“Maybe,” I answer. “Not for a while though. That kind of took a lot out of me.”
“You did look a little scary, you know.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah, just a little.”
“I didn’t hurt you at all, right?”
“No,” she confirms. “My arms were getting a little sore at the end, but I pulled them down. I didn’t think you even noticed.”
“I didn’t,” I admit. “I think I was a little focused on something else.”
I wink at her, and she reaches up to kiss my lips and then narrows her eyes at me.
“You never kissed me,” she comments.
“I guess I didn’t.” I scratch my jaw and ponder. “It didn’t seem right.”
“Why not?”
“I dunno…it’s just more intimate, I guess.”
“More intimate than having your dick in me?” She laughs again.
I think about it for a moment.
“I couldn’t have forced you to kiss me back.”
“Why would that matter?” Melissa asks. She tilts her head toward me again, her eyes inquisitive.
“Even with you fighting against me,” I explain, “I knew I could physically get you into the position I needed to have sex with you, but if I kissed you…”
I pause to make sure I get the words right.
“If I tried to kiss you,” I say slowly, “and you didn’t kiss me back…well, that would hurt.”
She stares at me for a long moment.
“Yeah,” she finally says, “I guess I can see that.”
She settles against me again, and it isn’t long before she’s drifted off to sleep. As her breathing steadies, I replay the whole night in my head. The anticipation of waiting for her to get home, grabbing her outside her apartment, shoving her down on the bed. I think about what worked well and what didn’t. I think about what I would do differently next time.
Next time?
I still feel a little twisted for enjoying it so much. I feel like there’s a perverted, violent streak in me somewhere that I don’t want to acknowledge. Just thinking about holding her down is getting me hard again.
Maybe it’s inside every man. I don’t know; I can’t speak for others. I only know that Melissa’s fantasy has awakened something in me—something I never knew was there before. I’d never even considered it. The more I think about it, the more I think it’s not a bad thing at all. We’d talked about it; I’d planned for it with her safety in mind; and we’d both enjoyed it.
Melissa isn’t a pervert, and I’m not a sociopath, and I’d never consider actually forcing anyone, least of all Melissa, to do something like that. This is playacting. This is fantasy. There’s a huge difference between fantasy and reality. Despite my physical actions, Melissa had complete control over the situation the entire time.
Maybe that is all that matters.
One thing is for sure—this isn’t going to be our last risqué encounter.
~The End~
Want No More