A Bird in Hand

Requested story:

The reader gave me too much freedom about the subject, so, if the story is not good, it's not the reader's fault :)

The subject and where things evolve to are in line with my profile.

Increasing disturbance, dark moments and psyche for the male MC.

It became longer than I planned and I felt like I got carried away too much. So, I decided to divide it into two chapters and stopped at a moment where the point of no return wasn't reached yet.

I'll publish the next and last chapter after reading the feedback from the reader and the comments, to see if I might want to dilute what I already wrote. Things get darker as in its finished state.

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Author's note:

All of the characters in this story are fictional and all are adults.

The in-story female character name is what we agreed on and the initial profile of the female character is what the reader chose.

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I was looking at that sight, trying to understand how we ended up like this.

How fast, how unpredictable. Maybe not that unpredictable, I don't know.

I couldn't hear my thoughts as the grunts, moans filled the room.

I couldn't concentrate on anything, watching the sweaty action in 'our' bed, while I was not taking part in it.

At the moment, it was almost a blur how it started, whose fault it was and why I was the only one that wasn't feeling Ok.

Since the start, Amy and I was never a kinky couple. Plus, kinky is not a word I'd use when describing myself.

She's a young teacher. Most people would describe her as the young, sweet, considerate chica teacher.

Including me.

Maybe except her students. From our daily small talk, I could sense that some found her hot, some were intimidated by her and she kept them inline when necessary. So, she never was a timid pushover girl.

With me, she always had been mostly sweet and warm.

Except our private intimacies. In those, I proudly had the privilege of seeing her Latina side too; something she was successful at hiding out of the bedroom.

As stated in the popular saying we see these days, I knew 'not to confuse kindness with weakness', she was sweet but she was the hidden decision maker in our life. Even in cases that I thought it was my decision.

She's a couple of centimeters shy of 1.60, with her pink-ish tits, which had the size of... 348? Wait, it's hard to read the label on the bra inches away from my face with teary eyes in the dark. 34... B, yes, 34B.

As I was saying, she was a petite package of brunette beauty. Apparently, as of this moment, various evil, cruel naughtinesses as well.

Her pussy deserves a separate paragraph, which is my favorite.

How it looks, smells, feels and tastes.

She always had been kind enough to keep it shaved all the time for me.

In fact, I never told her that I liked it shaved but still, I believe she had been doing it for me. Of anything I love about her, I'd put her pussy in the first place. I still do.

And that Latina heat of her. Whenever there was a possibility that we could get naughty; she could get hyped up in an instant.

It never took long for her to leave that sweet aura and set for her goal. I'm saying 'her goal' because most of the time she initiated things and I just followed her. I was always more than happy to consider myself as her goal.

When she got raunchy, it showed. Her skin, eyes, then her hands and lips in action, she always managed to lure me into that mood when she wanted.

Depending on where she wanted to get her satisfaction, she led the rest.

In fact, we had some kind of routines about the sex.

In bed, there wasn't much to mention, we weren't different from any other couple. She gave me head; let me eat her pussy for about half an hour, we had sex in various positions, sometimes sweet, sometimes heated. Mild, vanilla sex.

If that was all we had, things could be going downhill, as it mostly happened when there were routines.

And, there's a reason I said 'she lets me eat her pussy'.

Because, if we were on the couch, that's a different story. That routine never felt like a routine.

First of all, she didn't linger much. No blowjobs, no time for me to go down on her. Couch meant 'she's horny and she wants her satisfaction ASAP'.

There was something compelling in this semi-selfish and raunchy attitude of hers, which always kept me in a stimulating purgatory. A normal quickie could wear out in time as well, this didn't. There was something left me still hungry for her when it was over.

She always acted swiftly. While climbing over me, trying to undress me, she got naked below the waist immediately.

There was no time for ceremony.

Lowering my pants and boxers to my knees was enough, she only cared about the part she would need.

If she was wearing tights, she held my cock and kept me in the mood as she got rid of them completely. She didn't mind giving weird poses trying to take them off, while keeping me there. She had only one thing on her mind.

If she was wearing a skirt, she didn't even bother to touch my cock. She knew I'd be ready for her.

All, for the same reason. Satisfaction, ASAP.

In any case, as soon as she was done with the logistics, she quickly climbed on my face, sliding her panties aside if she still had them on, used my mouth to lubricate her delicious pussy.

And, yes, she knows my addiction to her pussy. That can be the only constant in our life. It's not like I have a pussy fetish. I love hers, like I developed a healthy, beautiful bond with it.

I believe she knew how I can't get enough of her taste and maybe on purpose, she always took it away from my lips quickly, I mean if we were at the couch.

Maybe she wanted to keep my desire unfulfilled about it. Otherwise, this would be a bit too selfish, if she just cared about her satisfaction in those days.

Still, selfish and hot.

So, apparently, couch meant hot stuff. And, this gave me the arousal she needed easily.

When it was time, she held my cock as she sat on my lap slowly, facing me. She moaned into my mouth as her tongue invaded it, as she let my cock slide in her.

Who could get tired of such a routine?

Then, it was her time. She rode me the way she liked.

Most of the time, starting slow, getting rougher every minute. She slowed down in the end, savoring every second of her orgasm, again grinding and crushing me with her body slowly.

I loved the beginning of that episode the most.

Starting from the moment she pushed me on the couch, worked on preparing us like a spider swathing its prey. This was something beyond being desired. The action always felt like being owned. I loved that feeling. And, when she started taking me in, concentrated on kissing me wildly, all I could feel was that she had the control of my whole body.

Her tongue in my mouth, her weight on my lap, slowly grinding and crushing me, her hands holding mine, without letting me move them, her legs, bare or nylon clad, holding me in my place on both sides of my body; I loved how she was taking whatever she wanted from me.

I'd say we had a perfect balance in our sex life. I always wanted to believe that I could go on like that forever. We both could.

At least, that was the situation back then.

Not too long ago, I was pinned on the couch again and she had just straddled me.

When she took a break from kissing me, I moved my lips to her neck, to kiss that delicate neck and keep my face there. My eyes were closed and I was in heaven, smelling her. I was addicted to her smell, among many other things.

When I opened my eyes, I saw our reflection in the mirror and, damn, I wasn't ready for that...

The way her ass was moving, her muscles, soles, waist, hair, head tilting back and forth.

Since she was just getting started, everything was in slow motion.

Even when she turned her head, held my chin and started kissing me again, I couldn't take my eyes from that reflection in the mirror.

That was a perfect view. On top of everything, seeing how she was kissing me, I felt like I was being devoured by a vampire. If I was her prey, this would be a good way to go.

Anyway, I wasn't ready for such a sight and I started to groan, desperately trying to stop what was about to happen. I could hardly take my dick out and came instantly after seeing how she was controlling me with her whole body there.

That day was a special one. Definitely not the nicest, but I got to see a side of her which I never knew.

I'm not talking about the view or the pleasure I had. It was a ruined orgasm.

She looked me in the eye in contempt. For the first time. I never saw her do that before. This wasn't the first time I didn't last long but this was a bit too early and, we were on the couch.

"What the fuck?" she said. Raised her body and looked at my limping dick. This time her eyes focused on mine and they were genuinely angry. Even cold.

I knew she was carried away during sex and it was impossible to stop her until she was satisfied completely but those eyes...

I had no idea that this was a no-no. That she would never accept her orgasm to be interrupted.

While I was trying to grasp the situation, I opened my mouth to say something and she spat in my mouth. Before I could even express my shock, she started kissing me again. Furiously.

I felt her hand on my dick, slowly squeezing and rubbing it. As if she was trying to restart the machine.

Man, she spat in my mouth!

It was funny how guilty I felt and how I wanted that machine to restart quickly.

After all that time, it was a hit on my self-confidence that I felt the need to prove myself to her again. I was embarrassed.

But it was impossible for me. Not that soon.

After one or two minutes, she stopped kissing and stroking. She looked at me fiercely and slapped me before she stood up on the couch.

It was incredible. While I was trying to digest what happened, that slap did make it work. Like, fixing the TV. It sprang to life, like steel. I was about to give her the news "Hey, it's..."

But I couldn't.

Because, standing on the couch, looking in my eyes, she slapped me again, held my hair and straddled my face after spitting on it.

It didn't feel like something I would admit later but that was the hottest thing ever. She was grinding on my face, smearing her juices, time to time slapping me, spitting in my mouth or on my face again and again.

I never saw Amy do anything like these before. I never thought she could be capable of doing such stuff.

At some point, she held my ears and she literally started to fuck my face, grunting, moaning.

I understood that wasn't all, I mean it wasn't over when she came hard. She came really hard, convulsing, making sounds I never heard before.

Maybe it was my imagination but everything was different at the time of her climax and after that.

Normally, I mean most of the time, in her post-orgasms; she got back to her sweet mood, to that all cuddly and loving self.

This time, she was still on my face, slowly moving her body, like she was making a point. She didn't let me move when I tried and she rested her pussy on my mouth. I stood still, knowing she would react if I licked some more at her calming period. She always did. Like most women.

I don't think she was doing it for me to enjoy my success or her pussy but I was happy there.

When she slowly took it away, I said "I'm ready".

She looked at my erect cock with her sleepy indifferent eyes, then at me.

Her hand was still caressing her pussy slowly and she swiped it one last time before putting her fingers in my mouth, still without any expression. Without breaking my eye contact, I meekly licked and sucked her fingers, kissed her hand, looking at her in lust.

And she left me there, walked to the bathroom without saying anything.

She didn't let me fuck her that night and she didn't talk until we had dinner.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you. I mean when slapping you."

I blushed and didn't say anything.

Probably she could see that I was still in lust.

She didn't apologize for slapping me. Or, for spitting on my face. She was just concerned if she hurt me doing what she deemed as her natural right. There was no other explanation to that. I failed to deliver and that was deserved.

Man...

It could have made sense if this exact conversation took place right after sex. I'd probably think she was just realizing what she did in the heat of the moment. And that this apology also covered the action of slapping and the spitting as well, which embarrassed her too much to mention.

But we were having dinner and she didn't look like she saw anything wrong in what she did.

Interesting, right?

In bed, I explained her why that happened.

"You didn't see you in the mirror. It was impossible for me to stop, I had never seen anything that beautiful and hot in my life. Also smelling like heaven. I'm sorry."

I was apologizing in the same conversation which was mainly a tribute, a bouquet of compliments to her. And she just listened, without giggling or giving me any response. I saw a subtle nod before she turned her back and slept.

It was the first time I encountered this feeling; as if we broke something, that things were about to change after that day.

The only change was about the mirror which went to the garbage room of the building. She didn't just remove or relocate it; she didn't put it in our storage room as well. It was like the mirror was sentenced to death, guilty of an unacceptable crime of being accomplice in the interruption of her orgasm.

I saw it when I was taking the garbage out and these thoughts gave me a hard on. Very new, confusing thoughts accompanied by very new and amplified effects.

It was hot to acknowledge the importance of my petite Amy's orgasms and learn to show respect to them. To praise them.

The next day, her mood was normal.

In fact, for the next two days, things got hot. Maybe it was a coincidence but, it felt like there was some atonement in it. Or, that incident fueled her kinkiness.

She baked me a cake that she knew I liked, finding the recipe from the internet. She surprised me with a spectacular blowjob when I was watching TV sitting beside her, out of the blue.

And, she stayed on my face longer on our couch day. These were lovely, but everything got back to normal in two days.

I had no problem with our regular sex life but that day was worth a month's sex combined. Even if I went to bed with only a ruined one. I knew I loved it.

On the other hand, the way she acquired her satisfaction, the sudden escalation of a minor crisis to something thrilling, how she didn't regret anything at dinner, these were hard to ignore. I had no doubt that she wouldn't deny it was special for her as well.

The only thing that troubled me was its lasting effect on her. She was cold and distant the whole night. Even hours later, even when I was trying to indulge her by flattering her, apologizing for a simple, minor mishap.

That scared me.

I had no problem with her mood during that sex was but I couldn't risk my sweet girlfriend turning into someone else. Even with those hot two days included. So, I didn't mention it. I didn't try to make it happen again.

Until...

One day, she was very agitated when she was home. I couldn't decide if she was angry or embarrassed. I thought something bad happened at school.

She didn't want to talk; she was constantly mumbling and grumbling in the kitchen.

When I insisted, she snapped at me.

"I guess, to you, it's easy to confront any kind of entitled person every day. Do you think my job is just about teaching?"

She was definitely irritated by me and my questions.

I tried not to show but her angry eyes were working on me. I wasn't sure if that mirror day made me feel like that. All I knew, I started to find it arousing to be intimidated by her.

I opened my mouth to say something insignificant but she was already talking about a student's arrogant, rude mother. She kept muttering under her breath.

I was far from getting used to that; her hostility reminded me of that hot version of her. Probably I confused her anger with that cold but raunchy Amy.

Though, both versions deserved my meek pampering. She looked hot.

And, interpreting this instinct of mine, it seemed like a good idea and good timing to go down on her.

She was already angry, so why not start at the point when things could get hot, right? As if she was going to be horny every time she was angry.

I was aware that it was unlikely that this would end in our bed. At best, I'd enjoy her angry pussy.

She still had her dress on, her tan nylons, and those puffy, girlish slippers. She looked delicate and dangerous. When you added the 'Latina' to that compound, you got the combination resulting in the ultimate female.

She was always within my grasp but at the moment I could only describe how I felt as 'tantalizing'. I didn't know my chances with her. This was making her even hotter for me.

I slowly approached her, put my hand on her waist, planning to move my hand over her body to get her in the mood.

But I had to stop because she held her breath when I touched her.

Like she was waiting for me to get lost. Trying to keep herself from snapping at me again.

Normally I can read the room, I never ignore such signals.

But seeing her that angry, this got even more compelling.

I kneeled behind her, slowly caressed her legs. Those lovely legs, in those soft nylons. She wasn't reacting. I kissed her leg, no reaction.

I kept kissing that beautiful leg and this time I didn't stop. I kissed and kissed, moving down to her ankle, slowly moving to her front as I kept kissing and caressing.

I was looking at her face when I was going back up, this time directly to my target.

She was looking at the wall, trying to ignore me, fists on the counter.

I could see how irate she was. This made me lose my confidence but I was too close.

Slowly raising her skirt, I finally had my eyes on her panties.

'Yes!' the panties were wet. There was indeed a correlation between her anger and her sex drive.

Timidly, I approached and kissed her pussy over her panties. I was constantly repositioning her skirt so I could see her face. Or, maybe I wanted her to see me. She closed her eyes.

Just when I was reaching for her panties, she looked at me furiously again. Like she did that day.

Breathing heavily, her eyes were telling me I asked for this, when she held my hair, pulled my head back and slapped me very hard.

This time it hurt like a bitch.

When her slaps were landing on my face one after another, when she was spitting on my face in hatred, I thought she was taking it out of me.

This was nothing like before.

Probably there were things she wanted to say but she couldn't, when confronting that parent.

Normally, that was something we would talk about until she was calm.

I wasn't expecting that. But I didn't question this plot twist. If anything, her reaction was a direct hit on my newly found kink. I felt the arousal through my whole body.

Being helpless in her petite but determined hands, I had no regrets.

Still, this wasn't calming her down.

Finally, she let my hair go, kicked away her slippers, lowered her panties and pantyhose to her ankles and put her pussy in my mouth.

I didn't linger, this was worth anything I endured. This was what I had in my mind.

When I was licking, she was pulling my hair to herself. There was no more room for me to move and she was pulling me more. As if she wanted to inflict pain.

She had my ears in her grip as she started to grind her pussy roughly. My eyes were locked on hers. She had no love, sympathy or shame in her eyes. There was a mixture of hatred and vengeance in this, it was obvious. I wasn't sure whether I was the enemy in her mind or not.