… the need to be free of responsibility and just hold on for the ride.
… the desire to know we are special enough to make another person want to lose it because we are worth it.
… to be able to see and experience that hidden side of our partner wholly and without interruption from our actions, nor hesitation on their part.
The exhilarating freedom that comes from surrender as we feel the comforting weight of their body atop ours or the grip of their fingers into our skin from an excess of emotion; the assurance that we want to be taken in the most primal and wanton of ways possible without active input on our part…
… a chance to engage in a passionate encounter so consuming we don’t care if the bed is creaking or the neighbours can hear.
… a moment to be a man or a woman rutting feverishly rather than two dull people having sex.
… and last, but not least, to be able to moan and swear heatedly as you experience the hot, visceral spurt of aching climax that makes you cry out their name like a curse: not an orgasm that is blissful and leaves you feeling like a lover, but one wretched and draining that let’s you know how much of an animal that no one else knows you can be.
What had started as an diverting night at the bar, had turned more intense than she would have imagined her evening would be tonight - all because she had dressed in particular manner and blurted out one of her particular catchphrases. That’s when she felt his eyes on her.
She didn’t know who he was, not at first anyway. But the intensity of his eyes made her fidget and restless - he wasn’t going to be ignored - and so she turned to face him. He was the alpha male she was looking for. Dreamed about.
And she knew. Not his real name, no one traded that online to strangers, but they had traded other things; late nights spent breathing deeply as she typed salacious words of need and want and longing, biting her nail as she tapped the enter key as she committed the words to him to fuel his lust that in turn kindled hers. All the while safe in the anonymity of being behind a screen, and she more brazen because of it.
Her breath now quickened again, much as it had before - here, before her, was not some faceless fantasist, or even an uncharming pervert she had half-suspect lay on the other side of the screen - well proportioned and charming, he was as much a specimen as he was a man. A stranger, just less, but one who knew all the things that made her writhe in her bed or leave her computer when the pangs of desire came too great to bear.
He came to her, and she knew what would come. As a person, she needed to stand her ground. The elemental woman in her wanted to submit.
The bed groaned as she landed hard upon her back; her hair dishevelled, her face flushed, her body womanly and naked and perfect. Somewhere at the bar, her friends were probably still giggling over something silly, but she was here, watching him pushing the door closed and turning the lock. Click. It sounded loud, like the sound of her fate being sealed. Then she watched him undress. The room felt hot, but a shiver ran down her spine. Between her legs, the lips of her sex were already wet, even though he had barely touched her.
Anticipation.
Her breathing started to become ragged, yet all he was doing was walking towards her. His cock was hard and large and in his hand as he made a show of stroking it with smooth, practised motions that whispered of many lewd nights she had spent to inspire him to it. There was no sign that he had a condom or was intending to use one… She thought to tell him, but made the mistake of locking eyes with his and the words caught in her throat.
The bed creaked. From her mouth, a soft gasp issued. His hands seized her legs with strong fingers and parted them almost effortlessly, and her breathing was quicker now. His eyes weren’t those of a man looking for a quick fuck - they took her in, everything about her, in her entirety. He didn’t want to have her pussy. He wanted to have her.
It was debatable whether she could muster any resistance.
He filled her in one thrust. Stretching her to make her toes curl and her fingers dig into his arm. Disengaging her, he held her down by the wrists. The bed began to object vocally to their carnal exchange, yet there was no room in the primitive mind for care or concern except for the act of claiming and being claimed. Their voices mixed; moans, grunts, inarticulate cries of pleasure and the taunts of flesh striking flesh in the unmistakable articulation of sex.
He took her the way she wanted; the way she dreamed - deep, harsh thrusting strokes of his bare cock into the soaked folds of her womanhood that sent waves of dizzying pleasure uncoiling through her body and resounding in the tips of her nipples and the sobs of her lips that she managed between drinking down deep breaths of air.
In her ear, the sound of his primitive groans urged her to thrust her hips back up into his. She wanted his cock, and she wanted the other thing he had to offer her greedy, clenching cunt that rippled in spasms around his girth.
And then…
The moment, she secretly desired. His blunted, swollen head, kissing the entrance to her womb as he took hold of her legs and threw them back. Her vagina felt like it had melted a lifetime ago, hot and wet and well used. A temple.
His temple.
He asked her if she was on the pill and his eyes demanded no lies. Her face was halfway between shock and confusion, as though it had been a crucial detail she had forgotten, but the walls of her pussy squeezed convulsively.
His face turned savage. His hips welded to her as the loose sack of semen-laden balls kissed the tight circles of her anus. He ground her into the mattress until the seductive call of her slippery passage became unbearable and the thick, ivory flood of his genetic material came, angry and fierce as his hot desire to claim her and own her.
Delicate pink lips parted in a wordless ‘O’. Above her, his eyes had become blind, but his hips continued to work her as though possessed. Now, he was fulfilling her deepest, darkest desires; desires she had typed out and told him with brutal and shocking explicitness in a night of lust-addled desire meant to scandalise and entice. Enticement to which he now responded as he spilled his seed and bred her pussy with every intention of making her carry his baby.
THE NEXT MORNING:
As his hips beat to a blissful rhythm between her wide-spread legs, her mind drifted away on seemingly unrelated matters, even as her hands clutched desperately at his muscular buttocks to urge him to greater efforts whilst the creaking leather beneath them acknowledged those straining efforts. On the carpet, discarded clothes lay forgotten; a long tear in her skirt and several buttons popped from his shirt mute testament to the urgency of their carnal need.
Her neighbours who thought her prudish; friends and family who still thought of her as ‘that little girl’; work colleagues who barely gave her a second glance. The looks she would have gotten if those very same people could see her now as she moaned out her pleasure as she received the exhilarating rush of an uncompromising fuck from the stallion of a man who desired her more than he could bear to wait for a moment longer without her.
With the seductive velvet of her sex already soaked from dire arousal, his manhood and loins were glistening with the juices of her need; a need impossible to define with mere words, but desiring expression regardless. Gathering her up in his strong arms, his hips clapped against her repeatedly as he drove the throbbing inches of his shaft into the soft folds of her pussy, his every thrust resounding from her core in surging waves of pleasure through the rest of her body.
They knew they had risked much for this moment, but he needed her and, in so knowing, she in turn needed him with a desperate fervency that itself bordered on madness. To see that unbound desire in his eyes; to hear the panting of his hot breath; to feel the hot throb of his bare cock buried in her and driving her to heights she could never attain on her own - that unrestrained, unreasonable, and yet, undeniable craving of a woman to feel the hot, gasping spurt of seed - of life - emptied like a bursting torrent into her waiting depths.
HER THOUGHTS:
Another day that I can’t write something beautiful without thinking of you; without painting the image of your face as a reference to why my heart beats too loud. Like every song played in the radio, poems and metaphors scribbled by poets directly points me to you; making me remember all those nights where we bathe the darkness and redness of love and pain. You are a tattoo etched between my meninges, you reside in my brain. You are the cells and oxygen that runs through my valves, you nourishes my stomach with butterflies and ache. You are everything and everywhere. And I want to stop loving you but every inch of my being still cares. I know, I feel too much, but I think you deseve this kind of love, even if in reality, you’re no longer around.
As his hips beat to a blissful rhythm between her wide-spread legs, her mind drifted away on seemingly unrelated matters, even as her hands clutched desperately at his muscular buttocks to urge him to greater efforts whilst the creaking leather beneath them acknowledged those straining efforts. On the carpet, discarded clothes lay forgotten; a long tear in her skirt and several buttons popped from his shirt mute testament to the urgency of their carnal need.
Her neighbours who thought her prudish; friends and family who still thought of her as ‘that little girl’; work colleagues who barely gave her a second glance. The looks she would have gotten if those very same people could see her now as she moaned out her pleasure as she received the exhilarating rush of an uncompromising fuck from the stallion of a man who desired her more than he could bear to wait for a moment longer without her.
With the seductive velvet of her sex already soaked from dire arousal, his manhood and loins were glistening with the juices of her need; a need impossible to define with mere words, but desiring expression regardless. Gathering her up in his strong arms, his hips clapped against her repeatedly as he drove the throbbing inches of his shaft into the soft folds of her pussy, his every thrust resounding from her core in surging waves of pleasure through the rest of her body.
They knew they had risked much for this moment, but he needed her and, in so knowing, she in turn needed him with a desperate fervency that itself bordered on madness. To see that unbound desire in his eyes; to hear the panting of his hot breath; to feel the hot throb of his bare cock buried in her and driving her to heights she could never attain on her own - that unrestrained, unreasonable, and yet, undeniable craving of a woman to feel the hot, gasping spurt of seed - of life - emptied like a bursting torrent into her waiting depths.
HER THOUGHTS:
Another day that I can’t write something beautiful without thinking of you; without painting the image of your face as a reference to why my heart beats too loud. Like every song played in the radio, poems and metaphors scribbled by poets directly points me to you; making me remember all those nights where we bathe the darkness and redness of love and pain. You are a tattoo etched between my meninges, you reside in my brain. You are the cells and oxygen that runs through my valves, you nourishes my stomach with butterflies and ache. You are everything and everywhere. And I want to stop loving you but every inch of my being still cares. I know, I feel too much, but I think you deseve this kind of love, even if in reality, you’re no longer around.
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