The Bleakest of Seasons Pt. 02

'Yeah.'

'Why? What changed?'

He takes a deep breath, struggling to find words for what he needs to say. Frustration spills into his face and he just agonizes over what to say.

'You did. You just... shut me down.'

'No I didn't. I was ready to keep going. I knew it was really going to hurt and I wanted you to keep going until you were satisfied.'

'You did Addie. You really did.'

'How? What did I do?'

'You asked me about the movie. You wanted to know how it was and if I enjoyed it.'

'So because I asked you about the movie you stopped?'

'No... because you wanted to know if I had a good time. And then you wanted to keep going.'

'That makes no sense whatsoever.'

'Addie... you asked me about that, and then you just opened your mouth and waited for me to gag you and start up on you again. And then it all just evaporated.'

'What?'

'I just didn't want to hurt you anymore. I wanted you off that wall... right then and there.'

'You know you broke your camera, right?'

'You know the camera doesn't work right?'

You sigh, relieved. Then you turn and whack him on the shoulder.

'God you were freaking me out with that. I was terrified I was going to end up on the internet!'

'Addie... I'm a sadistic, twisted, perverted son of a bitch. But I will never, ever do something like that to you.' He says with all sincerity.

'Hey now,' You turn and purr into his ear. 'I wouldn't call you a son of a bitch.'

He smiles. Then he reaches up and puts his hands to your face and pulls you in for a kiss. You turn over completely and pull yourself on top of him.

It's not your best idea. The ibuprofen has numbed the pain but you're still pretty tenderized from playing with Scott earlier. What was supposed to be a kiss turns into Scott trying to support you delicately while you groan.

'Hold still.' He whispers in your ear, and he gently lifts you up and stands and then heads towards the bathroom. You cringe at the site of the room where you suffered at his hands but he doesn't head into that door, he just nudges open the door to the men's room and carries you to the bench. You groan under your breath as he sets you on the bench, your behind and thighs complain loudly to you.

Scott nabs a couple more fluffy towels and then he grabs a blue bottle and what looks like a shower poof. You raise your eyebrow as he sets them on the bench next to you. He moves to the shower and starts up the water. He measures the temperature with his skin, and when he's satisfied he turns to you and offers his hand.

Your muscles are still very unhappy with you, and they complain loudly as you stand. You groan as Scott helps you up and brings you into the shower and lets the hot water and steam massage and provide succour to your throbbing body.

You whimper and then you feel his hands on you. His grip is firm and he starts with your head and works down. First he runs his hands through your hair, gently pulling the strands away from your scalp and seeming to release a chunk of tension with each strand of hair he tugs on. His hands drift down to your jaw and he massages your mandibles with fingertips, applying just enough pressure to feel good and stretch out your muscles.

You feel like you're melting. You lean back into him and let him carry your weight.

He continues to massage your body under the water, his grip drifts down your neck and across your shoulders, and then he moves your forward and gets you to brace yourself against the wall so that he can massage your back. His fingers meticulously work down your spine and seek and destroy knots and tension. You gasp and arch your back as he works on you and you feel your buttocks brush against him.

He's engorged and hard. Rubbing you down and pressing against you in the shower has had an obvious reaction.

Without thinking, you bend at the waist and shift your legs open for him.

'Really?' He asks you.

'Really.' You reply with just a hint of lust.

'All right.' He says. His hand slides around your hip and he pulls you to him. A moment later you feel the tip of his erection pressing against you. You shift your hips, open yourself to him and then he slowly begins sliding inside you.

You press your forehead to the wall of the shower and brace yourself as you savour the sensation of him filling you completely.

Finally, he's inside you as deep as he can manage, and you concentrate on just... being. You feel him inside you, pressing firmly against you and your sex, his scrotum draped across your little bud. You feel the persistent stinging from the welts on your thighs, and the water dripping down your skin, sliding down your chest and dripping off your nipples and down between your legs.

You feel his hand holding you firmly in place, and then he reaches forward and slowly grips your hair, pulling your head back.

You ease up off the wall and lean back into him again, throwing your weight back against him fully. He shifts his footing, but doesn't move an inch otherwise. Your body increases the angle of penetration and forces him firmly inside you and against your clitoris.

You draw air between your teeth with a hiss. His hands start exploring your body aggressively. One hand cups your breast firmly and the other dips down between your legs and starts to manipulate you from a different direction.

This is beyond lust. There's pain from the earlier play and the aftermath of the earlier stimulation and the sheer sensation of him over stimulating you from both inside and out. It builds up in you like pressure and you tilt your head back onto his shoulder and pant.

The water blasts down into your face, he pumps into you, gropes you, works you with his fingers and grips you with his hand.

The first orgasm comes so suddenly that you can't even brace for it. It just explodes out you with a shriek as you fling back your arms and grip his hair.

He does what he always does, and he picks up the tempo. Thrusts become faster, harder, more aggressive, his hands grip you firmly and he slides his other hand up from your vagina and grips your other breast.

Without thinking, you slide your hand back and encourage him to grip you harder, he responds and you gasp as he sinks his fingers deep into the tender flesh.

He keeps thrusting, faster, ever faster and you feel his hands shift from mauling your bosom to a firm grip on your nipples. You know what's coming and you want it. The fingers grip tightly and twist hard, and the pain is the perfect counterpoint to the relentless pounding of his flesh into you.

You come hard yet again, whining and holding onto him, but as you spasm your foot slips and knocks his leg on the slippery floor of the shower and you both fall back wards into the shallow pool of water with a thud.

'Dammit. I need to put some bloody no stick pads in this thing.' He mutters.

You lay limply on top of him, his manhood still half inside you and your breast still gripped firmly by him.

Abruptly, you sit up, then carefully lift your leg and spin with him still deep inside you. That sensation alone nearly paralyzes you for a moment as you feel him twisting inside you. You wheeze out an animal whine quietly and then you finally shift into position on top of him.

You place your hands on his sternum as he stares up at you then you slowly lower yourself down until you're resting your head on his chest just under his chin.

He leans his head back and wraps his arms around you.

You lay there for a while, joined at the hip, words not required. The water keeps pounding down and keeps you both warm.

Exhaustion claims you for a little while. The day has taken its toll. Scott let's you lay there until the water starts to turn chilly before he finally rouses you from your fatigued slumber.

He helps you back to your feet and turns off the water. Then he gets a fluffy towel for you to wrap yourself in. You dry your hair and rub down your skin with the soft towel and generally just malinger quietly in the shower.

As you move towards the door, you catch your image in the mirror. The welts are turning into ugly little uniform bruises running down your legs. Where his hands were gripping and crushing your breasts dark purple bruises linger.

You stand and stare. You should feel traumatized, horrified.

You don't. You feel something else.

Scott walks up behind you and admires your flesh in the mirror as well. He snakes a hand around your belly and drags his lips around your neck. You feel him still erect against you and realize that you once again did not feel him finish inside you. You also know that it's not that important to him.

But as he wraps his arms around you and you gaze at the mirror, you know what the feeling is.

You feel owned. Wanted. Adored.

And you like that feeling.

You stand like that in front of the mirror for a while, and just stare at the two of you. His arms snug around you, his lips nuzzling your neck. His beard is getting rough and it abrades your skin.

You don't mind that at all either.

You run your hands up across your chest and rub your own shoulder. Your fingertips brush across the sensitive little bruises that his fingers left on you. You like those bruises, despite the discomfort. It's like you can still feel his hands there, squeezing and taking and pinching.

You like the fact that he left his mark on you. You want him to leave more.

It would be nice if they hurt a little less when he left them. Maybe. Maybe not. Would they mean less if he just left a hickey?

He brushes up against your leg, still mostly erect. You shake your head. How does one man, one forty year old man no less consistently do this? You've had twenty years olds that could barely last ten minutes. He shrugs off an hour or two like it was nothing. He's never quick. It drives you crazy that sometimes he never gets off.

You like it when he gets off. On you. In you. It feels so satisfying.

'Do you still want to... hurt me?' You ask, a little afraid of the answer.

'A little bit. Not like before.' He whispers into your ear.

'Define a little bit.' You ask.

He smiles, cups your breast roughly, starts to squeeze. You hiss as you suck air through your teeth, then you say something that surprises you both.

'More.' You say with a groan.

Scott raises an eyebrow, then whispers in your ear.

'Are you sure?'

'Yes. Harder. Please.'

His grip intensifies, pulls at the sensitive flesh. You gasp and start to involuntarily rise up on your toes. Your hand flutters, reaches behind you and finds him, now hard and full and rigid. Your fingers wrap around him and gently stroke him as you whine at the pressure he increases on your girls.

You stand locked like that for a moment in time, you struggling to give him pleasure while he carefully gauges just the right amount of pain for you. You arm aches at the awkward angle, and your teats start to throb at the pressure.

There will definitely be more bruising now. At least you hope so.

You tilt your head back on his shoulder, surrendering to it, wanting it. You gasp at the pain and something else that's building in you that you can't even define. Your hand pulls him closer to you, between your cheeks, to the spot that he cleaned and used so harshly.

He doesn't hesitate, and lets you guide him inside you. You gasp as he slides into the still slick entrance, and as he fully penetrates you a wave of intense pleasure roars out of your pelvis and rocks your body. You shriek as it consumes you fully for a moment and leaves you shuddering, tears leaking out of your eyes.

'Uh... wow.' He whispers in your ear.

'Blrgh... gahh...' You mutter, momentarily robbed of speech.

He just nuzzles your neck, kisses away a tear forged from pleasure.

'Don't... stop. Don't you... stop. Finish. I need you to... finish. Please.' You manage to beg him while panting.

He doesn't say anything, and just nuzzles your neck but you feel him start to slide in and out of you again. You tilt your head forward and see yourself in the mirror.

You barely recognize yourself, your delicate, pale skin is welted and bruised. Your long hair is tangled, wild, unruly and messy. Tears of pleasure stream down your face and his hands squeeze and twist your breasts and nipples. Your sex glistens with your own lust, and your own hand drifts between your legs to manipulate your own flesh and jack your pleasure up to another level.

He continues thrusting into you, but with caution. He knows you still feel delicate back there and while you wish he would pound away with abandon, you're certain you would regret that later.

Besides, this still feels forbidden, or at least it feels forbidden when you're not paralyzed by climaxes so intense it feels almost like a seizure.

You just let everything go and ride it for a while. Your fingers and his hands and his member build orgasm after orgasm in you and your body convulses with each one.

Finally, after what feels like forever, you feel him start to stiffen. You squeeze tighter around him and abruptly he grabs your hair and shoves into you fully and hard.

You gasp, feel him impale you fully and seconds later feel him release inside your bowel.

He's hot, and wet, and you feel dirty and violated and thankful at the same time. Sweat literally drips from you both at the end of this frantic, intense coupling.

You slump forward, exhausted. You arms rest on the counter. Your forehead drops onto your forearms with a limp splat.

You can't stop gasping for air. You make a superhuman effort to lift your head and see him behind you, eyes still closed, still inside you. Sweat trickles down his own pale skin, and his chest heaves like he just finished running.

How long were you two like this?

You feel Scott start to withdraw from you, and you can't help but whimper as he slides out of you. You feel raw back there, slippery and impossibly open. Your anus spasms. This level of penetration and raw powerful sex is a new thing that your body has not quite adapted to.

Scott gasps in air and then finally speaks.

'We... we really do... have the best showers... ever.'

There's a moment of silence and suddenly you cannot stop laughing. It's true, you've had more sex in this room than you have in his bed. Your throat is raw from all the screaming, but you can't help yourself, you need to let this out.

Finally, Scott runs his hands up your back and grasps your hair. He gently tugs on it and you reluctantly stand back up and lean against him.

The mirror displays you both, slick with sweat, panting and spent. Scott slides his arm around your ribcage and cups your teat firmly.

You can feel his seed sliding out of you, slipping through your still violated rosebud. Tiny little drops of his pleasure start to leak down your leg. Your nipples and breasts throb from the abuse you practically begged him for and it's starting to be difficult to see pale skin among the many bruises on your sensitive globes.

You look trashy, used, like a well fucked porn actress.

You'd feel terrible if you hadn't secretly longed for this for so long.

'What are you?' You murmur.

'What do you mean?' He responds quietly, his own chest still heaving.

'How do you get me to do these things? Nobody ever even... touched me there before and I can't wait for you to take it. You bruise me and welt me and I can't stop staring at your marks. You're hard as a rock and you never seem to finish... I have to beg YOU to finish and you know how to get more pleasure from my body than I do.'

He just looks at you over your shoulder and gently massages the breast in his hand.

'What the fuck are you?'

'I'm just... just a guy Addie. There's nothing special about me. Really.'

You shake your head with frustration. You don't know if this is mock humility or if he believes it.

'Liar.' You whisper.

He shrugs and gives you an odd little smile.

'Come on, we should clean off.' He pauses for a moment. 'Again.' He says with a wry smirk.

You nod and let him lead you back to the shower, stealing one last look at the very defiled, bruised, battered and supremely sated woman in the mirror. She smiles back at you.

He washes you again, and this time it's just gentle cleansing with no sex. You don't think even he could manage to start another round of coupling at this point. He takes the poof and lathers it up and gently clears all the sweat and grime from your skin. You groan as he washes your chest, the bruising seemingly getting tenderer by the second.

He's thorough, and the poof slides down your back and between your legs and you're surprised at how completely raw and battered you feel. Sex with this man is like wrestling with an alligator it seems. He finds ways to tenderize areas you didn't even know you had.

Still, his hands are gentle, and he cares about what happens to you. It's enough. More than enough really.

After he finishes washing you, you rest on the bench and watch him shower.

He doesn't look like a rampaging sex machine. His hair is thinning, his midsection is thick and his skin has a pallor that is only worn by people that deliberately avoid the sun. Even his hairstyle is short and unaffected. He barely uses any products at all except when his hair is so unruly he concedes defeat by plastering it flat.

He's the antithesis of everything you dreamed of.

He's also everything you want.

You could watch him shower like this for hours. He's so unconcerned with appearances that it's almost comical.

Finally, for the second time this evening, he turns off the water and gets you both a pair of towels to dry off with. This time you carefully brush out your hair and then tie it into a tight braid, the towel tucked around your torso and keeping you covered while you do so.

Scott disappears out of the washroom for a moment, then returns with a fluffy, overly large pair of men's pyjamas for you.

He hands you the warm sleepwear and you grin at him.

'I can't. I should really get home. We both have to work tomorrow.'

'You should take a sick day Addie.'

'Why?' You ask seriously.

'You... are going to be sore tomorrow. Seriously sore.' Scott responds honestly.

'Oh.' You hadn't thought of that.

'Stay the night, call in during the morning and get some sleep. I'm going to focus on not touching you for a bit.'

'But I like it when you touch me!'

'I don't mean like that, I mean like touching you touching you.' And he sets a hand on your thigh and slides it up between your legs. You gasp as his finger slides inside your still slick opening with next to no resistance.

'I... am not sure how I feel about that.' You murmur as you waffle between wanting him to continue and agonizing over how drained you feel.

'I know.' He says and he slides his finger out of you, accompanied by the little squeal you emit. He raises his finger to your lips and you take his finger in without thought, your tongue cleansing the salty sweetness of your own sex from his skin.

'Will you stay with me if I call in sick?' You ask dreamily, already imagining yet another day of frantic, intense, punishing coupling.

'Of course I will. You think I'm going to miss a chance to play hooky with you?' He says with a smile.

'I'd like that.'

You stand and slip the towel off your torso, revealing yourself to him fully and then you slowly slip into the warm flannel pyjama top he brought you. You take a look at the pants, but the waist is built for him and won't even attempt to stay on your waist.

You sigh, and hand him back the pants.

'Looks like I'll have to be half naked.'

'Not something I'm likely to complain about.' He says with a smile as he slides into the pants himself.

Scott tosses the multitude of damp towels into the hamper and then takes your hand and leads you out to the comfy couch. He browses channels until he finds a mindless comedy for you both to watch and then he orders vegetarian Chinese food for you both again.