The Unspoen Atonement

Here we are arguing. Again. It's gotten bad lately. I don't know if it's the stress in his new job, or the mounting debt from my student loans. One thing is for sure, I've raised my voice one too many times, and now he's shut down.

It infuriates me when he does this, but at least I managed to talk him into a walk. A long excruciatingly quiet walk. I never know where he's taking us when we go on these fast paced strolls. He leads the way, burning his anger off in quick calculated steps, and I follow behind knowing eventually he will calm down enough to talk to me.

I must have really done it this time. It seems like we have been walking for hours, and we are getting into parts of the city I didn't even know existed. My feet hurt, it's getting dark, and he still hasn't said a word to me. If all that isn't bad enough, a storm is rolling in. I can hear the thunder rumbling already.

Enough is enough. I open my mouth to pressure him into returning home, but he seizes my hand. With a firm grip around my small wrist he jerks me into an unlit alley. At first I'm too stunned to form any thoughts. My lips are numb, causing my confused questions dribble from my mouth in a slur of gibberish.

"Shut up." He growls in my ear as he forced me against the wall so roughly that my tangled breath escapes my lungs in one heave.

As he steps in against me, I'm left with only an instant to contemplate the decrepit bricks prodding my back before he's positioning his knee as a wedge. With a certain finesse, he drives his thigh forward like a knife between my legs, splitting them apart in one swift motion. I gasp out in shock when he abruptly grinds into my sweet mound. He's done this before, but never with so much indignation.

"What are you doing? We could be caught! It's going to storm; can't you hear the thunder?!" I force out in one pant.

As if acting on cue, a flash of lightning briefly casts light on his obscured face. My mind is sent reeling when I see his features. They have become contorted with anger and lust like a primitive beast.

"You just don't know when to be quiet, do you?" grunted out in a feral growl that sends shivers through my body.

He clasps a hand tightly over my mouth to silence me. I can't resist the soft whimper bubbling from the depths of my stomach. Immediately my body goes limp in an attempt to make myself as pliable to his whims as I can. My quick response pays off when his free hand is run under my skirt, and thrust between my thighs. I let out a muffled scream of pleasure, all I taste the salt on his hot palm.

I start to struggle. Not because I'm in pain or unwilling. I struggle because I know he loves. His well versed hand rocks against my crotch in slow rutting motions that are driven deeper by my thrashing against him. My shirt is getting caught on the broken wall behind me. I couldn't care less about the top, but the constant tugging and pulling is getting annoying. Grappling with my it, I eventually work the front open, and am able to shrug restricting fabric off. My frantic fumbling then turns to the torture device of a bra I'm wearing. My body is on fire, and my heart is racing, so when the hooks finally pop I get a surge of relief. Quicker than the bra can hit the ground, his mouth is cupped on my breast, and my nipple between his teeth. His aggressive nibbling draws a squeal of delight from my aching body, and I find that all too quickly my body is succumbing to him. I can feel silk being ground into my slit. My panties are slick with my wanton juices, and effortlessly glide over my engorged clit.

Curse him and his intimate understanding of how to make my body salivate.

As I writhe, the beginnings of a slow drizzle start to fall on my feverish flesh. It's cold, and it is wonderful. I turn my face away, breaking from my restraints long enough to gasp for fresh air, and catch some of the sweet rain on my lips. It's only a momentary reprieve. My actions resulting in a snarl of disapproval. With out delay, his fingers abandon their blissful kneading, and wrench that thin fabric to one side. My puss that was once warm and damp, is now bare and exposed to the cool breeze. His fingers don't get the same icy treatment. They are instead forced in my mouth to provide me with a taste of my own sensuous nectar.

At the same time I am savoring my salty treat, he is juggling the closures on his pants. With a practiced ease frees himself, or at least as much of himself that is necessary to finish the job. I hear the clack of his belt hit the cement in triumph. When the fingers are pulled from my lips, and I whimper in protest. He, of course, ignores my pleas. Instead, his hand cups the crook of my knee, hoisting my leg in the air, and opening my oozing twat to him. With a steady hold to help him in the dark, he guides his cock to it's warm home, but only enough to aligning the tip in the entrance.

I know what he wants, and it isn't to make sweet love in the rain. He wants a rough fuck to burn away the resentment he is harboring for me, and I want it just as badly.

I quickly wrap my arms around his neck to brace myself, and push my face into his rain drenched neck to dampen my screams. With out a second to spare, he drives his cock hard into my ready snatch. On reflex my hands squeeze into fists pressing my nails into my palms. I don't notice it, but then again, I don't notice the wall scratching along my back either.

I'm not allowed to catch my breath, he just sets into a steady furious pace. His grunting against my flesh sounds angry, resentful, but above all, unrestrained. I have never felt his cock so hard, or his passion so high. I refuse to speak. Not a word. I know it will only take from this carnal act. Instead I listen to the sounds of his hips slamming against my ass, the wet slaps ringing in the air as loudly as the guttural snarls.

Slap. Slap. Slap. Deeper and deeper. I don't know how much more of this I can take!

I want to beg him to slow down, to take mercy on me, but I can't bring myself to say it. It burns too badly. I just need release. He fucks on as if he doesn't know, but I'm sure he does. He is delighting in it. This mastery of my body gives him a smug sense of satisfaction. When he has me wrapped around him tightly with my puss trembling for him, he is unbearable.

That asshole.

His body is tense against mine, so I can feel his taught arm move. His hand weaving in my hair, and jerking my head back to turn my face up to the rain.

I give up. Oh, how I give in!

My body is sent into a mad fit of trembles. Clenching and jerking as I buck against him. My howl unbridled as I cream for him. As a reward for wallowing so well on his hard cock, it starts to throb in my twat. His teeth clench down on my shoulder as he deposits spurt after spurt of milky cum. His hips working in short controlled jerks to inter his seed as deep as possible.

As the shower eases the heat our torrid flesh, we linger a while to revel in the aftermath. It's in that moment I feel vindicated, or maybe I've just been properly chastised.