Wednesday, April 10, 2024

Some like it rough

  

            I walked into Susie’s dorm room and found Butch humping her.

            He was on her as if on a horse, going at her so hard I thought for a moment he was trying to kill her.

            But she groaned and moaned in a way she never did for me.

            I was always the gentle partner, the caring lover who always won her ecstasy with tender caresses.

            I didn’t even know how to do what Butch did.

            Susie assured me – when she and Butch had finished – that the love making had meant nothing to her.

            Butch just happened to be around when she got the urge.

            She said rough sex was better than no sex at times like those.

            And had I been around, she would have chosen me over him. But I arrived too late, she said.

            Later – seeing how upset I was – she agreed to have sex with me as well.

            But knowing Butch had done as much as he had seemed to ruin the mood for me.

            I touched her the way I usually did, slipping my fingers into the moist crack between her legs, easing them up into her like an opening flower.

            Usually this pleased her a lot, inspiring her to moan slightly, licking at my lips as she asked for more. Usually, I complied by easing down to that now very moist opening, so I could replace my fingers with my tongue, moving slowly around each and every aspect of her, with the painstaking attention of a teasing strip tease artist, avoiding direct contact until she was so hot with wanting that mere contact caused her to explode.

            But this didn’t happen this time.

            Perhaps Butch had used up all her erotic energy, and she didn’t even give me the usual moans, let alone the near screaming she had emitted under Butch’s attack.

            She also did not invite me to continue the way she normally did, or offer to satisfy me with her mouth as she sometimes did when she was too sore.

            I knew she was disappointed with me after comparing me to Butch.

            I guess I thought Butch had something I needed, and that if I could adopt it, too, she wouldn’t need him or anyone like him to feel satisfied.

            Perhaps I always saw myself as a little prissy when it came to sex. I liked sex the way a woman did, using more than just one organ to find ecstasy, so that I used my mouth as much as I did my penis, and often wanted her to do as much for me with her mouth as well.

            But men like Butch saw love-making as ramming a rod into a hole until something broke and squirted, a violent action that had more to do with causing pain than making anyone happy.

            Yet she seemed to like the attack, drawing more from it than just Butch’s sweat and cum, and if so, I hoped to give her that, too.

            So when I got with Susie again, I got rough.

            I might have been stabbing her with a knife for the screeches she emitted – and for the struggle she put up against my assault.

            I thought her protests were part of the routine even though I knew deep down she didn’t make the same sounds she had made with Butch. I didn’t believe her when she insisted I stop.

            Only after I was finished (and she dripped with my assault, white not red, though it might as well have been blood) did she start yelling for me to get the hell out and not come back.

            I stumbled out of her dorm room in a daze, confused as to why she had liked the assault from Butch and not me.

            Later, a sweaty Butch confronted me in the gym locker room, and started wailing on me for raping his girlfriend, and to get even, he was going to have to rape me.

            I thought he – with her perverted sense of humor – was kidding.

            He assured me he was not, and would have made me blow him had I not slammed and door between us and run.

            I don’t know how long I ran, but I was huffing and puffing when Susie caught up with me near the Science Building.

            She said she had heard reports of Butch trying to beat me up.

            Still afraid she would think me too prissy, I let her believe that’s all Butch intended.

            She suggested we might retire to one of the labs and make love.

            I was out of my mind, confused, yet so horny I stumbled over my own hard on.

            We didn’t do it rough. But we didn’t play the way we usually did. More straight than that, me easing up between her legs, moving around inside of her the way my fingers and tongue usually did, me feeling her insides in a way I hadn’t felt with my penis before, as if I had grown a new sense and felt how tight she was around me, as if she covered me completely head to toe, as if I could breathe nothing except what she permitted me, and we moved up and down and around, in and out, each of us feeling the others enormity, each of us moaning louder and louder.

            Maybe the scene of the lab animals had something to do with it, their animal hormones spilling over into our mix, making us passionate rather than prissy, making me feel as if I was fully a man again, all of me needed to explode in her and on her, and she waiting with open legs and mouth to receive all that I could spill into her, holding me back just enough to keep me from exploding all at once, easing me to it, teasing me with little licks and bites, making me ache to explode all the more, halting just short of it each time, until we started again on some higher more intense plain, until – after all that, after every part of my skin tingled with outraged desired, I let loose.

            She wouldn’t let it go, her mouth seeking my explosion so as to catch some of the lava as it poured forth, hot with every bit of my desire, yet despite the explosion, the desire still tingling me, as I pressed my flesh into her open mouth, and felt her breasts pressing against my knees, both of us shuddering through the last of the explosions until we melted, side by side, still quivering, still moaning over the rapidly expended passion that we had never had before and she would never find in the likes of Butch.

            She whispered in my ear: “don’t change.”

            I didn’t know what she meant at first, but I realized later that she would still need men like Butch from time to time, that nothing I could do would ever do what he could do either, she needing that animal in him just as she needed the passion in me.

            As strange as this might sound, I got used to the idea, though I will likely spend the rest of my life sorting it out in my head, how people needed different people to satisfy different needs. She still calls Butch at times, but later, after she had used him up, she calls me, and we repeat what we did in that lab, she having absorbed some of the animal of Butch, expending that animal on me.

            And I have never had it better in my life and probably never will.

 


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