This post talks about fucking-like-it’s-fighting, so if you’re not into BDSM/role play/violence it might not be your thing, please don’t read on. I hope those of you who do like this sort of thing will understand why it was so fun for me to write. 

I wanna fucking fight you. Want to spit in your mouth and bite and scratch and kick. I want to pummel your chest with my fists while you hold me down. Call you names so hurtful that you wonder if this is still play. I want to be an evil little brat.

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This is the next post in a series of erotic fiction about emotional fucks, where I’m having fun writing fictional characters who do filthy-hot things that may or may not be very ethical. This post involves a character fantasising about a spite fuck. Her fantasy involves things that – if they actually happened in real life – would certainly not be consensual. If that’s not your cup of tea, please don’t read on, but if you like sex stories that include twisted revenge and powerful anger, get stuck in.

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