Angry Fuck A Vignette

The storm had been building for a long time, and in the end it was something innocuous that set it off. A glass without a coaster, sweat beading off and running onto the table.

She exploded. Fair enough. I cared about our furniture as much as she did. I didn't want it to be ruined with ugly stains.

But -- as I replied forcefully -- the glass had been on the table for less than two minutes, while I went to answer the door. To take receipt of a parcel that

she

had ordered.

Our tempers had been brewing like the weather. For days the air had grown thicker, until it was like trying to breathe underneath a duvet, with your face between your lover's thighs. Suffocating, no matter how much you enjoy it, and it doesn't take long before you want to come up for air.

As the days dragged on we lay limply on the furniture, listless like wilted lettuce. Pressure from our jobs combined with the stickiness to make us short and snappy. Her face grew sullen, as sullen as the sky outside. Mine probably did too.

Sleep had kept its distance. The nights felt as sulky as we were. Morning was just the point where we gave up and went to shower. Tepid water washed away the night's grime but brought no relief, no new patience for each other, just the knowledge that the day ahead would be worse than the one before.

Now we stood glaring at each other, nostrils flaring, flushed with heat. Both knowing that we were right, both understanding that we were wrong. Neither caring. The sky lit up with distant dry lightning. The air between us felt charged.

Moisture beaded at my temples and on my forehead, trickled down my back and chest. It gathered behind my knees and tickled at my ankles. Every inch of me felt sticky.

She was faring no better. Her cotton dress was stuck to her sides. I could see the creases in the white cotton where she'd pulled it loose several times already. Her hair was tied up to expose her neck. Its dull red seemed to reflect her mood and contrasted sharply with the heat in her eyes.

"Why can't you act your age for once?" she spat.

"Me?" I gave a snort of derision. "How about you, exploding over nothing? Look!" I pulled off my shirt and wiped the table where the ring of moisture looked up at me accusingly. "Problem solved. End of the world averted."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously as I tossed the garment onto a chair. "And now you expect me to tidy that up? Do you enjoy making work for me?"

Somewhere outside there was a faint rumble, then another. I rubbed my hand across my face. It came away sticky.

"I beg your pardon." I laid the sarcasm on thick. "I suppose I could have worn that shirt for a few more days. It was barely sweaty at all."

Her chest was heaving. Whether from anger or because the air was so thick, I couldn't tell. Both, probably, if she was feeling anything like me. Her dress clung to the swell of her breasts again, and again she plucked at it. She wasn't wearing a bra, not in this heat. The faint outline of her nipples showed through the cotton, just enough to catch my eye.

"Would it have been so much effort to get a cloth from the kitchen?"

"No effort at all." I smiled sweetly. "But it would have taken more time, and by then the table might have been ruined."

With that I sat back down. I felt that I'd won, if there was such a thing as a winner. The niggling doubt prevented me from feeling as smug as I should have. I took a drink from my glass. It was barely refreshing, and emptied far too soon.

I looked around for something to put the glass on -- even in my slightly uncertain sense of satisfaction I knew better than to deliberately antagonise her -- but it was too late.

"Just give me that!" Seizing the empty glass in my hand, she tried to wrestle it from me.

She stood over me, chest heaving, just as a gust of wind whipped through the open window. Instead of cooling the room down, though, it seemed to bring an extra heat. Lightning flashed again, as dry as a skeleton's cough.

"I'm not done with it." I was, but I resented her trying to take control. Our fingers were touching on the glass. "Give it back."

"Fine." She let go and folded her arms across her stomach, forcing her breasts up. Her nipples were almost clawing through her dress. "Go get yourself a drink then. Just don't leave rings anywhere this time."

I dragged my eyes up to meet hers. They were flashing with anger. Outside the sky went white for a split second before the darkness returned. There was a rumble this time, like the growl deep in the throat of a wild animal before it savages you.

Rising from the couch made me sweat all over again. I felt her eyes on me as I stalked into the kitchen to pour myself another glass of water. The light from the fridge made me aware of just how dark it had become. Outside, beyond the porch, the sky was looming close, sending its hot breath through the open door.

I returned and sat down again. She still stood, legs slightly apart, glaring at me. A flash of white outside backlit her for a split second.

"And now you're going to sweat into the couch?"

I sighed. It might have been dismissive. "You want me to stand while I drink?" I took a large gulp and rose again, clumsily with the glass in my hand.

"For fuck's sake!" She snatched the glass and stormed into the kitchen. Around her knees the cotton of her dress hung limp, but higher up it clung to her thighs and arse like it never wanted to let go.

I was on my feet in an instant, catching her just as she placed the glass -- still half full -- in the sink. The words that were about to explode from my lips caught in my throat as she spun to face me, a challenge in her eyes. "What?"

I opened my mouth, forgot what I was going to say, closed it again. Another white flash lit the kitchen, followed almost immediately by a loud rumble. We both glanced at the window, then back at each other.

Her lips came apart, and in that instant I seized her face between my hands and kissed her. Kissed her hard. I felt her stiffen, then start to kiss me back -- force of habit perhaps -- before pulling away.

"Fuck you!" she spat, glaring. Her chest was heaving, the nipples rising up towards me before falling back again. A bead of sweat dashed down her neck. "Fuck you!" Then she kissed me.

My arms were around her, fingers sliding up her back across the thin cotton until I felt sticky skin. Her hands were on my chest, digging into my flesh like claws. I winced. "Stop that!"

She dug again, harder this time. I glanced down, saw red marks on my chest. Tiny beads of blood welled up but seemed reluctant to go anywhere.

Now I pulled away. "Fuck you." I grabbed her waist and spun her around. A hand between her shoulder blades forced her down onto the counter while the other raised her dress.

Her arse glowed white in another flash of lightning, and my hand came down, palm open, just as the thunder pealed through the sky.

She gasped, squirmed under my hand, tried to turn her face towards mine. I brought my hand down again.

Her jockey was in the way. Still pressing her onto the counter, I hooked my thumb under the elastic and pulled it down. It took three attempts to expose her arse entirely, with her jockey bunched together halfway down her thighs.

"Fuck you," I said again, and again I smacked her. This time she yelped, but I was distracted by her flesh, smooth and cool beneath my palm. I let my hand linger for a moment, delighting in the feeling.

It was as if her arse was the one place in the world that wasn't hot and sticky. I savoured it for a moment, admiring the contrast between the pale flesh and the red mark that formed, then raised my hand to smack her other cheek.

As I watched a red mark blossomed to match the first. She hadn't yelped this time. Too proud. Her face was turned away from me, but I could see her breasts swell against the material of her dress as she breathed deeply. They trembled, swayed enticingly.

My cock was almost hard, I realised.

Again I brought my hand down, and again. Again I watched the movement of her breasts. She wasn't struggling anymore. In fact, she seemed to be presenting her arse to me for spanking. Her feet were further apart than they'd been a moment earlier.

"Fuck you." My cock was throbbing by now. With one hand pressing lightly on her back, I used the other to pull down my shorts while I positioned myself behind her.

She didn't flinch when I pressed my cock between her legs and ran the head along her lips. I watched as her arousal coated it instantly.

"Fuck you." She raised her head and looked at me over her shoulder. "Fuck you, you bastard." Leaning back, she pressed herself against my cock. "Fuck me, you bastard."

For a long moment I considered teasing her, then I realised that I didn't want to. Didn't dare to. Instead I ran my cock up between her lips until it found her entrance. Placing my hands on her hips I angled forward. The darkness lit up again.

We both moaned as I slid inside her. However hot and sticky we were, she was hotter. Hotter but delightful. I pressed my full length forward at once until my thighs were touching her arse. I quickly stepped out of my shorts and kicked them aside.

She'd brought one hand down between her legs, I realised, bunching her dress up so she could stroke herself. Her jockey was forgotten on the kitchen floor. I pulled out slowly, then pressed in again. She grunted. I could feel her fingernails on my shaft as she worked her clit.

There was a zip in the back of her dress, and I quickly undid it. The material slid open and I reached inside with both hands to seize her breasts.

Unlike her arse a moment earlier, her boobs were hot and sticky. The sweat added friction under my fingers. She grunted again as I found her nipples and pulled them with my thumbs and forefingers.

"Fuck me!" she breathed again, and I began to thrust away. Her legs were spread wide, one forearm rested on the counter. Flesh slapped wetly against flesh every time I pounded into her and she pushed back.

We were both gasping. The air seemed too thick to breathe. Rumble followed rumble outside.

I could feel her begin to clench around my shaft. Her body trembled. "Yess, yesss," she moaned. I tried to keep my rhythm as steady as I could, knowing she was close.

Suddenly she gave a cry. Her whole body went stiff, then relaxed, then shuddered. Outside the sky turned white, and a split second later the world seemed to explode in a crash.

We both froze, looked at the open door, then at each other. I started moving again, when suddenly I caught sight of something falling. Something that shone against the black sky. A raindrop.

It was followed by another, and another, then it was as if an entire summer's worth of rain was pouring out of the sky.

We exchanged glances again, then she pulled herself off me and headed to the door. On the porch she paused and looked back at me. "Well?"

I followed her outside onto the lawn. Raindrops beat down, pounded on my head, against my skin. We were both soaked in an instant.

She turned towards me, seized the back of my head and drew me into a kiss. Our lips locked, our teeth clashed, our tongues wrestled. My cock was still hard and hot, pressed between our bodies. I almost began to hump against her mound.

She pulled away and gave me a hard shove. Startled, I lost my balance and found myself on my arse in the wet grass. It tickled at my balls.

Stepping forward, she stood over me, one foot on either side of my hips. She reached up and undid the clip holding her hair up. It fell loose, becoming soaked in an instant and sticking to her face, her shoulders, her arms.

The dress was stuck to her skin. I could see every detail of her body through it: the swell of her breasts, her pink nipples, the curve of her belly, the patch of golden curls beneath.

Fixing me with a fierce gaze, she drew the wet material up her thighs and sank down onto her knees. Her pussy was positioned over my cock, and she reached down to guide it to her entrance.

Despite the rainwater she was slick enough that I slid in easily. Without closing her eyes she placed her hands on my chest, rising and falling while around us the rain fell. Lightning flashed again and we both flinched. Our eyes met again, and I felt my mouth twisting into a grin. "Fuck you."

"Fuck you." She leaned forward onto my chest and wrapped her arms around my head. I put my arms around her and pulled her against me. Our bodies came together, then withdrew, again and again.

Feeling the spark of my climax, I angled my face towards hers and kissed her. She kissed back passionately. Her hair stuck to my face.

Up and down I thrust, letting the fire build, keeping it in check, feeding it until it swelled up inside me, eager to unleash itself like the thunderstorm. My body trembled with the need to hold it back, the need to let it burst free, the need to--

With a roar I felt the dam break and an explosion ripped through me, forcing me deeper inside her, making me claw at the wet cotton that was stuck to her back, sending spasm after spasm along my legs until I was spent and I pulled my face away from hers and collapsed into the wet grass, gasping, breathing, gasping again.

Her fingers stroked my chest, tracing the red marks that she'd made, and she lowered herself into the grass beside me. My arm was still around her, and I pulled her close.

The rain pounded down, great drops crashing into us and exploding against our skin. I breathed in deeply. For the first time in days I felt refreshed.

A soft snore by my ear made me look down. Her eyes were closed, her lips were parted. Inside the soaked dress, her chest rose and fell slowly, evenly.

Lying back in the grass, I closed my eyes and let my ears fill with the sounds of her breathing and the falling rain.