I stood at my desk with my legs spread. I'd just spent an hour ignoring my lov-e-r for being 5 hours later than expected, making me bored as fuck, so as a way to relieve my angry I asked him if he wanted to fuck. The answer was a clear yes, but stringed with a load of questions, of how's from him. How am I meant to have sex when I have a broken leg? How is he suppose to perform the act without hurting me? How is this going to be enjoyable when I'm so down?
Standing there waiting, my brain jumped from the following thoughts: 'Doesn't he know nothing will stop me from shagging?' 'Even more hasn't realised I've been having sex almost every day since breaking my foot?' And finally, I thought, 'oh hurry up and don't be late to fuck my brains out, just like you were late to come and see me.'
Frustration was making my leg tense and hurt, so I snap towards him after a failed attempt for standing sex, to go to the bed. Lying on the bed he entered me and kept commenting how this can't be very enjoyable for me, just lying there, unable to really move and interact like I normally would during sex due to my leg. I responded 'So you expect me not to have sex for 6 weeks? As that would be insane!' He probed me more about just lying there, so I replied and stated that woman had been fucking like this for years with no problem.
Lying there, distant, cold, confused. He thought my banal expression was from the pain I must've been receiving upon every thrust, but it wasn't. This felt like a mercy fuck. Not just a mercy fuck to make him feel better but also to help me feel ok too. The relationship had crumbled, in reality he had broken up with me just before leaving me with a broken foot in the streets. All I knew was that I needed a shag and that it would prevent any further awkward conversation.
For the first time in awhile my mind felt dead and empty. Mentally I wasn't as aroused as I usually can become during such acts, and I was too depressed feeling to even form an imaginative fantasy, to help kick start my juices.
He kissed me lovingly, well so it seemed. Softly and ticklishly, touches which would normally make me giggle with joy. His eyes sparkled with hope that things were ok, that also the other day never happened. I was bored still, but pleased at the very least that I was having sex, but I needed something to distract me more.
Now this lov-e-r, or more ex-lov-e-r, depending on how I feel at the time (it'll work out sooner of later), has a fascination for biting. So much so, that when I say no, he will not stop. His fangs clenched around my neck harshly and the grip of his jaw tightened further and further. My back arched as he moans with excitement, and I let out a scream of pain. He carried oh, I screamed loader and loader, screams in which would make most people stop. His vampire like trance meant that he was unable to tell between my screams of pain and pleasure, and heck those in which combine the two together. The pain rippled through my body and startled the nerves within my foot, everything was hurting so much, but at the same time I needed the distraction. I finally came to my senses and tweazed his head anyway from my neck. Even once he had finished, I don't think he realised how I felt, and how much pain I was actually in. He was just happy with that puppy dog love expression upon his face.
The evening basically ended with me still ignoring him, or snapping towards him, and nagging - oh joy.
On a side note Betty Crocker Cinnamon and Vanilla cake is awesome! And at least he did make the mixture and bake them for me.
But yeah, this relationship needs to end for so many reasons. Although is it bad that I want to use him a bit whilst my foot heals? Probably, but I am very limited in what I can currently do.