We Hate Like We Love

I never considered myself a private person until now. I don't tell people what I do because inevitably that would ask me why. The truth is: I do it because it works. I do it because it's the middle ground between going bed lonely and consuming commitment. I'm too selfish of a person for commitment - I'm too high maintenance and hard to please. I need the type of relationship where I keep it controlled and perfectly predictable. However the other half of that is I don't have the time or patience to deal with the extra fancy, flowery bullshit of a relationship. I don't need the dates, the money spent, the constant contact - I've become smart enough to just cut to the chase to what I really want in the relationship: the sex.

It didn't use to be so easy. I thought I was in love with a man, when truly, it was all lust. It was that dirty, hungry, animal magnetism of sexual attraction. He was my drug and he still is - I crave him, I need him, I have to have my annual dose of his cock down my throat and between my legs, his weight pinning me beneath him, my teeth, tongue, and nails taking him all in. I need his intoxicating kiss and drug-inducing touch. In every direction our lives have taken us since we have know each other, we find ourselves back to the home we built within us. I can't let him go and he can't let me go either. Even when we hoped the one would move past the other: here we are. We keep each other on retractable leashes so to speak - free to come and go as we please, but able to pull us together no matter how far apart we may be - a comfortable distance. I always come back to him, and he is always there for me. It's a game of pure give and take. He gives and I take, he takes and I give until we walk satisfied. When we're done, we get dressed, we kiss good-bye and we don't say another word until the next time.

It will be late at night and I'll text him if he's up for another ride, we discuss the details and he'll pick me up. He tells me how high he is, he tells me he's resisting the urge to masturbate and that he's waiting for my mouth to suck the load from his cock. I tell him I ache for his touch. I tell him I want him to fuck me hard and long because it's been a while. It's simple, it's easy and it works. I slip on sexy panties and pour lotion along my entire body. I spray perfume on my secret spot and wait for him. I smile as I climb in his car and he places my hand on his deliciously hard dick. We drive off and before I know it, I'm straddling him in the back-seat, pulling him into me when we kiss. Our soft whispers fog the tinted windows between teething at one another. He tells me to stop talking and just do it.

"Suck me," he says "Suck my dick."

He tastes amazing. My tongue runs up and down him, he gathers my hair pushing my heads so he reaches farther back into my throat. I come up for air and kiss him deep.

"Do you think about me?"I ask breathlessly.

"Yeah. I do. I've masturbated for a month thinking about you."

I'm on fire. "I hate you, you know that." I kiss him again

"I can't have a relationship with you, you drive me crazy."

He wraps his hands around my neck and shoves his hot tongue between my lips.

"You annoy the shit out of me sometimes."

I let out a sigh, I take his hands from my neck and moves them down my body to squeeze my breasts.

"Do you realize how much I fantasize about strangling you then we fuck on the counter top?"

He reaches between the black lace of my thong, his fingers gliding on the brink of my opening, I want desperately for them to push inside me.

"Let me take them off."

I shift my weight, but he slams me against the seat.

"Keep them on."

I'm breathless, this feels so good. I never want it to end, I've waited too long to feel him skin to skin this way.

"Rub my cock. Get me off." He orders.

I take him. I caress him. "Is this okay?" I ask.

"It's okay until I tell you it's not." He growls.

I kiss him. Our bodies close. Our faces closer.

"Please push inside me." I beg.

"You'll have to suck me again to get me wet. Your mouth is lube enough."

I do. Nearly naked we lie down. I gasp at the crushing weight of him on me. He slides into me and my entire body contracts and releases around him as he pushes in and out. Harder. I breathe. He body slams into me again and again. Are you close? He moves back and forth with even greater force. I wail. He pulls out and cums all over me. It's hot, and wet and so good. He collapses on top of me and I comb my fingers through his hair taking his head to my chest.

He's spent, but I'm craving one last thing.

"Touch me." I plead.

His fingers trail around me. He looks at me longingly and I can't help but make a small smile back. I drown in his graze as he circles his touch. He works me slowly at first and then faster.

"More. Just push inside me." I whisper.

He takes me over, I'm completely at his mercy.

"Oh God, oh please. Right there. Oh please God don't stop."

He plunges into my depths and it burns, it aches, it hurts - but it's too good to ask him to stop. I whimper, biting my wrist to keep quiet - to keep from becoming completely undone.

"Oh God. Okay, okay, okay." His fingers slide out.

"You good?" He asks.

"Yes." I breathe.

We get dressed and he starts the car.

"We hate each other, but we only do it because the sex is so good right?"

He looks at me, my streaked eye-liner and messy hair, breasts peeking out of my bra.

"Yeah."

We pull up at my house and I crawl over the armrest and kiss him.

"Good. I'm glad we came to a mutual understanding."

The sex is good. That's all we ever needed from each other, it's such a shame we wasted so much time figuring that out. We had it where he doesn't owe me any more than I owe him: which is nothing - and that's not a bad thing. It's his choice. We know each other, we respect each other and that's where it ends. We don't have to love each other to do what we do. We hate each other. It will never be in our capacity for a relationship because we are too different of people. We what's easy. We do what we want. We do what works; and that's all we have to do. Sex never has to be about two people who love each other - it's two people who WANT each other. I told him All I want just you. Just sex. He knew it too, and that's what he wanted. We agree. It's like for us I hate you. is I love you. We hate like we love.