I hear you through the ceiling and track your steps as they move across the floor back and forth and back again. Your body is restless, helpless, and your mind racing. A familiar habit I can vividly recall. You, your wife and child moved in three weeks ago. Our eyes met as you unpacked the wagon. We glanced and everything went black. The last time we saw each other was before the war. I sat on your lap in tears, wondering when and how the world would continue to turn without you. The South hadn’t burned and the sun was close, warm. Life has changed since then and I am not and could not have prepared myself for seeing you. I moved to Oregon after the fire. I assumed you dead. I’ve met her (your wife) smile on my face and a big “hello.” No one knows about the past and no one ever will. It would be too much of an unnecessary hurt in this life. The night you were dragged to hell permeates and lingers inside me. I’ve purposefully withheld and resisted the urges to be close to your body, to touch, and be touched. Mostly because you asked and well, how can I deny you? We were good. Loyal. Connected. Honest. And what good would it do? Give a moment of glory and ruin the things we’ve made happen since you were taken. The unknown is vast and dark – once we fall into the abyss there’s no returning to this life.
So, no abyss, no holding each other until we collapse and die, no moving and thriving and sweating and kissing, no me and you.
We are on the bathroom floor now. You are sharply pressed against the corner of the wall and I am straddling your lap, knees high in the air with the floor firmly under my feet. Our minds can’t catch up with our hands and face and lips and arms and hips. We are deep in it now. You’re grabbing and pulling me in close, kissing deeply. I drop to my knees, and press my hips down to the floor – our bodies collide. The weight of my body rests on yours and in your arms. We can’t wait much longer and have no time to pause or think or care about the consequences. Our foreheads meet and we push and twist, brains mashing. Air is thickening. You move your dominant hand from my back and reach down under me. I feel you lift the edge of my panties and move them to one side. Exposed, I breathe in a sharp panicked breath, but keep my mouth closed and hands loose. I want you to touch me – feel something so warm, familiar and comforting. Two fingers play and push inside. Then a third. My body moves with the rhythm and I lean in and stick my tongue deep in your mouth. It doesn’t take you long to unbutton and slip out. I can feel your cock on my flesh. It’s hard and warm. My eyes are closed tight and head tilt back. Your free hand wraps tight around my mouth and the other takes your cock and pushes into my body. “Shhh.” My lips part and close in your hand, releasing some sound. Your hand closes tighter, “Shut the fuck up.” You grab the back of my head and pull down on my ponytail forcing me down hard on your cock. I’ve missed this and hope it lasts. You rise from the floor with me in your arms to the bathroom vanity. My ass is firm on the sink counter, legs raised and wrap around your waist. You’re pushing far and deep inside. My legs widen and pull you in. It’s hard to keep my mouth fucking shut, but I focus not wanting to upset you (although secretly wanting to make you mad. I miss your temper and desire to punish. One night I came home late you strung me up for the night. Spanked me, played with my body and refused to let me cum. I can still feel that night in my guts). “Turn around.” I do as you ask and move from the vanity to standing facing the mirror. We are staring at our reflections and I see you moving close behind me. “Stop teasing an eager boy. Bend over”. I place my hands flat in front of me and lean forward so my nipples are brushing the cold counter. “Good girl, if you make a fucking sound I’m going to fuck your ass. Understand?” “Mm-huh.” I close my eyes and wait. I can feel you move your cock from my pussy to ass. “Mmm, you still have a fat ass baby. Good.” You whisper. Your hand is around my throat, forcing my face backward (further arching my back). I feel your teeth locked on my ear and I can hear you breathing. I beg, “harder” “Shut your fucking mouth you fucking slut.” Your grip around my throat tightens (forcing out a wimpier) as you grab my ass and squeeze. There’s a sharp pain when you bring your hand down again and again. Later I’ll look for redness and bruises to remember this. I’m wet and disoriented. You position your cock up and push in hard. I know you’re close. I can feel the pressure building. You grab a tight hold around my ponytail – a full hand of hair – and pull me back against your body. We are under the ocean, quiet and falling deep into the dark.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/5f99qr/deep_cuts_bdsm