It starts with gentle kisses on my breasts. Your tongue lapping at my nipple. I swat your hand as it kneads my flesh. I turn my face away, to hide the grin pulling at my lips. You grow more persistent, using teeth, roughly grabbing. There will be bruises in the morning.
I push your head from my breast, curl my fingers into your hair and tug your head back. I tell you no. Now the game begins.
You suck my entire nipple into your mouth and it hardens. You clamp onto it with your teeth and tug, causing a breathless little oh to escape from my lips.
I try to push you away again. Hands on your shoulders. I repeat no. You weigh down heavily on me. Even using all my strength, I can barely budge you. I ineffectually try and wriggle free. The game is on in ernest now.
I start to get angry. You have me trapped and helpless. One word and you will stop, but then you will have won the game, and I am such a sore loser. I beat at your shoulders, use my legs to try and keep you at bay but you simply grab my wrists and pin me down. I continue to struggle. You slap my face. I can see your eyes gleam in the darkness.
You push me down into the bed and roughly pry my legs apart, leaving my hands free to beat against your arms. I push against your forehead with both hands. You grab them and crush my wrists, pinning them to the mattress. Your tongue darts out, sliding along my slick folds. You chuckle. I'm already wet.
You continue to lap at me and I continue to struggle. Your mouth clamps onto my clit, sucking it into your mouth. You release my hands and the minute they are free I dig my fingers into your hair and start pulling. Your teeth clamp down on my clit and I cry out half in pain, half in frustration. Knowing you will only bite harder I let go. You chuckle again. I am incensed. You think you have already won.
I change tactics and go completely limp. Start reciting my multiplication tables. Try to remember the lyrics to my new favourite song. It works for a few minutes but then you slam two fingers into my cunt, curving them inside me, knowing just where to press. I squirt once, twice, three times and you continue fucking me with your fingers, your tongue ever insistant on my clit. My breath starts hitching. I dig my nails into my outer thighs trying not to rise up to meet you. I can't let you win.
You bring me to the edge and keep me there, playing me like an instrument, pulling my strings so taut. Finally I break. I beg. I plead. I moan and whimper and cry. Please. Please, please, please. This is my mantra.
You tell me no. You like to hear the desperation in my voice. Again and again you growl no against my flesh. I try so hard to be good but you're determined to win. Fuck it. I can't help myself. The orgasm crashes into me and I scream, my whole body bucking. You win.
I've been a bad girl, cumming without permission. You flip me over and slam your cock into my ass, my only saving grace the fact I'm soaking wet. I'm still unprepared. It hurts. I scream into my pillow again and again as you pound into me, repeating what a dirty fucking slut I am. Such a bad, bad girl. Tears stream down my face as your hand pushes against the back of my neck. I can barely breathe. I am close to passing out when you finish, pushing into me a final time with a guttural cry.
Afterwards, you gather me tenderly into your arms and kiss my hair. I snuggle against you. As sleep claims me, my final thought is, 'Next time, I'll win.'
