Sharp

"Do you have any particular attachment to these tights?" he asked me. It seemed like sort of an odd question to me, but then again, finding myself blindfolded and handcuffed to the kitchen chair not four hours after I met him would probably seem odd to most people. So I said that I didn't and immediately heard them being shredded as he ripped them to pieces with his teeth.

Later, blindfold, handcuffs and nylons all removed, he wrapped me up in his arms and asked me what I was thinking. I was thinking a lot of things and don't remember what I answered, but mostly I was thinking Damn, his teeth are sharp. This is going to be fun.

First Meeting

I can hear you talking, but my mind is elsewhere. I concentrate on keeping my gaze on your face and not the crotch of your pants. How can I be expected to sit still and have a conversation when I know the real reason I am here? I press my hands into my thighs and I can feel the lace of my stocking tops through my skirt. Did you notice the stockings when I sat down? I couldn’t tell. I smile at you and sip my beer. You are a fine conversationalist, but this is excruciating. The conversation I want to be having doesn’t involve nearly so much talking. I don’t know what you’re really thinking. Are you as wound up as I am inside? Your easy smile betrays nothing. My impatience gets the better of me and I excuse myself to go to the restroom. I stand and pause to give you a long pointed look before I walk away. In the bathroom I shut the door and lean my back against it. There’s no way of telling whether you got the message. I try to stop my heart from pounding as I wait. If I’d been wearing panties, they’d be soaked through by now. When I hear your soft knock at the door my body tenses. You step inside and close the door behind you. I try desperately to think, but I can’t find anything to say. Evidently I don’t need to. You reach for me, pulling my blouse down and squeezing my breast briefly. I find myself being turned around, your chest pressing into my back as you take hold of my hands and place them on top of the stall door. I close my eyes as you pull my skirt up to my waist. I hear you unzipping behind me and suddenly my skin is electrified. A pregnant pause, and I imagine you are considering me, though I don’t know for sure since I’m facing away from you and my eyes are closed anyway. I nearly jump when your cock finds my pussy, but your hands find my hips and hold me there, pulling me back to meet every thrust. I bite my lip to keep from moaning – there are people in the bar just feet away on the other side of the door. It’s futile though. I can’t keep quiet when I start to come, and I can’t hold onto the door any longer either. I reach back and grip your hips hard, pulling you tight against me while my cunt rhythmically squeezes your cock, and then you’re coming too, leaning into me and bracing us against the door to keep us from falling. We stand that way for a few moments, just catching our breath, and then you quietly slip out the door. I wait what seems a respectable amount of time and then follow you, hoping that no one notices my knees that are still shaking.

Muse

Sorry for the lack of updates. For reasons I'm not really clear on, I've been abandoned by my muse. I started writing a story about some payback for that, but it got depressing. Feel free to make suggestions, especially really really hot ones. If you fire up my brains it will be easier to fire up my keyboard.

For Vixen

Brancie and Vixen

revised

Love to Hate You Baby

My friend J and I are fighting. It started when I got pissed at him on my birthday and has escalated into something completely out of control. I told him no matter what he tried, he could never get me to hate him. I had intended for him to view that as loyalty. He seems instead to have viewed it as a challenge. I've got to tell you, he's got mad skills when he puts his mind to something.

So here's the problem: I am so fucking horny for him right now. Really. He has never been as attractive to me before as he is right now. He refused to even look at me last night when I was out, and it just made me want to drag him into the bathroom and fuck his brains out. But I didn't think that would go over well. It's not the first time this has happened either. Hate sex is my favorite.

I think for most people, at least most of the ones I've talked to, hate and sex don't go together. Vixen and S have both told me that when they dislike someone or are extremely angry with someone they don't want to be touched by that person at all. It makes sense and I'm pretty sure that is normal. But I just can't identify with it.

Some years ago I worked in the office of a small manufacturing company. The maintenance foreman there was an ornery bastard all the time. He didn't particularly get along with anyone, but he especially didn't get along with me. There were some things I needed every department head to turn in to me every week. Every single week his paperwork was late. And every single week I'd have to chase him down in the plant to get what I needed. I became very adept at ambushing him all over the building, which he hated. He would rant and rave about how he had more important things to do and I would yell back that he was welcome to explain that to the people who worked under him when they didn't get a paycheck the following week. Putting us in the same meeting was like storing matches next to a powder keg.

It's a long and not at all sexy story about how we got there so I'll skip that part, but we ended up having a torrid affair up until I left to go to another company. I would show up at his house at about 8 or 9 and we would fuck all night. He had drawers full of interesting toys and a mean streak to match his attitude problem. I would leave there around 4 in the morning when he got up to get ready for work. I was usually pretty bruised up and sometimes bleeding. In return he was covered in bite marks and scratches, which occasionally were also bleeding. Nothing ever changed at work; we still couldn't stand one another. And we didn't do much talking when we were alone. But we both had a thing for angry sex and getting together every week to make hate to each other suited us both just fine. When I left the company I never spoke to him again. I look back on it as some of the best sex of my life.

I don't know if J is like this. I suspect he is not and it's not a good time to ask. Which is too bad really; he can be pretty volatile when he's angry, which just ends up filling my head with visions of getting tossed around like a ragdoll and yelled at until his fury is spent and my desire sated. I think it would be amazing. I know it would take the edge off. Instead I'll stay home tonight and start a friction fire under my blankets. Thank God for batteries in 48 packs from Costco.

Anyone else out there have a thing for the hate sex?

Woe is me

I did not get laid on my birthday and I am PISSED.