Hate-Fucking

Clean

Hhhaahhhh, I gulp for air, yuch that’s foul, something’s on me, I feel suffocated, my heart is pounding, let’s assess the situation.  I can see… a face, the lips and eyes seem a little lopsided.  There’s an arm on my chest.  Oh yeah.  Christ.  I pick your arm off of me and sit on the edge of the… what the fuck is this thing?  A yoga mat? Ow, my fucking neck.

I relive the night before, or what I can recall, in my head.  Big party here last night.  A bunch of us making the trip to your family’s house because they were away.  I never realised you were so fucking rich before.  Ow, my fucking neck.

As usual, I’m up ridiculously early.  I grab my rucksack and pull out a towel and clean clothes and make the shame half-run in my underwear down the corridor to the bathroom.  Big fucking bath.  I’ve never seen a bath so big.  I turn on the taps and wait for the bath to fill.  I stand in front of the mirror and undress.  How we doing, here?  I suck in my stomach, turn to the side, push up my breasts and make a kissy face, turn my back to it push my hair up as though it were in an up-do and practise a sexy wink.  Christ.  Inspect the face.  Make-up still on.  Looks kind of OK, though. Teeth? Tongue? Urgh.  Shit, I forgot my toothbrush.  I squeeze out toothpaste on to my finger and ‘brush’ my teeth.  I wet a corner of my towel and drag it across my teeth and tongue.  Better.  I’ll get a new toothbrush in the shop in a bit.  Why do I always forget my toothbrush?

I turn off the taps and climb in to the bath.  I have nothing to keep my hair back with and it doesn’t really need washing so I’m careful not to get it wet.  I lean my head back on the edge of the bath.  My neck hurts less this way.  I think I’ll  stay this way for a little while.  Close my eyes.  

A noise.  The bathroom door. ‘I’m in here’ but you walk, or rather stumble, in anyway and… what is that in your hand.  ’I brought… this?’ you shut the door ‘I think it’s whisky or brandy or something.  Shove up.’

‘I’m naked’

‘Yeah, yeah.  Shove up’

I do so.  You undress and climb in facing me, tip the bottle up to face and tip your  head back, ducking down and wetting your hair as you do.  Haha, that’s what I like about you.  You’re a little hoodrat, a skank… how could you have come from this? I look around and see the wealth evident in the room.  You sit back up and hand me the bottle.  I sip it as you wring the water from your hair.  You’re talking to me about last night.  I’m trying to sit in such a way that you can’t see anything intimate.  I try to pass you back the bottle ‘Haha, NO.  You have to have more than that’ I lift the bottle to my face and you kneel forward and tip it up.  My mouth fills with what I definitely know now is brandy.  I choke and splutter.  We laugh and you lean over the edge of the bath to put the bottle on the floor and I can see your arse.  Your perfect arse. Pale.  Big.  You come back up, kneeling up now, looking at me, I think you’re going to be sick… what are you doing? you hold your nose with one hand as you grab my knee with the other, pulling it away from my other knee.  You’re not really going to… Oh.  You are.  I feel something sucking at my clit underwater for just a couple of seconds and then you come back up for air. Spluttering, laughing.  I throw my head back laughing, too.  And you lean down to me.  Kissing me.  I can feel your wet breasts against mine.  Your kisses are quick and sweet but your breath is disgusting.  You didn’t wring your hair this time and I’m mumbling something about it getting my hair wet when you slide me under, laughing.  As I come back up, you pull me up, close, kissing me, and slipping your right over my left leg, and your left leg under my right.  You grab my breasts and kiss me as you grind close, there’s water spilling out over my fresh clothes.  We come together. and give each other small kisses and stare into each other’s eyes, still entwined.  I love your eyes…

Bang bang bang bang bang! What the… ‘IS SOMEONE IN THERE?’  I look around me.  ’I’m just in the bath, I’ll be out in a sec’  One of the guys really needs to shit.  He says he’ll use another bathroom and it’s okay.  Another bathroom?  Oh yeah, you’re rich.  I really, really don’t like that about you.

Happy Valentine’s Day

For tomorrow.  I hope you will spend it banging someone you truly love.  But if not maybe you could inbox me and I can steal something to write about from your misery.  It’s win win.

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Cool

You’re so fucking cool.  You like cool music and do cool things and you do it all coolly and never get excited.  I’ll point out that we have a shared interest in something that you posted online and you look at me like I’m fucking stalking you.  I hate you.  Why do you look so cool?  Everything you wear just looks right even in its disheveled style and you never seem to wonder if you look like an idiot.  I guess because you never do.  Have I mentioned that I hate you?  I wish I was like you.  Shut your fucking mouth.  Talking nonchalantly about something fucking cool that no-one else knows about.  God your lipstick is perfect.  A bold shade I would try on at home and think looks good but be too afraid to actually leave the house wearing.  We’re sitting too close together at a party.  The party is mainly based downstairs but all the cool kids seem to have gathered in this one crowded room.  What the fuck am I doing here then?  I should be in the kitchen offering to clean up after everyone is finished having fun.  I’m still staring at your lips and then I realise you’ve stopped talking.  I look up at your eyes.  You’re sort of frowning at me.  You know I’ve been staring at you.

Our eyes meet and you kiss me.  Cool. You grab my hand and stand up.  Drag me into another room.  God, I wish my fucking underwear matched.  You take off your dress.  Your underwear doesn’t match.  But it looks mismatched.  Leopard-print bra and pink french knickers.  What I’m wearing just doesn’t match but I’m not going to miss the opportunity.  You throw me down onto the bed, slip your hands up my dress and pull down my tights and underwear.  You’re going down on me.  Fuck.  You’re so cool.  I’m going to come.  I want to yell your name…

You’re saying mine. What? ‘What’re you looking at me like that for?’ ‘Oh sorry.  I was in a world of my own’  I sure as hell don’t belong in this one ‘I’m going to get another drink.  I’ll be back in a minute.’ I go downstairs.  I’ll go and talk to these people talking about video games I don’t play.  I am not going back up there.  I’ll just stay here.  It’s cool.

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WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE PIECE OF INTERNET ETIQUETTE?!

Mine is no all caps please.  Thanks.

Cunt

I’m out with friends.  You’re sitting at our table.  I’ve seen you around but we’ve never really talked.  You’re not my kind of girl.  So… proper.  It’s frustrating.  I like to make vulgar jokes and you never laugh.  That irritates me and turns me on all at once.

You look nice tonight.  Black dress. Hair up. Flower.  Heels. Red lips.  It’s a timeless look.  Sophistocated. Refined.  Demure.  You excuse yourself and walk towards the bathroom.

‘I’m going to fuck that fucking priss’ I say under my breath.  Stand up.  Walk over to the bathroom where you’re talking politely to the Nigerian toilet attendant.  She shoots me a look that makes you turn around.  I kiss you hard.  It knocks you backwards and the small of your back hits the sink.  You look at me; hurt.  You strain to see if there’s anything on the back of your dress in the mirror and notice your lipstick is smudged.  You lean forward to fix it.  You’re not really looking at your mouth, though.  You’re looking at me. Standing behind you.  In the reflection.  You’re still leaning forward and your ass is being fucking presented to me.  I can see that you fucking love this shit so I grab you by the hips and drag you into a cubicle. I catch the glint in the eye of the Nigerian toilet attendant as I close the door.  She’s getting off on this.  Pervert.  I might fuck her later, too.

‘What do you think you’re doing?!’ You exclaim but never really raise your voice.  Still so fucking sophisticated, even now. I push you down so you’re sitting on the edge of the toilet.  I kiss you.  You kiss back.  Consent.  Fuck. Yes.  ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ you half-whisper, half-yell at me.  You shoot a look in the direction of where our party is sitting beyond a few walls.  I kiss you again and unzip the back of your dress.  It falls down and you’re wearing a strapless, black lace bra underneath. I pull it down with both hands and expose your little titties.  I prefer them a little bigger but these’re shapely at least.  I make my way down towards them.  I kiss them and bite your nipples a little.  You pretend to try to push me away and pull up your bra but when I slip my hand between your legs and push my left index finger inside your cunt I can feel that you definitely want this.  You hold yourself slightly above the seat gripping rails meant for disabled people.  You’re definitely able… and willing.  But you’re still whispering insults at me as I kiss it through your thong.  I watch it flinch as I do.  I pull down the thong. I grab your arse cheek with my right hand and play with your cunt with my left.  I’m sucking on your throbbing clitoris.  Hard.  I can feel you getting closer and closer. You’re still fucking insulting me. ‘You arsehole… You prick…’ I laugh.  That’s hilarious to me.  I mean it’s called a sexual favour. You could at least be grateful… but it’s hot.  I like you calling me names.  I’ve never even heard you swear before.  I can tell you’re getting close as your cunt grips at my fingers and your clit swells. So I move my right hand round towards your asshole.  You’re saying something about ‘stop’ and ‘that’s disgusting’ but as I shove my finger inside your ass, you climax.  ‘OW! My fucking arsehole.  You CUNT’.  Oh. Motherfuck.  She said it.  The holy grail.  The C-word.  I’m so turned on I reach my left hand down and play with myself.  I come too. With my finger still in your arse and my mouth still kissing your pussy.

I walk out and buy some chewing gum from the toilet attendant.  She smiles at me.  Yeah, I think I will fuck her later.

At the table I’m staring at the bathroom door and the waitress has been trying to get my attention for some time.  You walk out of the bathroom looking perfect.  Like; nothing happened.

Chapped Lips

Shut up.  Shut the fuck up. I don’t care about your problems.

Sitting at a bus stop.  I haven’t seen you in so long. You’re telling me your life story and I’m staring at your mouth.  Your teeth are stained.  Your breath stinks of cigarettes and last night’s booze.  Your lips are chapped.  How did they get so red and sore.  You make me sick.

At least, you usually make me sick.  Now, though.  I just want to push you up against the glass and bite those sore lips until they bleed.

You realise you can’t pay for the bus. We leave.