The door of your house clicks shut behind me, the noise sends the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. How long I have waited for an unsupervised and unrestricted visit with you. In the seven years we’ve been friends I have hardly ever allowed myself the luxury of your singular and uninterrupted presence, for fear of what it would unleash in me. I bend to take off my boots in your small stairwell entry way and am intoxicated by your mere proximity. I swear I can feel your eyes undressing me. The sensation spreads fire across my skin until I feel the heat settle in my cheeks. I don’t know if you notice the way you make me blush or not. I follow you up the stairs and I am transfixed by the shape of your body. Your broad shoulders and strong arms inspire daydreams about all the different way you could pick me up, throw me around or hold me down. By the time we reach the top of the stairs I am already wet.

You give me the the tour of your new house but I can hardly focus on the words you’re saying because you’re doing that thing where you bite your bottom lip after every sentence you speak. By the time we make it to the bedroom portion of the tour I’m absolutely desperate. Standing in the doorway of your bedroom I turn to look at you and pray that you see the need in my eyes. I’ve waited so long for this moment, the anticipation in the air is so thick that I can hardly breathe. In the moment our eyes meet I see something shift in you. There’s something primal and violent about it. In that moment I know that I’m about to get exactly what I’ve been begging for.

I flinch a little bit instinctively when your hand comes up quickly to wrap around the back of my neck. Your grip is firm and authoritative. I close my eyes as I feel you pull me closer. The moment your lips touch mine a jolt of electricity courses its way through my body. I cannot contain the faintest moan as I feel your hand exploring my chest and forcefully tugging at my shirt. You are manhandling me with enough force that it hurts just a little bit, enough force to remind me that you can do whatever you want to me. This wondered excites me to no end. The pain coaxes a small cry from me. The sound of my whimper only serves to invigorate you as you take me by the throat and lead me to your bed.

The roughness with which you push me onto the bed and begin unbuttoning my pants gives me shivers. The callouses on your hands against my soft skin drives me wild. You undress me completely and as you do I let myself get lost in the moment. My clit throbs in time with my heart beat, every brush of your skin on mine quickens its pace. I close my eyes and anticipate your touch, every false prediction crescendos want through my body until I’m dripping with expectation. When you finally touch me I can no longer maintain any semblance of control, I know there is sound leaving my lips but I cannot hear myself over the waves of rapture between my thighs. You slide your fingers into me like rough bark into silk and I can already feel the orgasm building. When you wrap your spare hand around my throat and squeeze I want to beg “Please fuck me. I want it. I need you right fucking now. I want you to fill me up.” But all I can manage is “harder please” before your grip tightens and I am gasping for air.

Maybe it’s the feeling of your hard body like stone against mine, or the fulfilled promise of any part of you inside of me, or the critical lack of oxygen to my brain at this very moment, but I feel high. The sensation takes me away from everything I’ve ever known except the physical right here and now. I fight for breath until it feels like a fight I’m gonna lose. I cannot stop myself from instinctively starting to claw at your hand. My vision has become spotted with white dots, sort of like when you stare into the sun for too long. Despite that I can still see the smile grow on your face as you watch me writhe for about ten seconds longer than is comfortable. You loosen your grip just a tad. Even though I trust you, the primal response of fear and adrenaline kick in. I am neither alive nor dead in these instances. Sort of like Schrödinger’s slut. I wish I could explain the ecstasy of this sort of foreplay with death, the appeal of the mercy of someone powerful. During those seconds in which you allow me to breathe, you are my God. God is merciful. God is good.

When you do finally allow me to catch my breath it isn’t long before you pull me up off the bed and push me onto my knees in front of you. I look up at you from the floor as you slowly undo your belt. You know exactly what you do to me. You know that I have fucked myself silly to daydreams that played out exactly like this. You know that I’ve been waiting for your dick for almost ten years, yet you take your sweet time. As soon as I get impatient and reach up to help hurry the pace, you grab a fistful of my hair and yank my head back until my chin is tilted to the ceiling, “not yet” you tell me with a smirk. I feel like a reprimanded child, it makes me feel both incessantly unworthy and incredibly turned on. You are completely and totally in control. When you finally take off your pants and boxers I am intimidated. My only comfort is that looking up at you from my knees feels like my natural place in the world, like my whole existence finally makes sense.

I take as much of you as I possibly can into my mouth before I begin choking in a different way. You’re so big that it feels like torture but the idea of making you feel good motivates me through the pain. When I look up and see your expression through the tears in my eyes I wonder what the fuck I ever did to be so lucky. Pleasure contorts your face in the most heavenly way. You look down at me and say “fuck that feels so good”. You moan my name and I could cum right then and there. The sound of my name from your lips is gospel. You reach down to wipe a tear away in a moment of tenderness before pulling your dick out of my mouth and slapping me across the face. The duality of the gesture seems to encompass our entire relationship. I just want you to hurt me. I just want you to love me. I just want you to take me and fuck me.

You pull me to my feet by my wrists. Your grip feels like titanium. You sit on the edge of the bed and coax me to sit in your lap. I pull your shirt off over your head before I do. Anticipation sets off fireworks inside of me as I slide my hands down your biceps, simultaneously feeling safe and threatened. I ease myself onto your lap slowly and as I do I feel you slip your way inside. The fit is so tight that it requires a couple of bounces to take all of you. It feels so good that I could scream, in fact I do. You put one hand over my mouth and tell me to shut the fuck up. The second the words leave your lips I want to apologize. I just want to please you. You put your hands on my ass and pick me up as you stand, just to turn around and throw me on my back.

You pick up your pants and remove your belt from its loops with a look in your eyes that promises punishment. The four steps back to the bed feels like an eternity as I fix my eyes on you and your gait. The feeling of worn leather wraps around my wrist, pulling tighter and tighter until the edges grip my skin like teeth. It hurts like hell but all I can think about is your dick and the way that it felt inside of me. I’d be begging if I wondered I could do it quietly, but the fear of displeasing you again stops me. You pin my arms up over my head and begin roughly feeling me up. I can hardly control my breathing, my heart is pounding out of my chest. My frenzied lack of control seems to please you, as you slow down and tease me. You know that I need this more than you. You take satisfaction in torturing me. You love to make me wait. You love how much I want you. You fucking complete me.

When you finally position yourself on top of me and slowly push your way inside I’m a quivering mess, having been brought to the brink of orgasm and back again what feels like a hundred times. You keep one hand pinning my arms down as you push deeper and deeper. Surrendered completely to your control, it doesn’t take long before I can feel my pussy tighten around your cock as I cum, repeatedly. As I do, I feel seven years of pent up frustration spill out of me and onto the sheets. You ever cum so hard that you feel drunk? I’m practically slurring when I moan your name. It’s all I can manage.

You untie the belt from my wrists and command me to roll over. As I flip over onto my knees I feel you sternly grab my wrists and retie them behind my back. You push my face into the mattress as you sink your dick into me. Using my arms as a brace to thrust harder and deeper, you are no longer interested in taking it slow or teasing me. You’re fucking me so hard that it hurts but I don’t dare complain. I can feel your body tense up and suddenly I am consumed with an all encompassing desire for your cum. I fucking need it. Before I even know what I’m saying, I’m begging you to cum inside me. Pleading for you to make me your little cum slut. I cannot help it. I can feel you thrusting as deep as you possibly can. As you cum I can feel the tip of your dick on my cervix. The sounds that were drawn from your lips as you came were music to my ears. Your moans of satisfaction were truly the greatest accomplishments of my life. You collapse, sweat soaked beside me before lazily loosening the belt around my wrists.

If I could live forever in any moment, made up or otherwise, it would be this one. Satisfied, claimed and filled with admiration for you.