You were powerless against me. You teased me relentlessly in small, tight clorthing, talking very openly about sex. You often stripped bare in front of me as if it were nothing, making sure to move your body in ways that would allure me into losing our weeklong no-contact bet.
As both of us expected, you won. You were bent over the bed, back buckled downward, red hair spilling across your shoulders and back, only accentuating your body, every muscle and bone bent in that action, begging for me. You even wiggled your ass at me when I walked in, turning your head to grin mischievously at me. You turned and put your hands on the ground, crawling toward me slowly on all fours, head up so I could watch your tits through your practically useless shirt.
Your ass swung from side to side as you crawled, and it took every bit of my willpower not to grab a fistful of your hair; I could hold you there while unzipping my pants with my other hand, letting my pants fall, and my cock would whip out and lay along your face, from chin to forehead, covering an eye, and I could pull your hair to move your head away from my cock, position it at your mouth and push...you would've sucked it instinctively because the kind of girl you are....I managed to resist, but only slightly. I growled quietly when I noticed your tits were barely covered by your loose shirt, having chosen, no doubt intentionally, to avoid wearing a bra that day.
You crawled up to me, face only an inch from my cock, smiling widely at the long bulge down my leg, my cock swollen from watching your sultry crawl to my feet. The denim stretched tightly around it, and I could feel your hot breath on my cock„ teeth so incredibly close to my cock that if you had lost balance your lips would've wrapped around it completely in accident. At the thought, my cock throbbed harder and stretched farther into my jeans. When my cock twitch and grew, you giggled, self-adssured, falling back onto all fours to crawl back to the bed. On your way there you looked back at me, smug, so sure of yourself. Your ass was both firm and soft, deliciously round, bouncing with each wide sway of your hips, a primal, animal invitation to come up behind you and tear away your shorts, to stuff my cock into your little pussy without preparation, fucking you in an outlet of carnal rage and frustration.
You saw the pained expression on my face, guessed at my imagination and giggled again, slowing your crawl, working every move like you would in slow, sensual fucking. I almost couldn't watch you, my skin burning and every nerve in my body urging me forward.
I resisted that.
But when you finally reached the bed, you crawled even lower to the ground, practically grinding against it, your body low and parallel to the ground. You stopped suddenly, shifted your hands, and in a single motion popped your perfect, tempting, incredibly fuckable ass and legs and pussy into the air, slowly shaking it at me.
I couldn't resist that.
You were quietly celebrating, in your own head, not paying much mind to me. So naturally you jumped when I laid hands on you, almost toppling over, but I gathered you up roughly and tossed you onto the bed with ease. You bounced twice, eyes wide, in shock and a little frightened. Before you could say a word, I started enacting my revenge, as I worked angrily on your body, strong hands grabbing your soft tits and squeezing them until you winced and squirmed, your body and mind confusing pain and pleasure. I pulled the silly bottom flap of fabric away from your pussy, which was already wet, and must have been during your crawl, silly little slut performer that you are.
For a moment, all you could do was stare at me manipulating your body, the initial shock not yet overcome, your skin unprepared for a sudden influx of raw, almost violent sexual attention.
Then, you came to a realization and squirmed, still under my hands. You had won! You had won the bet!
You continued to talk about it for almost half a minute, bragging and gloating. I had had enough.
I laid my hands on you again, not passively this time. I gripped your flesh, one hand grinding hard against your clit and labia before i slid a finger in. Your breath hissed past your teeth and your eyes began to close, only darting open again when you felt my hands leaving your body. You looked at me questioningly in the moment's transition.
We made eye contact, I reached for the neckline of your shirt and grabbed it, pulling hard at the fabric as you struggled weakly underneath me. In another second, the shirt lay in two pieces on the bed.
You looked up at me, now pinned completely, one of my hands gripping your wrists and pressing them to the mattress behind your head, my body weight settled on your frame to hold you still. I sat back for a moment and was able to appreciate the view even when you struggled weakly and in vain. I took my time, letting my eyes run over your body crudely, assessing you and looking you over like you were a piece of meat. To your credit, you glared angrily at me, but you also blushed a furious red. And in the room temperature house, there was no good reason for your nipples to pucker and harden as much as they had. You wanted this and you wanted me.
I pulled on your wrists, pushing your arms closer to your head, shifting your tits closer together. I smirked at the sight, flaunting my power over you just as you had over me. I lean forward slightly and tell you that you look like a whore. You push your hips against me, frowning, trying to figure out whether it was a compliment or an insult, your judgment too clouded to decide. You give up. I laugh and tell you that's because your brain is shutting off, you're too close to a cock, and as cumsluts like you get closer to cocks, their brains shut down and their bodies turn on. You don't like that concept, so you battle with me for dominance, arguing that women are not cumsluts, but are individuals worthy of equal power.
Naturally, you and I already knew how this discussion would end.
