So the story begins
I wanted things to happen to me, and I wanted to choose. It was a Sunday, and I was in her room. In her bed. With her. In the bright silence I was thinking about how our relationship went from greeting to flirting, to chaste intimate sex, to meeting the parents, and this close to moving together to another country. The sex was good, the adventures were nice, family was kinda OK with this, and yet, it sometimes feels like she is taking increasing control over my life. She was abusive in stressful situations. Just like your father, mom said. I see an iceberg coming, so I decide then and there to find my boat and have fun wrecking this ship.
Scout is a rough-and-tumble kind of gal. Sometimes I'm in awe of the things she and her family do, like building their own house in the mountains, and backpacking, and climbing the tallest mountains in the continent. But I wonder if she wants somebody more like her, or me to show more initiative, but... How do you call your girl? Sorry for the incessant blabbing, but I'll let you know I've called all my girls by a different nickname. My first girl I called petite girl. I call Scout love. We're laying in bed, naked under a cotton sheet. I turn to her and take her closest available hand.
--Scout, my love... why you don't have your way with me anymore?
I moved her hand so she could restrain my wrist against the mattress. I'd like to think I sounded like a whiny dumb vulnerable bitch. Maybe even pouted.
I still remember that same bed when I tied her hands to the headboard and fucked her with both hunger and detachment.
She's startled. I kiss her nose and look her in the eyes.
--Fuck me, Scout.
I grab her other wrist and pull her so she lays on top of me. There's something wet and uncomfortably hard between my legs. She straddles me, and our crotches are almost touching, but I slip through, so i could sit up. But I'm not escaping. I kiss her nose again.
--Fuck. Me. Scout. Or I'm going to get annoyed and you know I don't like that.
For a moment she is confused. Then she smiles and her eyebrows do an I'm gonna get you. I put a pillow between my lower back and the headboard, just like I'm offering my anus to a nearby phallus. Scout moves her crotch to mine. But not close enough.
--Maybe you have to hold my leg up, Scout love. Remember?
That was a move I did to her that night when I tied her down. I put her ankle on my shoulder and gave her something deep to ponder.
Now, as she held my leg up I positioned my dick low with a hand so it could connect with her pussy. Once we were sure it was in, I pulled and clinched her hips with my arms, hard. So I whispered --Fuck me, Scout... fuck this horny bitch with your massive cock...
She does the snarky smile with the devilish eyebrows, and just asks --Massive? --Shut up.
I guide her hips so she could back up without completely disengaging, so she can ram me hard. She probably realized that going slow and hard was better than going fast and sloppy. I wanted fast and sloppy, so her rhythm was like a sweet torture, like dangling an orgasm and then snatching it away, again and again. Making me crazy in a good way. Looks like she likes it! Looking back, I think she indeed liked to make me lose my sanity. Her smirk turned into a toothy smile, like a cartoon shark about to pounce on a scared seal. Something is about to happen to me, I thought. Then I started to moan. I usually do not moan. I mostly grunt, or yell. Maybe I thought I'd be Scout's Little Bitch and therefore moan like one.
