I cried today

At everything.

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.

Hurt

HURT

What have I become, my sweetest friend? Everyone I know, goes away in the end... In my empire of dirt I will let you down and I will make you hurt

Like

He liked me. He liked me so much straight away that I was seduced by it. By the unconditional accepting of me.

He liked everything about me. My body, my face, my hair, my surreal and shambolic sense of humour, my catchphrases, my strengths and weaknesses.

There was nothing he disliked about me. Nowt.

In fact, he liked me so much, I realised he didn't like himself as much as he liked me.

Being on a pedestal is difficult, you see. It's a very lonely place and the only way is down. 

That's why I ended it.

Her friend, her foe and her lover

Don't you hate when lovers cross boundaries?

When the beauty of pure sexuality starts morphing into something more emotional?

No.

Lovers should remain lovers.

Short and sharp

"Suck my cock"

'No', I say, knowing full well the consequences of that little word.

"I said, suck my cock"

"No!', I say, my head turn defiantly, my mouth watering at the thought.

A slap on my face. Short, sharp.

Back in the room.

As his warm, delicious girth takes my mouth I inhale his aroma. Intoxicating. It's a mixture of Kiehl's musk shower gel and his own smell which is straight out of Suskind's Perfume.

He fucks my mouth holding my head in place.

I relish it and drink every last drop.

"Yes"

Water

It's always that intense moment after. As his seed slowly trickles down my throat, and his belly is covered in my saliva (I am messy like that), I rest my head there for a little. Sometimes his cock still in my mouth, softening lightly. He holds his hands in my hair stroking me gently. I don't want to move up for the inevitable kiss and he never makes me to. I want to stay there, taking in the heady aroma of his cum and my sweat, my cheek against his cock and hair on his stomach.

Then he shifts a bit. Takes off my blindfold. I see his face for the first time since I walked through the door.

"Would you like a drink?"

"Yes"

"What would you like?'
"Water"

He brings me a glass. I never look up. I just take it because I am still holding the olfactory memory in my head and I don't want to let go. I have a deep, long slugging drink of delicious watery neutralness washing away his cum and his taste.

Then I turn over and smile.

"So, how are you?"