Fucking Inspiration

"Fuck you," I returned, heaving through the tides of nausea brought about by her low blow.

She stopped, and turned back. I looked up, and saw the light in her eye had gone cold.

"That's right," I affirmed. "Fuck you. You fickle, capricious, unreliable, unrepentant bitch. Fuck you, good and hard."

She was running. She was running, coming hard at me - and I saw in her eyes, she was ready to finish me. One well-timed kick to the head and she'd knock me out of her presence, out of this realm, and back into the cold sad lifeless world of my own.

She was quick, but so was I - I rose just as she passed the point of no return, and returned charge, and in her surprise she was unable to slow or turn; I scooped her up and absorbed the momentum of her slight, lithe, tawny little body easily, gathering her up and charging her bodily into the broad trunk of a tree, crushing her hard in the impact before letting her fall to the ground.

The blow stopped her, but only momentarily - I had to dodge another swinging leg aiming at my nether-regions, but I managed to grab her about the throat and I picked her up, choke-holding her at a good arm's length.

"So then," I growled, wincing through the aches in my body, the dull burning pain in my loins and the complaints of my cracked knuckles - and I tightened my grip about her throat, subtly but meaningfully. "How hard do I have to squeeze, to re-earn your co-operation?"

"You seem to forget - I am an immortal being," she croaked through my grasp. "You can't choke the life out of me. However..." Her arm shot out, she matched my chokehold with one of her own, and she continued: "...you are very much mortal. And I can, very much, choke the life out of you."

We squinted at each other, deadlocked, as it were. I searched in her eyes, looking through the malice and violent intent, for the light I had seen earlier; she saw me searching, the heat of battle died out between us and I saw it again.

It was a look in her eye - a look of intent. Not a look of wanting, or yearning, as such; it was more a mood, a conceit. But I knew what it meant. I knew what she was thinking.

She would not give it up. She would not give me anything. If I wanted anything of her, I could win it; if I was able to win it from her, she would not begrudge me.

If I could best her, then I could have her.

Violence wasn't strictly the key. She fought me to rile me, she threw her punches in feeding off my hatred and rage. There was nothing to be gained in hitting or kicking.

Time to try a new tack.

I softened my grip on her throat somewhat, enough to allow the free passage of air but not so much as to allow an easy escape - and she followed suit. I advanced on her, pulling her closer to me; as I did, I allowed my free hand to fall upon her shapely hip, an unexpected contact that made her jump slightly.

"You've seemed disappointed with my efforts," I murmured, as we suddenly found ourselves standing toe-to-toe, her back up against the tree against which I had earlier body-slammed her. "You'll have to forgive me; violence against a woman, even a sprite with the body of a woman..." and I think we both savoured the way the word 'body' came out of my mouth, loaded with heavy intent "...is a pastime to which I'm unaccustomed."

"Probably a good thing," my Muse allowed, and I saw her repress a shiver as my hand swept up along her side, taking in the smoothness of her flawless black skin and the muscularity of her flanks.

"Perhaps I'm more likely to impress you..." and I let my hand pass down low, over and along her hip, down and around her thigh to rise again, cupping gently against the lowest edge of her shapely rump, "...with pastimes I have enjoyed more frequently."

I descended slowly upon her, watching for any danger - but there would be none, her eyes lolled heavily as I fell to her neck, and I laid my lips against her soft, warm, aromatic skin. I released my loose hold about her neck, and she did the same; her arms wound about me and pulled me closer, pulled me to her, and we fell deep into each other's embrace as my lips found hers and we kissed.

We revelled in the sensation, the sudden juxtaposition against the violence of before. I pressed hard into her, making my arousal known against her belly - she moaned soft and low in response, and as our kisses continued I found myself with a pressing query.

"Muse," I addressed her. "I must know..."

"...mmm..."

"I must know: why me?"

"...hmm?"

"Why did you pick me?" I repeated, as I moved up to graze my teeth along her ear. "Why feed me with your inspiration, why not another artist? Why choose to summon me, when you might pick any other of your charges in the next thousand years?"

"Because your work is like none I've ever seen before," she whispered to me, her hands cupping my own buttocks and pressing my girth ever-harder into her. "You are a great. You write with a fire and a passion that I've not seen for millennia! You are the envy of all my sisters, all the Muses would kill to gain a charge like yourself!

"I've never seen a man so thirsty for my Inspiration," she breathed in my ear, as I rubbed myself hard against her sex, able to feel the naked heat and moisture even through my own clothes, which we began to remove. "You drink up my Inspiration so hungrily, so greedily - I can barely provide it fast enough, all that I fire at you is absorbed so wantonly, you take all I can give you and then you take some more!

"And your words - your words," she sighed, the pleasure heavy in her voice as my clothes hit the ground and we entwined, hot and naked, hard against the other. "You are an artist. You are a poet. You write with a vividness, a power and a passion so rare in this world, so rare through the ages... and the look you get on your face," she went on, "the way you bite your lip, the way your fingers fly across the keyboard when your fires are burning, burning on the fuel of my Inspiration...

"There was no doubt," my Muse went on, her breath catching as I spun her around, as I pressed my naked cock hard against her back, as I let my hands fall down her body, down towards their hallowed goal... "There was no doubt in my mind," she went on. "I was due; it had been more than a thousand years since I had last challenged my charge. I had been waiting. Waiting for a man like you..."

I stopped. My hands, having fallen so near to her sex that I could feel her heat at my fingertips, stopped in their descent - I leaned back, I spun her back around with my hands locked about her hips, and I fixed her in the eye.

"Wait," I said. "Did you... did you bring this about?"

She was suddenly frozen, staring at me, her eyes wide and - perhaps - somewhat fearful. "What?"

"Did you do this to me?" I demanded of her. "All that talk of me having turned my back, having lost myself in my career, having become inured to your Inspiration... is it true? Or did you make it happen - did you keep it from me? Did you manufacture my block?"

She said nothing, but I saw it. I saw it in her eye.

"You did," I murmured in shock. "I was right - you did! You cut me off, you withheld your Inspiration, you tortured me... just to make me come here? You kept it back, you starved me, you starved my creativity, my expression - simply so you could have me?"

I saw a twinkle in her eye, and a smile played about her lips - and then her knee rose hard.

But I was ready. I caught her rising knee with my thighs, protecting myself from another sickening low blow. And my eyes narrowed.

"So much for playing nice," I observed. "Now if you'll excuse me: I'm gonna have me some fun."

Still with a firm hold of her hips, I spun us around and threw myself forward, so that I fell atop her. She struggled beneath me, bucking and kicking as I quickly reached up and grabbed her hands - she was strong but I was stronger, able to lock her hands above her with all my weight upon them.

Hovering above her, I checked her eyes - I wanted it, I wanted to give it to her, to do it to her and break her, make her mine... but I hesitated. I had never taken a woman like this before. I had always won consent, very much so; never had I pressed the issue if a hint of reluctance was detected. So I looked to her eye...

I mostly saw fight. She raged beneath me, bucking and struggling away. So I looked deeper...

And still, that gleam in the eye was there. I sought it and found it: there was that little look, betrayed by a quick grin amongst her struggles, a little look that was there if it was looked for - if I could win it, then I deserved full well to take it.

So I took it. I pinned her arms down, kicked her legs apart, lined myself up and plunged into her, deep and hard.

She paused momentarily, her breath stolen away by my sudden penetration. I revelled in the sensation, the sudden enveloping heat and moisture - yes, she was wet, very much so - and my cock pulsed, seeming to gain in length and girth even as I held station within her.

But I didn't fuck her. Not yet. I was waiting - I hovered slightly above her, still with her arms pinned, her legs forced apart by my own; I waited and watched her, as her eyes fluttered and lolled, as her mouth fell slackly in a wide, silent gasp of... surprise? Pleasure? Both? Neither?

Eventually she came round; her eyes found their focus and fixed on mine, and in them I saw a lot of things: defiance; anger; a willingness to fight, a refusal to capitulate; and yet, even amongst all of that, I saw a hint of admiration and approval.

I found myself grinning, partly in triumph but mostly in enjoyment. "You feel me, Muse?" I asked of her.

"Damn you..." she growled through clenched teeth.

I raised a scolding eyebrow, and almost as a reprimand, I pulled out slightly and slammed back into her - and I thrilled to watch her eyes widen, her jaw go slack again as I parted her inner depths, hard and rough.

"So this is how it's gonna go," I informed her. "I'm gonna fuck you. I'm gonna fuck you, good long and hard. I'm going to take you, and make you mine. I'm gonna fuck you and take back what's mine - and it's going to be so, so good."

I watched as her eyes remained wide, as a look of shock spread upon her face as I spoke - a look of shock mixed with something else, a hint of amusement, perhaps appreciation...?

Enough had been said, so I did it again - still with her arms pinned down, I fed myself out of and back into her, this time in a long, slow, glorious stroke.

"Can you feel it, Muse?" I asked of her. "Can you feel me?"

She bit her lip as though fighting down her answer, so I did it again - sliding out, withdrawing slowly from her hot, tight, incredibly wet pussy, before feeding my twitching rod deep back into her depths.

"Answer me, Muse," I demanded. "Can you feel it? Can you feel me, feel my cock inside you?"

She bared her teeth at me in response, snarling like an animal - yet I could see her own excitement, her own arousal not far from the surface.

"I'm fucking you, Muse," I told her, more for my own benefit than to help catch her up on current events. "I'm fucking you. I'm pumping my long, fat cock in and out of your hot, wet little snatch. And I know you like it," I added, with a grin.

She snarled at me again, writhing under my restraint, though I could see the hint of a smile about the edges of her mouth.

"I'm gonna take it from you now," I whispered to her, locking her in the eye. "I'm gonna take back what's mine. I'm gonna fuck you, Muse. I'm gonna fuck you, long, deep, slow and hard."

My Muse's head was tipping back now. My base, guttural words were having their desired effect; I was triumphal and dominant, I was taking what was mine and I would make sure there was no doubt in her mind as to what was going on. And she liked it, her eyes lolled as she struggled to mask her building pleasure.

"I'm gonna pin you down and fuck you, Muse," I told her, even as I did the very same. "I'm gonna pin you down and take it back, take back what you took from me. I can feel it, even now."

She looked to me anew.

"That's right," I told her, with a growing grin. "I can feel it coming back. With every thrust..." And I thrust into her, short and hard. "With every pump..." And I pumped into her again, just once, hard and fast. "Every time my cock bottoms out in your sweet little pussy I feel it, I can feel it coming back, it's coming back..."

I saw now in her eye, a look of admiration. A look of respect. A look that told me that I had figured it out, that I had put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"I know what I have to do," I told her. "I know what I have to do to win it back, to win you back, forever and after."

"Yeah?" she smiled. "What's that, then?"

"I have to fuck you," I replied, even as I kept on doing the same. "I have to fuck you. I have to take you, break you, and make you mine."

"That's right, my boy," she purred at me. "That's what you have to do. But: do you think you can manage it?"

I frowned slightly, and looked rather pointedly down at where my cock was slipping and sliding in and out of her ever-moistened depths. "Well," I began. "I don't like to brag, but I rather reckon I'm managing pretty well at the moment."

"Ahh," she grinned. "But that's not the end of it, is it? It's not enough that you've managed to pin me down and stick it in me."

That stopped me in my tracks. "It's not?"

"No," she said - and she took my breath away as, all of a sudden, she grasped my cock with her cunt and squeezed me, kneaded me and played with me, even as I remained deep within her depths. "If you want to break me and make me yours, then you have to win."

"Win?" I gasped, even as she kept doing that incredible trick with her pussy, seeming to grab me by the cock and fuck me with her cunt even as she lay perfectly still beneath me.

"Yes," she replied, in a mixture of a purr and a hiss. "You have to win."

And as she said it, I knew. I understood. I had to win - I had to win the race. The age-old race. The race that I loved and adored.

I had to win the race, where coming last meant coming best.

With an understanding achieved, the game began anew. I released her wrists, knowing now that she had no intention of fleeing - not when there was a new competition, when there was a new race to be won. I scooped her up in my arms and stood, bracing her against my friend the tree, finding the feat of immense ease as she weighed practically nothing in my arms.

I heard her whoop with surprise and delight as I shoved her against the tree and fucked her anew. I settled immediately into my usual approach to fucking: I withdrew as much focus from the sensations coming from my cock as I could, setting up a mental block between myself and it, and pouring all my concentration and efforts instead into the focus of pleasing my partner.

My hands flew across my Muse's body as I sought to take in every inch of her. I cupped and caressed her muscular breasts, laying kisses upon her muscle-rippling skin, tasting the delicious salty taste of her hard chocolate-brown nipples. I ran my hands across her back and over her ass, drinking in the shapeliness of her hind quarters with my fingers splayed wide, cupping my fingers deep around and under her cheeks to best enjoy the feel of her tawny perkiness in my hands.

My Muse responded strongly to my new approach, melting somewhat in my arms as I retook the lead. I loved the feeling that I had momentarily overpowered her, this time in a new and far more enjoyable way, by unleashing the full fury of my arousal upon her. For a few moments I felt that I had gained the upper hand; she had relented, she had given herself over, she took me as I kept plunging my cock in and out of her sopping pussy, she took me in and welcomed my kisses and caresses as I paid worship to the divine awesomeness of her hotness, her sexiness.

But her capitulation did not last long. With an effort of will I felt her resistance return, and she fought back - her pussy snatched at my cock and stopped me in my tracks, and it was my turn to freeze in astonishment as she did it to me again, grasping me and gripping me, pulling my shaft deeper into her and pumping back against it; she literally moved in my arms, pumping herself up and down upon me, slightly but noticeably with no other muscular effort than the grip of her cunt.

This ethereal being must have filled her millennia with some fucking powerful pelvic floor exercises.

Incredible as it did feel though, I would not be outdone. I would not be the one to come first. There was too much at stake, my job, my livelihood, my passion - my writing.

And so onwards I fucked her, pumping her hard, aiming to hit her spot with the thick sweeping hardness of my shaft. Gradually, almost grudgingly, I sensed her resolve breaking down: her grunts of determination were morphing into moans and groans, and the grasping strength of her pussy was gradually dissolving, her sex feeling more willing and pliant as I plied into her.

Not that I wasn't in a spot of bother of my own. My Muse felt incredible, her inner depths of a burning hotness and wetness I had never before experienced. This, combined with the sheer intense hotness of her body, the sexiness of this being, had my own pleasure building and mounting, doubling and climbing, threatening to peak.

With a massive effort of will I beat down my gathering pleasure, focusing instead upon pleasing her. My hands moved across her dark bluish-black skin, taking in the strength of her muscular athletic body. My mouth swept across her skin, alternating between kissing her deeply upon the mouth, drinking up the fiercely savory taste of her, and sweeping up and down her neck and shoulders, trailing kisses about the hollow beneath her jawbone, the sweep of her collarbone, the power in her shoulders.

The dynamic between us had changed. No longer were we working in opposition, trying to best the other. Our union was now one of equals, working with each other and for each other. My Muse had dropped her guard completely now, her appreciation for me and my skills as an artist and a lover were shining through, and similarly my admiration of her powers of inspiration and her fine womanly form could not be withheld. We were both of us well on the way now, our arousal mounting and peaking together, and as I felt my orgasm take root I could tell she was also on the brink as she gasped and cried out while I slammed into her, bracing her against the tree and fucking her with wild abandon, slamming my long hard cock deep and hard into her incredible hot wet tight pussy. We grunted, we gasped, we moaned, we groaned, we cried out and we screamed together, and we came, we came together, we came as partners and equals, we came as one.

We rode the peak of our orgasms for the longest times, surfing them as though they were a wave, coming and coming together until finally we were spent; I collapsed to the ground and brought her with me, and we lay in the damp cool of the mossy undergrowth of the forest, gasping and heaving in blissed-out, contented silence.

"So," I said at last, once I had regained the ability to speak. "Who won?"

"I think we both did," my Muse grinned, as she snuggled up close to me.

I was well satisfied with that, and we lay together for the longest of times, dozing in the cool of the forest for hours. That was the last I remember of her; at some point the dream-state ended, and I found myself back in my bed again, basking in a wondrous afterglow of well-rested contentment even though, according to the clock on my phone, I had slept only a few scant hours.

Not wanting to waste such a fine feeling, I leapt out of bed and fired up my computer. I loaded up my Friday column, resolved upon a new approach, and with an enormous grin I watched as my fingers danced across the keyboard and belted out the required word count in record time. The first draft ended up the final draft: it was perfection itself, one of my best ever pieces, not requiring any revision whatsoever - there weren't even any typos or spelling slips to be found!