Sweet Insanity

It was another sultry August afternoon in Wishport, PA. I’d been inside all day sitting right in front of the fan, which hardly kept me cool at all. The back of my shirt was soaked through. My asscrack had more condensation on it than the glass of water in my hand. My nuts were hanging so low I was afraid they’d drop out of my cargo shorts. For some reason, days like that made me horny. I was out of weed, too. There was one person who I figured could help me on both accounts.

At exactly 4:20, I called my good friend Angie.

Now, the weed thing was a relatively sure thing with Angie. Her connections were pretty solid. As far as my horniness was concerned, though, things might be a little more difficult. We’d been friends for a couple years and hooked up a handful of times, but it was something that only occurred when we were both pretty trashed. I probably could’ve made it happen a whole bunch more but I was hesitant. I have a habit of becoming emotionally attached to girls that I have sex with. Yeah, call me old-fashioned, but I guess it’s just how I’m wired or something. Angie can sleep with a guy and not think twice about it. I suppose most people would consider her a slut. I never saw her that way because I think a person only has her/himself to answer to when it comes to questions of morality. If she’s fine with sleeping with dozens of random guys, that’s her business. Anyway, like I said, I wanted weed and sex, and I was desperate.

She answered her phone after ten rings, sounding like she’d just woken up.

“What’re you doing?” I asked curtly.

She cleared her throat. “Um, nothing.” She groaned like she was stretching. “What’s up?”

“Can you stop by?” That was code for, “I need weed.”

“Um, yeah, I guess.”

“Cool. Wear a dress or skirt.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Just hop in the shower, get dressed, and come over. I’ll brew some coffee.”

“What the fuck?”

“I’ll see you in about an hour.” I hung up. I guess I’d just snapped.

Angie’s one of those girls who always goes out with assholes. There seems to be a fucking epidemic of such women in this town. I don’t know what the fuck their problem is, but I’d had enough of it. I wasn’t going to play the role of the nice guy friend anymore. Fuck that shit. I’d suffered too much heartache by doing that. Girls like Angie act all tough, but really they’re not. They act like they don’t care about anything, but deep down they do. They just put up that front as a challenge, and anyone strong and confident enough to break through it can have their way with them. Really, these women are insecure as can be and, like everyone else, just want people to like them.

I don’t know what hit me exactly, but the universe aligned itself in such a way that steaming August day, that I knew it was time to stop fucking around and start making demands.

My gamble paid off. Angie rolled in around 5:30. She was pissed when she came in. She was wearing a skirt, though. It was a long black one with a slit way up the left leg. She also had on some kind of strappy open-toed shoes with no heels and a white “TOOL” baby-T which exposed her flat stomach and the stainless steel barbell through the top of her navel. Her long black hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and held there with some sort of hair contraption which involved a bent piece of leather with a stick through it.

I stared at her for a minute without getting up. She set her brown leather purse on the coffee table. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

I shrugged, got up, and walked over to her. I grabbed her ponytail with one hand and her waist with the other. I roughly pulled her head back and jerked her towards me. I kissed her throat and grinded my aching erection against her crotch.

“What the fuck!?” she shouted and made to slap my face but I grabbed her wrist before she could strike me.

“Whatever. You love it.” I grinned wickedly and released her. “So, can I get you some coffee?”

She fixed her hair and smoothed her skirt. “Dude, I am about to walk out of here. What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” I answered nonchalantly. I walked into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. “You like cream and sugar, right?” I called out.

She came into the kitchen and fixed a questioning gaze upon me. I ignored her as I mixed some cream and sugar in the translucent blue mug. “Here you go,” I said with a smile which would make any McDonald’s manager proud. She took it and sipped cautiously, her eyes still on me.

“Shall we return to the living room?” I asked and walked around her. I plopped myself back into my nice comfy chair in the corner. She slowly followed and sat down on the couch to my left.

“Well?” she asked.

“Well, what?” I retrieved my bong from its hiding spot on my right, between the chair and the wall.

“What the fuck has gotten into you?”

“Nothing. Can I get a quarter off you?”

She shook her head and sighed. “Whatever.” She rooted through her purse. “Yeah, usual price.”

“Cool.” I handed her eighty dollars, and she handed me a rolled-up sandwich bag. I unrolled it and sniffed the contents. “Smells good.”

“Yeah, it’s that same stuff I got last time.” She extracted a hard pack of Camel Lights from her purse. “Oh, is it cool to smoke in here?” She looked around as if the room itself would offer an answer. I’d forgotten that that was the first time she’d been to my new place.

“Pff, yeah, it’s cool. I don’t care. There’s an ashtray on top of the TV.” She got it and sat back down. Personally I think it’s weird to let people smoke pot in your house but not cigarettes. Thing is, a lot of people around here do that so I guess it was considerate of her to ask.

I packed a nug into the resin stained glass bowl and took a big hit. It was smooth and clean--definitely good stuff, and at a good price, too. The one hit did me right. I handed the pipe to her. She set down her cigarette and hit the bong. She let out a huge roiling cloud of smoke and promptly keeled over in a fit of coughing. Fortunately, she managed to pass off the pipe before losing control. I laughed. “Nice one.” The way her tits quivered with each paroxysm turned me on.

“Thanks,” she managed to cough out as she regained her composure.

We each took a couple more bong hits, then kicked back in a stoned daze. I was really fuckin’ baked and had a hell of a body high. My nuts were veritably humming in their distended sack. I could feel my dick fattening but thankfully it didn’t raise itself completely. My biceps and chest ached inexplicably.

Angie was slouched way down in the couch. In one hand she held her cigarette, which had developed a frighteningly long cap of ash. With the other hand she was fiddling with her bellybutton piercing. She slowly turned her head towards me, blinked a few times, and broke out laughing. I shook my head and smirked. I told her to stand up.

“What?” She sniffled and wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

“You heard me. Stand up.” It might be hard to imagine but I was truly issued this command in the nicest possible way. I mean, it wasn’t like I was yelling at her or anything. I said it calmly and confidently.

She sat up, ashed her cigarette, and stood by the far end of the couch. She looked at me questioningly.

“No, over here.” I pointed in front me.

She casually walked over, her slender hips swaying enticingly, and stood facing me from a few feet away. She took a puff from her cigarette and insolently blew it at me.

“You look good, you know that?”

She shrugged.

“Turn around.”

As she did so, I stood up and stepped towards her. When I put my hands on her shoulders, she jumped.

“Feeling a little jumpy today?” I asked as I began massaging her shoulders. There was a mess of knots at the base of her neck.

“Roger’s been a total asshole the past few days.” Roger’s the latest fuckwad she’s been seeing.

“He doesn’t matter. You’re here with me right now.” I kissed her neck.

She shivered and looked over her shoulder. “You’re bad.” She leaned far to her left, dropped the cigarette into the ashtray, and turned towards me. We locked ourselves in a strong hug. I slid my hands down and squeezed her firm ass cheeks. She pushed her crotch against me and placed a few rapid pecks on my neck. “I really shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered unconvincingly.

“There is no such thing as ‘should’.” I kissed her on the lips, gently bit the bottom one, then thrust in my tongue. I locked my arms at the small of her back, as she passionately reciprocated. We kissed for several minutes. Then I suddenly released her. She almost fell, but caught herself by grabbing the side of the entertainment center. It rocked slightly.

“Easy there,” I chuckled.

She glared at me.

I roughly grabbed her by the biceps and spun her around. I moved her to the left a little bit so she was in front of the entertainment center, just to the right of the TV. I guided her hands to the top of the entertainment center. She kept them there as I caressed her back and slowly worked my way down to that fabulous ass of hers, which jutted so attractively beneath her sexy black skirt. It dawned on me that there were no panty lines. I snaked my hand into the slit and went up just past her hip. I felt a satiny elastic band and followed it back to where the thong stretched down between her smooth ass cheeks. I squeezed the left one admiringly. She bent forward at the waist, folded her arms along the top edge the entertainment center, and rested her head on them.

“That’s it, baby,” I muttered. With my right hand I withdrew a folding knife from my pocket. With my left hand I lightly caressed her labia through the dampening fabric of her panties. When I flicked open the blade, she jumped and spun around.

“What the?” she exclaimed before I grabbed her throat.

“Easy now.” I tried to sound comforting but I highly doubt that I did. I slowly relaxed my grip on her throat. A bright red mark from my hand contrasted with her smooth pale skin. Her eyes were wide and her countenance was clouded with confusion and fear. Suddenly she shoved me with surprising force. I stumbled backwards, crashed with a clatter into the coffee table, and tumbled over it.

“You motherfucker! What the fuck is wrong with you?” she screamed. She leaped to retrieve her purse and leave, but I sprung to my feet and intercepted her. I grabbed her by the hair and held the knife against her cheek. She glared at me defiantly.

“You know you love it,” I whispered. “You’re my whore now.” I let her go.

The tears came. “What the fuck?” she shouted and punched me in the chest. She slumped against the wall, sobbing, with her hands in front of her face.

She made no move to stop me as I fumbled with the waist of her skirt, searching for a way to unhook it. I found where it hooked onto itself and undid it. She was still crying in her hands when her skirt fell to the floor. I unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts and pulled my aching erection out through the opening in my boxers. I rubbed its purple head against the navy blue satiny fabric guarding her pussy. I pulled her hands down from her face and kissed her tear-soaked cheeks. She was no longer crying, but she wouldn’t look up at me.

I moved against her and forced my dick between her legs. I stood as tall as I could, which put incredible tension on my rigidness and increased pressure against her lips. They were damp. “I’m going to cum inside you,” I hissed in her ear. She leaned her forehead against my chest and sniffled. She began kissing my shirt tentatively. “That’s it, Angie. You know I love you.”

I stepped back and yanked down her underwear. With her head still down, she stepped out of her panties and skirt. “That’s it, baby,” I muttered consolingly as I climbed out of my shorts and boxers and tossed the knife on the couch. Both of us still had our shirts on.

I pressed myself against her again, sandwiching her between myself and the cool plaster of the wall. I put my feet between hers and spread them apart. The shaft of my throbbing cock slid back and forth against her now sopping labia. I gripped my dick and guided the shiny head into the wet center of her heat. There was some resistance as I began the initial push, but once I popped the head in, her vagina gave way and veritably sucked me right in. She kissed and nibbled my neck. “Good girl,” I whispered. She began grinding her clit against my pubic bone. I shifted my stance to stand straighter, which forced my aching erection into a difficult bend, but I knew it would increase her pleasure. I slowly forced my way in and out of her. She trembled and moaned. I could feel her liquid ecstasy running down my balls and matting my pubic hair. I shifted my stance again, changing back to a straighter entry and relieving the painful pressure on the shaft of my penis. I slammed into her so hard that she was forced to rise onto her tippy-toes with each thrust. My glans repeatedly nudged her cervix.

Suddenly it was as if she exploded. She cried out, wrapped her arms around me in a crushing embrace, and threw her legs around my waist. She was literally riding me. All my muscles tensed and resonated with her weight. I slammed her against the wall and stabbed her furiously. She gyrated her hips maniacally. Soon I felt that tell-tale clenched fist feeling behind my balls. A tight knot was forming which had to be released.

“Fuck me!” she shouted. Her pussy was getting tighter and tighter. Combined with the ravenous way in which she had me gripped, it was as if her starving cunt wanted to bust my dick off and swallow it forever.

Sweat was pouring down my chest and back. And then I came. The hot viscous fluid burned through my crotch, streamed through my cock, and gushered inside her. I swore up a storm.

“Oh my fucking God!” she yelled.

A dam inside me had a burst, a dam of pent-up frustration and desire. Now the dam had broken and a flood of cum was irrigating Angie’s roughly ploughed furrow. I felt like my nuts were turning inside out, like I was literally pouring my soul into her. Shot after impossibly heavy shot filled her birth canal and seeped out of her.

I collapsed to the carpet and she fell on top of me in a sweaty tangle. “Holy fuck,” I gasped. She kissed my soaked brow. Her eyes glittered.

“Where the fuck did that come from?” she asked and kissed me passionately on the mouth. “That was awesome.”