Coupling Two. More Filthy Erotica for Couples

Rug Burns

“Looking good, Mac,” he said, playfully. Slipping the long handle of the paint roller extension beneath the lip of my gray shorts, Hampton whistled. “Sweet ass.”

“Focus,” I growled. But I tried not to smile. “We have to finish this today. I really can’t sleep on that pull-out bed another night. My back is in knots. My ass is in a kink. My neck feels like a mule spent the night kicking me.”

I continued to smear the navy blue paint in sweeping arcs across the wall. My roller needed to be redipped, and I hung my head. Exhausted. Defeated. Who the fuck had wanted to paint? Oh, yeah. Me.

“Buck up Mackenzie. Don’t be defeated,” he called in his best Terminator voice. His Arnold accent was the worst in history but never failed to make me smile.

When I squatted down to get more paint, he slipped his bare toe beneath my shorts this time, lifting. I swatted at his hand. “Stop. You can’t possibly be flirting with me.”

“Flirting?” he gasped. His big arms flexed as he rolled the paint on in even lines. He was so much more graceful than yours truly when it came to doing this stuff. “I am not flirting.”

He glanced down and grinned at me. My heart crimped up in my chest. Even after all these years that grin of his did funny things to my stomach. Did instantaneous and naughty things between my thighs.

I squirmed, not so sure I wanted to stand up at the moment. A glance at our bed showed it still nearly buckling under boxes and boxes of stuff we needed to get out of the way to paint.

I sighed. “I’m glad you’re not flirting.” I rested my roller in the paint pan and sat back for a minute, crossing my legs criss-cross applesauce style.

“I’m begging,” he growled and propped the extension roller against the already blue wall. “I’m pleading. I’m…desperate,” he ground out and dropped to his knees, coming at me like a big animal.

I snorted laughter, but seeing that movement, hearing that tone, my skin prickled into goose bumps and a warm rush of fluid escaped me, making me overtly aware of my now plump and slickening nether lips. My god, he was turning me on. And then some. I’d officially lost my mind.

“Stop,” I said, but it came out in a whisper. I put up a half-hearted palm to keep him at bay. Hampton immediately crashed right into my open hand and forced my arm back. He crushed to the front of me, buckling me under his weight and driving me onto my back on the carpet. Only the edges of the room were draped in plastic and where I sat the tarp had gotten shoved aside.

“The carpet!” I gasped.

“The carpet!” he echoed, mocking me. His lips found my throat. He dragged his teeth lightly over my pulse, making me jump at the sensation. I went warm all over, especially between my thighs where a steady pulse of arousal now beat.

“Ham-“

He kissed me silent, big warm hands shoving up under the edges of my shorts to cup my bottom. I was bare underneath. I mean, how much does a person need to dress to paint walls and get dirty?

Get dirty…I laughed.

“What?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking about being…” I shook my head.

He waggled his fingers against my naked flesh and his blue eyes went dark and he smiled at me. It was a big bad wolf smile. It made my blood thump wildly. “You appear to be…” His fingers climbed higher, rerouted and slid around to find the moist folds of my nether lips. I couldn’t suppress a sigh. “Naked under these tiny shorts. And a bit aroused.”

“I’m fine.” I lied.

“You’re lying.” Hampton dipped his head, hiding his eyes from me, and bit my nipple through my faded white tee. It was a thousand years old and had the now washed out slogan PEACE across the breasts. He bit me right on the C and a shiver worked through me, my pussy clenching tight around nothing. I found myself wishing he’d put that finger inside me.

Instead, he bit me again and gently rubbed the tip of his finger over my swollen clitoris. I moved my hips up to meet him and Hampton chuckled. “Fine, eh?”

“We have painting to do,” I managed, but his fingers did what I’d wished. One finger, two fingers, drove into me with enough force to make me lift my hips a little to accept him. The movement slammed his palm against my clit and I found myself bearing down to get more friction. I held my breath, moving my hips as he flexed his fingers.

“I think we have fucking to do first.”

“But…tacky paint. Weird patterns will get on the walls. Streaks. Um…” I was losing my stream of thought because Hampton was pulling my tee up and my bra down. His mouth settled, hot and wet on my nipple. When he sucked, I felt the draw and tug echo in my pussy. “I-”

He cut me off with a nip to the tip of my breast. I started, squirming beneath him as he pushed me firmly to the carpet. “Stop moving, Mac.”

“No,” I sighed as he added a third finger to the mix. I had to put up a good show, didn’t I?

I didn’t fight him when he tugged my shirt off and popped the front clasp of my bra to remove it. I wasn’t very good and protesting, it seemed. He skimmed his hands along my skin and down my arms softly. He squeezed my hands and stared me down as I looked up at him. I could sit up if I wanted to, and yet…I didn’t.

“No,” I said again, just for show. I grinned at him and he grinned back.

“Yes,” he cajoled. He slipped his lips along my shoulder and my clavicle. When he found my nipple with his teeth, tugging out taut so that I hissed, he thrust deep again with his fingers. My pussy clenched up tight around his probing digits and I moved my hips just enough to trigger soft warm places deep inside me that needed it.

An almost-orgasm tightened me up around him and he grinned.

“Say no, again, Mac.”

“No,” I said, not meaning it at all.

His lips came down on my lips. A rough, demanding kiss that was all bullying flicks of his tongue and sharp nips of his teeth. My cunt flickered around his fingers. I moaned, giving into it all. I needed this, the stress release was welcome.

“Do it,” I pleaded. And Hampton knew what.

He kissed me once more and chuckled. “What, oh what, would you do if I said no?” But he didn’t. He covered my throat with his free hand. The heavy mitt of his palm and fingers trapped my pulse and I felt the blood whooshing and thumping in my head.

The trust was humbling, the arousal all encompassing. I have never trusted or loved easily, with him I’d found I did both. He curled his fingers just a bit more so that I felt the slowing drag of my breath in my lungs. Just a bit more effort needed to draw a deep breath than should be present. His fingers in my cunt curled in unison. The internal yang to the yin of the fingers on my throat.

I came, gasping for air as he continued to thrust his fingers deep inside my wet recesses.

Me asking him to do that never failed to get him off. Work him up.

“On your belly,” he growled, when the final spasm passed. But Hampton was past the point of waiting. Even as he said it, he flipped me on my stomach and I pushed up on my knees and elbows for him.

“Good girl.” I heard the zipper of his busted out painting jeans complain. The soft whisper of well-worn denim hitting the floor. The heat of him pressed up close behind me as he got into position. I hung my head as he swept the head of his cock up and down the slick split of my sex. He nudged inside of me-just the tip-just enough to make me hold my breath.

He palmed my ass, calluses dragging across my flesh, working a shimmer of sensation up my spine. Hampton moved forward slowly, driving into me with agonizing laziness. His cock, parting and filling me as he moved at a snail’s pace just to make me crazy. He knew what drove me nuts-both good and bad-and used it to his advantage.

“Jesus…please,” I whispered, my hair swishing against the carpet. My elbows slid as he grabbed my hips roughly and thrust deep. I gasped at the friction, both inside and out.

“Ouch,” I sighed.

“Shall I stop?” He rocked his hips from side to side, his cock pressing deep inside on magical places that lit me up from my very center. The repeated pressure on my G-spot had me on the verge of coming, my limbs heavy with pleasure. My head light with anticipation.

“No, no, don’t stop. I’m fine.”

“You love it,” he chuckled and smacked my ass hard enough that I bucked.

He was right, I did love it. And he damn well knew it.

I pushed my forearms to the floor, resting my head on top. Every time the thrust, he drove me forward a bit. I inched my way toward the sheeted plastic even though Hampton had my hips in his tight grip. His fingers bit into my skin and I felt my pulse banging beneath the restriction. I’d have a purple fingerprint or two to show for our mid-day fun.

I pushed my ass back, moved just so, trying so hard to entice him into doing it again. I didn’t like to ask for things aloud. Not even with Hampton. But he knew that and sometimes he made me.

I wiggled again, driving myself back against his cock, impaling myself on his length. I pushed my bottom into his hands to try and trigger another blissful sharp blow.

It didn’t work. He was on to me.

“Got ants in your pants?”

“Please,” I said, wistfully.

“Please, what, Mac? You’ve had such a stressful week. What is it that you need from me?”

“Do it again,” I said so softly I barely heard myself.

He’d stilled. His big body not moving at all but for a small rocking back and forth motion that inched me closer and closer to coming without actually triggering an orgasm. Hampton covered me with his body, draping himself along my back and cupping my breasts with his hot hands.

He was doing the opposite of what I wanted. Damn him.

“It what, baby?”

“Spank me,” I said between gritted teeth. But my voice broke at the end. I was failing at my tough girl facade. “Do it again, please.”

That was all he wanted. For me to ask. For me to admit. A rain of blows came down on my bare skin. Fire licked at the edges of my perception as my skin tingled with heat and prickling pain. I was so tight, so wet, so…close. I kept my head down and when he started to move again, I felt the awful raw drag of the rug on sore flesh.

Rug burns.

Another blow came down and coupled with the sparkling bite of my raw elbows, I came. My body milked at him eagerly and I heard the rush of air out of him that said he was close too. He was playing it cool, but he was close.

My forehead pressed heavy to the carpet so I could feel and hear my thundering heartbeat as small sparkles of pleasure continued to work through my pussy. When I shut my eyes, I could see it. Little dancing magic lights in my darkened vision that matched my heartbeat.

“You’re pretty red, Mac,” he said, sounding almost awed. Now his touch on my bottom was gentle and humble. He stroked tender flesh that stung and I winced. “Some welts.” He traced them. “A bit of purple freckling of bruises. The way you like…” He touched what I presumed to be those tiny bruises and my cunt spasmed. Almost came again, but not quite.

The way he touched me spoke volumes. He knew when to be rough, when to be calm, when to be tender. It made my throat close up a little. I’m such a girl.

“Just the way you like,” he said again, almost to himself. I said nothing. Just moved back for each lazy thrust he gave. Hampton was trying to hold off.

“You do like that, don’t you, bad girl?”

I pressed my lips together, not answering.

He gave me one more blow and it was a hard stinging slap that made my head snap back and my cunt grip tight and my ears ring. It was perfect.

“You love it,” he said, answering for me.

He couldn’t see my smile, but he could feel my body’s response. His thrusts went from easy to frantic. His body a chaotic bounce and slide of aggressive motions designed to bring pleasure. If someone looked at us-were we to make a homemade girl-and-boy-next-door fuck tape for viewing-I was sure it would appear awkward and way too rough. When in fact, what it was, was the perfect dance of fucking and loving that worked for both of us. We’d been together so long, we found our natural rhythm. On any given day it could be wildly erotic to funny to rough or gentle. It was a constantly shifting tide of lust and love and need. Symbiosis.

My elbows, grated raw by carpet, stung the perfect amount as he slammed into me brutally. My trembling fingers found my clitoris. I worked myself with a practiced touch. After two much-needed orgasms, I needed a harsher hand. I alternated swirling circles and straight blunt strokes until I was panting and pushed almost flat to my belly. I barely managed to dig in with my elbows and knees as Hampton grunted and growled, his thumbs sweeping back and forth over the dimples he adored right at the small of my back. A rhythmic, metronome motion that turned me on and soothed me at the same time.

My orgasm arrived just before his, triggered by him pressing just a bit too hard as he thrust. His cock nailed my G-spot with the exact amount of pressure I needed. “Come on,” I growled and I heard him laugh.

“I can do that,” he said, pulling free of me at the last moment and painting my ass and back with warm jets of his come.

I squawked like some giant bird as the copious hot rain of semen splattered my back.

“You said come on,” he reminded me. Then he flipped me to my back before I could gain my balance. I hit the bunched up plastic and felt the come smear along my spank-reddened flesh.

“Oh, you are so bad,” I hissed, wiggling and feeling the stickiness spread even more.

Hampton pressed down on top of me, pinning me there with his weight. He kissed me-rough at first but then gentle and reverent. “You love it,” he said. His words were light but his face was serious. He put his thumbs to my raw elbows, making me tremble a little from the bite of pain.

Just the way I liked.

“Love. It.”

I turned my face away to try and hide my smile. But he caught me and laughed. I laughed too, because he knew me too fucking well. He’d known how badly I’d needed this afternoon tussle before the thought even entered my mind. Almost spooky-but in the most treasured way.

“We need to paint,” I growled.

“I know. Tacky paint! Weird patterns! Streaks!” he mimicked me.

“Shut up and help me.”

“Careful, girls who talk like that suffer consequences,” he said, pulling on his low-slung, beat-up jeans.

I turned away presumably to find my shorts. It was really to hide yet another smile, because that’s what I was counting on. Consequences. And as I pulled up my shorts, I could feel his intense gaze on my hot red ass. I loved it.