Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Such a Good Boy

Such A Good Boy 
submitted by Kellie Janine
“Look at you, all laid out for me,” she drawled, smiling down at the naked man on the bed in front of her, “You look good enough to eat.”
He grinned back at her and raised an eyebrow, “Is that on the agenda?”
“Oh sweetheart, let's not ruin the surprise, huh?”
She walked over and sat down beside him, resting her hand on his chest. “Okay, no talking unless I give you permission. Understood?”
He nodded, and she smiled as she reached over and wrapped a leather strap around his wrist.
“Too tight?” she asked, pressing a kiss to his pulse point. He shook his head and, after another kiss to his palm, she secured his other wrist in the same way. Within minutes she'd done the same to both his ankles, leaving him spread across the bed, completely open and ready for her to play with.
She had plans for tonight. She wanted to tease him, to torment him. She wanted him a quivering mess before she finally let him have his reward. But looking down at his cock, which lay thick and heavy already against his stomach, she almost changed her mind about dragging out the fun.
She knew that she could take him right now. Just straddle him and let him slide into her, hard and hot. She could ride him, rough and fast, and watch as he strained against the bonds that tied his wrists to the bedposts.
But that wouldn't give her what she wanted.
She wanted to watch him fall apart, to see him moan and writhe with pleasure under her fingertips. She wanted to be able to appreciate it, and she didn't think she could if she lost control.
So tonight would have to be about him.
She stroked a hand up his side and across his chest, squeezing at his nipple and watching as his eyes glazed over. He moaned softly and his hands flexed and strained against the straps that bound them in place.
"Oh, you like that,"
Wide brown eyes, large and unfocused, met hers. She could see a combination of fear and arousal in them, but he didn't use his safe word. She had to trust him to stop her if it was too much, just as he trusted her to give him more than he thought he could take.
"I could play with these all night, you'd enjoy that, wouldn't you," she murmured, squeezing again and running the fingers of her other hand through his hair. He leaned into her touch, wordlessly begging for her caress. "Would you like that? Would you like me to pinch and torture your nipples?"
He didn't reply, just moaned again, long and low, his eyes still glazed but never leaving hers.
"I think you could actually come from this alone," she gave his nipple a harsh twist, harder than anything she'd done so far. He moaned again, but he didn't tense up, didn't resist her, and that aroused her more than anything else.
"I love how you submit to me, the way you give in and just give it all to me,” she purred, “I love everything about this, you're so gorgeous when you let go,” she caressed the side of his face and he leaned into her again, seeking comfort.
She released his nipple and let her hand slide down his chest and towards his cock. It leapt hopefully and she smirked at that.
"Oh, don't worry, we're getting there," she crooned, "but you're not nearly desperate enough yet."
That drew a begging whine from him but she ignored it, allowing her hand to continue down, bypassing his cock completely and heading straight for his balls. She cupped them, rolling them ever so slightly with her fingers, and then pressed down on the spot behind and gently massaged. This tore another breathy moan from the man, but he still didn't struggle against his bonds.
"Oh that's good, that's so good," she said, "You're still not resisting … so beautiful." She allowed quiet words of encouragement to fall as she continued to press there, slowly letting the other hand come back up to brush against the sensitized nipples.
"Just keep on holding on, give it all up to me. Don't do anything, you don't have to do anything," she whispered, "All you have to do is be here and do what I tell you to."
She let her hand drift up from his balls and stroked a careful finger along the bottom ridge of his cock. It bobbed up and down in reaction to her searching fingertips. He sobbed a little, his hips rising slightly to chase her retreating caress.
"Would you like me to touch it more?" she asked, teasingly. He nodded wordlessly and she smirked.
"So beautiful, and so obedient," she murmured, "You're such a good boy, so good for me."
She wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and slowly let it drag all the way to the top, making sure her thumb caught on the bundle of nerves at the underside of the tip, and then brought it back down again.
He gasped, almost lost for breath. He was on the edge, and the sudden, intense sensation almost pushed him over. But he didn't have permission to come and he knew that. She could see the struggle on his face as he tried to hold off his climax.
"Don't," she cautioned, knowing that reinforcing the command verbally would help him to hold on, "Don't let yourself come without permission. If you do then I'll have to punish you."
His eyes brightened at that, but his body reacted immediately, melting back into the mattress. He was so wonderfully responsive to her orders, it was almost overwhelming.
"You are so beautiful, so gorgeous when you're like this. You have no idea how much I love the fact that you're willing to do this for me. To do this with me."
She kept stroking slowly as she spoke, and he just lay there whimpering and taking everything she gave him.
"You want to come, don't you," she raised her free hand up and pressed two fingers into his mouth, allowing him to suck on them. He groaned around them and nodded frantically, “I know you do, and you will soon. Don't worry, I've got you sweetheart, and I'll get you there in the end. Just trust me."
She took her hand off his cock and he whimpered with disappointment, but then she started stroking up his sides and laid a gentle kiss on his collar bone.
She continued to lay soft, sucking kisses across his broad chest, going from one side to the other and making sure to capture each nipple as she did so. He keened each time her warm mouth closed over the swollen flesh, straining up as if to beg for more suction, more heat.
He was so caught up in what she was doing to his chest that he didn't even notice as her hand had traveled back down to his cock and wrapped around it firmly.
At least, he didn't until she began to jerk him off, tight and fast. He screamed at the sudden change of pace, straining pointlessly against the leather straps that held him in place.
Even as she raised her head from his chest, she didn't slow her attack on his cock. If anything, she allowed herself to go even faster, even harder. She used her other hand to brace against his hips, holding them still, and continued with the punishing pace.
“Just take it. I know you can,” she said, almost conversationally, “There's no point fighting. I'm going to keep stroking you until you think you can't handle another second … and then I'm going to make you take more.”
He groaned at her words, his fists clenching and unclenching. His lips were forming words, and she thought she could read “Please … can't … please...”, but, obedient as ever, he remained silent.
“How much more do you think you can handle?” she asked, grinning down evilly, “Ten more strokes? Twenty? Fifty?”
He mewled and pushed his head back into the pillow, his eyes clenched shut tightly. He was truly starting to struggle now, she could tell. Time to end it.
She took her other hand off his hips and reached down, beyond his balls and into his cleft, fingers searching for the puckered hole there. As she pressed against it, her other hand still keeping up it's harsh pace on his cock, he shrieked and lifted of the bed as far as his bonds would allow. Now, she thought.
“Come for me, baby,” she said, allowing the finger to breach his ring.
With a wail he obeyed her, and thick pearly ropes shot up and across his chest. His eyes flew open and she watched as the haziness left them for a second, only for it to settle again once the streams of semen stopped. He shuddered, jerking as she stroked him through the aftershocks.
“You did so well” she whispered, and he winced as she withdrew her finger from his hole, “I'm so proud of you.”
She took a towel from the bedside cabinet and cleaned him up, careful not to be too rough on his red, chafed chest. He muttered a little, unintelligible nonsense, and she smiled fondly.
“You sleep now, sweetheart,” she said, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead, “We'll talk when you wake up.”
Half asleep, he nodded at that, but there was something he needed to hear first. “I was good?” he mumbled, eyes firmly closed.
“You were so good,” she whispered, “Such a good boy.”

Monday, June 17, 2013

Just One Night

Just One Night

Submitted by T.A. Woods

She stretched her knee up the bar stool, hiking the already dangerously short front of the dress. The gulps in the room were almost audible.   For once, she didn't give a shit, though she did lean forward a little to give the bartender a little show when she lifted her finger for her drink.   The young man fell over himself trying to get her the whiskey sours she’d been sipping on all night.   A hand snaked around to grab her arm, dangerously close to her breast.   Her eyes were slits.

She turned to see the same asshole, who’d been hassling her all night, still not getting the hint.

“Hey, how about me and you see what kind of freaky thangs we can do in my van?” His gold tooth shone in the light.

“We are cousins Harry.   Get the fuck out of here.”   She tried to shrug him off, but his hand tightened.

“We twice removed or some shit.   Now c’mon girl. I know you ain’t shy.”   She hoped his Afro Sheen wouldn't drip on her dress.   She rolled her eyes.

“Your mom is my mom’s aunt.   The only removed is you getting your drunk old ass on.”   She’d said her dad was his mother’s cousin before.   He was just getting drunker and more bold by the minute.  She pulled her arm again, and he yanked back.

“Hey, if you gonna dress like that, then you even giving it or selling it.   Now which is it?” He leered.   He actually leered at her, and made a move for her tit.   She was reaching back to get the drink that was sitting on the bar to bash him in the face with, when Mr. Tall Dark and Where The Hell Did He Come From swung Harry around and popped him once in his jaw.   He slithered to the ground, an ungainly lump of shiny blue polyester.

“Are you alright?” His voice was as dark as his skin, though his eyes had this silver look to them that showed someone had dipped into a lighter gene pool at some point in his genetic history.

She shrugged.   “Yeah, I’m fine and I would've handled that myself.   Who asked you?”

“I’m working security at the wedding, so yeah that’s who.”  Then she took in the dark clothes, with the subtle security written across his shoulder.

“They asked you to punch out every drunken schlub who tried to cop a feel tonight? Because your fist must be really fucking sore.”

She turned away from him, setting the weapon glass down.   She reached into her small bag, big enough for some ones, a credit card, the invite and a condom.   She set the ones on the bar, and grabbed her drink.   She slipped her leg from the bar stool, ignoring the pinch in her toes from the imitation Milanos and strutted away into the rest of the melee.

Kids were running all over the damn place, revved up from the ice cream station.   Moms and dads were too busy having a good time to supervise.  The older adults had already retired. The younger ones were getting in as many drinks in as they could.  There was a lot of sloppy dancing going on, and party fouls splashing onto the ground.  She shook her head, taking a slow drink, walking around the room.  Her dark eyes not missing anything.

Who would it be tonight?  That guy who sat in the corner looking low into his diet cola, rejected by a bride’s maid perhaps?  That sadness could be fun to play with.  The silver fox sitting at the table, strumming his fingers, his eyes a little unfocused from the bourbons he’d had?  Too easy.  She needed some excitement.  The one guy over there loosening his tie, who was shaking his head a little?  Jilted lover of the bride, or maybe the groom?  This was the new millennium.  Anything goes.  She changed direction, letting each hip drop in deliberation, knowing that the light was catching each ebony strand just so.  She would look like a dark goddess to him. And she would be, for the night.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” came that voice against her ear.  She couldn’t believe she had let him get so close.  She must be slipping.

“What do you mean?  I have my guest ticket.  Want to see it security boy?  Or do you just want to drop me like you did my cousin back there?” her voice mocked him, as she pulled out her invite.

His breath was warm against her neck, making her breathing a little erratic.

“This isn't your name.  Edith Beltone died three weeks ago.  Who are you?”

“Who do you want me to be?”

“I’m disappointed.  I didn't expect you would have such trite lines.”

“You say trite, I say classic.” His hand was on her bare back, right above her ass, guiding her away from tonight’s delight toward the exit.  His heat poured through her, lighting a fire down to her now soaked thong.

He placed her glass on a waiter’s tray as they walked through the party.  His hand firmly in place as he escorted her into the hallway.

“How did you know?” she asked.  She’d been crashing weddings for years and no one had ever been the wiser.

“We've been watching you for a while Venise.  Aren't you glad we found you?” A cold lump dropped in her stomach.  She didn't bother to try to deny her name.

Her eyes darted down the hallways knowing the exits had already been blocked.  She knew this day would come, but she hadn't realized it was so close.  Her heels seem to sink in the plush carpet.  Then she smiled that smile that had gotten hundreds of men before him into so much trouble.  She slipped the straps of her dress down, lifting her arms.  It danced down her body like a flame, leaving the heels, the thong and the smile.

“Come on,” she whispered.  “Don’t you want to know what it is?  Can you take me?” She turned, her breasts pressed against his chest. “Play with me pretty boy.”  She leaned in and licked his ear.  That’s all it took.

He lifted her from the ground, her legs wrapped around his waist like they were made to be there.  He swiftly found the unmarked room, opening it with his ID, slamming the door behind him.  She barely had time to notice the security screens set up before they were kissing; though less kissing and more a dance of domination, a mark of tongues and teeth and groans. He grabbed her amble ass, lifting her and rubbing her wet slit against his hardness.  She arched her back, ready to do what she did best.

He bit the inside of her neck, marking her and then licked it. She laughed throatily, turning to him.

“So you like to bite?”  Her voice was almost a growl, her eyes wild.  She ripped his jacket down.  “So do I, but I save it for the end.”  She grabbed the edges of his shirt, ripping it apart scattering buttons everywhere.  His body was so hard and perfect, she tried to paint his chest with her mouth, licking, kissing, and scraping her teeth against his nipples.  She ran her nails down his back, leaving her signature V.  He groaned, taking a handful of her hair and yanked on it, pulling her away from him.

He led her by her hair to a desk, brushing everything off of it.  She jumped on top, opening her legs wide to him.  He unzipped his pants, and her greedy little fingers had to play to see.  He was just as big as she thought he would be.  He didn't give her time to breathe, to think.  He sank right in, filling her, stretching her.

“Fuck me!” she groaned, her head falling back, squeezing her eyes tightly.  His hips started pounding into her.  Sounds of flesh smacking against flesh, and rough groans filled the room.  He lifted her higher, until he got that perfect angle.  That one where she couldn't think, she wasn't even sure if she was breathing.  This was so wrong.  She was the one who usually had the control, but she didn't care.  As long as this never stopped.  Her toes flexed in the air.

He was staring down at her, his face an almost angry mask, as he bit his lip, pumping his hips like a piston.  She arched her back, and he bent down grabbing one of her nipples hard and ready for his taking.  He sucked at her, bit her.  Lapping with his tongue to suck on her again.

That’s all it took.  Her body shook and contorted in spasms, out of control.  She was out of control.  She may have hit him, and she definitely scratched him.  Still, he kept going until he blew his load, grunting as he let it all go.

He then looked down at her with what almost seemed like regret, and she felt a pinprick in her side.  Her eyes widened as she felt herself lose the feeling in her body.

He pulled out of her, straightened his pants and pulled out his radio transmitter.

 “The Black Widow has been captured.  Repeat, The Black Widow has been captured.”

She felt like she was a marbleized horror show. Only her eyes could move. She watched him walk to a closet and pull out a robe.  She couldn't feel it when he put it on her.  She couldn't feel the tear fall down her cheek.

Sunday, June 16, 2013

Secret Desires: Chapter Three

Secret Desires:  
Take Me Now

by SM Bryson

It was by sheer miracle that the two of them made it into the room at all.  Abby was all over Stephen while  he tried to use the key card to unlock the door.  Eager for more of what they started in the elevator, she had one hand down his slacks, gripping his hard shaft through his boxer briefs.  The size of his member caused her to moan softly in anticipation.

Stephen grunted and thrust against her touch even as he continued to struggle with the damn key card.  He couldn't seem to get it aligned properly.

"Stop," he groaned.  "I can't get the door."

"I don't care."  Abby slide herself between him and the door, pressing her body against him.  Her hand slid past the elastic waistband of his boxers and explored further.

"Abby," he murmured.  "If you don't stop I'm going to take you right here against the door," he threatened.

His lengthening member in her hand, Abby stroked up and down slowly, teasingly.  Her mouth sought his, lips opening against him as her tongue explored.  "Mmmm," she mumbled.  It was a tempting thought.

Stephen gently disengaged himself from the kiss so he could focus on the lock.  When it finally opened, they fell into the room, nearly spilling to the floor.  Kicking the door behind closed behind him with his foot, Stephen's hands were already busy.  They were everywhere, tugging at her, pulling her clothes off, groping, caressing.

Their mouths found one another again, fused together as tongues met in a duel of passion.  She found the button on his pants and freed his hard dick to spring into the air at full mast.

 Oh, he was so big, so hard.

They walked backwards, stumbling through the dark while their heated kiss continued and clothes flew off.  Both of their pants shoved impatiently down to gather at their feet and trip them up, they shuffled their way through the hotel room.  They never made it to the bed.

Abby backed into the sofa in the sitting room and before she could fall over it, Stephen's arms were around her, holding her up, picking her up to sit her on the back.  Immediately her legs found their way around his waist, wrapping around him, urging him forward.

Panting, breathing heavily into the quiet room, they continued to kiss one another as their hands explored.  She could feel his erect cock press against the dampness of her panties, searching for its mate.  Abby ground against him, moaning her pleasure as his hands caressed her breasts, teased her nipples.  Their clothes lay scattered in a trail of passion from the door to the couch, Stephen's pants still around his ankles and her panties the only remains.

"I want you inside of me," Abby said against his mouth.  "Now."

Stephen groaned, moved his mouth to kiss down her jaw, tease her with his tongue on her ear and neck.  "Abby, I want to take our time," he whispered.

"Later, next time," she urged, her hands moving to pull her thong down.  "This time, right now, I just need you, Stephen. I need you inside me, I need you to fuck me hard."

Her words were his undoing.  She found herself being picked up and turned around, thrown over the back of the sofa.  Quickly, almost roughly, she was bent over before she knew what was happening and her g-string was being ripped off, her thighs forced open.

"Now," she cried out.

"Now," Stephen agreed.   He thrust himself inside of her.  She cried out with pleasure, and pain, but there was nowhere to go.  He had her held down, shoved up against the furniture.

"Oh, so tight," he grunted.  Buried to the hilt, he stayed there, allowing her a moment to adjust to the size of his cock.

Reaching around with his hand, he moved in between her legs and began to gently rub her clitoris.  Within moments she was wiggling, thrusting back against him, keening her pleasure.

"Oooh, that feels so good," she moaned.  "Oh, God, so good."  She pushed back, urging him to fuck her.

He pushed forward, moving his free hand to her back and held her still while his other hand worked its magic on her button.

"Stephen!" she cried out, her legs trembling.  "Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes," she cried out, lost in the moment.  Noting mattered anymore but her impending orgasm.

Slowly he withdrew his dick until nothing but the tip was inside of her.  His hand rubbed frantically at her clitoris, bringing her ever higher.  He held her there, until he felt her legs shudder, heard her cries of release, and then he shoved back inside with one long, hard thrust.

Abby screamed.  "Oh my God! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh God, Stephen, I'm cumming!"  Then she was wordless, nothing but gasps and moans came out of her as he pounded her from behind through her orgasm.

When she finally came down, shuddering, breathless and moaning, Stephen withdrew from her and flipped her around.  He attacked her mouth savagely with his own, crushing her lips beneath his.  He picked her up and threw her over the back of the sofa onto the cushions, then jumped over to meet her there.

He smiled at her, brushed her sweaty hair from her face and kissed her softly before grabbing her ankles and forcing her legs back over her head.

"Ready for more?" he grinned.

"Please, please, fuck me," she begged.

He obliged.  Fully inside of her once more, he moved her feet to his shoulders and pushed forward, burying himself as deeply as he could.

"Oh God, you feel so good," she said.

"So do you," he grunted.  He began to thrust  in and out of her slowly.

Her moans grew louder and louder, her hands dug for purchase, grasping at the material of the sofa, raking her nails over the cloth.  "Harder," she urged.  "Harder, faster, fuck me, fuck me."



Stephen pumped into her hard, slamming their bodies together with a resounding slap, thrust faster and faster until Abby was screaming his name.  Her back arched, pelvis thrust upwards against him, her legs straight out and trembling.

"Stephen, oh yes, oh yes, oh God that's so good," she cried out.

On and on he pounded into her, until she thought he would break her apart, tear her tender vagina into pieces, render her a broken rag doll.
orgasm after orgasm wracked her body, one rolling into the next, a continuous high of pleasure that tore ragged screams out of her mouth.

When she thought she couldn't take anymore, when she thought it was too much, when she screamed her loudest, Stephen thrust hard once, twice more, then stayed buried inside of her.

"I'm cumming, Abby," he grunted.  "Oh fuck, I'm cumming inside of you."  He groaned and shuddered through his release as he spilled his semen inside of her.

Their eyes locked in an intimate gaze while they both climaxed, her inner walls squeezing the last of his load from him, and he weakly thrust a few more times bringing on aftershocks for her.

Finally, he sighed, closed his eyes, and fell on top of her.   She wrapped her arms and legs around him.  Sighing in contentment, he turned his head to find her mouth and kissed her softly.   Limbs all entwined, kissing one another, she felt fulfilled.

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Secret Desires: Chapter Two

Secret Desires:
The Seminar

by SM Bryson

Abby wanted him so desperately.  After two entire days of flirting and innuendos, her desire for Stephen had burst from a small flame into an inferno of fire that was out of control.

The attraction had been immediate, imminent.  Long had she dreamed of finding another Vampire Hunter, someone she could connect with.  Someone who understood her lifestyle and could relate. She had not counted on his beautiful brown eyes that bore into her very soul, his crooked smile that melted her heart, or his beautiful words that won her over.  Emotions were high.  Her desire to be attractive to a man, her desperate need for affection, her lonely ache for attention for so long, caused her to go weak in the knees at the site of him, to easily fall for his charm.  Her heart pounded, her hands shook when he was near.  The physical response of her body to his presence was astounding.  Never in her life had she become so aroused from just talking to a man, so damp from a simple gaze her way.

Every conversation with him ended with her panties soaking wet and found her locked in her hotel room, desperately seeking release by her own hand while she fantasized it was his hands, his mouth on her trembling body, bringing her to the heights of ecstasy.

Tonight, she found the fantasy becoming a reality when the unspoken passion and the sexual chemistry became too much for both of them.  Halfway through a seminar, their eyes met across the room and there were no words needed.  They met just outside the conference room.  The air nearly crackled between them as they stood and stared at one another.  Steven took her by the hand and pulled her against his body,  inhaled the scent of her hair, kissed her neck lightly.

She moaned softly, telling them it was time to find a room.  Quickly.  Before they lost their senses here, where any of their co-workers or superiors could come upon them.  He tugged her by the hand, though she didn't need much persuasion to follow him.

The trip up in the elevator was heated, passionate.   Their first kiss was everything she had imagined it would be and so much more.  No sooner did the elevator doors close did Stephen moved towards her, like an animal stalking its prey.  Suddenly there was no more space between the two of them, no room for even air. Abby's breath caught in her throat and her eyes fluttered closed as he took her face in his hands.

When Stephen's lips brushed against her own, ever so softly, Abby made a noise, that soft oh yes, that gentle murmur made against the mouth of someone else of pent up passion.

Abby's arms found their way around his neck, pulling him closer, crushing his body against her own.  Her lips parted against his, allowing his  tongue to explore and tease inside her mouth.

The sound of their breathing was loud in the elevator, resounding around them, echoing off the metal walls, amplifying the sound of their passion. Their mouths fused together, tongues busy in a mating dance of their own, Stephen's hand found its way underneath her shirt and cupped her breast.  This elicited a another soft moan from Abby and she thrust against him, pulled him closer, grinding her pelvis against him, getting as close as she could without him actually being inside of her.

When his hand snaked underneath her bra, his fingers brushed over her nipple, gently rolled it between thumb and forefinger, Abby's knees went weak.

"Oh, God, Oh, God, Oh yes, Stephen," she moaned against his mouth.

He deserted her mouth, trailing kisses across her jaw, down to her neck, where he gently nuzzled.  Both hands under her blouse now, inside of her bra, caressing, teasing, tweaking her hard nipples.

Abby arched her back, grinding against his hard dick that was pushing through his pants, trying to escape to find its pleasure.  Just as he freed one hand from the folds of her shirt and started unbuttoning her pants, the elevator came to a stop, alerting them with a ding.

Before they could pull apart and assemble themselves, the doors slid open revealing an elderly couple waiting for their ride.   Abby felt herself smiling in response to the lustful gleam in the old man's eye, even as his wife looked at Abby and Stephen with disgust.

With as much dignity as they could muster, the two strode out of the elevator.  Their clothes in disarray, Abby's hair a mess, both still panting like a pair of dogs in heat, they walked past the other couple, heads held high.  Perhaps the fact that their government badges were clipped to their belts, as was the practice when not wearing a jacket, lent credence to their credibility.  Most likely it made the situation appear worse, especially to the blue haired woman tisking at them with disdain.

"Hi," Abby nodded at the man, barely stifling a laugh.  The corner of her mouth twitched, her eyes alight with mischief as she winked at him.

Stephen smacked her on the ass.  "Don't mind her, " he told the couple.

The two Hunters burst into laughter, and hand in hand, walked towards Stephen's room. Perhaps it was more of a run, but they were eager to pick up where they had left off.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Secret Desires: Chapter One

Secret Desires:
The Beginning of the End

by SM Bryson

Sex had never been a problem in their  relationship.  In fact, sex was probably the only thing that had never been an issue.  Even when they would fight, or separate, they still found themselves somehow back in bed together.  Every time.

Even after the divorce, Abby would find herself fucking Seth time and again.  He was like a drug she couldn't get out of her system.  His sex was her crack and she needed a fix.

Even in the days when they were both abusing cocaine. She hated the drugs, that life, hated him and wanted out.  He claimed the coke helped him to think more clearly, helped his creative process, assisted him in writing.

It was the same fight every time, a merry go round they couldn't get off.

"Why can't you just be a drunk like every other writer?" she would scream at him, exasperated.  "We can't have drugs in the house, Seth, I work for the government."

"A secret branch that doesn't exist," he would scoff.  All the while laying out lines on the mirror.  Then he'd disarm her with his crooked smile and hold out a straw towards her, eyebrow arched.

She gave in every time.

They would do line after line and get so high that every single nerve ending was on edge, their skin so sensitive to the touch that the merest caress was like a whisper of an orgasm.

Sex while high on blow was amazing.  The simple touch of his hand sent her spiraling into ecstasy.  Very little foreplay was needed.  She was wet and so ready for him.

He'd grab her by the ankles and drag her across the bed, throw her legs over his shoulders, thrust his huge cock inside her to the hilt.  This position was so deep, so immensely pleasurable it was almost pain.

He would thrust in and out of her until she was screaming, throwing her head back and forth.  Long past the screaming, until she was unintelligible, muttering words that weren't even English.  Until she was guttural, her moans nothing more than an animalistic plea for release.  Until she was crying and gasping and trying to get away because it was just too much.

Seth, slick with sweat and far from release would pound into her, roughly holding her down in place for what felt like hours.  High on the cocaine, his stamina was that of a super hero.

When she was reduced to nothing but a quivering, crying mass beneath him, he would pull out and flip her over.  Too weak, too sated to fight, she'd flop over.

From this position, he'd slide his hand underneath her, pulling her up to her knees and against him.  Holding her in place he'd slide his cock inside her sore and swollen pussy.

This would last for as long as she could take it, while she screamed and fell onto her stomach time and again.  Until he would grow frustrated with having to pick her up, hold her in place.  Until they were both covered and dripping with sweat.  Her voice hoarse from screaming, her pussy drying up from the abuse.

Eventually she'd fall onto her stomach and he wouldn't pick her up.   She'd whisper with her scratchy voice, "No, no more, please no more."

"C'mon, honey I didn't get to finish," he'd whine.  "Let me cum," he'd beg.

She knew what he wanted, what he always wanted.  "No," her eyes squeezed shut, tears already falling.  Because it was going to happen.  It always did, no matter her protests.

She would feel his hand exploring, gently probing into her ass.  She'd tense up, crawl away from him, beg, "No, please, no, not in the ass.  I'll go down on you, anything."

"I can't cum any other way on this stuff," he'd reason.  "I need to finish.  Help me finish.  C'mon honey, help me cum."  He'd pull her closer by a leg and roll her over.

This would last until finally, tired from the fucking, weary from the arguing, and feeling sorry for him that he still had a raging hard on and didn't get to cum, she'd lie still and let him stick his dick in her ass.

It hurt.  Fuck it hurt.  Every time.  She would lie there and cry, while he held her arms behind her back and ravaged her rectum.

He grunted and groaned and muttered, "Thank you, thank you," again and again.  Of course he enjoyed it, anal was his favorite.

She'd lie there and take it and feel dirty.  Not the good kind of dirty, not the playful dirty whore kind of dirty.  The terrible kind.  The used kind.  The hating yourself kind of dirty.

Later, long after he'd finished and set out more lines of cocaine he would tell her the same thing.  Every time.  "You can't do a line if you can't stop crying."

"I hate it when you do that," she'd cry.

"You let me," he'd say.  "You didn't use the safe word.  You've never used the safe word," he would reprimand her.  "If you really didn't want me to fuck you in the ass, if you didn't like it, you'd use the safe word. Shut up and do your line."

At this point they'd do a few more bumps together and he'd wander off in a creative bliss to write all night and she'd be left to ponder his words, her own actions.  Every single time they used coke this happened.  The same arguments, same sex, same aftermath.

Merry go round.

Eventually, desperate to come down from her high, desperate to sleep so she could get up for work, she would pound down a few shots of rum to counteract the blow.

She had to drink until she was pretty drunk to come down and to sleep.  And she'd fall into bed, confused about her marriage, her own sexuality, and pissed at herself.  Going into work hungover was never good when you're a vampire hunter.