The Way Out is Through

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Adam was already waiting for me at an upstairs table at the coffee shop we had agreed upon. Treacherously, I had a small knife hidden in the sleeve of my coat; not a weapon, a prop to help me make my point.

I set the knife down on the table, my palm obstructing his view of what it was. “I found this in my back a couple of months ago,” I told him in a dry tone. “I thought you might want it back.” I took my hand off the knife and put it in my pocket as I sat down.

His eye darted from my face to the knife and back. “Uh… is that what you came here to tell me?”

“No, but it had a nice effect, don’t you think?” I smiled bitterly.

“You’re making a big deal out of this, Em. I don’t think I needed a visual aid.” He was tall, thin, and handsome with slate blue eyes and brown hair that was soft and fine; not a strand was out of place. Adam put a lot of effort into looking nice, I could tell. He wanted me to want him, and I did. Desperately.

“First, you lead me on for months, then you dump me in an email because everyone thought we were a couple. You blamed me for the perception other people have of us,” I spoke softly, but with a harsh tone. “Not only that, but I went to you for support when you know how hard it is for me to ask someone for help. You said you’d be there for me because you care for me, then you turn around and stab me in the back because you didn’t feel like it. And the very next day, you don’t even have the balls to sit me down and say to my face that you think I’m crazy and want me to go away.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“No, but you do think I’m obsessed, don’t you? That I have an unhealthy fascination with you, simply because I asked you to be reasonable?”

“You said yourself that I’m all you think about. That sounds obsessed to me.”

“And you’re the expert because your mom’s a therapist, aren’t you? But you know what? Your father, the doctor of psychiatry would tell you that because I’m the one living in a world that holds to logic, I’m the sane one. Not you.”

“I’m not saying you’re not insane. Just that you need to not obsess over people.”

I stared strait into his shockingly blue eyes. “I only wanted a reason why you didn’t want to be with me. And when I told you that I think you’re just afraid and that there is no real reason, you got pissed and decided that you can’t be friends bahis firmaları with someone who can see through you like that.”

“Is this going any where?” His face turned from aghast to impatient, hiding that he was truly hurting and wanting to fix what had gone wrong, just as badly as I did.

“Yes. I have a solution that will make us both happy.” My solution had been brewed in the wake of being stood up by the man with whom I had been having sex,(since Adam wasn’t putting out — it should be noted that Adam was visibly jealous of this other guy, but would never admit it), and by the idea that a nice hate-fuck would do us both some good.

“So, you think that all of this can be fixed with sex? Isn’t sex what got us here in the first place?”

“No, cowardice is what got us here in the first place,” I rebuffed. “We have sex three times: one hate fuck, one make up fuck, and one normal fuck. Then our emotions are back to normal and we can get on with our lives, personally and professionally. Perhaps, we could even rebuild our friendship.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Look, a hate fuck gets out the anger. A make up fuck gets us on the same page where we can be share our emotions and repair how we’ve hurt each other. Finally, the normal fuck gets us back to where we were before I told you how I felt about you.”

He sat back and gave me a look of incredulity. His brows were raised, and he had clasped his hands in his lap. “How you felt?”

“Bygones.” I stood up and removed my coat, revealing my black tank top, under which my black lace bra could be seen, and black-with-pink-pinstripes mini skirt. “You sit here and think about it, I’m going to go get a cocoa.”

As I walked away, I allowed my three-inch slave heels to modify my walk. My hips swayed gracefully, and I knew he was being hypnotized by my ass. During the moment I was out of his view, I made certain that I was showing the perfect amount of cleavage (just enough to make him want more), and that I looked perfect. A lock of my short dark red hair slipped across my forehead, as I stood waiting to order my drink. Feigning absentmindedness, I looked up toward where Adam was sitting and brushed the hair out of my face, touching my chin and top of my bust as my hand returned to neutral. (He was watching. I knew he couldn’t keep his eyes off of me.)

When I returned with my cocoa, kaçak iddaa I sipped at it cautiously, waiting for his decision. “Well?” I asked, setting the ceramic mug back on it’s saucer.

“Do you really think this would work?”

“Honey, what’s the worst that could happen? We’ve already been through the ‘I hate you, I never want to see you again’ shit. If we have to go back to that, at least we’ll have had some excellent sex. I haven’t gotten any action since November. You haven’t gotten any since July. We both need to fuck. We would relax and be able to talk like civilized adults. Don’t you think that that alone is worth risking whatever it is you’re afraid of?”

“I just don’t want you to get your hopes up and then have them dashed again.”

“Stop trying to pretend you care about my hopes and feelings,” I motioned toward the knife. “We both know that you’re more afraid for yourself than you are for my fucking feelings.”

“Fine. I’m in, but if this doesn’t work…”

“What else could you do to me? Destroy the negatives from our dance shoots? You’ve already backed out on me for anything more.”

“Finish your damn cocoa.”

II.

We left the café and decided that we would go back to my apartment, because it was devoid of my room mates. The second we got through the door Adam grabbed me and pressed me up against the wall that housed the door. He kissed me hard, noting his disdain for me. I thrust my tongue down his throat with the same hatred. It’s funny how contempt breeds attraction, my upper brain mused as we moved down the hallway to my room.

I hadn’t even had the opportunity to remove my slave heels by the time he had moved me back to my room and thrown me down onto my bed. “Take off your clothes,” he ordered gruffly, doing as he had asked me to. I watched his firm, dancer’s body emerge from under his baggy jeans and black half-zip hipster sweater.

“You have an excellent body,” I told him, as I removed what little of my clothing I’d had on in the first place. Then reached to remove my shoes, his hand stopped me. “Leave the shoes on. It’s hot.”

He knelt in front of me and grabbed my hair. His achingly hard penis was looking me strait in the face. “Now, I think you know what to you with that pretty face of yours.”

My eyes angled upward and I watched him watching me suck him off. His girth wasn’t kaçak bahis such that he made me gag, but he was trying his damnedest to push his cock down my throat. I could hear him hiss in discomfort as my sharp molars scraped his foreskin in revenge. As his climax got closer, he gripped my hair harder and thrust his hips at me with more power than before. In an instant, he flooded my mouth with his jiz. Without batting an eye, I swallowed and licked his head clean.

“You’re such a fuckin slut,” he muttered with a smirk on his face. “But damn you’re good at it.” He moved past me and lay back on my bed, clasping his hands behind his head which was resting on one of my pillows.

“I’ve got practice,” I replied, finally removing my shoes. “It may interest you to know that yours is not the only dick I’ve sucked in the last year.”

A twinge of jealousy passed over his face and he sat up and grabbed me, beginning to kiss me once more. He pulled me on top of him by my hair and smacked my ass as hard as he possibly could. That sadistic grin that always came along with spanking me was glued to his face. One more hard slap and I bucked forward, prompting the grin once more. We continued on in this fashion, kissing, smacking, and bucking, until his dick was hard enough to fuck me.

He rolled the condom over his rigid member and pushed me onto my back, with my legs up over my head. With little caution or care for my vagina, he thrust inside with all of his might. All of the pent-up sexual frustration within him was brought into physical being upon my body. He was watching his cock pummeling my pink when I opened my eyes and looked up at him.

I grabbed his hair, which was soaked by sweat (and dripping onto me), and jerked his head up to look into my eyes. Our eyes met and we exchanged mutual hatred without using words. I pushed him off me, and managed to overpower him, throwing him onto his back. I crouched over his dick and dug my fingers into his chest hair, conveniently using it as torture and leverage and I bounced up and down on his throbbing member. He tried not to wince as I pulled his chest hair (some of which was coming out at the root), not sure how to react to the pleasure at his loins mixed with the pain of his chest hair being ripped out.

After a few minutes, he couldn’t take it any more and threw me back onto my back. He finished it off and we both came after the hardest, most exciting sex of our lives. Breathless and soaked in his own sweat, he collapsed at my side. “Now what?” He asked between pants.

“Now we recover and then I cook dinner.”

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