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Subject: {ASSM} (REV) Once Upon a Late Night (MF)
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Date: Sat, 06 Jun 2009 19:10:03 -0400
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She opened the blanket just enough to get herself into bed with me. I
noticed she'd taken off her pants.

"Where've you been?" I asked. It was a small bed but neither of us
touched.

"I was out."

I propped my head on my hand. "I didn't think you were really breaking
up with me," I said.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said. She put her arm around me.

"Did you kiss him?"

She didn't say anything, but tried pulling me closer. I stiffened up.

"Did you kiss him?" I asked again.

She said, "Yes."

"Two years. We've been together two years and its just like that. Why?
How could you?"

I felt her cold legs. Her feet tangled up with mine. I tried not to
move. My knee kept her away.

"Did you fuck him?" I asked.

"No," she said. "Of course not. Why would you ask that?"

She pressed in. She wore her underwear and a white shirt, but no bra.

"What are you doing? You think you can come into my bed, like nothing
happened? What the hell?"

"I can't sleep by myself. Not tonight. Please."

"Even after what you did? Are you kidding me. You should have stayed
with your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend. I just went out with him."

"Why are you here?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing. I can't think, right now."

"But you're done with me."

"Yes. No. I still want to be friends. I still...I still love you"

"You fucking bitch." I felt bad saying it. It stung bad. I hoped it
would hurt her even more.

She placed her hand on my knee and pushed it down. I struggled, but
let it drop. She moved and covered the distance between us. Her lips
searched out mine. Her legs were warm and rubbed against mine. She
took my lips into her mouth, hard and desperate. I knew she still
loved me. And I still loved her. How couldn't I? But I hurt, too.

I turned my face away. "Don't you have any self respect?" I asked.

"What?" she said. "I don't know what to say."

"You can say, I'm a bitch. I'm sorry, I'm a bitch."

That drove a nice spike into her.

"Get the fuck out." I shoved her away with very little force. I didn't
have the strength to throw her out. She clung to me.

"I love you," she said.

"If you did, you wouldn't..."

"It didn't mean anything. It was just a date. I kissed him. So what.
It didn't mean anything."

"It was cheating." I said.

"I broke up with you." Earlier that day, no more than 12 hours ago.

"It was just a date."

"Do you love him?"

"No."

"I know how it goes. It didn't mean anything. Is that how you women
rationalize sleeping around?"

"Please. Please don't say that."

"Fuck you. Get out."

For the longest time, neither of us said a word. You could hear snow
flakes fall, the trudging through snow, maybe a door close near or far
away. My computer hummed.

She cried, convulsed, pulled the blanket closer to her, pressed into
me. She turned her head away. You knew there were streams of tears.
She wiped her face. It made me feel sorry for her and hate myself. We
were quiet for a long time.

"Can we just forget it for tonight. Can we just go to sleep?" she
asked.

I looked at her and touched her face delicately. Her face was hot and
wet.

I grabbed her wide thighs, the ones that stuck out from her hips, the
ones made it so hard to find a decent pair of pants. I grabbed her ass
and squeezed it hard, and didn't let go.

She held the pain inside. She barely struggled, but she felt it
alright. Her face pressed close to mine.

"I love you," she said low.

"Why?" I wanted to understand.

She grabbed my hard cock. Traitor. She stroked the foreskin up and
down the sensitive head and started jerking me off.

"You fucking bitch." I said.

She didn't say anything. She just kept rolling hand and thumb over my
cock. I stopped talking.

She pulled down her panties and turned her ass to me.

"Fuck me," she asked.

I pushed down my boxers and gave her what she wanted. I felt her
differently. I felt low like an animal. Things clicked in my head, she
was an object now, an instrument. I philosophized as I fucked her hard
and angry.

"This cock is telling you it loves you, but I'm telling you that I
hate you."

"Stop."

"Fuck you."

"Yes."

I fucked her until I came, and pulled out. I got off the bed and
looked for a clean shirt to wipe my cock. I turned on my desk lamp. I
came back and sat at the bed. The blanket was off. She was naked from
the waist down. Her shirt covered her small tits. She was only an
object of sexual desire. She was her wide hips, her patch of black
wiry pubes, legs spread out casually. I went up to her and slipped my
hand between her legs. She closed her legs on my hand.

"Its going to take forever for him to figure out how to fuck you like
I know how."

She nodded.

"I know your clit, how to time you, how you want it, when you're
coming, how to make you come harder. And you're giving that up for
him?"

"It not about that."

I frigged her cunt. Usually I had to focus, think about what I was
doing. I would feel for her clit, spread the lips, build it up. But
this was easy. I was rough and manhandled her, as much to impose my
mastery of her cunt, as to  remind her that I knew how to do it.

"I still love you, you know," I told her. "You don't turn something
like that off. But I hate you, too."

She left out a heaving cry.

"Fuck me. I'm a bitch, a slut. I'm worthless."

I made her cum in my hand. Her body shook, and she flopped back on the
bed. Her swollen eyelids closed down to thin slits. I cleaned my
fingers with the t-shirt. When I was done, I tossed it to her. She
took it between her legs and cleaned herself. I frowned and looked
down at her. She pulled the blanket over her shoulders and pushed
herself back against the wall of the bed. She was looking at me when I
turned off the lamp.

I got into bed and laid on my back. The night closed in. I exhausted
myself thinking, and fell asleep.

Tomorrow was the start of something else between us.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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