The Hard Truth

I had seen this look before. In his eyes there was an absence of sanity – absence of anything if truth be told. His lips were crumpled but taut, as if they were holding back the worst of it, hidden in the dark cavern within.

Silence. My senses heightened, the hairs prickled on my arms as if they were raising the defences ready for attack. The tangled knot of fear grew within me rising like a smooth black, slippery monster from the Pool of Anxiousness. But there was still defiance in my eyes, I knew that for sure. I would show no remorse. Weakness would enable him to grow angrier. Weakness would leave a void to be filled.

Quivering. My right knee had started to shake and I brought it closer to the left. Tucked it in as if it were a small child hiding behind me. My fingers were clenched and I let them loose – imagined them breathing a sigh of relief as they brought themselves back to life. Their damp surface cooled and I sharply pulled them back together again – too soon to let them breathe.

Still he stood. Despite the time that passed, minutes or seconds I couldn’t be sure, the word still hung between us – high pitched, forced from my mouth and echoing around the stone walls: “YES!”
Yes, yes, I fucked him!

He asked me and I told him. I wanted to stab him with the word and send it through his heart like a knife. But I wanted to take it back as well, suck it from his ear and never let it out at all. Silence still chased that echoed ‘yes’ as it bounced around the walls.

Before I realised what was happening his hand shot from beside his hip and slammed into my shoulder. The force sent me back against the wall, my head hitting the white stone that started a humming rush between my ears. Blood surged through the veins within his eyes, the pale blue clouded with anger, staring into mine. His breath forced the spittle from the sides of his lips in a rhythmical motion: “You fucked him? You FUCKED him!”, he screamed.

I could have widened my eyes, cried and pleaded. But I raised my chin and reflected his hate and anger like a mirror back to him and he held my stare. His hand tightened around my shoulder, fingers squeezed into my collar bone and I tried not to wince. Darkness filled his eyes as his pupils expanded; I exhaled and it shattered the moment.

Wham! His other hand rushed to my neck and his finger tips grabbed at my top tearing it and my bra strap from me, exposing my vulnerable breast to his anger too. But still I didn’t shrink away. His body fell against mine and a deep and primeval sound travelled from his throat. No longer able to see his face, I felt his hot hand grab my breast, kneading the white flesh as his stubble grazed against my neck. “You fucking bitch” he said as his mouth pressed past my ear and his finger and thumb squeezed some short sharp pain from my nipple.

An electric pulse surged through my veins and I moved my legs apart, steadying myself against his weight, exposing my pussy as she sprung to life. “You fucking BITCH!” he said again as his mouth gorged itself on my hardened stinging nipple and my white skin began to colour pink as his stubble grazed against it.

My brain, two steps behind, released the shutters of its planned defence. My hand, once balled beside my thigh, reached out, grasping for his cock. There…there it was, solid, hard beneath the denim; hard and wanting to be fucked. He pulled away; “Want my cock do you, bitch? Want my cock?” It wasn’t a question, his cock wanted me too and he knew it.

Again his body crushed me up against the wall, his hand fierce upon the button of my jeans. One second and it pushed inside, slid down to where my fear and anticipation merged into wet lust. His moan, deep and guttural signalled that he too was wet; ready to force deep into my pussy. Two fingers found their way inside; “I’m going to fuck you, bitch” he said. Upon his fingers I squirted, hot and wet it soaked through my crotch sending him into overdrive.

Driven by his anger and desire he forces down my jeans, turning me around. In full submission I pulled off my top and heard the frenzied unbuckling of his belt. Two fingers were back again from behind this time, into my pussy now dripping with desire, they fuck me hard and I squirt again. And now I feel his cock.

“Fuck me!” I scream. That moan again. I feel it, hot and hard against me, so I bend, crying out as he plunges roughly in. His hands grab at my hips, unforgiving as he takes me. I feel the length of him as my palms press against the cold white stone. His weight thrusts and deeper he goes. He’s lost to me, the soft squelching of our unison accompanied by the staccato breaths of a man on the journey to climax. Harder, straighter and faster he uses me, abuses me.

“Fuck me” I scream again, this time for him, knowing that he’ll use it to climb higher to that ecstatic point, knowing that it will fuel him on. I take one hand from the wall, and find my clit. Hard and swollen like a little nut it begs for my attention. Wet, ripe and ready, I smooth my finger along it and she reacts like dynamite, I squeeze him and he moans. I know he’s close – and I am too.

His breathing stills, he’s almost there, love, lust and ecstasy on a knife edge. “Cum!”, I say, “Cum inside me, make me yours. Claim my cunt.” That roar – that shudders through his being, into mine. I feel him cum inside me and I call out too, tightening around his cock and forcing him out of me as we splash on to the floor. He twitches with the waves of his desire and I straighten and push my body back into his. ‘I fucked him’, I want to say – but don’t. ‘I fucked him, but not like this – never like this’. My head falls back against his shoulder as his breathing slows. The warm trickle on my leg, a calling card.