If He Dies, He Dies

Aimee watched as Greyden lurched up like a zombie and stretched. She'd expected him to get up out of bed and start his day; he was an early bird after all. She watched him bathe in the morning sun before he turned and rolled over, positioning himself between her legs so that his shoulders knocked against her thighs.

"Good morning," he kissed up the soft skin of her inner thigh, which should have stirred something inside of her, but she knew Greyden was standoffish. He kissed up her thigh, across her midriff, and back down the other. His tongue danced around her pussy, but never close enough to be promising. Aimee knew what he was doing. Actually, It was more like she knew what he wasn't doing. He doesn't know she knows, but she does, and she's tired of it.

Greyden opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a syllable, Aimee dug her heels into the mattress and flexed her hips up into his face. Her muff rose to meet him like the upturned lips of an eager mouth, and she smeared his cheeks and nose with her nectar.

"Babe!?" He protested in a thin flare of annoyance, but Aimee didn't want to hear it. Where was this indignant fit when she was the one posed to please? Her mind fell into an arcane swirl as she recalled the times she'd prostrated herself with looking up at him with hands pressed into his thighs as she struggled to take him deeper. He didn't seem to mind when he shot his cum down her throat like a milky deposit. Greyden didn't mind then, so Aimee didn't mind now.

She wrapped her ankles around his head like a crown and drew him in. "What are you-" but the rest was lost. His nose rubbed against her clit and though it was a clumsy experience, it still gave Aimee a little jolt of excitement. He tried to struggle against her, but she'd locked her ankles behind his head with a smug satisfaction. "No boy," she thought smugly. "You're not getting away from this one."

It took a moment for Greyden to get to work. His mouth opened and closed around her pussy as if she were a teenager and this was his first kiss. She drew him in tight, pressing him between her thighs, hoping it would motivate him. He only pressed his fingers into the back of her, and she couldn't tell if he was trying to get free or just settling in. Either way, the thought of him under her steel authority excited her, and she greedily wanted more.

She felt his tongue trace up and down the lips of her pussy as if getting a feel for the terrain. "Atta' boy." She coaxed and felt him finally give in as his grip relaxed, "Yeeeeeeeaaaasss," she whispered before letting her head flop down onto the mattress.

Aimee had never eaten pussy before, but she imagined it was leagues easier than the throat fucking she endured. She squeezed her thighs together determined to make this no easier than he did on her. She smiled at the sound of his rotten grunt.

Where had this newly found cruelty come from? Aimee didn't know, but it felt kind of nice. After a moment she let out an amused giggled and lifted her head in time to see him scowling at her. Venom swirled in his eyes, and it made her heart race.

She suddenly bucked against him, grinding her pussy the length of his face and watching with a grin as she saw discomfort bubble up on his face. He was beginning to understand what he put her through and it darkened his face in a shade of petulance.

"Aimee," his voice was a strained muffled between her thighs. She ran a hand through the thick of his hair and grinned harder.

"Shuddup," Her voice rushed winded and giddy. "Shuddup and keep going." His scowl never faded, but he kept tonguing her all the same, and she watched him with mounting interest.

In the back of her mind, she recalls him filling her throat until it contracted and her vision grew soft around the edges. Only then did he pull his cock from her mouth trailing spit. She drew in lungfuls of air, trying and failing not to cough. She didn't mind going down on her lovers, but Greyden always made it brutal.

She restrained the urge to yank his hair and again, that wave of authority washed over her. She wondered if he could breathe, but that thought flickered out as quick as it came and she shrugged to herself. "If he dies," she thought as they galloped towards her climax. "He dies."

Her climax came on a white horse, and Aimee threw her head back as it ran the length of her body. She wished she was a squirter; then she could squeeze out a hot flood all over his face. Maybe cum all hot and salty in his mouth for a change.

This thought sent her rocketing up out of the atmosphere and into space and her grip loosened on his head. Greyden stumbled back like a man who's just been thrown into a tiger's cage as Aimee's orgasm ripped through her body. She trembled in stark muteness as her mind ran hot like a faulty machine. Then her voice cut through the silence in sharp jabs. Her whole body tensed like a boxer's fist about to strike before she collapsed back onto the bed.

Greyden wiped his mouth and regarded her much in the same fashion you regard a storm you have to drive through. Distantly she heard him ask in a low confused and angry voice, "What the fuck Aimee." He'd never seen her orgasm before, and on the heels of that thought, Aimee realized he'd never even tried to get her off. Their relationship was about keeping him in the green but leaving her in the grey.

What good was a man who never cared if she'd climax? What was the point in a lover who never even asked what would get her off? The thought doused her orgasm in liquid anger.

"Get the fuck outta' here." Her voice was a charged whisper.

"What," he asked stupidly.

"If you don't wanna eat my pussy then get out." She peered over at him and cocked a thumb towards the door. "I'll find someone else. Someone who wants to. So get the fuck out."

He looked at her, and to Aimee, he seemed pinned to where he stood. "You don't' have a problem when I go down on you," She started. "But you act like my pussy is toxic or something."

She realized she set him up for a dumb joke, but Greyden was too stunned to take advantage of it. She'd called him out, and now he was torn between staying and going.

It didn't take long for Greyden to make his decision. He started dressing wordlessly, and Aimee watched him in a tangle of amusement and contempt. When he was finally dressed, he stormed out of the room.

"Fucking bitched," he muttered as he left. Then Aimee heard him trip down the stairs and laughed until tears ran down her face.