Those Were the Days

You have always been the one I have felt the closest to. Other arms have held me, stroked my hips, kissed my lips, pushed into me with swelling fulfillment.
None can touch me like you can however. The sweet sting of your hand across my ass reduces me to a writhing, screaming mess…

but I love every minute of it.

I love it.

I love it without question.

I love your fingers on my clit, pushing harder than just a simple stroke that makes me scream and moan and clutch the pillows, clutch your arms, dig my nails in the scarred skin of your shoulders.

I love it.

I love your kiss- the way it was never gentle, never questioning when we made love. You always managed to possess me with your kiss. Your tongue commanded me to writhe against you, push my opened legs closer to yours. Grind my hips into yours.
I love the way you marked my neck with your teeth, teased my nipples into pain so sweet that I hurt for days afterward, pounded my hips until they were sore and bruised, left my bottom tingling from your touch, my lips aching from your kiss.

More than all of those things however, I loved it most of all when you would grab my hips and flip me over, and slide one of your long, thin fingers into my asshole, gently probe until my little creased button opened gently, like a blooming flower, so you could fit more of your fingers. One. Two. Three. Four. Pounding into me. Practically fisting me. Making me scream. Me frantically rubbing my clit and panting so hard I nearly hyperventilated. Then, when I was about to come, you would remove your fingers, and slide your delicious rod into my willing asshole. I would softly moan from the feeling. You would pummel my ass with your dick until you came, and reduce me into an exhausted mess. Sometimes, if I was really lucky, you would pull me to you, put me over your knees, and flail me with the palm of your hand until I screamed your name.
If I had been a really good girl, and by good I mean bad, you would give me the ultimate treatment. First, you would kiss me hard until I clung to you. Then, you would move to my cheeks, my nose, my chin, my neck, and my collarbone. You’d kiss my breasts, tormenting my nipples the way I love- the way that only you know how to do, the way that you would tease one nipple with your teeth and tongue while pressing the other one into my breast with the pad of your thumb. Then you would kiss pass my breasts to my hips, my pussy, which I always shaved fresh for you, and to my clit, which you would tease with your wonderful tongue. You’d gaze up at me sensually while you licked and stroked. You would retire from that play when I was so worked up I was begging you to fuck me. You would tease me. Push a couple fingers into my pussy. Hook them so you were right at my G spot. Pound me again. Slip a couple more in there. Cause me to thrash around like demons were possessing me. You would then take me, fuck me, but before you came, you would flip me over and take my ass. Sometimes without sliding as much as a finger in there, so that I was achingly tight. But I wanted you so that I would be gaping for you within moments. Over and over you would thrust, until the bed shook and my screams echoed through the room. I’d feel your breath on the back of my neck and your hands on my hips and feel perfectly content with the world, even though I was technically being violated. Then, after we both came heavily, we’d relax for a few moments, and then you would do my favorite thing in the world. You’d spank me. And it was so sweet. You would feel happy that you could make me so turned on. I liked it most of all when you would finish with a series of resounding slaps that made me claw the sheets and scream so loud my throat hurt.

I love how afterward you would pull me close and hold me and kiss me tenderly and whisper to me how much you loved me, how I was your angel, how you never wanted to be apart from me because you loved me so much.
Those were the days for sure, weren’t they?

But they’re over now, and I’m going to regain them.

I’m going to find you.

I’m going to drive all the way to where you live now. And you won’t know I’m coming. And I’ll make my way to your house and knock on your door. And you’ll hardly know who I am, because I’ll be wearing heavy eye makeup, with very shiny lipstick, and have my hair cut in a sexy, short cut. You will glance at my manicured nails gripping the doorknob and your gaze will move up my arm to the rest of my body. You will open your mouth slightly, wide-eyed, because I am wearing tall black combat boots, a button down black shirt- the same one that you took off my back dozens of times when we were dating. Your eyebrows will raise as your eyes move to my black leather miniskirt held together by buckles. You gasp out, “Hey, Emily, what are you doing here?”

And I quietly reply, “You need some fucking Allen. And I am the only one who knows you well enough to do it right.”

And with that, I step in the room, kick the door shut behind me with a quick tap of my boot, and push your shoulders gently so you move toward the wall.

Once you are backed up against the wall, I kiss you, softly. The way a lover would. The way I used to. Before all the madness happened. Before I lay in my bed at nights wondering if you were fucking your new girlfriend instead of me.
I stop kissing you. I pull your hands from where they had crept to my lower back. I quietly tell you to take off your clothes and lie on the bed. You obey me, even though you are not quite sure why you are doing so.

You lie there, on top of your twisted, crumpled sheets and pillows. Your body is pale, hairy in places, trembling slightly. Perhaps it is from the chill in the room, but more likely from anticipation, and maybe even a little fear.

Your cock lies on your belly, slightly hard. It gets harder when you watch me take off my clothes. Your eyebrows raise yet again when you see that my small, but well-shaped breasts are not hindered by a bra, and my (again freshly shaven) pussy is not concealed by anything, not even a thong.

Your cock gets even more engorged when I grab it and massage the tip in the way I know that instantly gets you hard. Very hard.

I reach for your hands to bind them with the tie that I had slipped inside my boot, but before I can accomplish what I had planned, you pull my body so that I am lying on top of you. You flip me in a move that you still remember from your high school wrestling days, and soon I am on my back, hands pinned underneath me.
“No,” you say.

“No!” I reply. I will not take this. I want you to suffer, to feel some of the pain that has been ravaging me.
Why am I suffering? Because the pain that tortures me is rather a lack of pain. I fondly, achingly remember those nights when we’d drive to your family’s lakehouse, and then you would spank me so hard that my screams and moans echoed through the night.
After you pin me, you pick me up, like I am a feather, even though I’m about as tall as you and am still wearing those boots.
I should knee you. Any normal person would, if they were getting placed over someone’s knee.
But I am not normal.

I am expectant, happy. I’m about to get my favorite thing, from my favorite ma-
My thoughts are interrupted by your palm meeting my ass. Hard. Painful. Wonderful.
The way I like it.
Slap,
Slap
Slap
Over and over.
I scream and cry and whimper, because I am becoming very wet. You pause in spanking me for a second and slide one of your long, delicious fingers into the dripping cream in between my thighs. You quietly laugh when you hear me moan.

“You thought that you could punish me, didn’t you, my pretty little fucked up angel?” you say, as you slide three fingers inside my pussy and twist.
“Instead, I’m going to punish you.”

And with that, you slide your fingers in and out of me, and tease my clit, while you continue to mangle my ass with the palm of your hand. When I am raw and red, you stop.

You roughly grab my hips and pull me onto the bed so that I am on my belly.
I pretend to be angry, chagrined, but inside, my heart is doing a tap-dance inside my chest. I’m so excited. And ready.

You quickly slide into my pussy for a couple strokes. Normally it takes a little maneuvering to get your rod inside me, but I’m so looking forward to what I know will come next that you glide in like you had been fucking me all night, instead of for just ten minutes.

You pull out of me, and drive your cock into my ass.
I begin to scream. I don’t care if anyone hears me. I don’t care if your girlfriend comes home and sees my car. I don’t care if the house gets bombed. The world could cave in and I would not mind as long as you keep fucking my ass.

I move my fingers to my clit, squeezing in between my own hips and the bed. I frantically finger myself as you ravage my ass, run your nails down my back, and nibble the back of my neck. You thrust for a few minutes until you begin to come. Feeling your come inside me only makes me more excited, and in a couple more strokes of my fingers, I am coming, in a delicious frenzy of warmth and wet and kisses and gentle moans. I had my eyes squeezed shut the whole entire time, and when I open them, I am practically dizzy.

I don’t very well know how to explain myself, and neither do you. I suppose that the only thing I can do is to put on my clothes, which I quickly do.

“Um, I’ll call you later” I squeak out, and I run to my car.

I’m not sure what to do, but I know I’ll definitely invade your privacy again.

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