Starts like most other hookups. We meet, we chat, sparks fly, we go back to one of our places to proceed. As the kiss and nips start, my comments start to raise flags. “I can’t wait to fill you up”, “Gonna give you a load to remember”, “Hope you’re not on birth control”.

You stop, and make very clear, “You’re gonna use a condom”. Of course that was previously agreed, I assure. Its just play, its just words. You let that pass, knowing you’ll pay attention for suspicious movements or shuffling. The suckling on your neck and firm hand exploring your curves pulls your attention away from reality, back into our lovers’ fantasy. A swirl of passion later, we’re fucking.

To your relief, nothing worrisome happens while we go at it. As you lay on your back and feel me throbbing, you know I’m close. A sudden stop, some grunts, and you feel the hot splash across your abs and chest. An empassioned night is over, as you feel my fading hardness drooping and rubbing around your clit. Feels pleasant.

As we kiss, the rubbing gets more steady and accurate. The softening stops and a harder, still slick member is bullying your button. You feel dazed, but are starting to wonder if-

And then it pops back in.

Harder.

Fuller.

With no respect or worry.

Just animalistic desire for you.

“Hey, wai-“ I’m not letting you speak. Between prying into your lips with my tongue and holding your jaw as I buck no words can come out. You can just lay there, clench some for my pleasure, and take me.

Reluctantly, this time is more invigorating than last. The moments I stop my frantic motions, holding firm and still, as I suck around your neck you feel my heartbeat inside you. The closeness is undeniable. The flagrant invasion is oddly fulfilling. You’re where you belong right now, underneath and wholly subservient to me.

Some thrusts and maladjusted affection later, the stillness of our bodies contrasts the rapid, hot gushing of our connection. You feel yourself being filled, more and more. Our eyes match, and you’ve never felt smaller.

Immediately after your thoughts swirl too much to say. Hours later you loathe me, consider charges. Days later you miss me, especially your hips. Weeks later you get a message, “Meet again?” You already know you’ll say yes, with hope and regret.