FocusTunes Ch. 04

Fuck. I had never felt such an intersection of rage and arousal, and it made me an angry fucker. Literally. I was pounding into Miranda now, my hand pinning her neck to the bed, her ass vibrating with every stroke.

"Wanted me around for attention, huh?" The sound of my hips against her ass punctuated every other syllable. Iambic pentameter motherfuckers.

"Yes."

"You just fucking used me, huh?"

"Yes."

"And now you like getting used by me, is that right?"

"Fucking yes, use me!"

"Used by me?!" I was kinda incoherent at this point.

"Fucking use me, use me to make you cum, take what you want from me, show me what my fucking teasing gets me, you fucking..."

I grabbed Miranda's waist and buried myself in her, shooting off like I never had before. I don't know if you've ever angry-fucked, but I strongly recommend it. It's not a long fuck or a pretty fuck -- it's tough to keep those emotions running -- but the orgasm is 100% worth it. You see stars.

I was still seeing stars when I finally exited Miranda, my chest heaving and head pounding. She collapsed onto her side to relieve her legs, and I collapsed on the other side of her. We were face to face, person to person, bare. Even through my closed eyelids, I could see the glow of her pleasure. I felt her spirit besides mine, connected in that precious post-coital moment.

"That was fucking intense," I chuckled to myself, my eyes still closed. Miranda giggled across from me.

"That was. I'll probably keep saying this, but I wish I knew how good of a fuck you were a while ago." A soft hand connected us, squeezing my exposed hip. "We wasted so much time."

"We did. But if we hadn't, then you wouldn't have had all that 'teasing me' ammo stored up." She giggled again.

"Good point."

I opened my eyes; she had been watching me the whole time, smiling absentmindedly. I reached across and traced some hair out of her eyes, revealing that cherubic face that I had indeed paid tribute to on this very bed many times.

"So you really...I mean, you do seem to like..." I didn't know how to phrase this, so I just went for it. "You seem to have a very advanced sexual palette, if you don't mind me saying so."

"You say stuff in the dumbest fucking ways sometimes."

"Okay, how would you say it?"

"I mean, I'm pretty sure you just called me a slut."

"I did not! I said that you have...I just mean that you...you know, you like what you like!" I was scrambling here. "And you know what you like! And that's good!"

"And what do I like, Benjamin?" The coyness had resurfaced.

"You like..." I thought for a moment. "I'm not sure I'm actually supposed to answer this."

"You are." She challenged playfully. "C'mon. Impress a girl with that big brain of yours."

"Okay, chill out." She smirked; I rolled my eyes. "You like...okay, so you obviously do like deepthroating. You've done it since the first time we...fooled around, and we've done it pretty much every time since. You like penetration more than you like clitoral stimulation. You like--"

"Eww. Don't call it fucking 'clitoral stimulation'."

"You told me to use my big brain!"

"Yeah, well use it to think of sexier terms than 'clitoral stimulation'!"

"Okay, jeez." I regrouped. "You seem to get off better from having me inside you then any more...subtler methods." She nodded at that. "You said...okay, so you said you got off on teasing me and feeling dirty...and you clearly like messing with my fantasies of you, because you've done that twice now." I thought for a moment. "So that's all I've got."

"Okay." She scooted forward to drape a leg over mine. "So what do I like?"

"I just told you!"

"You gave me a bunch of things that you've figured out that I like. But you don't know the big what I like just yet, do you?"

"I guess not, then."

She sighed.

"Even the smart boys are still dumb." She reached down with both hands and began fondling me softly -- light squeezes and caresses to wake my tired dick up from its slumber. "I like...feeling sexy. I like the way you look at me, even if it's a little objectifying, because I can tell you admire my body -- and, unlike a lot of guys, I know you also respect my mind and ambition and whatever. When I wear tight clothes or say flirty things, boys notice me more, and that feels good -- it's cheap and antifeminist, but it feels good.

"And then," she continued dramatically. "When I get a boy alone and he starts to unravel his fantasies of me, I get to feel sexy by being way more than he even dreamed. Nothing feels sexier or better than that look you gave me the first time you saw my tits or saw me naked, the first time you felt me fucking you. A lot of sexy girls don't put a lot of effort into fucking because they don't think they need to -- they're the real teases. I'm not just a tease. I'm a good fucking lay."

I sat in silence on that for a moment. Once again wrapped in Miranda's words and hands, I was painfully hard.

"That's why you like to deepthroat," I realized suddenly. "Because it's something that other girls won't do."

"Deepthroat." Miranda's eyes dashed to mine. "And other things, too."

"Other things?"

"Not yet, stud." She patted my dick lightly, letting it bounce against her touch. "I get to tease you a little bit first."

She climbed up out of bed at that. Before I could think of protesting my sudden hardness left untended, I realized that we were right back in the world that she had described: her feeling sexy, her turning me on, my arousal going unaddressed. The power was back in her hands.

She took a quick bathroom break to handle maintenance while I laid on my bed, processing the remaining pieces of the puzzle that were falling into place in a largely crystalline image. My mind built a highlight reel of Miranda's power plays. When she dared me to make her deepthroat in the library, it was a gamble that I had a stereotypically masculine interest in control -- and I did. When she acquiesced to my commands in her basement, it was largely because of her blossoming cocksucking need -- but it was also because she liked the way filling my fantasy made her feel. Speaking of my fantasies, she had demanded to know them while fucking me for the first time.

Miranda framed her proclivity as "liking feeling sexy." I had a better framework for it: she liked being a fantasy girl. How perfect for the girl I'd already brainwashed, to have a natural predilection for fulfilling fantasies?

She came back into the bedroom, taking the time to fully discard her dress before hopping back onto my bed and tucking herself under an afghan.

"I have reached a conclusion," I said melodramatically.

"And what's that?"

"I like that."

"Like what?"

"I like that...you know, that you know what you're into. I think it's cool that you can just say, you know...this is what I like doing. It makes me feel good. I don't think that's antifeminist or anything. You're allowed to like what you like and do it with me, especially because I'm on the same page with you now."

"You are?" Miranda straightened up onto an elbow. "A lot of guys would get intimidated by what I just told you."

"I mean, I get why that would freak out dudes with fragile egos, but me?" I smirked. "You know me. My ego's tough to crack." Miranda rolled her eyes -- she did know I was bigheaded. But she didn't know why I still felt totally at ease with our current power dynamic.

"I'm glad to hear it." She tucked herself back down onto the bed, shutting her eyes again. "I don't really know why I opened up to you like that. I just...I don't know. I know that I can trust you."

She didn't know why I was so at ease, and she didn't see the massive grin splitting my face at those words.