Rough sex story
Hell Hath No Fury an erotic short story by Stephanie Bye
Hot and rough, rugged, hard, rowdy. The line of pleasure and pain had been blurred and I was covered in bruises as a souvenir of the night. It had all started with a water gun at the music festival. At least that's when the hottest part of it started.
We had been toying with the thought of each other for a while, and had even had one very hot night of sex already, but that had been a few days before and he had promptly told me he couldn't commit to even the few days left that we would be in the same state. What a dog—but a very sexy dog—a steel framed, muscle covered brick shit house of a non-committal playboy.
I had been laying into the drinks with some friends after the main stage that night when I saw him. The whiskey had reminded me I was a little bitter over the rejection. I borrowed the squirt gun, a common accessory with the hot Texas weather, from a friend. I slid the gun under the edge of my shirt, my hand on the trigger resting at my pocket. I walked over to him, put my arm around his shoulder and made a few moments of small talk.
“So, I had a purpose when I came over here.” I smiled that mischievous smile that should have been a warning to him.
“Oh really?”
“Yeah…” And with that, I began unloading the water gun directly at his crotch. I wanted to make him look like he had pissed himself.
Hell hath no fury....
He started squirting back at me and took off running. I went running after him feeling like Wonder Woman. I saw him duck between two trucks, a big box truck filled with ice bags and a water truck for keeping the dust down. My running filled with laughter at the absurdity of it all, with the whiskey and adrenaline bathing me.
I kept spraying him with water while he tried to wrestle the gun from me. I was thankful for my tall, strong body as I fought him for control. A sweet little damsel I am not. I was fighting full force, wrestling with the water guns and gritting my teeth, but he was barely breaking a sweat. We squirmed and wiggled.
I reached an arm around his body from behind and he locked my arm in a painful manipulation. I spun my body around to jerk it free as he placed a hand on my sternum and pushed me back to the side of the water truck. I reached up and grabbed the barrel of his water gun and spun around, a barrel of each gun in each hand. He spun me back around and I followed the momentum, jerking the gun away from his body, but not out of his hands.
That's when the mood shifted from a child-like playfulness to something far more grown-up. I had my hands crossed behind my back, a barrel of each gun in my hands. He pulled my body forward until his hands were wrapped around me holding the guns next to where I did, his breath was hot on my face. He slammed me up against one of the trucks, a small moan shoved out from the deepest part of my chest as the wind was knocked out of me.
Then with my hands trapped behind me and his body pressed against me, he kissed me. Hard. Teeth scraped my lips and our bodies ground against each other. The strong and yet helpless feeling made me blazing hot. He was trying to distract me, make me let go of the guns, give up the fight. Ha! Not a chance. I waited until I felt his grip slacken and the fight was on again. I jerked my hands in opposite directions and managed to get one of them free from him. We fought and wiggled harder, ducking and spinning. With his body pressed against my back he reached down and bit my neck where it met my shoulder. My knees went weak but I didn't loosen my hold on our toys. My throat felt raw with the heat of my own breath as I struggled against his strength.
We slammed each other back and forth, hard, shaking the trucks, bruising our bodies on metal. People stopped to watch for a few minutes as they walked by to make sure there was nothing amiss going on—no guy beating his old lady or two drunk kids scrapping it out. When they saw it seemed to be all in fun, they went about their night and left us to it.
'Who's Next' by Lorenzo Sperlonga at Obsession Art
I let him dominate me—shove me, hand on my throat, hips thrust against mine, grinding. I would fight back for a moment, catch him by surprise and gain the upper hand briefly. He was shorter than me by several inches, but he was stronger. This was a huge turn on: few men made me feel weak, and as strong as I felt exerting my strength, he never let me forget that he could snap me like a twig if he wanted.
Slowly something shifted. It felt like my feral side was coming out. I slammed him against the truck, hand on his throat and kissed him, biting his bottom lip and running my tongue along it to taste his blood. He reached up and pulled my hair, wrenching my head back and leaving stinging bites along my neck and shoulder. My fingers dug into his skin and my nails drew little half-moons of blood from his shoulders. We fought some more. Our breath was ragged from the physical and sexual strain.
One of the water guns we had been fighting over snapped in our hands, neither of us willing to let go of control for even a second. That's when something inside us snapped. The remaining pieces of the water gun fell from our hands as we began tearing at each others clothes. My shirt was torn down the front, my breasts framed by ripped cotton and a black lace bra. The button came flying off his jeans as I ripped them down his body roughly, freeing his hard waiting cock. His face was buried in my tits, one of my legs sliding up his hip and side to grind my jean-clad crotch against the smooth skin of his hard cock. He grabbed my hips hard and slammed me against the truck again, pinning me there and biting at my labia through my jeans.
“Wait, I can't do this. I'm bleeding...” I managed to stutter out.
“I don't care,” he rasped out.
Before I could recover from the shock of the state of the statement my pants were off. He slid my black lace panties aside and pulled the tampon string, tossing it aside under the truck. He buried his face between my legs and began fucking me with his tongue. I was tense at first, unsure of how to react to this. No man had ever done that to me before. Then he grabbed my ass and squeezed hard and all thought escaped me. He thrust his tongue into my snatch like a hot little serpent, slithering along my clit. I jerked him up by his shirt, tearing it at the shoulders as I did so. I grabbed the back of his head and kissed him, tasting myself on his face. It was metallic and musty and not altogether bad.
I slammed him back against the other truck and grabbed his hard cock. I slid my tits down his body and stopped to rub his cock between them. I ground my body against his, my tits pushed tight against his cock, one hand on the outside edge, licking the tip with every thrust.
When I thought he might come in a hot salty spurt against my skin he surprised me by hauling my body up again and slamming me against the other truck. This time as my back hit the cold metal of the box truck, his cock was at the opening above my thighs. I arched my body and slid my leg up his hip again, wrapping it around his back and bracing my shoulders against the truck, grinding against his cock. A slight shift in position and he was sliding inside me. His cock was built like the rest of him: solid, thick and dense. It felt like hot steel in me as the walls of my body clutched at it. I bounced my body off his, feeling his pelvic bone and hard penis slam into my pubic bones. I gyrated my hips from side to side to savor the rock hard feeling inside me.
My clit rubbed against his body and I started shaking all over. We fucked hard. Superhero sex with teeth and nails and grinding. It occurred to me that anyone walking past could see us if they looked hard enough, but I didn't care. I dug my nails into his back and grunted with every thrust. He slammed his cock hard into me over and over, our breathing getting more and more frantic to match the fury of the sex. He bit my neck again and his fingers squeezed my breasts hard enough to bruise, but the pain walked a slick tightrope of pleasure. He stopped suddenly, leaving me feeling dazed for a spilt second. He spun me around and shoved my body forward, bending me over. I braced my hands against the hard metal rail of the water truck and reveled in the biting metal against my fingers. I bit my own shoulder to keep from screaming out as he slammed his cock back into my very wet waiting pussy.
He reached around and put steady pressure on my clit as he fucked me from behind. I felt myself getting closer and closer to an explosive orgasm. I reached a hand back and grasped his thigh as I felt him get closer. I reached a hand up and cupped his balls just as they retracted tight to his body as he came. The throbbing orgasm inside me erupted like fire on my skin and I soared into the sun of the most intense orgasm I'd ever had. Our bodies were tight with locked muscles for a breathless moment before we half fell, shuddering to the ground, every muscle and fluid spent.
We groggily but quickly redressed as best we could, fear of discovery popping into our heads unexpectedly after the rowdy disregard we had just shown. We sat there for a moment, mostly clothed, catching our breath for what seemed like forever. Then we began laughing.
Originally published August 2009