Thursday, 2 February 2012

I really need to go now

"It was a lovely evening. I liked talking to you" he says.

"Yes... and, let's fuck again at some point", I say glibly, picking up my scarf and coat and doing them up with my back to him.

I feel a hand on my arm turning me around, his lips on mine. "Some point" is seemingly is now.

My scarf, half tied, lands on the floor, the first casualty of the all encompassing need. My half hardheartedly done up jacket is next. As is the rest of my attire. It's hard to rip off skin-tight clothes off me because I am so leanly clad into them. The nearby chair is so convenient for me to reach for comfort as he pushes his hand in the small of my back demanding immediate submission. I defiantly snarl insults as I try to bolt. 

No point.

He is so much stronger. Annoying.

I strain and struggle like a live wire in his arms. I hiss at him with venom, as he wrestles me onto the sofa. My arms, so ready to lash out, disabled in a lock. 

I give in when he slides his fingers into me. And the natural slut comes out.

'Three fingers please', I say with newly found politeness.

And he does oblige.

Happy at last as he finger fucks me to an orgasm.

As I drape myself dripping over his hand, I rest contentedly but only for a moment.

He fucks me, his cock filling me to the brim as I wrap around him, hungrily moving with him.

'Deeper', I beg, opening my legs wider.

And I come again, willing and participating in our little deceit.

What's the point of the resistance?

The slut is happy at last.

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