There is no sex quite like angry sex.
I was pretty keyed up after being pulled over repeatedly on my way to get Seith some cigarettes. He was horny. Quel surprise.
I spent a good hour and a half ripping into him from every possible angle. When the anger over the police incident cleared, I reminded myself that he had lied to me about his dad dying. When I was no longer angry about that, I remembered how he had laughed at my cock. He wasn't laughing now. He was as into it as I was. It was one of those moments I was grateful not to have a headboard because it would have shattered against the wall.
Mike and Gina were in some far off galaxy. I didn't know whether they were home or not. I didn't care. I wanted to be loud, physical and angry. We're talking spanking, hair pulling, all those French Vanilla sex practices that the violent and uncreative get into. I even did a little nibbling. Grrrrrr.
The next thing I knew it was morning. The Last Morning. Seith was already awake and rifling through one of my closets. "Where's yer discman?"
Sometimes I'm a calculating bastard. He had asked about borrowing my discman as soon as he found out he'd be bussing it home. At the time, my discman was in my car, hooked up to my stereo system. Since that time I had removed it to the safety of the theatre. He was not getting my discman.
He tore up the house looking for it. He even went into the attic. He eventually settled for my $10 walkman and a bunch of crappy tapes I didn't want anyway. We had several hours before I had to drive him to Boston, and not a lot to talk about. He told me that he planned on coming back, so I mockingly suggested he leave his Playstation. He balked. We made sure absolutely everything that was his was in the car (while I was checking to make sure absolutely none of my stuff was in his stuff).
He decided to take a much needed bath before his long bus trip. While he was getting ready to bathe, I was chatting with an online friend. This friend said that Seith had been IMing him and talking about hanging out when Seith returned to Southern State. Online Friend was amused because Seith had been spinning his yarns about the model agency to him. Online Friend was a friend of one of my high school friends and he knew I was neither modeling material, nor a modeling agent. Apparently Seith had also told Online Friend that I was the best lay ever. Not bad for someone with a little cock, then, eh? He'd talked me up so much that Online Friend wanted to come up and visit. That never happened.
While I was talking, Seith came in, naked and not yet wet. He wanted one more romp time. I was no longer angry at the world. I had a sort of detached resentment/lust thing going on. So be it. I rolled my chair around and he climbed on top of me, moaning and grunting like the drunkest frat boy on the Tilt-A-Whirl. After about twenty minutes, we were both spent and messy.
We decided to bookmark our relationship by showering together. This time, the purpose would be to get clean. There was a slight snafu, though. Seith had left the water running during our escapades. Intentional? Maybe. Frustrating? Hell yes. The bathroom had about a half inch of standing water, and the hallway carpeting near the bathroom door was drenched. I used up all the towels, sponges, and paper towels in the house getting it dry.
Seith showered alone for about ten minutes before the thought of angry sex pulled me into the bathroom, him out of the shower and onto the floor, and me into him. This fuck was all about me.
Which brings us to the boundary of angry sex and rape. One that I'm not ready to cross just yet.
original post: http://insafemode.livejournal.com/5845.html
I was pretty keyed up after being pulled over repeatedly on my way to get Seith some cigarettes. He was horny. Quel surprise.
I spent a good hour and a half ripping into him from every possible angle. When the anger over the police incident cleared, I reminded myself that he had lied to me about his dad dying. When I was no longer angry about that, I remembered how he had laughed at my cock. He wasn't laughing now. He was as into it as I was. It was one of those moments I was grateful not to have a headboard because it would have shattered against the wall.
Mike and Gina were in some far off galaxy. I didn't know whether they were home or not. I didn't care. I wanted to be loud, physical and angry. We're talking spanking, hair pulling, all those French Vanilla sex practices that the violent and uncreative get into. I even did a little nibbling. Grrrrrr.
The next thing I knew it was morning. The Last Morning. Seith was already awake and rifling through one of my closets. "Where's yer discman?"
Sometimes I'm a calculating bastard. He had asked about borrowing my discman as soon as he found out he'd be bussing it home. At the time, my discman was in my car, hooked up to my stereo system. Since that time I had removed it to the safety of the theatre. He was not getting my discman.
He tore up the house looking for it. He even went into the attic. He eventually settled for my $10 walkman and a bunch of crappy tapes I didn't want anyway. We had several hours before I had to drive him to Boston, and not a lot to talk about. He told me that he planned on coming back, so I mockingly suggested he leave his Playstation. He balked. We made sure absolutely everything that was his was in the car (while I was checking to make sure absolutely none of my stuff was in his stuff).
He decided to take a much needed bath before his long bus trip. While he was getting ready to bathe, I was chatting with an online friend. This friend said that Seith had been IMing him and talking about hanging out when Seith returned to Southern State. Online Friend was amused because Seith had been spinning his yarns about the model agency to him. Online Friend was a friend of one of my high school friends and he knew I was neither modeling material, nor a modeling agent. Apparently Seith had also told Online Friend that I was the best lay ever. Not bad for someone with a little cock, then, eh? He'd talked me up so much that Online Friend wanted to come up and visit. That never happened.
While I was talking, Seith came in, naked and not yet wet. He wanted one more romp time. I was no longer angry at the world. I had a sort of detached resentment/lust thing going on. So be it. I rolled my chair around and he climbed on top of me, moaning and grunting like the drunkest frat boy on the Tilt-A-Whirl. After about twenty minutes, we were both spent and messy.
We decided to bookmark our relationship by showering together. This time, the purpose would be to get clean. There was a slight snafu, though. Seith had left the water running during our escapades. Intentional? Maybe. Frustrating? Hell yes. The bathroom had about a half inch of standing water, and the hallway carpeting near the bathroom door was drenched. I used up all the towels, sponges, and paper towels in the house getting it dry.
Seith showered alone for about ten minutes before the thought of angry sex pulled me into the bathroom, him out of the shower and onto the floor, and me into him. This fuck was all about me.
Which brings us to the boundary of angry sex and rape. One that I'm not ready to cross just yet.
original post: http://insafemode.livejournal.com/5845.html
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