Between the Sheets

The sound of you breathing still makes me shiver.

I was young, and although I was far from naive, I most definitely had never had the pleasure of something called a “grudge fuck” before. My encounters were far too fleeting to ever had led to anything more than a night, and this was new to me.

You were pacing in my bedroom, furious at my accusations and even more angry that I was right. You had left your lady to be with me, and yet I dare hold you accountable for you being an hour later than you promised? How dare I? Your furor was obvious to even the neighbors; your voice found no boundary in the thin walls. I remained unmoving in my bed, shrouded by the darkness (you were not even worth me turning the light on), and sitting up on my elbows.

Your anger continued on, and I began to rethink what I would do if you suddenly turned violent. You never had, and in truth you never would, but your sudden rise to anger made me wonder. I eyed the doorway to my bedroom, the one you were conveniently pacing in front of. Your steps were becoming more harried; your frustration began to overwhelm you.

I would not lose my cool in front of you. You accused your significant other of having no control of her emotions; I would not give you the satisfaction of saying it was a trait in all women. Finally, I found my pillow, rolled over, and bid you goodnight.

I heard you slam my front door. HARD.

I waited for the sound of you car door and grabbed my phone, convinced that you would be dialing me at any second to continue this rift. Always prepared, my thumb hovered on the “Ignore” button. But the phone never buzzed, and I never heard your car door.

I heard my front door. And your leaden feet on my floor.

And although I trembled in my bed, I stiffened my spine when your frame lurked in my doorway. “What do you want?” I growled.

You moved toward me, nay, lunged at me in the dark and pinned my shoulders to the bed. “No more talking,” you whispered, and before I could argue, your tongue was in my mouth.

You seemed possessed, if that was plausible, and some other spirit was now inside you. Your normally tender touch evaporated and led way to a base, animal need. Our teeth gnashed at eachother as your fingers quickly found their way to my pussy, which had just as suddenly began throbbing, eager for your touch. I found your cock already hard, perhaps so before you even breached my doorway, and I quickly stripped you of any material that might keep me from you. You did the same, and soon the sound of our bare skins slapping filled the room.

Unsatiated thus far, you forced me over onto my belly, and then pulled my knees up under me, so you could truly dominate me the way you planned to during our argument. You knew I wouldn’t fight you here. You forcefully used your knees to kick my legs spread eagle, so my dripping pussy was wide open and ready for you. You slammed into me, hard, pulling my hair back and finding stability and fulcrum in my shoulders. You repeatedly fucked me, over and over again, until my body was weak from you and I felt the hot explosion inside of me, your back arching and pushing that last inch or two inside of me. We collapsed around eachother, panting, exhausted, sweaty.

It was AMAZING.

Afterwards, I had no idea how to act. The one-night stands usually had me making false-promises of “next time” and doing whatever it took to end the conversation. But now.. were we still angry? Or was that an apology? Or, at the very least, a truce?

You buckled yourself up and, without a word, went home to her.

grudge fuck, doggy-style, sweat, passion