Supernatural
2003-12-11
And as he sinks his cock in her mouth, she slid a finger in his ass, and she matched him thrust for thrust. Loving his ass as he loves her mouth. Then as abruptly as it had started it stopped. He yanked her up and around, bending her over, sliding his cock into her ass. She reveled in it. Whimpering as he ever so slowly pulled it out, but he instinctively knew what she wanted, fore it was what he also wanted, he then slammed it into her wet hot pussy, and again slowly, teasingly, pulled it out. Over and over he did this, first one sweet hole then the other, bringing her to peak after peak of pleasure. Hours seemed to pass before he plunged himself in deep one last time, their harsh moans mingling together. He filled her with his hot cum and then slowly pulled out as he bit her shoulder. Leaving her to slide to the floor of the shower. She watched him move slowly back, and just before he faded way she heard his voice, “You are mine, my love…” She had came that night, but not in her bed with her husband, no, she had came in that shower, with her dark and distant lover. . . Rather. ~~~Taking Control: Rather pt2My husband of 3, long and miserable years, had gone up to the U. P.
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for the weekend. Probably drinking beers and chasing whores. Hunting my ass. Can someone tell me how anyone can hunt without a gun?! I know I’m an average girl. The only thing I have going for me is my tits. No their not a huge DD, but their a nice 38D, though, I think my areolas and nipples are just a tad too big, but I heard somewhere that men like big nips. My mother, may she rot in hell, told me once, I was put together with leftovers. My bottom lip, is twice the size of my top lip. I have one blue eye and one green. And my hair… the only thing I can think of is “rats nest”. Not curly, and not straight. Kinky. Kind of like me. And a lovely shade of dark red, almost burgundy. He said I was fridged.
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Fridged because he couldn’t make me come. Fridged because I laid there wondering how long it would take. Don’t blame me, I tried, I wiggled my ass, hips, whatever, moaned in all the right places, but each time I tried to fake it, only got me smacked. I lit a cig, inhaling the smoke deep into my lungs as I shuddered, thinking about him rutting on me like a pig in heat. His sweat pouring into my eyes as he grunted. His stink invading my nose and pores. Never did he caress me, or whisper love words into my ear. No foreplay, the only foreplay I got was a hand in my hair as he dragged me to that broken, piss stained mattress. Oh yeah, sometimes if I was lucky, I got an “oh yeah baby, gonna fuck that ass”. Lovely. No, the only love words I got were out of a romance novel. But I have been caressed and loved. . . by him.
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. . Rather. Each time was so different than the last, better. And I needed him. I lean back in my chair and close my eyes to the run down trailer I resided in. How did I know his name? He never told me. How did I know he was out there? I’ve never talked to him. . . Sometimes I think I’m going crazy, but I know even if I am making this all up, dreaming him, dreaming of our love, if I didn’t dream with him, about him, I would go insane. I sent a plea out into the universe, “Rather… I need you. ” I hear you love. I’m here Lara. .
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. . “Open your eyes. ” I slowly open them and he is there, in front of me. But I’m not in my house, I don’t know where we are. The darkness of the room we are standing in, is lit with only the golden glow of the candles that encircle us. I close my eyes again, to clear them of this hallucination. But when I open them, he is still there, I am still there, but closer to him. So close I can see my reflection in his brown eyes, feel his breath on my face, and smell the musky scent of him. Under my bare feet is a silkiness. I look down to see I am standing on a large burgundy silk pillow. It is the size of a king-size bed. His hand on my chin warms me. He raises my face to his and I am once again looking deep into his eyes. Time seems to stop as I notice the smallest things about my dream lover.
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He’s not perfect, not the way you would expect your dream man to be. His hands are rough, callused, fingers big, blunted at the ends. He wasn’t taller than me, bigger yes, but he was about an inch and a half shorter. His lips full, fuller than most men. His nose wasn’t perfect either, a bump showed that it had been broken. Even though, he was perfect, in all his imperfections, he was perfect for me. Slipping my arms around his neck, we sank down onto the soft silk. He pressed me into the pillow, stretching out over me. I closed my eyes against the swell of tears that rose as he swept his lips across my face. Oh, Rather, my heart cried out to him. I've missed you so much. Though I hadn't voiced the words out loud, he somehow heard them, because he drew his head back to look down at me.
The passion, the tenderness I found in his warm brown eyes, melted whatever doubts remained. This is right, I tell myself. This.
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Him. The two of us together. Even as my heart and mind accepted him, he was peeling my sweater back, his mouth finding and opening over my bare breast. A shiver shook me as he suckled, the sensations spreading warmly through my body and settling to swirl low in my belly. With each stroke of his tongue across my aching nipple, my need for him grew. Impatiently I tugged at his shirt, fumbled at the buttons on his jeans, until his hands joined mine in their frantic rush to free them of the clothes that separated them. When the last article of clothing was tossed aside and flesh, at last, met naked flesh, he slipped a knee between my thighs and spread my willing legs, creating a nest for himself. I felt the stiffness of his erection as he pressed himself against my center, gloried in the strength and thickness of it, yearned for it. Hungry for more, I lifted his head from my breast and guided his face back to mine. At the exact moment our lips met, he pushed inside me. I gasped, arched at the exquisite pleasure that lanced through me at his entrance, then melted on a sigh, while he held himself perfectly still, waiting for my body’s acceptance of him. Then he began to move — slow, rhythmic thrusts that urged my body to follow in a dance as old as time. Need rose sharper, greedier while the candlelight washed over us, and my nails sank into his shoulders, arching higher and higher to meet each new thrust, racing with him toward the satisfaction that awaited. "Rather," I sob uncontrollably. "Please…" Even as I begged for release, a release I had never known by any man’s hands, only by this dream lover, he rose to his knees, bringing me with him.
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With our gazes locked, our chests heaving, he gripped his hands at my waist and, with a low growl, pushed my hips down hard against his, filling me, oh so completely. Stars exploded in my head. Bright stars that melted into a rich rainbow of colors as my body convulsed around him in a breathless climax. He shuddered once, twice, as he pumped his seed into me. Then, spent, he slipped his arms around my waist and guided me back down, covering my body with his own once again. He laid his head in the curve of my shoulder, his breath hot and fast in my ear. "Lara," he whispered, drawing her face to press his lips against her cheek. "My precious Lara, I love you. . " Choked by emotion, I wrapped her arms around him, holding on for dear life and closed my eyes, wishing that this moment could last forever. Begging that the gods let me keep him. Knowing that it would end and I would be once again left with only the memories of this dream. “So this is what you do all day when, I’m not here. ” My eyes spring open, and I am sitting once again in my chair, surrounded by the ratty furniture and he is bent over me. His alcohol laced breath choking me.
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“Your useless, I come home and I want a good meal on the table. But what do I get? You, sitting here lazing the day away. ” He grabbed my arm, pulling me from the chair and dragging me toward the kitchen. “I didn’t expect you till tonight, if you had call…” My words are cut off as my face hits the frigerator door. “I don’t care what you were expecting. And if you think I am going to call you and explain where I am, you can forget it. ” He swings me back into the door again, “I am the man of this house, I don’t have to answer to you. You… answer… to… me!” The last part of his sentence is emphasized with my face, with each word my face hits the fridge door. I don’t cry out, as flashes of light explode inside my head, I don’t dare. It only excites him, only prolongs the hitting. But I can’t hold back the soft moan that escapes as I slide down the door and slump to the linoleum. “Now get me something to eat. ” He disappears into the back. “Welcome home…” I mumble to myself as I slowly pull myself up. Glancing at the fridge, I notice another dent in the door, this one smudged with blood.
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I leave it there, and open the door to pull out a steak and some vegetables. I put the meat on to cook and set to chop up the veggies, my face throbbing, and my mind working. Evil thoughts rush through my brain, it wasn’t the first time I had these particular thoughts, just the first time I actually pictured myself doing them. I hadn’t heard him come into the room, but the hand in my hair was enough to let me know I had done something else wrong.
“You went outside. There’s mud on your shoes. ” His fist connected with my face as he continued to yell. “You whoring around on me, going out and meeting someone while I’m gone?” His fist plowed into my stomach, and all oxygen seemed to be sucked out of the room. If there had been anything in my stomach, I would have vomited on the spot. As I struggled for breath, I was shoved on to my knees and his cocked was shoved into my mouth, passed my bruised and bleeding lip. “I’ll show you, whoring around on me. ” His cock was driven down my throat. “I ever catch you with anyone else I’ll kill you. ” He continued to brutally fuck my face, his hands tearing out my hair. “I will kill you!” My lungs screamed for oxygen, and I begged whatever god there was to please let me die.
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But my lungs wouldn’t give up, my body wouldn’t give up. I was starting to black out and I was glad for it. And it was over. In the back of my mind I had heard someone screaming like a stuck pig, and the cock was ripped out of my mouth. I fell forward on my knees dragging oxygen into my burning lungs, sweet and cool. It was then that I noticed the knife in my hand; I hadn’t even gotten the chance to put it down when he grabbed me. But how did it get bloody? And how did a pig get into the house. I looked up to find the squealing pig, shit, it would be one more thing he would punish me for. What I saw stopped me cold. ~~~ It took me 18 minutes to get Richard to the hospital, and in that time he made up the story we were to tell the doctor. I dropped a bottle, he slipped and fell on the broken pieces, he bumped into me causing me to fall and hit my face onto the counter and he fell and landed on the glass. Richard related the story he had made up to the doctor. The doctor looked at my face, then at Richard’s back, then to the blood on my hand, and back to Richard’s back once again. He then turned to me and asked me if that was how it happened. I don’t know what got into me, maybe it was the fact that I had stabbed my husband, but I looked at that doctor and shrugged my shoulders.
“It’s his story, if he says it happened that way, then who am I to argue. ” Some way, some how, I had stabbed my husband, the blade had gone right between two ribs and punctured a lung, and I was being cocky about it. I just didn’t care anymore. I couldn’t remember if Michigan had a death penalty. But I really didn’t care. I almost wanted to yell, to scream for all the world to hear, I stabbed my husband and I felt good about it. The doctor finished up with Richard and he was taken to a room, when the doctor said Richard was going to have to stay a few days I was ecstatic. I was making plans. I was smiling as the doctor sutured up my lip and the cut above my left eye and I know he was probably bursting to ask questions, but he didn’t. Just asked me if I was going to be alright, to which I nodded. And I was, because I was making plans. ~~~This is a true story. My story. You can believe it or not, that’s up to you. I started writing this because my therapist said it would help me.
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I’m finishing it, because my new and wonderful husband said I should. Parts 1 and 2 are together because I guess part 1 wasn’t good enough to make it on here by itself, and it is integral to the story. The ending I am still pulling out of my memory (with the help of my husband) and will post later, if you show any interest in hearing how it all ended. .
