I told him I like it rough. That I wanted him to own me. To use me and leave me covered in cum quivering on the floor.
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We met in high-school but we drifted apart. After a friend request on Facebook and some polite flirting and gentle convincing on his end, we decided to meet up. The first few times we hung out we just smoked and had a good time, but every time we were around each other I would get so turned on, and I think he knew it.
Our conversations turned heated, I felt that slow burn deep in my soul. I told him my fantasies, that I wanted to be dominated. To be taken, pushed against the wall, and fucked til I couldn’t stand any more.
All this pent up tension, we both had been in a dry spell. And yet, we still hadn’t fucked. But my confession must have given him the cue he needed because the next night as we were hugging goodbye he squeezed me extra tight. He whispered first into my ear then breathing onto my neck, “so you think you like it rough?”