He tilted my head back, looked at me, then leaned over so I could hear him speak.”Strip for me.” The powerful voice with that slight edge of a growl did funny things to my cunt, but I immediately started removing clothing, not caring if it was sexy or not. He just wanted me naked. The moment my panties hit the floor he had me bent over the bed spanking my ass with one hand while pinning me with the other. “Count.” And I counted as though my life depended on it because in that moment, to me, it did.
I knew logically he’d never purposefully injure me in any way, but right then having my ass reddened while he growled filthy things at me, told me I was a slut, his slut, and that he would beat my pretty ass into submission was a perfect storm for me to be wet and ready when he slid two fingers into my cunt. “Ohhh, dirty girl aren’t you?” I nodded my agreement while arching my body against him. “Please…” My voice was a soft whine of neediness.
His fingers were gone in an instant and shoved into my mouth. I sucked eagerly, hard, tasting myself and moaning. My ass was on fire, my cunt was throbbing and he just kept up with that sexy, sexy growl of his, giving orders and driving me closer to that edge. Finally, when he thought I was ready his voice changed to a soft whisper that somehow still growled. “Come for me before I fuck you.”
And I did. And he fucked me. And when it was all over the sleepy growl was an “I love you,” as he pulled me close, caressing my skin.
He jerked her body back against his, pinning her to him as he mauled her tits with rough hands. He would not be gentle. Not this time. Her nipples were pinched until she cried out half in pleasure, half in pain and he gave a satisfied smile at the sound. His lips met the back of her neck tenderly, before one hand seized her by her long red hair and yanked her head back and baring her throat and shoulder to him. There he kissed and bit, while he idly rolled her left nipple back and forth between his fingers. He pinched down again, waiting for that delicious cry he loved so much.
She felt herself being shoved towards the bed and her body bent over by her hair. Nails raked down her back, little trails of fire that made her writhe and squirm. Fingers dug into her fleshy ass before trailing down to find her dripping slit. “Of course you’d be wet for me, you fucking slut. You like it when I’m rough don’t you?” “You know I do. I like it when you leave marks and bruises and fuck me with that fat cock until I scream. Will you fuck me like that tonight?” Her voice was slightly breathless in anticipation where his had been gruff and hard. All in the spirit of the game they played.
“Get up on the bed. Now.” When she didn’t move fast enough, several smacks were delivered to her ass. “I said move!” And she scrambled quickly all the way onto the bed. In her haste to get where she was told she managed to tangle herself into a heap that left her face down, ass up, and pussy on display. He slid two fingers inside of her pumping them in and out. They could both hear her wetness and feel how her pussy seemed to suck at his fingers, wanting to keep them there. He stroked his cock slowly while he fingered her, just waiting until he knew she was good and close. And he stopped, withdrew his fingers, wiped her wetness against the back of her thigh and before she had a chance to complain he was driving his cock into her.
A deep moan escaped her lips and she braced her body against the bed as his hands dug cruelly into her hips pushing and pulling her along his cock. She managed to reach an arm beneath her body and furiously rubbed at her clit while her fucked her. The moaning and cries of passion grew louder and louder and soon he was shoving her face into bed bed to muffle her noises. It was all she could do to breath and she turned her head halfway hoping to get more air. He held onto the back of her neck, but loosened his grip a bit as he continued to pound into her. Her legs shook and suddenly she bit her tongue to avoid crying out as she gushed her wetness all over his cock. He grinned triumphantly and stopped long enough to pet her hair gently. “Good slut. I want you to do that again.”
And the hard, fast fucking resumed, their bodies slapping together as they met in a frantic rhythm, pushing higher and higher, asking for more and giving the most possible. This time when she orgasmed she did cry out and he groaned in response at the feeling of her body wrapped around him. He fucked her through it never giving her the chance to catch her breath and left her twitching against him. His hands had returned to her hips and he fucked her hard, his own orgasm imminent. When he did finally come in a heady rush of feeling she moaned again, feeling him inside her and another small orgasm shook her body beneath him. She collapsed against the bed as he pulled away and after a quick clean up they settled in for a cuddle. “I love you. Even if you are a dirty slut.” She giggled at him and rested her head on his shoulder. “I love you too.”
I’d never really given the idea of tearing or cutting clothing off during sex much thought. I’d never had a partner try it and despite reading about it in plenty of erotica it didn’t really catch my eye. Besides, I reasoned, why would I want to ruin a perfectly good pair of cute panties or a good shirt?
And then it happened. The very first time I had sex with a certain partner I got a little wild and while I didn’t tear their clothing completely off, I did rip the shoulder out of the t-shirt that they were wearing. I was in such a head space that I didn’t recall it at the time, but I was told about it later with a laugh. I was also told to just pitch the shirt as it was (obviously) now ruined. Instead I kept the shirt and put it on the next night when I got home from work. I wasn’t sure if that encounter would be our only one and if it was then I was keeping the shirt as a memento of some of the best sex I’ve ever had (maybe even the best.)
It is years later and I still have that shirt, and the partner, if anyone is wondering. I’ve worn it to dye my hair so now it had purple spots on it, it has food stains that never quite came out, it’s old and tattered and I refuse to part with it. I actually almost cried when I got hair dye on to be honest. It is just a little thing, but it means so much to me that I can’t bring myself to part with it. It will forever be a piece of my history that is etched in my brain in flashes and snippets and moments of clarity and that is something that I cherish completely.