An excerpt.

Unfinished, but close to being through with the first chapter. All criticisms welcome.

Suddenly, she found herself wide awake. Glancing at the clock, she groaned. Once again, here it was three in the morning and she couldn't sleep. It was becoming a more regular occurance by the night, and she sighed as she got out of bed, accepting that there was no sense in lying in bed for the next three hours when she could be doing something productive.

She stepped out into the hallway and clicked on the light. Her eyes adjusted quickly and she yawned, though she knew it was merely trickery of her body as opposed to true tiredness. Looking around her small apartment, she struggled to find something to occupy her time. The living room was clean, the kitchen emaculate. There wasn't even a dish in the sink. She peeked her head into the bathroom; the countertop sparkled and she could still smell bleach.

"Fine," she said aloud to herself. "I'll just read something then." She went to her bookshelf and ran a manicured finger along the spines of her novels. Most were murder mysteries, a few romance novels, a Holy Bible, a few encyclopedias. She let out a sigh of frustration and turned away from the books, deciding her time would be better spent not staring blankly at the pages of a book she's already read.

She sighed again, admitting defeat, and settled herself into the recliner sitting in the corner opposite the television. She turned on the tv and found what seemed to be an interesting show to watch, one of those crime dramas, "based on a true story." Maybe watching a brutal reenactment of the murder of a teenage girl would get her mind off her own issues. She chuckled at the thought.

She closed her eyes and listened to the background music of the show, a dramatic tune that somehow calmed her nerves. The sounds of people talking became heard over the music, speaking in hushed voices about the newest victims and the situation as a whole, but she wasn't absorbing anything in particular. Quite opposite, really; she was merely enjoying the closest thing she'd had to a clear mind in weeks.

She was shocked out of her peaceful silence by a sound from the next room; a happy, musical chime rang through the apartment-her phone was going off. She didn't move for a few minutes, eyes closed, trying to resist the urge to go check her phone. Another tone stirred her out of her motionless state, and she reluctantly stood and went to see what was going on.

Regretting the decision immediately, she unlocked the screen of her phone and read the new messages in her inbox. There were two unread; both were from the same number.

One read: Hey baby.

The other: ;)

Her stomach turned with a mixture of interest and disgust as she debated internally as to whether she should answer the texts, or simply ignore them. Ultimately, she decided of course to respond.

She wrote: What's up? Why you up so late?

Send.

A few moments passed, then came the reply: Couldn't sleep, got 2 much on my mind.

That feeling arose in her stomach again, mapping out the rest of the conversation before even typing out the next message, which read: Oh? Whatcha thinking about?

Send.

Predictably, came the response: U ;)

She hated the way he used letters instead of words, his gross over usage of emoticons, and his lack of punctuation. She knew what was coming if she continued the conversation. And yet, despite her disgust and honest uninterest in the inevitable conclusion of their meaningless texts, she couldn't make herself stop responding.

And so, she typed: What about me? ;)

Send.

And there it was. That simple winking smiley face had all but sealed her fate. The messages continued, slowly at first but progressing rapidly, becoming steamier and steamier, until she found herself standing in her unnaturally clean bathroom, watching her large brown eyes cringe slightly each time she pulled the brush through her long brown hair. She touched up her makeup, pulled her breasts up so they spilled slightly from her bra and appeared larger and perkier than was normal.

Roughly fifteen minutes passed from the last message she received until she heard the slight knock on her apartment door. He didn't wait for her to answer, however; the unlocked door swung open and he stepped inside, removing his shoes as he walked in and leaving them next to the door. He took his coat off and dropped it gently on his shoes.

By this time she was sitting back in the recliner, feigning interest in another episode of the same crime drama she'd been watching earlier. He crossed the room and leaned down to kiss her. She kissed him back, pushing her tongue deeply into his mouth, putting her hand on the back of his head and pulling him in to kiss her even harder.

She could feel his hands in her hair, his tongue in her mouth, his breath on her face whenever he momentarily pulled away, yet she could not allow her mind to fully indulge in her arousal; in the back of her mind, she scolded herself.

You're nothing to him. Nothing at all. You're nothing more than a s**t, a dirty f*****g w***e.

He moved himself in front of the recliner and extended his arms to grab her hands, pulling her out of her comfortable seating and into his embrace. He slid his hands under her tee-shirt, feeling her belly under his fingertips; goosebumps covered her flesh under his touch. His hands found their way to her back, unclasped her bra, and moved immediately to cup her breasts. She moaned into his mouth and he rolled her n*****s between his fingers. Her hips moved into his as his grasp on her breasts became firmer.

He took a step backward, and she followed him with no question, with very little conscious thought on her part. He led her to the bedroom, pushing the door open slowly and closing it swiftly behind them with his foot once through the threshold. His hands never once left her body; his lips left her mouth only to momentarily draw in a ragged breath here and there.

Once in the room, she felt her inhibitions falter; the criticizing voice in the back of her mind was all but silent as the back of her legs made contact with the bed, causing her knees to buckle. He continued to kiss her deeply as she sat on the edge of the queen-sized mattress, stopping only to pull her shirt over her head, tossing it on the floor behind him. It was quickly joined by her bra, and she moaned as he pushed her gingerly onto the mattress. The sheets felt cool and sensual on her bare skin.

He climbed onto the bed atop her, running his hands up and down her torso, giving each and every inch as much attention as the last. Placing his lips on her breast, he sucked her n****e into her mouth, feeling her entire body shiver under the touch of her tongue. He gently nibbled and sucked her right breast as his fingers tweaked the n****e on the left. Her body raised slightly off the bed as he continued to work on her tits.

He could feel her legs open, pushing her hips into him harder and harder, as though silently begging him to remove her jeans. Her moans became more ragged and desperate as he moved his mouth up her chest, resting his lips on her neck; he nibbled her earlobe, which he knew would absolutely drive her crazy. Her response did not disappoint. She rose her body slightly off the bed, half-sitting, and not stopping kissing him. She pulled his shirt over his head and threw it without care onto the growing pile on the floor.

She reached her hands around his body, dragging her nails across his skin, causing him to arch his back and cry out softly. For a few moments, it was as though they were one; they had ceased as two separate beings and now moved together as a single mass of sweat and arousal. She lay back once more, and reached to unbutton her pants. He pushed her hands away and, using one of his hands, held both her wrists above her head. Keeping her restrained, he used one hand to awkwardly unzip and remove her jeans. She lifted her hips off the bed as he slid them over her hips.

She whimpered softly and turned her hips, squirming under his weight. She felt incredibly exposed in nothing but her thong panties, but she couldn't ignore the distinct feeling of excitement and arousal creeping through her veins, making her n*****s tingle. She moved her thighs apart as a pure, electric chill ran through her entire body.

"F**k," she whispered, so quietly it was almost inaudible. She knew he'd heard, though, because he chuckled softly and kissed her once more on the neck. She moaned into him. He slipped off the bed and dropped his jeans onto the floor. He wasn't wearing anything underneath. He was back on the bed next to her in moments, then placed a knee on each side of her body, raising his body over hers.

"You are so beautiful, baby," His voice was barely more than a breathy whisper. She moaned in response, and felt herself smile.

See, she told herself, mirroring his moves with her body as best she could while not being fully focused. Her inner monologue was nicer now; not so harsh or judgemental as before. There was nothing to worry about. He's here because he wants to be. Because he wants you. Because he loves you.

As she moved her hips to better assist him in sliding off her panties, another voice broke ground in her mind. It was the voice from earlier; it was cold and mean.

You stupid w***e, it hissed. Do you not see what's happening here? Come on now, even you're not that stupid.

The voice was interrupted by a sudden sensation. She whimpered softly, let out a surprised gasp. She could feel his tongue on her, tasting her arousal, and her mind went momentarily blank. In that moment, there was nothing there but him and her. There were no thoughts, no conscious movements. Everything is that time was as it should be; perfect harmony. She rose her body to meet his lips, could feel his breath, hot and thick, on her thighs each time he pulled away. His hands cupped her buttocks, scratching her flesh and making her cry out in undeniable passion.

A few moments passed (or maybe a few hours, she had lost track of time) and she began to feel the familiar feeling of her passion growing insdie her. Her hands gripped the sheets beside her, reaching desperately for something to hold onto. She writhed on the best, pulling herself away from him. He wouldn't let her escape, though; he followed every movement she made. Suddenly, she felt the release. It was as though all worry and doubt had been erased from her mind as her body exploded with passion. His hands held her thighs as she felt the convulsions slow within her.

For a few moments, she lay in silence, unwilling or perhaps even unable to move. Her breathing slowly evened and the immense heat of her body slowly subsided. He lay next to her, his hand just barely draped across her middle, and she could feel him watching her; she could feel him smiling.

With one fluid motion, she found herself on top of him, straddling his naked body, her long dark hair forming a curtain around them. He cupped her face in his hands and pulled her toward him. She kissed him deeply, passionately, and then withdrew herself. She placed her hands on his shoulders and moved herself slightly. Slowly, she felt him enter her, and, even though the room was incredibly dark, she could she the distinct look of euphoria spread over his face. She rocked herself slowly at first, taking him all in, and enjoying each sound he made beneath her. His hands ran from her breasts to her a*s, and back again, obviously trying to touch as much of her body as he could.

Her movements became faster, and she had to catch herself as she felt his shaft press into her c**t. "Oh my God," They moaned simultaneously, and she could feel him getting harder with her rapidly increasing movements. She threw her head back, her hair grazing his face, and cried out. He pushed into her even further and she couldn't stop herself from screaming. It was as though she could feel him inside her belly, like he was touching nerves she didn't know existed, allowing her to feel him throughout her entire body. He grunted beneath her and she could see the sweat on his brow even in the dim lighting of her bedroom. His breathing was harsh, ragged, and he gripped her hips even harder. He pulled her onto him with each upward thrust, and she felt sweat running down her own face.

"Oh God, baby. Oh God, don't stop. Please don't stop."

And she didn't stop. She didn't want him to stop feeling what he was feeling right then, and she didn't want to stop feeling it either. The sensation was fantastic. She felt her excitement mounting once more inside her and fought to contain it. Her resistance was in vain, but was readily accepted and reciprocated.

They came together. The room was a sudden outburst of shrill cries and the smell of sex.

© 2013 Mary Effing Trexler

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QuantumPlateShone

Sex is something that really should not be written about so explicitly. It is something wonderful, but something that should be shared privately between a man and a woman.