Connor awoke to find the world turning normally on its axis. Spinning a little too fast for his liking, perhaps; he stumbled from bed to bathroom and retched violently over the toilet bowl. He recalled that the previous night had fallen into a familiar pattern. A drunken and very public row with Rachel; followed by drunken, messy sex. That too, in a public place.
As he retreated from the bathroom he saw items of underwear discarded in the hallway. The bedside clock indicated that it was past noon, but Rachel slept on heavily, snoring loudly. She was naked, the duvet bunched up beside her. Connor climbed back into bed and took full advantage of the bed clothes.
Rachel was one sick puppy even by his low standards. She got off on using the word cunt, referring to her total being rather than the specific orifice. He learned early on that she did not appreciate gentlemanly behaviour; she loved it when he slapped her face and pulled her hair. She was a cunt with a tight cunt. She wasn't brave enough to be self-destructive; she needed him to do that for her.
***
The first thing that he noticed about her, that drew him to her, was her pierced nipples pushing through the thin fabric of a t shirt. On their first drunken date, he watched her piss in an alleyway and then she gave him a blow job. She bit down on his shaft and smeared his cock with her lipstick, before taking the length of him in her fist and pumping him until his cum was smeared over her face. He thought she was perfect. He called her a dirty fucking slag, and she let out a deep moan of orgasmic pleasure. He had focussed on what she was doing to him with her mouth and hand. He didn't notice her masturbating.
***
She moaned and writhed on the bed, then curled up in a foetal ball with her hand jammed up to the join of her thighs, making tiny subconscious rocking movements. She admitted to having wet dreams just before waking up, but Connor suspected she was conscious and masturbating. He quizzed her on the content of her dreams but she was vague about specific details. He wanted to know who she was dreaming about. She described faceless men, naked from the waist down. Anonymous cocks presented for her to suck. "Just cocks, big hard cocks" she would goad him, getting off on her cruelty. There were women in her dreams too. Always blonde with scarlet lips sucking on her nipples or tasting her pussy; identical women to herself.
***
"I'm thinking of having cunt tattooed here," she said, touching her pudenda.
"No, I forbid it!" he replied. Connor understood very early on in their relationship that he was her safeguard against herself. He would abuse her, to save her abusing herself. They had made the strangest deal, she would stop cutting herself, give up the self-harm, if he would fulfil her fantasies of rough sex, beat her, call her disgusting names. She craved the contempt he could muster up, by way of an expression of love.
"What about a clit piercing?"
"Why?"
"Just for the thrill of it. Complete the set."
She pulled on the metal bars that pierced her nipples. Her face contorted in a unique mix of pain and pleasure. Connor sometimes wished they were a normal couple. Quiet glasses of wine, ordinary lives, normal behaviour. Vanilla sex, rather than this need to push each other through walls. Feeding this mutual craving to make love hurt and leave marks so they could say, "Look, see how much I want you."
***
They spent the day hung-over and naked. Watching each other shower, watching each other masturbate, watching porn. Their mutual taste was wide ranging; lesbian, amateur, S&M. Age play, young women with older men; it most accurately reflected their own relationship. Rachel was twenty one and sexually active for a decade, Connor over forty and generally sexually inactive for a decade before meeting Rachel.
They touched each other roughly. He pulled at her nipples, poked his fingers into her, grabbed her hair and pulled her face down onto his cock. She boasted that she gave the best blow job, and he believed her. She had no reservations about sinking her teeth into his hard shaft, biting on the flesh until he yelled. She could sense when he was close to coming and stop, grip the base of his shaft so tightly that he would back away from an orgasm. They rarely kissed.
The evening drew in; eventually they talked about why they had rowed the previous night. Rachel had been on the dance floor, giving the come on to two guys closer to her own age. Connor fought with himself to control his jealousy. The situation wasn't a new one. The voyeur in him loved watching her at the centre of male attention. He watched her grind her slim hips against one of them whilst rubbing her hand over the other's trousers.
Above the pounding loud music she shouted in Connor's ear, "They both want to fuck me."
Connor said, "Baby, everybody wants to fuck you."
She said "I'm so turned on," and guided Connor's hand up under the hem of her miniskirt.
"Not tonight baby, let's just leave it."
"I want to play, I want to get fucked."
"We're both already really fucked. It's just too messy! Let's just go home, just you and me."
He grabbed her by the hand and tried to pull her out of the club.
"Let me just say goodbye. It's only polite. Wait for me outside, okay? Two minutes."
He pushed his way to the front door and leaned against a car in the street. Ten minutes later she emerged.
"I was just dancing. A song came on I really like."
He thrust his hand up under her skirt to check she hadn't given her underwear away as a souvenir. He felt the warm damp material against her crotch.
""Did they give you their phone numbers?" he asked.
