Insatiable A Dark Romance

I go look at myself in the mirror. I am me, but I am a version of me I could never have attained on my own. Greater muscular mass. What seems to be more bone density. Am I laying this down every time, only to absorb it? Or will I eventually keep these gains and become this hulking creature all the time? These are all questions only time can answer, and right now, my mind is not on the science. It’s on the sex.

I’m going to see Briarlee.

Her place is about a half hour walk from mine. I head out onto the streets, stride through crowds of people with more confidence than I ever did before. The world is different from the vantage of a brute.

Women in little skirts smile and giggle as I go past. Not in the pitying way they used to. There’s whore light in their eyes. They want me. I feel attraction, not as some kind of weak chemical signal, but as a force. I could take them. I could fuck them. They would bend over and let me have their stinking wet pussies. But I don’t want them. There’s only one woman I want. Only one woman I have ever wanted.

I find myself at her house. I’m not entirely sure how I got there. The amphetamines are keeping me more fully conscious of my actions than I was before, but they’re not perfect. I’m blinking in and out of awareness.

The door opens. She smiles at me.

The next thing I know, I’m inside. We’re in her kitchen. I’ve sat at the breakfast bar and watched her make bad instant coffee a hundred times before. This time there’s no coffee. She’s naked from the waist down. Shreds of silk hang around her thighs. I am plunging inside her pussy, my cock so hard it feels like a bar of titanium.

I have dreamed of what it would be like to make love to her a thousand times. Slow. Gentle. Reverent.

This is nothing like that.

My cock is sluicing in and out of her pussy in rapid strokes that make her shriek with what might be pleasure, might be pain. I don’t care. I just want her. Her hair is falling into the sink, getting wet in the remnants of soapy dishwater. My hands are on her tits, those big, soft, milky globes rolling in my palms as she wriggles beneath me.

She is a mess. And this is a travesty. But I can’t help myself. I have to have her. It’s not a want. It’s not a desire. It’s a vicious command, pounding through my veins.

“You want this?” I growl the words because I’m not sure. My voice doesn’t sound like the voice I’m used to hearing come out of my mouth. It’s much deeper, much rougher. Much more masculine. I like it. I used to always speak with such pathetic submission. Now every word is an assertion of brute maleness.

“Oh, fuck, yesss!” She screams the words.

I grab her hair, pull back out of her, and make her work her greedy pussy back on me.

She wanted this. She consented. I am assuming she consents every time. Even though I must leave her sore and sloppy, alone and wondering who I am.

She must know.

How does she not know?

She doesn’t know.

I’m going to come. From the way her pussy feels, she’s come several times already. She’s soft and she’s creamy and her inner walls grip and milk me, demanding my cum. I don’t even try to fight it, even though the sensible, civilized part of me knows that there is no condom between us. There’s nothing to stop my cum sparking life inside her unprotected womb. That makes it hotter still as I slam my hips forward and give her everything I have. It feels like a geyser of cum erupting from my balls, filling her up. I want every bit of it to get inside her. I want to fill her. I want her fuck hole to be deluged in my semen.

These thoughts are new, but I like them. They’re vital and primal and raw. This is how a man fucks a woman. This is how a woman should be fucked by a man. It’s rough, but perfect.

Climax brings relief from the pressure that has been building inside me since I took the dose. It’s like having the cork removed from a bottle, a genie freed. I have my mind back. I have my soul back.

She’s still bent over in front of me, her pussy soaking in my seed. Goddamn, she’s beautiful. Even from behind. I feel a rush of affection that makes me scoop her up and hold her so damn tight.

She turns in my arms, cuddles into my chest, her head nuzzled beneath my chin.

“You’re going to go again, aren’t you.”