Love So Young Ch. 20
She looked so much like Lynn, but Gwen was her own person. She kissed more lustfully than did Lynn. When I kissed Lynn there was a relaxing erotica in her kisses whereas with Gwen, it was a rushed purpose, the purpose being to get her to a place, a place of heightened arousal, where I could fuck her and make her cum.
Lynn kissed me with love; Gwen kissed me with unbridled passion. As Lynn was an active participant in love, Gwen was an active participant in sex. This sudden and surprise union was not about love. It was about copulation.
In the way that Gwen went about sex, she left love out of the equation. There was no room for love with Gwen. It was animal fucking. Truly, I felt like I was fucking a wild beast. To her it was a surgical operation and carnal knowledge at its clinical definition; it was unadulterated fornication. There was no pretense of romance with Gwen, whereas, I wanted to make slow, sweet love to her and to her curvaceous body, as I had done so many times with her sister, she just wanted to get fucked, fucked now, and fucked hard.
It did not take her long to find my cock. Her hand immediately engulfed it. And in the way that she grabbed on to it, I could tell that this was not the first cock that she ever had in her little hand. She had a firmer grip around it than Lynn ever did and I liked that, at first. She gripped it as she would a tennis racket or a stick shift in a muscle car, one that had a stiff clutch.
Where Lynn was very gentle, Gwen was rough and that too was a turn on in the beginning because she knew how to stroke it to give me maximum pleasure. Where Lynn was sensual, Gwen was sexual and she made me hot for her obvious enthusiasm for my cock. She went at my cock as if it was her personal dildo. If I had a seatbelt attached to my bed, I would have buckled myself in because with Gwen I was in for one Hell of a wild ride.
As I was to discover, the two siblings were nothing alike in bed and I could not wait to explore more of her to compare the differences of the two sisters. I could not wait to know what it felt like to be inside her. I could not wait for her to suck my cock. If nothing else, I know that I was in for a memorable sexual experience reminiscent of how Jamie was when fucking me because Gwen was a fuck machine on steroids. She was a girl who cannot get enough of a good thing and one who returns for seconds and thirds.
There was nothing shy and demur about Gwen. She knew what she wanted, she knew how to get it, and she knew she was going to get it. In the beginning, when I was standing there naked holding her hair as she vomited in the toilet with my cock so very close to her mouth, I suddenly felt so much like the spider luring another victim, this time an even younger victim, to its web. I felt guilty after having stripped her naked. I felt perverse standing there naked in her moment of weakness when she was wrenching up her guts in the toilet bowl. I felt like the dirty, old man that I am, thinking about her sucking me off and thinking about cumming in her mouth.
I thought about what her father would say and how he would perceive me, as I would have thought about a man my age assaulting my daughter the way that I had assaulted Gwen by stripping her naked when she was passed out on my guestroom bed. Now, not only had I had sex with one of his daughters but also I was about to have sex with the other of his daughters, too.
Reflecting back to when she was puking in the toilet, when she looked up and over at my semi-erect naked penis, of course, I could not help but think about her sucking my cock. Only, as I would find out later, she was the spider and I was her victim, and the female spiders always eat their male lovers after copulation. God help me.
Had I known then what I know now, I would have grabbed her by her hair and forced her to suck my cock and she would have not only been happy that I made such an aggressive move but she would have loved it. Maybe after that, after forcing her to suck my cock, this wild affair would have been over then. Unfortunately, once I invited her into my bed, I was hers for the taking.
Here I am treating her like she is someone worthy to stand atop a pedestal and she would rather be on her knees sucking my cock as I slapped her around. In actuality, I was the innocent one. I was the one who she could have put high up on the pedestal. Instead, I was just another notch on her belt. Suddenly, I felt so used and abused. I felt like a piece of beefcake meat, but in a perverse sort of way I liked the feeling.
She was so similar to her sister in appearance, that it was easy to draw the parallel conclusions that they would be similar in bed. Boy, as it turned out, that was so completely opposite to think that they were anything alike. She was so different in bed.
Whereas Lynn was the generous lover, soft, and gentle, Gwen was the sexy vixen, tough and rough. Foxy sly in her way to get what she wanted and what she needed, she was a very dangerous woman. Boy, if ever she was in the corporate world, she would have a rocket ship ride up the ladder of success by sleeping her way to the top.
I attributed much of the difference in having sex with Lynn because we were lovers and in love, whereas with Gwen it was strictly sex and we were sexual combatants intent of getting the prize, the ultimate orgasm. It was obvious that she had more of a lustful appetite for sex than did her sister and than did I, for that matter. Unlike her sister who enjoyed pushing my sexual buttons with dirty talk, Gwen was quiet.
She did all of talking with her body and through her sexual actions. There was no wasted energy with her. If she was going to sweat anything, she was going to sweat while fucking. She didn’t talk much during sex, didn’t talk dirty, and there was no pillow talk. There was just plain and simple raw fucking. She wanted to be fucked. She expected to be fucked and I had better not disappoint her or I would be fucked and she would fuck me up. Be afraid, be so very afraid. I was afraid.
“I like it rough,” she said.
Those four little words hit me like a bucket of cold water when abruptly awakened while comfortably snoozing in a hammock. She likes it rough. What exactly does she mean by that? Explain rough. Oh, oh, I’m in serious trouble here.
Wouldn’t you just prefer a nice back massage to get you in the mood? Maybe, I could rub your feet before we make love, I thought and without verbalizing my thoughts to her. How about a little conversation? Only, Gwen wanted none of that. She wanted sex, rough sex, and more rough sex, the rougher the better.
“I enjoy feeling frightened and being forced.”
Oh, shit. This woman is into some seriously heavy sex. Scottie beam me up, now! I have a feeling that she would prefer a couple of convicts, who have been serving hard time and just broke out of prison, ravish her. Suddenly, I had an image of her being gang banged by a bunch of Hells Angels and being pissed off because they didn’t have any more to give her after she wore them out.
“And it is okay if you want to slap my ass, hard, really hard, the harder the better.”
Slap your ass? What made her tell me that? Do I look like an ass slapper? I would never slap Lynn’s beautiful ass and your ass is, believe it or not, even better. Now, why would I slap your ass? I’m sorry, Honey, but slapping your ass does nothing for me, I thought but, again, afraid to confess my thoughts to her.
“I like it when you, as the strong man, take control of me, the weak woman.”
I have a feeling this broad could bench press more than me. There is nothing weak about this woman. Suddenly, this strong man is getting a bit weak in the knees at the thoughts of trying to satisfy her sexually. Gee, Honey, wouldn’t you prefer a little sweet talk mixed in with some dirty talk?
“I like it when you force me to do dirty and nasty things to your body,” she said with a determined look in her eyes that scared the shit out of me.
Suddenly, I felt like I was in an XXX movie and I was the dumb pizza boy showing up at the porn star’s house.
I have never been with a woman who preferred rough sex to gentle sex, so this was a new road for me to explore and a road that I willingly took to have sex with someone as young, beautiful, and voluptuous, as was Gwen. Only, I have never been with a woman who has had such an established sexual agenda with a list of preferences and admittedly all of that was a bit intimidating.
Suddenly, I wished that I had headgear, elbow and knee pads, and a chest protector. I felt like a rookie wrestler about to enter the squared circle with a professional mauler. I felt like I was standing in the Roman Coliseum entered in a competition, a game, where only one survived and everyone was betting against me.
“Gwen…Gwen…Gwen,” I could hear the crowd chanting as I stood in the coliseum quaking while waiting for Gwen to make her entrance naked and standing on her white chariot powered by her black horse, named Devil. Swiftly, she enters the coliseum whipping her horse to make it run faster in the way that she was about to whip me to hump harder.
At first I thought it funny that she wanted me to slap her ass, so I complied by lightly slapping her firm, round cheeks. Hey, there you go, Honey. Isn’t this fun? Surely, I did not want to turn her off by slapping her ass too hard and by hurting her beautiful bottom. Actually, I would have preferred to take a little nibble out of it. Besides she had such a wonderful ass that I just wanted to feel, caress and massage her, firm, round cheeks before…huh?
“Harder,” was all that she replied.
Again, I slapped her round, firm ass a little harder than before as I humped her burying my cock deeper inside of her.
“Harder,” she said again.
Harder? What the fuck? Is she kidding me? She made me wish that I was wearing a belt with a big western type buckle so that I could beat her with it. Is that hard enough for you, sister? Wait let me stand up so that I can take a running jump swing at your sweet ass.
I slapped her ass again and again harder each time. I slapped her ass as hard as I could. I slapped her so hard that my hand hurt.
It was soon obvious to me that I could not hit her hard enough to please her. The harder that I hit her shapely ass the harder she wanted me to hit her and the more proactive she was with her sexuality. My slaps were turning her on and making her a sexual animal. Only, I was afraid of what I was unleashing.
If she was this turned on and proactive sexually now, what would she be like when she was aroused. My slaps were unleashing the beast in her. I imagined Gwen picking me up and throwing me against the wall before she fucked me senseless while I was upside down. Suddenly, I thought of the Hulk, the green monster mass of muscle and I was afraid Gwen the sexy siren.
“Run for you life! Save yourself! Gwen is sexually aroused! It’s every man for himself. No man is safe.”
I knew then that, no matter what I did, I was not the man for her. Yes, alas, I was not man enough for her. She needed a Hun, Attila the Hun or a red bearded Viking intent on rape and debauchery or a pirate who had been away at sea too long. She needed someone like Wilt the Stilt Chamberlain, the fornicator of 20,000 women or Gene Simmons of Kiss the sexual manipulator of countless encounters.
Unfortunately, I was no Marquis de Sade or Don Juan, I was a mere mortal and Gwen needed the devil himself. Yes, that’s right, she needed Jack Nicholson. I could see Jack now with Gwen bent over his knee, as he wailed the Hell out of her.
“How’s that feel, Gwen?”
“Oh, Jack, oh, Jack.”
I knew, no matter what I did, I could not sexually satisfy her. She needed a 6′5″ professional athlete with a cock equaled to his ego to sexually satisfy her. Whereas, I was a lover looking for love, she was an animal looking for sex. She would have preferred someone coming up behind her, lifting up her skirt, tearing down her panties, and bending her over a chair. Then, if she protested at being fucked up the ass, a few slaps would not only make her stop resisting but also would light her fire to high flame.
“Pull my hair,” she said.
Pull your hair? But it looks so nice. Why muss it up? Now, this is going too far. What if I just gave you a noogie?
“Make me blow you.”
Make you blow me? I can’t do that? That’s too much like rape, I thought to myself wondering what in the Hell she would ask me to do to her next.
“Force me to get down on my knees and suck your cock.”
This is bizarre. Never have I been with a woman who wanted me to force her to do sexual things to me. Okay, there was that time with my female cousin down my cellar but that was a long time ago and before they had the sex registry. Let’s forget that I even mentioned that.
“Slap me across my face.”
Slap you across your face? I can’t do that. I can’t hit a woman. I’d much rather kiss your face than slap it.
“I get off when I feel that I am forced to do something and the nastier the better.”
You do? Why? Wouldn’t you rather if I just went down on you and ate your pussy? Instead of turning me on, she was turning me off.
She slid her body up to me, reached out her tongue, and licked the entire side of my face like a lioness would before eating you.
Oh, yuck. Why the Hell did you do that? That’s gross. This is too much. Now, the entire side of my face is wet. Fuck.
“If you force me to,” she said whispering in my ear, “I will lick your ass, stick my tongue up your asshole, and make you cum with my finger.”
Does your mother know you talk like that? Nonetheless, now we are talking. If you toss my salad, I will do anything that you want. Beat you upside your head with a hammer, if you ask me to, so long as you stick your long, sweet tongue up my ass. Only, make sure that you brush your teeth and, especially your tongue, before kissing me, again.
“Take me,” she whispered while licking the inside of my ear.
Take you? Take you where? I’d rather just stay here with you and have sex with you, if you don’t mind.
“Fuck me in the ass.”
Fuck you in the ass? Okay, sister, I don’t fuck anybody up the ass. Sorry, Honey. I am many things but I am not an anal type of guy. Suddenly, slapping her harder on the ass was becoming more appealing. Apparently, she has not read any of my I don’t do anal stories.
Her voice sent shivers down my spine. She made me wish I was 25 years younger. She made me wish my cock was harder, longer, and thicker. She made me see my demise.
“But look, he’s still smiling. He looks so happy. …and what was the cause of death?” asked the police Lieutenant of the Coroner.
“Well,” said the Coroner looking at Gwen all bloodied, bruised, battered, and beaten,” apparently, after he beat the snot out of her, she fucked him to death.”
“Wow! Get her telephone number because when I am ready to die, that is who I am going to call and that is how I want to die.” The Lieutenant looked over at Gwen again, “She is gorgeous. I would love to beat the piss out of her, too, before she fucks me to death.”
Suddenly, I remembered Jamie tossing my salad in the shower that time that the three of us, me her, and Lynn had sex in the master bedroom shower. The feeling of Jamie’s tongue licking my ass and asshole and her finger fucking me while I buried my cock deep inside Lynn felt like nothing that I have ever experienced. With motivation renewed, I grabbed some of her hair in my hand and pulled it.
“Harder,” she said.
Oh, geez, you’re going to be sorry when you are older and suddenly have a bald spot. I pulled her hair harder forcing her head down on my cock.
“Suck it, Bitch. Suck my cock. Blow me,” I said in my best Hell’s Angels biker voice. I half-heartedly slapped her face. I had trouble keeping a straight face and not laughing. Certainly, I was ruining the moment for her.
Then, she told me, not asked me, to squeeze her tits and pull and twist her nipples. I was waiting for her to pull out a whip. I half expected her to pull handcuffs from out of her ass and cuff me to the bed. What is next with this woman? And where did she learn all of these things at such a young age. Definitely, she is spending way too much time reading porn stories and watching porn videos.
I’ve never been with a woman who wanted her tits squeezed and her nipples pulled and twisted. Is this a normal thing to do with the younger generation? I mean, maybe, they would not be into squeezing tits so much if they were ever to have a mammogram. To me, it was a little weird to squeeze tits, although I did apply for a job as a mammogram technician, once, and they turned me down for obvious reasons.
To me, it was weird to do anything but worship tits and nipples and, definitely, not abuse them. I wanted to suck her tits, caress her tits, and fondle her tits, and not squeeze her tits, pull her tits, and twist her tits. Her request deflated my sexual sensitivity, as if she had taken her fingernails and scratched them down a blackboard or worse, kicked me in the balls and ruptured me. The last thing that I wanted to do was squeeze her tits and pull and twist her nipples but I complied with her wishes. If that is what it takes to light her fire, then who am I to question her sexual peccadilloes. I wanted to get her off and I did my best to do that.
“Harder,” she said when I squeezed her tits.
Harder? Again, I squeezed her tits as I fucked her pussy.
“Harder,” she said again.
Harder? I can’t squeeze them any harder. I have a bit of Arthritis in my hands. Between slapping your ass and squeezing your tits, my hands hurt like Hell. Look, they’re swollen, I wanted to say.
It appears that, just as I could not slap her ass hard enough to please her, I was unable to squeeze her tits hard enough to please her. She made me want to run down the cellar stairs and get the vise. I envisioned myself turning the handle on the vise while asking her, “How’s that, are your flat as a pancake tits squeezed hard enough for you?”
“Harder,” I imagined her replying.
What the fuck? Harder? I can’t squeeze them any harder. What if you lay in the driveway topless and I drive over your tits with my car?
Damn, this was not what I had envisioned when she told me to take her to bed. I envisioned making sweet, gentle love to her. Only, she wasn’t into that. Sweet and gentle was oxymoronic when it came to having sex with Gwen. Gwen knew what she wanted and she wanted it rough and wild. With someone as beautiful as was she, who would have thought that she was a sexual animal? I envisioned a romantic liaison. I envisioned falling in love with her. I envisioned her being sweet, sweeter than her sister and, perhaps, because she was younger, I envisioned her being innocent. I envisioned her telling me to be gentle with her because this was her first time.
Certainly and unfortunately, this rough sex is not any kind of sex that arouses me. I come from a generation where we had to beg for a blowjob and were lucky if we received a hand job, and that was from the woman who we ended up marrying. Gwen was resistant to everything that worked with Lynn. I felt that I was at a loss with Gwen. I did not know how to treat her. I did not know how to arouse her and make her cum. She made me feel inadequate. She made me feel like she wanted to be treated like a whore and that was so against how I felt about women. I am a lover of women not an abuser of women.
Every time I tried talking dirty to her, she rebuffed my sexual verbiage. She did not want to hear me talking dirty to her. She did not want to hear my voice. She did not want to talk. She wanted action and not words.
“Shut up and fuck me,” she said slapping my ass harder than I slapped her ass. Geez, that fucking hurt. What the Hell is wrong with you?