting from my cock onto my fingers I heard the echo of Eileen's confession: "I'm a cunt!" Angry Sex Rebecca and I have a somewhat unusual relationship. She is a natural submissive, and thrives under my direction. I'm aware of the special gift she gives me in her submission, and I take the responsibility seriously. Although I've taken care of subs for some time, the depths of her tendencies continue to surprise me. I have yet to find Becca's limits, but I continue to explore them, cautiously, much to her delight. This is the story of some "edge play" in our relationship. We're aware that most outsiders would be appalled at the treatment Becca desires, and that I give it to her. In fact, we communicate constantly, and I'm always watchful and protective of her. Rebecca has great tolerance not only for physical pain, but also for the emotional aspects of submission. I think of her as an extreme athlete. Becca is not only able to tolerate great discomfort, but savors it and takes pride in her stamina. She simply claims to be "uniquely wired" sexually. One of Rebecca's fetishes is to be made to do things she genuinely doesn't want to do, sexual or mundane. Whether I require her to masturbate for an audience or do the dishes, each task reinforces her submission. In fact, Rebecca detests doing the dishes. But in the context of our relationship it makes her feel great satisfaction and security to serve. So she pouts as she rinses and dries, usually naked. I supervise with a riding crop and make helpful suggestions, knowing that later she'll tell me she loves the attention I give her. I began to notice that the more averse Rebecca was to a task, the more she later enjoyed having done it. After probing her on this subject for a while I decided to try something edgy. I'm always careful in this sort of play – I don't want her feelings to be actually hurt. But I know Rebecca, and I was convinced this would pay off well for us both. I was going to pick a fight. I arranged to come home later than usual one evening. Rebecca greeted me at the door, and I pulled her into a kiss knowing she would smell the smoke on my clothes. I'm a non-smoker. Breaking the kiss, her brow wrinkled. "You smell like cigarettes. And something else...." "I was out with a client. Have to keep them entertained, you know. Coat please." She took my coat and held it while looking carefully up at me. "Where did you take him?" "The lap dance place," I said. I knew this would get a reaction out of her. Becca leaned in and sniffed my collar. "Perfume!" I shrugged. "That's what happens when naked girls rub up against you." Despite my calculated offhandedness in this remark, Becca looked as if I'd slapped her. I know, because I sometimes do slap her – it turns her on like nothing else. "Let me get this straight", she said slowly, anger building in her voice. "I cleaned the entire house today, made a nice dinner, you don't call to tell me you'll be late, and you've had strippers crawling all over you for the past two hours?!" I glanced at my watch while strolling into the living room. "More like three hours. I Left the office early." Becca had followed at my heels and now ran around in front of me. She stood with her hands planted on her hips. "And you expect me to put dinner on the table now? Just like that? Let me tell you something..." "Let me tell YOU something", I interrupted. "I do expect you to put dinner on the table. But first, I think I'll have a blowjob." She stared at me, but did not react otherwise for several seconds. Then, with malice dripping from each syllable, "I... beg... your... PARDON?" I advanced to an inch from her nose and annunciated carefully. "I said – you're going to blow me. And after that you're going to serve dinner." Becca's lips pursed and her nostrils flared. Her chest heaved as she tried to regulate her breathing. She looked into my eyes with an expression of rage. "Did you hear me?" I whispered with menace. I jerked a finger toward the floor in front of my feet. "On your knees - now." Her chest heaved as she seethed with rage. I couldn't recall ever seeing her so angry. Very slowly and with great effort Becca said, "Yes... Sir." Staring daggers at me, she dropped to her knees. I gave a small smile and nodded down at her, then unzipped my pants. Already hard from the game, I held my cock in front of her. "Make it good – those girls got me all worked up. Usual rules." Our usual rules for blowjobs are as follows: -Before sucking my cock, she is to rub it on her face. Eye contact is encouraged, and she is to continue until the act makes her feel appropriately submissive or she is given further instructions. - She is not to make me orgasm until I tell her how I want to cum. Since I don't tell her when I'm close, it is her job to be alert. - If I choose to cum in her mouth, she must wait for permission to swallow. - If I choose to cum on her face, she must ensure it is spread evenly over her features and in her hair. - When finished, she must thank me. Becca began rubbing my cock on her face. This always looks and feels wonderful to me, but her angry expression created new contours in her features I had never felt before. Hmm – I wonder what her tears would feel like? All of this had gotten to Becca in a big way. Despite looking as if she'd just as soon bite my cock off as suck it, I could tell she was fiercely aroused. Ours was a positive feedback loop – the more cruelly I made her submit the more submissive she felt, and the more we were both turned on. "Just a minute", I said, leaving her on her knees looking exasperated. I took a digital camera from a shelf in the other room. "Make the face again." "What face?" "The one you made when I told you about the lap dance place." Her angry expression instantly returned and I snapped a picture. This re-doubled her fury, but I quieted things down by pushing my cock into her mouth. She was so angry that she refused to move on me, although her protest didn't go so far as taking my cock out of her mouth. To Becca, that would be crossing the line. There are limits, of course. So I took hold of her hair and pushed myself in and out of her mouth. "Look at the angry little slut on her knees." Becca looked away from me in disgust, but I ordered her to maintain eye contact. I condescendingly patted her on the head and continued taunting her while I took more photos. Scrolling through the shots, I found one in which Becca appeared to have redeye. I showed it to her, suggested the effect might not be due to optics, and announced that in another picture there appeared to be steam coming out of her ears. Alas, she was not in a laughing mood. After letting her suck me for a while longer, Becca seemed to relax and accept the situation somewhat. Being on her knees was familiar and comforting, and I encouraged it by stroking cheek for a moment. She sighed and settled herself more comfortably at my feet. I decided it was time for another change of tone. "Hands behind your back." Becca looked up fearfully because she knew where this always led, but dutifully crossed her wrists just above her ass. I reached down and pulled up Becca's shirt. Her small breasts are topped with perky, gumdrop nipples. I am capable of inflicting great cruelty on nipples, and hers simply begged for such treatment. Becca winced in anticipation of what was to come. "Seems to me that you hesitated earlier when I told you to get on your knees and suck my cock. Is that how a nice girl behaves?" Becca shook her head, her breathing coming in fast gasps. "Not to worry. I'll teach you how to be good." With that I gently took her nipples in my fingers, and Becca braced herself. After a moment she opened her eyes, and when her gaze met mine, I squeezed. Hard. "Keep sucking," I said as Becca drew in a desperate breath through her nose. I maintained the pressure for about five seconds and released. She whimpered in pain around my cock, which is a sensation I relish. I kept this up for the next few minutes, cruelly squeezing Becca's nipples while she struggled to keep her hands behind her back and pleasure my cock all at once. I'd give her brief respites, mostly to rest my finger muscles, then clamp down again. Sweat was breaking out on her forehead, and her ordeal was turning me on tremendously. When her resolve appeared flag I looked into her eyes and said, "Bear it for me." She nodded resolutely and steeled herself against the coming pain. I squeezed again and also added a twist to each nipple. Becca squealed around my cock, but didn't release it or touch it with her teeth in the slightest. Very impressive. I pulled my cock from her mouth, put my hands on her shoulders and gave a slight but firm shove. Becca looked up at me indignantly as her backside hit the carpet. "Hey!" "Quiet. On your back." She glared at me, not moving. But after a few moments, Becca appeared to make a decision. She lay down with her hands thrown back above her head, and turned her face, red with fury, to the side. This was her usual position of submission for sex. I smiled inwardly, but kept a stern expression on my face as I unbuttoned her jeans and shucked them roughly down over her hips. Tossing them away, I jerked her legs wide and positioned myself between them. The head of my cock brushed her shaved pussy, and it was very wet. There was no need to be gentle. Grasping her chin, I turned her face to mine and said with as much menace as I could muster, "Put it in!" Becca slid one hand down between us and tentatively took hold of my cock. Her angry expression was again mixed with fear, although I knew this was tempered by the comfort of submitting to me. This was the safe thread running through our relationship – as long as it was present I had little fear of actually hurting her. She rubbed my cock against her pussy and began to slowly push against it. When I was just an inch inside I paused, as if I were letting her get used to it. Grabbing her wrist and pinning them both above her head, I then pushed my cock roughly into her pussy as far as I could. Becca cried out and writhed beneath me as I took her. My thrusts were hard and deep, intended to make her feel helpless and used. Her shirt was still on, leaving her naked only from the waist down. I knew this would add to both her humiliation, and her enjoyment of this scene. She looked into my eyes, and I knew from past conversations that she hoped to see no sign of mercy. She craved the illusion that she was being ravished against her will, so I maintained a steely glare and an air of concern only for my own pleasure. After a few minutes Becca's breathing increased and her eyes widened. I watched carefully, knowing she was about to orgasm. Sure enough, she desperately blurted out, "Sir! Am I allowed to cum?" My heart gushed with love for her. I stopped thrusting and shook my head. "Absolutely not. Tell me when you have yourself under control again." Trembling, she turned her head to the side. "Yes sir." She then squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated, willing her body to obey. After a few deep breaths she settled herself down. Keeping her head turned away in shame she said softly, "You can continue using me now, sir." Again my heart leapt – surely my Becca is the best, most obedient girl anyone could ask for! Later, I would reward her lavishly. I would fuck her again long and hard, but in the end allow her to orgasm. More than one woman has assured me that an orgasm earned as a slave is the most intense kind there is. But that would come later – tomorrow perhaps. For now, I had to keep up the façade that I was angry and punishing her. I slammed my cock into Becca's pussy at an angle I knew caused her both discomfort, and the prospect of intense orgasms. Several times she had to quickly ask me to stop, lest she lose control. For some minutes I continued using her roughly, punctuating my thrusts every so often with a taunt whispered in her ear. When I felt I had had enough I told her, "I'm pulling out of your slutty pussy in a minute, and we're going back to blowjob rules. Understand?" Becca nodded pitifully. I could almost feel sorry for her, except for the fact that she was gritting her teeth to stave off an unauthorized orgasm. After a few more thrusts I pulled out and sat on the couch. Becca remained on her back, breathing hard. I counted to three. "You have five seconds to get my cock in your mouth." Becca quickly knelt and dropped her head into my lap. I luxuriated in the feel of her throat working on my length for a moment, then pulled her up. "It's going on your face, in your hair, and you're wearing it during dinner. Got it?" She gave me a 'yes, sir' and resumed her work on my cock. She was going a bit slow for my taste, so I grabbed the back of her head and helped her move it along a little. She got the idea and soon I was ready to cum. I stood up and Becca began using her hand as well as her mouth on me. She looked up and our eyes locked. Hers still held some anger, but also the familiar desire to please me. I remained poker faced, but then allowed myself a slight smirk. As my orgasm approached I tapped her on the shoulder and she took my cock from her mouth. Becca carefully aimed it at her upturned face while stroking firmly. When I came, the first shots landed on her cheeks. She then ducked her head down slightly and stroked out a shot into her hair. She continued stroking and moved her face all around my cock. By the time my orgasm finished she looked messy, humiliated, and absolutely radiant and beautiful. She put my cock gently back in her mouth as I relaxed back onto the couch. I hooked the camera off the table again and snapped a photo of her with my cock next to her face. "You're going to print that one out and put it in your wallet. The next time you're in doubt as to where your place is, look at it." "Yes, Michael. And thank you." We remained there for a few minutes, Becca on her knees caressing my softening cock. "Sir, I'm sorry I got angry. That's over now – but I have a question..." "Yes?" "Did the girls at the club really get you that worked up? If you had just..." "I wouldn't know, Becca. I went to the gym after work." Her eyes widened in astonishment. "But your clothes were all smoky..." I smiled. "I joined the smokers on their break outside today. Didn't enjoy that part, but it was worth it." Becca's lips curled into a wry smile as she looked deeply into my eyes. "Dinner in five minutes", she said as she bounced to her feet. "Sir!" Angry Sex Thanks to everyone who has and is listening to my audios. I appreciate each and every one of your comments and e-mails, as well as your votes! I hope everyone is having a great summer so far. Here is my latest story. Enjoy! * * * * * Click Here to listen. (18.5 min/mp3) * * * * * Angry Sex Somehow I knew that you would head south on Highway 1. South... you always headed south when you were angry. It was inky dark and raining hard when I saw the sign for Key Largo. I drove along the water and passed five seedy motels before I caught your car in the nearly empty parking lot. Along the row of white washed rooms, I saw there was only one with a light on behind its torn curtain. I thought about calling you. I thought about what you said nearly five hours before. You said forever. Is five hours forever? I guess it was time to find out. I sloshed up to the door. I had left in such a hurry that all I was wearing were my faded grey jeans and a black tee. God, only in south Florida does it rain like this and actually feel good. It was only three steps, and I was already soaked through. I walked up to the door, trying to think of something to say. A lot of thoughts crossed my mind, first among them being, Fuck you very much! Fuck you for leaving, for making me worry. For not listening. But there was another thought right behind that one, and it was Baby....baby, please? Right before I knocked on the door another thought crossed my mind. What were you wearing right now? I reached out and stopped cold. The door was open just a crack. I could hear your voice. "He is such a bastard! I hate him and I hope that he drops dead." I heard your phone click shut and then nothing but silence. I pushed on the door and it swung halfway open. There you were, still wearing only the white button down shirt that you had on when you left. You looked up, the phone still in your hand. Your face was tear-streaked, your mascara a smeary mess. Your mouth dropped open when you saw me. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. I walked over to you and held out my hand. You looked at it like it was something that had crawled up from the bottom of the ocean, something you had never seen before. Finally you reached out and placed your hand in mine and I leaned over and kissed your palm. Then I pulled you up until you were standing in front of me. Somehow, it started raining harder outside and there was a flashbulb pop of lightning. I started walking back towards the door and you let me lead you, still with that incredulous look on your face. I gently pulled you out the door, and you followed like you were in a trance. I would have given anything to know what you were thinking right at that moment. In seconds we were both soaked. I took your chin in my right hand and turned your face up to the rain. With my left hand I washed away the streaks of makeup. You tilted your head back more and let the rain wash your hair back from your face. There was one more flash of light and then the rain stopped, like a faucet being turned off, suddenly down to a drizzle. You were trembling. We still had not said a word to each other. I took you in my arms and held you against my chest. I loved the smell of you, your wet hair, the remains of your fragrance. Tears were streaming down my face as I held you tightly against me. I turned your face toward mine and kissed you. We remained locked together until you suddenly backed away and slapped me hard across the face. Your eyes were flashing with anger, with fear. I didn't move. I just stared into those eyes. You suddenly rushed back to me and your hands were on my face, then in my hair. You kissed me fiercely. I tasted blood as you bit my lip. At that moment I would have killed for you; I was yours again. I tried to unbutton your shirt but it wouldn't go, finally just ripping off the sodden cloth, and now that it was free I pulled it over your head. I could hear you moan as I pulled you hard against me, your hands shearing at the buttons on my jeans. One, two popped open and the heavy jeans slid down over my hips. My lips were all over your face, your chest, kissing and licking and sucking the warm water from your skin. My hands reached behind you, sliding down and squeezing your ass as I lifted you up. You wrapped your legs around my hips and my erection pulsed beneath you as we kissed. My cock slid into you and you raked your hands down my back as you tried to pull yourself in closer. We lowered as I knelt in the muddy grass beside the walk outside your door, your legs remaining locked around my hips. Your heels were embedded into my thighs, your hips thrusting hard as you slammed into me again, over and over. I stayed on my knees. The look on your face was intense; angry, yet filled with lust. You were in complete control as you lay in the mud and puddles below me. We were working harder and faster every passing moment. You reached up and grabbed my hair and pulled me on top of you and continued to gyrate your hips against me. There was something new about this. This was angry sex. Your hips were moving so fast, sliding up and down my throbbing cock. You were screaming, telling me you hated me, telling me you wanted me. Your face pressed hard against my shoulder and I could feel your teeth again. You bit into me as we both screamed as I could feel your body shudder beneath me with an electrifying orgasm. It was too much for me to bear, and you were still squeezing and pulsating around my cock as I exploded into you. As I collapsed into your arms, I felt your hands turn my head, my ear pressing against your lips. You whispered, "You fucker... I hate you". Angry Sex (Fuck-Fighting) The urban definition of angry sex is the act that follows after a couple makes up from a dispute and one or both of them are still secretly upset about it. The continuing aggression is resolved by physical contact of the genitals. Angry sex is also known as raging sex, makeup sex or fuck-fighting as we emerge into the new nicknames and freedom of speech to sexual situations. It can be absolute gratification between two lovers. In some cases, it can be a serious issue of abuse. Often, angry sex starts with two lovers or spouses in a heated argument. The man and the woman may be distant or right in each other's faces with furious, verbal insult. If the argument becomes uncontrollable, then it can lead into pushing and shoving, which is close to actual hitting. Then one or both will come to the realization, they're about to throw blows. Most of the times, it's the man who will block and stop the woman's strikes as he grabs her by the wrists. Now, he begins to kiss her to make her feel vulnerable and that's somewhat of his way to be sorry as she wants to resist. Usually, a woman gives in and once that happens, the makeup sex begins. Immediately, clothes are ripped off. The kissing gets tough as it can proceed into violent foreplay. At this point, a man and woman are really turned on with his dick harder and her pussy wetter. Next, intercourse might be forceful and harsh stroking of the man takes place. It's either in a good or bad way. This is when rough sex kind of develops. A man could take it upon himself to maybe hit the woman with open or closed hand on her face without warning as he's ramming her pussy. He'll hit other parts of the body too. Also, he could call her bad names. Some women will let it go probably the first time of the hitting and name calling because they feel a man doesn't fully mean it. When it goes too far, some women do either two things. They will become offensive and take it as domestic abuse, which can actually be the case or they will get pleasure from it as getting feisty in return until climax. Later on, it's almost a routine between lots of couples. Most men do the total opposite of angry sex. There are men who like to fuss with a woman and fight her especially if she's an attacker. In these scenarios, those men as well as decent men first will sometimes try to shake some sense into the aggressive women or normal women who are just having tantrums. If it doesn't work, the men who like to be quarrelsome with females will do the inevitable and fight a woman. Men, we know we're structurally stronger than women. Still, psycho men exist who will exploit the fact. Coming up, which I know I'm not the only man to get this lesson. It was definitely, if a man hits a woman for any reason, then he's an absolute punk. A man was considered to be a loser and coward, no matter what. Today, times have changed, although some of us men still stick to old school. Given to me, whom I still apply, were these three rules: If a woman tries to attack me, plain and simple just walk away from the attempted threat. If she don't back off, push her. If it looks as if she's not going to stop, then there's no other choice, but to let her have it... Thank God, I never really had to come across women of that sort in my life and I pray, never will. Walking away, does it mean I'm going to let a woman beat me? No! I feel us fighting is something that can be avoided and it's not worth it to a degree of police involved, putting one or both of us in handcuffs and being escorted to a precinct. Then charges are brought up on one or our record. I shouldn't have to go there with a woman because I grew up seeing my mother go through her battles with asshole men. HELL NO, it was never a good time for them to put their hands on my important lady who gave me birth. My mother was just too kind and these suckers tried to step all over her. Then she put it to me that before or after she's gone, if I ever see or hear about men who put their hands on my sister including other important ladies to me, KILL'EM! Yes, they will suffer from my vengeance cry ... Back to the subject, I can't really have angry sex. It feels like rape to me. I always have to be happy in relaxation because sex is my softer side, which is almost the reciprocal of me being a Virgo. Sometimes, I can be effeminate. Sex is not a way for me to express aggravation. It is the total enjoyment of a woman and me erotically. I'm in awe of emotions and sentimentality. If a woman and I have to argue, then fine. Let's get it over with and we go to our individual, private space and calm down. Soon, we can come together to talk about the problem to a resolution. When the mood is right, we get busy. I have rough sex, but only when a woman initiates it. I just can't do it out of the ordinary. Therefore, she wants me to go harder and deeper in that kitty cat. Take it, hurt it, punish it etc. I will slap her ass, legs and that's it. Also, I will pull her hair, which most women like for a man to do as they're getting the cock socked to them, doggy-style. I'll call her dirty names, if preferred. Many men would find me sensitive or weak because I cater to a woman's needs and wants sexually, if she deserves it. But, I DON'T GIVE A DAMN! Its nature I'm different from most guys as just being myself and own man. I'm not making it like I'm some hero or gift. I just see to it a woman and me are both satisfied. If she's not happy, then I'm upset. Angry sex works every once in a while. It can be great stimulation or pain. If a couple is really having problems, they should talk more, instead of having sex. That's if the two people can converse like grown adults. Seek counseling or any rewarding help. Sometimes, sex is an excuse or easy way out to hide from the burdens that still have to be faced in the future if never solved. Whatever kind of sex you have, make sure its consensual, safe, GOOOOD and do it like it's your last time. * ©2008, Alphonso Taylor. All rights reserved. No republication of this material, in any form or medium, is permitted without express permission of the author.