Sunday Sex…Kinda Like Church

As the steamy shower called my name I took an assessment of myself in the bathroom mirror. I slowly counted the black and blue splotches covering what was once my perfect, pink flesh. I turned around to view my backside and immediate attention was drawn to the thick, red lines scrolling down my spine.

A sudden flashback of last night played in my brain and I let out a quick gasp. I looked up at my face and there it was…my crooked smile. The one The Psychopath had created, The Mad Hatter had let out of it’s cage, and the one The Racist was now delighting in.

I was no longer the girl next door. I was no longer Jessica the innocent blonde. I wasn’t a role model, and while I still respected myself, I no longer respected other people’s opinions of me. Zero Fucks were given and I was enjoying the moment.

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I closed my eyes and replayed the previous night’s activities like a silent movie (well…not really silent).

His hands grabbed tightly around my thighs causing my sensory neurons to trigger pain. Every time Kurt touched my body it was with force. He was anything but gentle.

 “There will definitely be bruises there in the morning,” I thought to myself.

He yanked my body closer to his while simultaneously leaning down to kiss me. I closed my eyes and let go.

A sudden inhale escaped my mouth as he pulled my hair back, slipping his finger inside of me with his other hand. The Racist’s ability to immediately find my g-spot was impressive.

 Reading my reaction he knew what chord he had struck, and he decided to play it until I came.

Once my body unclenched, he placed his hands on my hips and holding onto me he rolled to his back placing me on top.

 Leaning over to his left ear I whispered,

“What do you want?”

 “Do whatever you want to,” he responded.

Hmmmm. Not the response I was looking for, but I’ll take it.

As I licked my way down to his dick I grabbed a hold of it tightly and tasted him until I couldn’t take it any longer. I needed to cum again.

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Straddling him I sat upright and placed him inside of me. I began moving my hips slowly, enjoying how he felt, taking in all of him. Our bodies fit perfectly together. He knew it, I knew it, but neither of us were going to admit it just yet. No one had ever felt this good before.

I leaned over him once again with one hand on his chest for balance, and the other by his left ear. I moved my ass up and down adding a slight curve.

Right as I began to move faster Kurt let out a loud groan.

 “Ahhh I fucking hate you,” he bellowed.

I smiled my crooked smile, and kissed him hard with my tongue slowly pulling out of his mouth.

 “No you don’t,” I answered back.

…Smack!

 “Oww!” I involuntarily screamed.

Kurt’s eyes popped open and he smiled as he smacked my ass again.

…definitely going to be a bruise there too.

The Racist growled at me. I liked his playful anger, but I wanted more.

Just then he placed his hands on my shoulders digging deep into my skin with his nails. He mauled his way down my back as I arched in pain.

Intensity grew as I returned to my vertical position on top. I rolled my hips faster, and harder. I could tell Kurt was holding back just for me now, so I began to touch my clit as the ride continued.

With each movement of our bodies suspense began to build. My legs began to twitch, my fingers clenched his stomach, and  The Racist let out a loud…

“Fuck!”

I began to cripple on top of him from weakness. My entire body seemed to be tingling from an overdose of Dopamine.

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 This memory will forever serve as a reminder of the moment I decided exactly what I wanted sexually. Looking at myself in the mirror that morning I knew The Racist was certainly not my soul-mate, but more than that he couldn’t fully offer me what I wanted in the bedroom either. This type of sexual encounter took a lot out of him. A few bruises and some scratches were his limit. …but I wanted more.

Domination is possessed naturally. It cannot be forced, and it cannot be taught. I want my body to be claimed as much as my heart. I want pain AND ecstasy. I want to submit myself entirely not only to my soul-mate, but to my “Sir.”

On certain mornings I want to wake up with my body so sore from the previous night that each time I touch something I’m reminded of him. Skipping off to work, trying to make the world a better place one person at a time but then returning home to my love. The one who still sees me as a precious soul…despite our dirty little secret.

Delicious or Demented?

 …either way…it’s what I want.

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19 thoughts on “Sunday Sex…Kinda Like Church

  1. As a Sunday School teacher, I’m obligated to say that I found the religious references to be in poor taste…
    Just kidding, but they will make it damn hard for me to concentrate today! I teach young married couples and now I’ll spend the hour wondering if any of them pulled out the handcuffs and paddles last night.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I hear you Jessica… I’m a control freak in every aspect of my life except for the bedroom …. I do love a forceful man. Life without kink is very beige!
    Ps. Super hot sex…. I hope you enjoy the hot damn sex for as long as it lasts x

    Liked by 1 person

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