The first and only time I slapped Sally on the ass, she turned and clocked me in the jaw.
I had a hold of her hips as she was kneeling on the bed with her butt poking out – that was the best way to pound her pussy from behind. I am a lot taller, and the mattress is pretty thick. Sally is a shrimp – as she describes it. So I was pounding away, and the way her ass jiggled, it was so fucking cute. I just gave it a nice smack to put a little pink on it. Her pussy spat me out, like a watermelon seed. She rounded on me, still on her knees, and popped up with a right. It happened so fast, my hips hardly had time to stop rocking.
“Damn!” I said. “It was just a little smack.” I felt my jaw.
In a nasty tone, she said, “If you ever hit me again, I’ll knock out every tooth in your head.” She jumped off the bed, trying to put her panties on as she was walking through the doorway. She was still struggling her clothes on as she went out the door.
Sally doesn’t weigh 100 pounds wearing a coat and carrying her purse. You might think her size means she can’t inflict any damage. I am here to tell you she can more than you think. Those bony little knuckles feel like they can dent sheet metal, and there was something about the way she put her whole body into that punch. My jaw ached for a while. I can’t say that I was mature about it, either. It took a few days for me to stop holding it against her, and cussing her. I finally grew a pair and called her. I was glad I called, because she explained some things.
For one, Sally doesn’t like surprises. For two, Sally doesn’t like getting smacked.
“My Dad beat the shit out of my Mom all the time. He blacked my eye a couple times when I stood between them. I love her, but I will never be my Mom. The man that raises a hand to me will be lucky to live.” I took that last part as an exaggeration, trying to sound more badass than she was. (Although she is badass enough…) She didn’t want to act like a victim, because the next person who saw that would just try to do the same shitty things to her. She had a phrase for that repeat abusive behavior: “Hit that bruise again.”
I didn’t want to hit that bruise again. We talked it out.
Now don’t think Sally is all about being mean and hateful. When things are good with Sally, the whole frigging world is good – better than good. It is toy cars and hot dogs and cherry candy raining down from the sky. It is everything you ever wanted, when things are good with Sally. But when things are bad with Sally, it is a long, hard god-damned journey from the deepest pit in hell. When you think it is the lowest it can be, Sally finds a basement to throw you in as if to say, “Try to claw your way out of that.” She has described herself as a force of nature, and I can’t disagree with that. She loves and hates, kisses and kicks with the same intensity.
So we had some great conversations. The kinky things she would do if we talked about it first just amazed me. I couldn’t convince other lovers to do them. Rim me? Sure. Let me rim her? Sure. We talked it out, then tried it out – and it was amazing. When I wanted her to deep throat me, I told her about hanging her head over the edge of the bed and sticking her tongue out. I told her about me putting my cock in all the way down her throat. She was on board! In fact, she was really into it. She got her tiny frame up on the bed, and hung her head over – mouth wide open with kind of happy creases in the corners. She stuck her tongue out. I balanced with my hands on the edge of the bed, my knees bent to get the right angle.
It was all sunshine, until I put my right hand around the back of her head to hold her still while I stuck the head of my dick down her throat. She jerked, struggled, pulled her tongue back in and bit down. It hurt so bad I saw stars – I let go of her head. But she still had a kind of grip on me with her teeth. She pulled her head away, her teeth dragging against my skin for a second. Then she jumped up on her feet on the bed and kicked me right in the stomach – one of those ninja kicks out to the side. It knocked the air right out of me. As I bent over trying to catch my breath, she hit me in the ear with that famous right fist of hers.
“Don’t you ever grab my head like that again!” She had a lot more to say, but I couldn’t concentrate. My ear was ringing. Sally kept on yelling and coughing. When I could catch my breath, I left the apartment and headed to a friend’s house. On the way there, I bought some beer. The reason I gave my friend for couch surfing at his place was that I was too drunk to drive back home. I didn’t want Sally to worry about me driving. I didn’t want another DUI. Etc. The truth was I didn’t want to sleep anywhere near Sally until she cooled down, and since she just kicked my ass with one little grasshopper foot, I didn’t have it in me to try throwing her out.
I still had some shit to figure out, apparently. Do not smack her, do not grab her, do not leave a mark on her. Do ask her opinion, do tell her every little detail.
Yeah, there is a reason I am telling you all of this. Sex isn’t just a one-person thing, unless you’re playing with yourself. In which case, no talk needed. You also don’t need to talk if all you’re going to do is bang nasties and be done with it. But sex with someone that you want to keep seeing, with someone you want to do other things with – that is a relationship. That means talking. If I wanted to tap that cute little asshole, all I had to do was tell her what I wanted. She would tell me what she wanted. We would talk it all out from lube to fingers to whatever. Then we would try it out, just like we discussed. Jesus, there were some amazing things from that! Once we talk something over, we don’t have to re-talk it. Because we got it all ironed out first, I get to pump her ass any time I want to. I even got to fuck her throat later on. We talked it all out first, and I trusted her to open up for me. No teeth this time. She trusted me not to grab her head. Honestly, throat fucking Sally wasn’t as great as I thought it was going to be, partly because I wasn’t expecting that amount of puke, and partly because her throat is built like the rest of her – tiny and hard. Sally can still surprise me with what is ok with her. She has let me spit in her mouth – because we talked it over. We watch porn together and discuss it. Like a book club meeting. “I think it was really sexy when he blah-blah-blah.” Or “I would like to try what that chick just did.”
You wonder why I put this effort into things with Sally? Ok, maybe I am not the smartest son of a bitch on this planet, but I have this much figured out: relationships and sex go better together than either of them does apart. One boosts the other, and the other one boosts back. When you have both, and one falls to shit, the other starts to suffer too.
Also – Sally is just exactly the kind of weird that fits with my kind of weird. When you find someone who fits, you need to keep her.
There is something else you have to know.
It was months after the throat fucking fiasco, and I had just fucked Sally into her dreamy state. We were spoon fucking, which she really loves. I am not as big a fan, so I lasted longer, and she just kept coming. Her legs were trembling, and she was covered in goose bumps. After I finally came, I leaned close to her ear and whispered, “You are such a good little whore.” She sat up, walked on her knees across the bed, put her jeans on – both legs at once, threw on a tee shirt and walked out of the room. She left the apartment barefoot, her boots standing in the living room where she took them off. I heard her truck start, and the tires spun as she drove off into the night.
She wasn’t gone long. She came in, stomped past me in the living room, and went into the bedroom. She laid in bed, pulled the covers up, and didn’t move until morning.
Sally didn’t talk to me for days. She wouldn’t even look at me. It made everything difficult to do. We were living together by now, and things needed to get done. Normal, life things. Dinner. Laundry. Bills. It got to the point where I wished she’d just punched me and gotten it over with. Sort of. It was pretty annoying. I tried talking to her, and she walked away.
One night, from across the living room, Sally said, “I never call you names.”
That was one long-ass conversation. We didn’t get all the way to the bottom of the issue, but I suspect her Dad was a name-caller. I told her I didn’t want these blow-ups anymore. We needed to sort it all fucking out. She agreed.
This will probably sound weird – it felt weird at first – but we wrote it all down. We didn’t just talk about it. People can forget words they say or the words said to them. When it is written in black and white, you can’t “forget”. We wrote down what we expected. What we liked. What we were curious about. What we did not want ever. It wasn’t exactly a contract. At least, it wasn’t what I think of as a contract. We signed it at the bottom. A couple days later, Sally said, “Look! I typed it all up. You want to sign it again?” Sure. We signed it, and we have been on steady ground since. If I want her to role play being a whore, she is totally down with it. I can call her whatever I would call a whore, because she knows it is role play. I don’t mean it.
So – take a look at what is in front of you. Really take a look. Read it. You’ll see what Sally wants and doesn’t want. You’ll see what I want and don’t want. Take your time with it. Put a check by what you agree with. I’m serious. No surprises here. There is a place for you to write stuff too. It wouldn’t be fair if just the two of us had expectations, and we didn’t recognize yours. I’m a dick, but I’m not that big of a dick.
Hey, here she comes.
Guys, this is Sally. Sally, this is Chuck and this is Steve. They answered our ad.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/cftkpy/here_she_comes_mf_not_exactly_rough