Page 11 of Nearly Roadkill
Scratch:I don’t care what sex you are, I just wanna fuck. If that’s too rough for you piss off.
Winc:::leaning forward, putting my hands on your shoulders:: Do your stuff, Scratch.
Scratch:::crotch zing:: I like that in a partner. Gotta know about your hair. Long or short?
Winc:::laughing, turning away, tossing long hair out of my eyes::
Scratch:<--- likes long hair.
Winc:You?
Scratch:Short, bristle, you have to ask to touch it.
Winc:What if I don’t wanna ask first? ::turning and walking back closer to you::
Scratch:Then you get a kick in the balls.
Winc:::stopping short:: Ah… well… With what kind of shoe?
Scratch:They’re boots, dude. Bet you’re pretty in that long hair.
Winc:::dropping to my knees, pressing my cheek against your boot:: ::purring:: I’m as pretty as they come.
Scratch:::grabbing hair:: ::pulling face up to look at me:: Stay with me, though…
Winc:::jerking to my feet::
Scratch:::kissing your neck, pulling hair::
Winc:mmmmmmmmmm… nice, very nice…
I’ll summarize a bit: It’s a bare room, mattress on the floor, but we’re nowhere near it. I can practically hear our voices echoing, it’s so real. I’m horny as hell, urgent, with a kind of intensity I’ve never felt before. Like I don’t care what he wants. I’ll use him anyway, I’m not obligated to his rhythm.
I push him against the wall, and he gasps.
“You like it rough, huh girl?” he asks.
My hands are hungry, rough on him, rougher than I wanna be, but now I understand that phrase “I can’t help it.” He shudders, I bring my hands to his chest, squeezing his nipples. I squeeze them hard, and his eyes go wide. It makes me laugh softly. I’ve pegged him; his hardness turns me on, but it’s the way he yields that takes me over the top. I’ve never been here before, it’s not some bitch in high heels with a whip I’m being, but I’m definitely running this thing. I can feel my own desire take over, spill out, let it guide my fingers on the keys, my hands along his body. I lift his shirt, suddenly impatient.
“I want it off!”
He tosses his head, making his hair whip my face a bit.
“Make me,” he says.
He still doesn’t get it. He’s describing himself, and I begin seeing him. Lithe boy body, soft hair on his belly, sinewy. I ease up to his chest, kittenish, unassuming, kissing his chest, but then bite his nipples hard. He gasps.
“Shirt off,” I repeat. He’s breathing hard but pauses, maybe in confusion, maybe still impudent. “Off!”
He pulls his torn T-shirt over his head. He folds his arms across his chest: I pull his arms down, knead his chest with my hands. He gasps, and I press myself fully against him, kissing him deeply.
He lifts his arms up and around my shoulders. I lean into him, suddenly grateful for his strong body, his boy strength.
“Yes,” I say, “hold me strong.”
He opens his mouth wide for me, pulling my tongue deep inside. I press against his pelvis, and he moans into my mouth. My hands are around his back, digging in.
Winc:::pushing hard against you, kneading your shoulders with long strong fingers… my cock harder now::
