knuckles

Copyright © 2007 Markee 2baad-sosaad. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced without the written permission of the author. (e-mail: phlyonzawahl@shaw.ca)

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Damn!

The feelings stirred inside her like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

I – can’t – STAND – this –

Vigorously rubbing her taint, alternating between the top hole and bottom, she writhed while her emotions alternated between loathing and lust. Her fitted bed sheet, long ago untucked, lay around her like a chrysalis, patiently awaiting abandonment.

Damn it!

It still hurt when she pressed between her cheeks, but sufficient quantities of lube certainly helped. She didn’t want to forego the sting entirely, though. She’d grown to like it, to spite herself.


Gradually working her way in, with first the knuckle of her index finger, she began rotating around the rim. Once her pucker’s passage became less resistant, the thumb followed. Soon the knuckles of every finger were slippery with both lube and natural juices.

Damn Him!

Rubbing – rubbing – oh, shit. Sloshing back into her bigger, furried hole, where passage was much easier – pumping, pumping. Down again to the dark hole, where the pucker had already started to collapse in on itself.

God it felt dirty! Oh it felt good!

Was he really in that much control of her, or had she merely allowed him to become so? Either way, she hated herself for – what? Unchecked emotions, or granting permission for him to capture them?

Damn me!