bored... wrote smut... as you do.
Jul. 2nd, 2010 05:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quiregrrlI know you want to watch TV but I don’t care. I need this. I don’t know why I’m so tense, I don’t know why I’m so angry, or why I feel like a lioness pacing the bars of a cage I don’t remember being locked into. But I know how to fix it.
You asked me what was wrong when I stomped in the front door and down the hall. “I have the cranky” I snapped, flicking a glance at you, settled there on the couch, remote in your hand, beer on the table in front of you. It was tempting to flop down beside you, but I knew I’d disturb your buzz with the crackling tension radiating from me and there’s no point in both of us being on edge. So, onwards down the hallway, shedding clothes as I walked into the bathroom and turned the taps on hard. Twenty minutes under the relentless pounding of hot water smoothed off some of my rough edges, but there remains a tightly wound intensity that the water cannot touch.
I dry off and open the door, following the steam that billows out and down the hallway. You glance up and do a double take that’s almost comical when you notice my nakedness, and you have just a moment to smile before I’m on you. Your arms go up and back as I slide my knee beside your hip and throw my other leg over, straddling you and grinding my cunt down on yours, the denim of your jeans and ridge of the zipper rough and hard against my clit. My hands grab yours and pull them to my tits, my fingers pressing your fingers hard into the soft flesh, grabby like a 14 year old boy who doesn’t know better, and only half of your surprised laugh escapes before my mouth is on yours, kissing you hard, stealing your breath, tongue thrusting and sliding against yours, my hips rocking, willing and compelling you to match me, catch on, catch up. And you do, I release your hands and flatten mine against your chest, the tips of my fingers hooking over your collar bones, so close to your throat and you continue to knead my tits, pausing only to pinch and pull my nipples hard. I moan into your mouth and you push your face harder against mine, catching my lip in your teeth for a searing second before continuing our bruising kiss.
Enough foreplay. I catch your wrist in my fingers and drag your hand down to my cunt. The heel of your hand brushes my tumid clit as you slide your fingers along my slit and I convulse a little. This won’t take long. I am slick, swollen, pulsing, and the 10 seconds you spend stroking between the folds of my cunt feels like agonising torture. I dig my fingers in behind your collarbone and stroke the side of your neck with my thumb and groan as you read the signal right and slide your four fingers inside me. Fuck. Yes. I break our kiss, our mouths open, lips touching but still, both of us breathing hard but neither moving, a moment to savour the heat of a hand inside a cunt. I grin, meet your eyes for a moment, and then let my head loll back, giving you my neck. You graze my throat with your teeth and I lift my hips, relishing the slow friction as I ride your hand, harder, thicker, and far more satisfyingly dextrous than any cock. Your thumb presses up against the side of my clit and I feel you curl your fingertips against my g spot. I realise I’m whimpering and moaning, high pitched little gasps as that tightly wound coil of tension and anger sinks from my stomach to my pelvis, intensifying with every thrust I make against you. I slow down a moment and as I lift my hips your thumb joins your fingers and I slide back down agonisingly slowly, forcing myself past the ridge of your knuckles, savouring the delicious pain as my cunt stretches. For a moment it feels like it won’t happen, but I’m so close and I need this, I breath, I bear down and with a sudden slam your fist is curled inside me and I am coming hard, silent now, breath caught in my throat, my back arching, hips slowly rocking as my cunt convulses around your hand and I can feel your teeth biting hard on the side of my breast, a counterpoint of pain like an electrical circuit prolonging my orgasm. My breath rushes out in a wavery gasp and with it goes all the tension in my body. I place my hands on either side of your face and kiss you softly, still catching my breath, as you reclaim your hand and wrap your arms around my waist. We catch each others eye and both laugh, I kiss you again and ask “So dear, how was your day?”
You asked me what was wrong when I stomped in the front door and down the hall. “I have the cranky” I snapped, flicking a glance at you, settled there on the couch, remote in your hand, beer on the table in front of you. It was tempting to flop down beside you, but I knew I’d disturb your buzz with the crackling tension radiating from me and there’s no point in both of us being on edge. So, onwards down the hallway, shedding clothes as I walked into the bathroom and turned the taps on hard. Twenty minutes under the relentless pounding of hot water smoothed off some of my rough edges, but there remains a tightly wound intensity that the water cannot touch.
I dry off and open the door, following the steam that billows out and down the hallway. You glance up and do a double take that’s almost comical when you notice my nakedness, and you have just a moment to smile before I’m on you. Your arms go up and back as I slide my knee beside your hip and throw my other leg over, straddling you and grinding my cunt down on yours, the denim of your jeans and ridge of the zipper rough and hard against my clit. My hands grab yours and pull them to my tits, my fingers pressing your fingers hard into the soft flesh, grabby like a 14 year old boy who doesn’t know better, and only half of your surprised laugh escapes before my mouth is on yours, kissing you hard, stealing your breath, tongue thrusting and sliding against yours, my hips rocking, willing and compelling you to match me, catch on, catch up. And you do, I release your hands and flatten mine against your chest, the tips of my fingers hooking over your collar bones, so close to your throat and you continue to knead my tits, pausing only to pinch and pull my nipples hard. I moan into your mouth and you push your face harder against mine, catching my lip in your teeth for a searing second before continuing our bruising kiss.
Enough foreplay. I catch your wrist in my fingers and drag your hand down to my cunt. The heel of your hand brushes my tumid clit as you slide your fingers along my slit and I convulse a little. This won’t take long. I am slick, swollen, pulsing, and the 10 seconds you spend stroking between the folds of my cunt feels like agonising torture. I dig my fingers in behind your collarbone and stroke the side of your neck with my thumb and groan as you read the signal right and slide your four fingers inside me. Fuck. Yes. I break our kiss, our mouths open, lips touching but still, both of us breathing hard but neither moving, a moment to savour the heat of a hand inside a cunt. I grin, meet your eyes for a moment, and then let my head loll back, giving you my neck. You graze my throat with your teeth and I lift my hips, relishing the slow friction as I ride your hand, harder, thicker, and far more satisfyingly dextrous than any cock. Your thumb presses up against the side of my clit and I feel you curl your fingertips against my g spot. I realise I’m whimpering and moaning, high pitched little gasps as that tightly wound coil of tension and anger sinks from my stomach to my pelvis, intensifying with every thrust I make against you. I slow down a moment and as I lift my hips your thumb joins your fingers and I slide back down agonisingly slowly, forcing myself past the ridge of your knuckles, savouring the delicious pain as my cunt stretches. For a moment it feels like it won’t happen, but I’m so close and I need this, I breath, I bear down and with a sudden slam your fist is curled inside me and I am coming hard, silent now, breath caught in my throat, my back arching, hips slowly rocking as my cunt convulses around your hand and I can feel your teeth biting hard on the side of my breast, a counterpoint of pain like an electrical circuit prolonging my orgasm. My breath rushes out in a wavery gasp and with it goes all the tension in my body. I place my hands on either side of your face and kiss you softly, still catching my breath, as you reclaim your hand and wrap your arms around my waist. We catch each others eye and both laugh, I kiss you again and ask “So dear, how was your day?”
