Yet the allure of her proximity grows more day by day, only augmented by the fact that she would probably welcome me into her body, her pussy drenched for me to mercilessly shove my cock inside of her in a brutal assault.
Because I wouldn't be gentle with her.
Despite the soft nature of my wet dream—much as it makes my lips purse in frustration—I know I would be anything but gentle with her.
I'd take her hard and fast, if only to exorcize her from my mind and my body and the fact that she's become close to an elusive obsession. I grit my teeth as anger slowly seeps in.
Why does my dick have to fucking burst at the thought of her?
The fact that I've never had such a visceral reaction to another woman only makes my anger mount, leaving me even more frustrated as my cock strains against the plane of my stomach, so fucking hard and nearly ready to pop.
And as my thoughts continue to stray to her plump lips, visions of her on her knees and choking on my cock invading my mind, I can't help the small tremors that overtake me, my entire body spasming as I thrash against my holds, my dick twitching as spurts of cum land on my stomach.
Fuck!
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I curse out loud as I manage to free myself from my chains.
Even the euphoria of my orgasm is not enough to chase the clouds that settle over me. Maybe I would be able to thrust this out of my mind if this had been an isolated incident borne out of my drug induced state. But even my clear mind has trouble keeping her out of it.
She's become a restless phantasm in my head. Thoughts of her plague me every waking moment of the day, my skin prickling with anticipation to see her.
In the beginning I'd told myself it was purely my need to gloat at her misery. But that had soon shifted. And it seems that my dick can't take a fucking clue when it comes to her.
Sure, I'm still relishing her misery, but with a raging erection every time she's in the vicinity.
In a sudden moment of clarity, I'm forced to accept that her plan to seduce me might have worked—at least on my body. She flaunts herself in front of me so often, showing enough skin to make me intrigued, but barely enough to keep me guessing.
My jaw clenches as I realize I may have fallen into her trap.
Oh, she's good. I'll give her that. She's an experienced seductress and her mix of sophistication and contrived innocence had certainly hooked me, making me desire that duality in her while making me question myself and my initial motives for hating her. Her strategy is nothing short of impressive —advance and retreat, coming across as hot and cold until she sinks her claws into me.
And sunk them she has.
The anger becomes even more potent as I realize I'm likely not the first man she's used those wiles of hers on. After all, she must have perfected her seduction technique somehow. And that awakens something scary inside of me.
Time skip
"Damn it all to hell," I mutter as cold water from the shower pours down on me—all in an attempt to squash this uncharacteristic and insane thirst I feel for her.
In a moment of weakness, I'm left to wonder if I should maybe just give in—fuck her once and get her out of my system. At least then I won't be so curious about her flavor, the feel of her pussy wrapped around me, or the taste of her full submission as I fuck the brat out of her. Maybe that could work.
But I know I would ultimately never forgive myself for being so weak as to fall prey to her charms. And that annoys me even more.
Because I'll be damned if I do and I'll be damned if I don't.