Today’s subject is love.

Only kidding, as if! Anyone who knows me and my questionable attitudes, would know my theories on this. Basing a lifetime with someone on the basis of a chemical reaction in the brain is not common sense. To glue together a relationship on chemicals that can be altered as easily as a eating chocolate? No today’s subject is a different chemical reaction (and far more temporary and enjoyable). It is good to honest lust, no promise of fairytale weddings, family albums, Facebook announcements or washing socks. A base pure near animal instinct, that won’t go away in even the stormiest of situations. Anyone who has had the delicious mouth watering hate fuck would surely agree with me on this point.

I wanted him. Pure and simple. The second my eyes laid on him I wanted to taste, smell ,feel and burn the image of him (preferably naked) into my mind. I wanted to kiss him furiously, biting his lower lip. Run my hands over his strong back, dragging my nails along to mark my territory. I wanted to breathe him in on the collar that mixture of aftershave, time fresh sweat and excitement all fused together guaranteed to blow me away. I wanted his fingers stretching and teasing my pussy until I was shaking uncontrollably and still begging for more.

At that moment I was a slave to him. I wanted him to bind me at the wrists and ankles tight enough to bite; wanted to be gagged and blindfolded by him. I wanted to share with him those suspense laden moments where I don’t know what is going to happen next. My whole body tingling with anticipation. Breathing and heartbeat quickening with every drawn out second. What would be next? Nails mercilessly dug in to my breasts or a tender kiss to the forehead? A short sharp slap to the face or a tongue on my clit? All the above in a conflicting order, keeping me on a razor edge for him?

I wondered how he would treat me. Would he roughly press me up against the wall and fuck me so hard he’d leave bruises on my arse? Would he grab my hair as I sucked him deeply, feeling the back of my throat on his swollen cock? I wanted to be used by him. Knowing that abuse by the hands, mouth and cock of this magnificent man could never be a lowly status. I could picture him staring into my eyes, not in the Shakespearean sense but challenging me to challenge him. Daring me to question him. He wouldn’t ask me if I am ok or if it hurt too much. He would know because he would have decided for me that I was okay, that it was all okay. He wouldn’t kiss every inch of my body and count the ways he loved me, he’d fuck me into next week.

‘Tie me up, whip me ,crop me, slap me, tease me, bite me, lick me, kiss me and scratch me and yes I will happily beg for more’ I wanted to shout. ‘Rip my clothes off me here and now and screw me harder than you have anyone before, let everyone watch, I don’t fucking care’! Bloody social graces ruin everything.

Even now I can picture him and feel that one moment where our eyes locked. But he didn’t notice the fire burning in my eyes pleading with him to debase me. My flushed face or the fact I was near on continuously shifting in my seat owing to my increasingly damp knickers. Not even a raised eyebrow to ravenous expression on my face. He just looked straight through me and carried on his conversation completely without pause for hesitation. Bastard.

Bloody hell. Thank all major and minor deities for vibrators.