Sweet and Sour

I started this over a year ago when a friend gave me the nickname “Sweet-n-Sour,” and upon revisiting the piece, I thought it worth completion. Enjoy!
~ NS


I could hear her crashing about upstairs. Thudding, furniture moving, her wail ranging in pitch. I could make out the odd expletive or two. My, you have a foul mouth, I thought to myself. To look at her, you’d never guess her ability to behave like such a banshee. But it was there all right, simmering under the surface, and it didn’t take much for that side of her to free itself and morph her into the monster that was thrashing about above.

I should have known better. I was well aware that she had experienced a rough day at work, the razor tone in her voice blatantly obvious over the phone when I had called to check in on her earlier. She had come home, and in pouty silence thrown her bag on the counter. I knew what that meant. Trouble, that’s what. Dodging a question not 5 minutes before, my flippant remark had sent her over the edge, the precipice she’d been teetering on all day finally giving way. She had stormed upstairs and started to scream.

And now what? One thoughtless remark, and it was time to battle. It was unfair, but very much my reality. The price to pay for being with such a sweet and sour woman. She was polar opposites at times; loving, sweet, kind and gentle on a good day, her happiness shining in her eyes, her laugh filling the house. But on a bad day? I couldn’t believe the acid that came spewing from her mouth, the glint of hate dancing on her face. It was like being with two women, and she could very quickly travel from one extreme to the other at the drop of a hat. Impossible to deal with, irresistible in the next breath. I wanted to keep my distance and equally hold her tight.

Was it that time of the month? As soon as the thought enters my mind, I chase it away with a chuckle. I had once been careless enough to ask her, and had honestly feared for the safety of my testes at her response. The lingering memory leaves a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. I was stupid at times, but not that stupid. Lesson learnt.

Time to put myself in the eye of her fury, only the bedroom door slams shut above, a hint of what’s to come. I slowly walk upstairs, open the door and enter the room, an explosion of clothes covering the hard wood floors. She’s digging frantically in the armoire head first, her small frame silhouetted by the veneer of a blue robe. She snaps her head around and fires a look at me.

“What?” Her eyes sparkle with emerald stubbornness. The flame in her hair clashes brilliantly against the thin material covering her body. My eyes drop to the cream of her calves and my cock twitches at the sight.

“Why do you have to be like this, B?” I look at her, watch her withdraw carefully from the armoire and cross her arms over her chest. Another flash of defiance, only this time it’s painted clearly all over her face. I’ve just bumped her rage. I could say “You’re the sexiest woman alive,” and right now she’d jump at the chance to tear me apart. There’s no pleasing her, certainly not now.

“Like what?!?” she hisses at me. “Pissed that you can’t answer a simple question in a straight forward fashion? Pissed that I’ve had an awful day, and you’re a selfish bastard that can’t give that a thought? Or wait…Pissed that the kitchen is a mess because you’ve been at home all day, slothing about…Maybe that has something to do with it? I don’t care, pick one of them, pick all. You piss me off, period.”

Liquid green eyes. I’ll never forget the first time I looked into them. Caught, spellbound in their cat-like beauty. Even now, filled with rage, she’s striking, alive, on heat. I look at her perfectly shaped lips and wonder how it’s possible for such cutting barbs to pass their rosy beds. I can feel anger starting to swirl in my own belly at her malevolence.

“God you are a viper. How about you tone down the venom along with the forked-tongue comments? Is there no respite?” My lack of patience is evident in the harsh edge of my own voice. I can feel my blood starting to boil at her tantrum. I have also suffered a trying day at work, and am spent, exhausted. Perhaps it’s best to go back downstairs and resume with work. I turn for the door.

“Why don’t you fuck off then,” I hear the whisper, and at first I can’t believe what I’ve heard and stop in my tracks. That’s all I need. I pivot, and walk back into the room with long strides. She watches my fast approach and recoils further into the corner.

“What did you say?” I bark at her, and she darts out towards the door. I echo her move, and am directly facing her, her back to the bed. She’s quiet, her eyes big. No response.

I step closer, slowly inching my face towards hers. I lean in, looking at her lips, and her hand immediately strikes out. I catch it just an inch from my face.

“Remember the last time you slapped me? What happened? I seem to recall you ended up on the bed face down, rubbing your clit as I fucked you from behind, my two fingers fucking your tight little arse and you screaming orgasms into the pillow. Is this your way of asking for seconds?” I smile maliciously.

Her jaw drops in genuine disbelief as I temporarily disarm her. I take the opportunity, and with a slight push on her right shoulder, she’s off balance and flailing back on the bed, robe fluttering open, her milky breasts bouncing with the spill. Her squeal fills the air as she lands with a soft thud onto the plush comforter, her nakedness unsheathed.

Perfect.

Within seconds my mouth is on her, slithering up her belly, between her breasts and onto her neck. I don’t care if she hits me now, beats me because I’ve just taken what I wanted. Surprisingly she’s still, stuck in awe that the tables have turned so quickly. My body pins her down, pushes the air from her. She tries to wriggle free, and when I bite down into her neck, she yelps loudly.

“Stay still, and you wont get hurt. Got it?”

I don’t wait for a response and lick all over her neck. She grabs at her robe in an attempt to cover herself, and my hand rips at the fabric, down over her shoulder and away from her body. I grab at her left breast, my tongue circling over her nipple. She shudders when I bite down, her body softening with the attention I’m giving her with my greedy mouth. Betrayal. I stop and look at her.

“Kiss me.”

“No.” She turns her head and looks to the right, wriggling defiantly under me to free herself once again. I let out a half laugh.

“I said, kiss me.” I grab her jaw, pulling her towards me as I reach behind, my fingers twisting in her hair at the nape of her neck. I fasten my grip and pull, her head tilting back, lips parting. She starts to protest and I plunge my tongue straight into the warmth of her mouth. My cock surges in my pants as I sink my fingers into her wetness. She moans and her legs involuntarily open further.

“Look at you, you fucking whore. Even now, you’re ready for me.” I withdraw my fingers from her and shove them in her mouth. She sucks on them greedily as my other hand unzips my pants to free my bulging erection. I slip between her legs and straight into her waiting heat in one fluid stroke. She throws her head back as her legs splay completely, her claws digging deeply into my flesh. I thrust further into her and she moans loudly, my cock taking up all of her beautiful cunt. I fuck her with long deep strokes, my hands caressing her shoulders, her cheeks, her hard nipples. Within seconds she is fucking back, a glow dancing all over her pale skin, her ruby lips parting as she arches her back.

The sudden smack of my hand connecting with her cheek is chased quickly by her loud yelp. She looks at me with alarm, and then her face is quickly overtaken with lust, and I know exactly what the next words out of her mouth with be. She’s malleable, and I could play her any which way I wanted. Her vinegar had brought out the beast in me.

“Hit me again.”

I crash my palm against her cheek a second time and she moans loudly, my cock thrusting forward. I slap her firmly a third time on the other side of her face.

“Oh God yes!”

Panting. I’m fucking her harder now, faster. My cock pistons into her. I hit her again.

“Oh my God please fuck me and come in me!”

Her nails rake over my back as she begs. I can feel her arousal coating me, slipping over me, soaking me with every stroke. I’m on the edge of orgasm myself, each of her pleas of lust sending an electrical current zinging throughout my body. She’s wet, so fucking wet, that I slide in and out of her seamlessly. I kiss her fully on the mouth as I pinch her nipples, and I can feel her climax start to shower down around my shaft as she tightens over me. She’s moaning, gasping, begging me to come when my own orgasm hits, the ripple of pleasure rushing through my balls and into my stomach as I explode deeply into her. My own long moan joins the chorus of her noise as I shudder over her repeatedly.

Finally, I roll over and slump back on the bed. It takes us a good few minutes to recover, and breathless, I look over to find her smiling at me in triumph from under the sheets. She’s beaming, and I smile back at her, pulling her close to me. She’s wearing her post coital bliss well.

No more sour. She was sweet, once again.

6 Responses to “Sweet and Sour”

  1. Bravo. A wonderfully evocative tug of war between deeply passionate lovers. By the time you bring us to the intense conclusion we are heated, ready, involved participants in their lust.

  2. Cheese Wizard Says:

    Hmmm… I think that I’ve heard a similar story before…

  3. southerngirl Says:

    You know, I love how he is tolorent of the errupting storm here and knows that she is worth the wait. Great stuff!!

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