House Rules

Desperation

“Quit touchin shit,” he mutters catching you as you try to masturbate. You thought he was sleep.

“Not when it’s mine to touch,” you counter, watching his back and waiting for him to show off. He doesn’t move as minutes pass. “Erik,” you whisper, “You’re not sleep. Why can’t you just let me borrow your tongue? You did it before.”

“Tongue machine broke. Dick machine up,” he mutters.

“NO. I want the tongue,” you reiterate.

“I know,” he says in a smiling voice that irks your soul. He knows his power.. But you’re also sticking to yours.

“You can be so childish sometimes,” you sigh getting up to take off the lingerie. It feels like such a waste.

“You the one with a puddle between your thighs still tryna control shit, it’s hilarious.”

You were fuming. You’d finally set your nerves aside to ask him for head, something you’d NEVER typically do just for the thickheaded negro to say NO.. Twice! It took you a while to come to an understanding as you stared at the polka-dotted lump beside you in disdain, only mildly embarrassed. You knew exactly what Erik wanted from you. He was playing a game that he expected to win by breaking you down until you relented to his sexual tyranny.

Your nostrils flare as you watch him sleep, his dreadhead smashed into the pillow. Thanks to his forced hydration, you’ve urinated enough times to fill an inflatable raft. Five times, your bladder has woken you and whispered up to your hand to slap fire out of him. The temptation has been great. The sixth time waking has you rushing to the toilet, groggy and irritated. You finally march out from the restroom slapping him on the shoulder and he doesn’t stir. You shove him, his big body hardly moving, and he won’t open his eyes. He’s that damn stubborn.

It’s cool, I’ve got something for you, you nod. If he thinks your last move was bold, oh he’d see bold. Moving into the bathroom for a quick refresh of your nether-regions, you stick a careful finger up there to test it with a quick sniff and a quick taste. You’re starting to think maybe you just don’t like the taste or mouth feel of bodily secretions in general. Looking in the mirror, you snatch your scarf off and adjust the PJ shorts and t-shirt you’d changed into after his threat. Although you wanted head, you weren’t ready for all of that extra that he wanted to do to you and you wouldn’t be intimidated into it. Erik’s reign of tyranny would not commence.

Yours, however, would be effective immediately.

Watching your face in the bathroom mirror as you cackle soundlessly, mischief in your smile and intention, you turn to step from tile to carpet and pad silently back to the bed noting that Erik has not moved from that same spot that he’s been buried in. That wicked smile stretches your face again. You’ve been a great pain in my ass, Stevens. It’s my turn. You push down and kick off your shorts, not having underwear beneath and feeling the air. Suddenly this is all too real and you can feel your nerves kicking in, your heart racing. Whooshing out a calming breath, you blink and steel yourself. The A/C provides a low comforting hum in the background. No movement from Erik yet. Good. When you walk over to peek at his rugged yet youthful profile, still sleeping, you hesitate. The last time you woke him, he choked you on a reflex ingrained from his military days. You could still feel it when you thought about it. What would he do now, bite your clit off? Climbing gently back onto the bed, you throw your leg over his head and lower your pussy onto the side of his face that’s exposed, grinding. Spreading your lips, you make sure that your clit in particular wipes and grinds against his stubbly cheek. It feels good.. and bad at the same time but in the best way.