A Different Sort of Violence

When an old friend is single for the first time, we discover tension can lead to many thing

Sometimes a little stock photography is the way to go.

Violence without anger is its own sort of aphrodisiac.

While it can be fun to scold, threaten and cajole in a deliciously consensual scene, leaving the emotions behind, or exchanging them for new ones, can be enjoyable in a different way.

On this occasion, she smiled in the sun while stretching her arms along the pool's edge. The pool in question was on a roof overlooking downtown Manhattan, and the girl in question was an old friend who had become single for the first time in ten years.

We had not spent the time in between sneaking off for clandestine meetups and illicit affairs. But we did manage to build enough sexual tension over the years that our hesitation to break it felt as much like foreplay as any more overt signs of attraction.

"We can do anything," she said, kicking her feet in the warm water. “For the first time, we can do whatever we like.”

"Maybe it's too late. Sure, we're allowed to now, but don't you think some of our attraction has been based purely on the fact that we weren't supposed to want each other? I mean, I could slap your pretty face, and you could spit on me, but would we enjoy it?"

"You're probably right," she said, raising her hands and untying the back of her bikini top before letting it fall into the water. “After all this time, there's just no point. Even if you do know precisely what I was missing in my marriage. And even if I've thought about your hands on my throat a hundred times."

It was a dick move on her part. Completely unfair I you ask me. I had never seen her without a shirt, let alone wet and glistening in the sun.

Still, I suspect it had the intended effect. I was hard, my brain was no longer working at full capacity, and every cruel little fantasy she had cautiously shared over the years invaded what few cells were still working.

"How long before someone else comes up to the roof?" I asked, my voice deep and shallow as I approached her. "I mean, how many terrible things do you think I could do to you before someone stopped me?"

"No, you're right, it's too late," she said, turning to look out over the city, leaving me with a perfect view of her enviable ass. "Besides, you're not as brutish as you used to be. I can no longer imagine you having the nerve to take me by force, no matter how much you know I want it."

"I may have grown too nice in my old age," I whispered, stepping behind her and slowly wrapping my large hand around her throat in a soft grip. She froze at my touch, and I could feel her heart skip a beat.

"Far too nice. And too gentle as well." Her voice was a coarse whisper.

"Such a shame," I said as I squeezed harder until she gasped for breath. When I pressed against her ass, she whimpered, and as I pushed her bikini bottoms down, she leaned forward and closed her eyes.

"I want you to hurt me so badly," she moaned. "Don't I deserve it after all these years?"

"You deserve everything," I said, moving my hand from her throat to her hair. I tightened my grip until she couldn't move her head, and once more, she held still, barely breathing. "But deserving doesn't mean anything. For example, do I deserve to fuck you? Do I deserve to fuck you right here, right now, simply because you've teased me for so long? Of course not. Consent doesn't work that way."

"I don't want consent," she whispered, pushing against me as I pressed my now-freed cock between the bare cheeks of her ass. "I don't want to say yes, let alone ask for it nicely. You're bigger than me. And besides, my husband was the nice one."

"The truth is," I began as I lifted her enough to get the head of my cock inside her. "The truth is, it doesn't matter. You've known I was going to fuck you since the day we met. It's been inevitable for far too long now."

"Plenty of inevitable things never happen," she sighed as I slowly began to push inside her below the water's surface. I looked down, watched myself slide into her, then pushed her head down with one hand and grabbed her ass with the other. I tightened my grip on her hair, squeezing hard both high and low, and then I fucked her hard.

"I want to hurt you more than I can in public, but that's no excuse to wait."

From across the rooftop, our motion was barely perceptible. It was a tightened fist or strong fingers that did the moving. It was my cock pulsing within her and her thighs and cunt clenching around me that formed our exertion. Our sex was confined and dense like a dying star, and I pressed in as she pushed out. I held her considerable strength in check by sheer force of will and muscle, and I swear the water around us began to boil.

"You can't hurt me more than I want you to hurt me."

Everything tightened as her words spurred us both on, and somehow, we grew smaller as we fucked.

"And you can't fight me as hard as I want you to fight."

She bit her hand as I pulled her head back, and when I looked into her eyes, I saw the universe contracting and expanding in an endless cycle of violence.

We kissed for the very first time in the shallow end of the pool.

My cock was deep inside her, her hair was a knot in my fist, and my fingers and nails dug into her flesh as she pressed outward with arms and legs as hard as she could. My ankle hooked around hers, holding her still, and the weight of my body pressed her against the wall leaving her pinned and struggling.

But her kiss!

She tasted of chlorine and gin and a love so old it was deliciously familiar. I released her hair, and she unclenched her thighs; I caressed her shoulder, and she smiled in the sun. We kissed harder and with more passion and lust than we had fucked, and all that motion and all that violence transferred to our lips and hearts with a release that was as unfamiliar as it was needed.

"I want to come for you," she whispered, turning to face me before guiding me back inside her as she kissed me again. I pinned her to the edge of the pool, her arms around my neck as we began to make waves for the first time all afternoon. I devoured her lips and tongue as I thrust inside her, and years of tension and denial finally left our bodies as she came around me, and I came within her.

Our two aching souls did something else that I didn't understand and probably never will.

It was long minutes that I held her to me. For hours, I stayed inside her as she laughed and bit my neck, and it was days and weeks that I brushed her hair with wrinkled fingers and kissed her eyes and nose a thousand times.

"Do you want to go back to my room?" She asked me months later. "And maybe we can do it all again."

"But louder?" I asked as I finally released her. She nodded as we awkwardly fumbled with our bathing suits.

"Much louder," she whispered. "And then, who knows? Maybe we'll realize it is too late after all."

"And maybe it will be too late for a very long time."