I’ve had a lot of trouble sleeping these past weeks. Whether it be the red season’s slow shift, recent stress of moving, the fact my headboard is no longer aligned North in this new apartment, who knows. What I do know is that fatigue plays with my hormones, my thought patterns, and my desires, among other things. I find my temper shortened, my muscles tighten, and my voice gains a harsh rumble. I had been purposefully dismissive of women lately, even my favourites.
Fatigue often bleeds through the premature wrinkles of my eyes matrices. I hate it because I feel it makes me look vulnerable. She loves it, because she feels it makes me look vulnerable. She’d asked over the phone to see my new place, to which I was hesitant. Awe, what’s wrong? Scared you’ll fall in love? she said, ruthlessly. I just need some scenery, a new fabric against my skin. Don’t you think of me bent over your new loveseat?. Bitch, she was certainly right about one thing. Tight as hell, brain and body, she was. But cold on the outside, our chemistry laid between silk skin and callous, lace and rope. One of those “choke me with my panties while I suck on your fingers” types. Pristine, spoiled, and untouchable in public, no-holes-barred, back bending cock slaves in private (just my type). I don’t sleep well here. I can call you once I’ve leveled out. Olive skin, her eyes were narrow, and green, with yellow icicles and black speckles. The first time I saw her eyes, my face had flushed down to my collarbones. Whatever you say, asshole.
I didn’t appreciate her parting words, and I made sure she knew it. She reveled in it. A “button-pusher”, as my grandparents might say. She had made a passing comment on my voice, how it was lowered, and scratching, and how she liked it. She had also decided she would make sure it stayed that was until I would see her. Every night, at around 9 o’clock, she would start with a photo of her ankles, tied with something or another. Thirty minutes later, her stomach, and panties. Her hand wandering to her mound. Her wet fingers if I don’t respond. It had been a week, but I wasn’t about to let her think she was in charge. If anything, she was helping me sleep by giving me something to jack off to when the melatonin and weed weren’t enough.
Tonight, though, she had pulled out all the stops. She started with a photo of her laid back, with her legs spread and two fingers in her pussy. She had long, silver earrings, and red patent heels, with crisscrossing ties and intermittent buckles up to her calves. The next message was a picture of her wicked smile, from an angle on her cleavage that dipped so low it was an inch from her nipples. I blinked, and found my hand on my cock.
Are you mad?
I was sleeping, thank you.
Oh…should I be sorry? I can be very, very sorry if that’s what you’d like. I can come over and show you how sorry I can be…
A photo of her from behind, knees and head on the floor, her shoes on and her fox eyes just above her shoulder. Sheer panties, I could see the shadow of her ass. I called her.
Whatever you’re wearing now, get up and leave in it.
She showed up within twenty minutes, in the same sheer panties and shoes. I’d forgotten it was fall, she must have been cold. She had the most fabricated pout I’d ever seen. I pretended not to notice, and pointed her to the couch. I sat on the aforementioned loveseat, just across from her. I could see the shivers she got from my tired growl when I asked her to sit up and look at me.
You should take out your earrings. Do you really think this is the way to get what you want out of me?
Seems to be
I closed the gap between us. She was less than a foot away, facing to my crotch. She was fidgeting, I knew where her hands wanted to be. I asked her to stop, she obliged.
There’s nothing I like more than good listeners. Take off your panties and give them to me. Her pout lifted in the corners as she obliged, and her eyes lifted. Bend forward.
She sat in front of me, with her ass in the air, looking forward and chewing her lip. I made sure not to bring my arm up (to avoid, for now, giving her the pleasure of anticipation) and spanked the right of her ass. She chirped pleasantly. This was meant to be a punishment, I reminded her, and gave her another slap. Lower this time, at the top of her thigh, just hard enough that she felt a ripple in her pussy. She squealed again. I asked for her wrists as punishment. She smiled. I often get urges to kiss these women behind their ears, in the same spot that makes us all melt. I caught myself just before her ear, and instead stole the opportunity to take in her bouquet, and to ask her for a formal apology, on her knees. I released her wrists for the moment she was twisting and kneeling, removing my pants, and then took them again, this time putting each wrist through a whole of her underwear, and tying them tight together behind her back. I took her by the hair.
I think I’ll be taking mine this time, Amber. I’m still not convinced you’re sorry.
Her lips cradled my cock all the way to the back of her throat. I knew she was willing, her tongue was covering her bottom teeth, and I saw her eyes roll back as she closed them. I waited for her first soft gag, then pulled out. She gasped and smiled, though the look in her eyes twisted a dripping smile into a testing smirk. I dove in to her mouth again, and thrust. She moaned. Some of these girls…I asked her to keep her eyes open and focused on mine, the flinch in her eyelids when I hit her throat made my cock pulse. I took her by her hair again, made her stand, and cradled her waist. I took her to the loveseat, and bent her forward. Her pussy was dark, hairless, with a small milky trail leading towards her thigh and up onto her ass. I rubbed the head of my cock against her clit, watching her shudder and pull at her tied wrists. I kept a hand on the small of her back, holding off her desperate thrusts towards me. I wondered how close I could get her before I lost control. When her breathing began to weigh down the air, and I saw her face flushing, I plunged into her. She was so wet the friction hardly lasted a single thrust, and with two more deep, powerful bucks I felt her explode. She squirmed and gripped the maroon leather arm, and I leaned my head and hips back to appreciate her carnal movements.
She asked for More…m-more…take all you want…I’m sorry….
I resumed my pace, long, deep strokes into her. I put my fingers near her mouth, and she sucked obediently.
I need you to forgive me…please f-forgive m-me…I’ll do anything!
I put her back on her knees, and untied her hands. I put them on my cock, and set her stroking pace. She had such soft hands. I told her I would be cumming on her face, but exactly where would be up to her. With her eyes focused so intently on mine, knowing exactly what she wanted more than anything, it only took a few seconds. I made a noise that can only be described as a short growl, and as I finally exploded, she had both hands on my cock and was gratefully sucking the tip. Her eyes were closed, she had what she wanted.
Then I realized, she had fooled me into just that. All she wanted, was for me to take what I wanted. I’d hardly punished her.
Renard, sharper than me.