The Perks of a Clingy Girl

“Did we go to Cabo last year or was it the year before? I think I wanna do Boca this year, maybe in August? Cindy says her and Bobby found a nice timeshare deal last time they went, I could ask them about that. Course now I gotta buy some new stuff for the beach. Maybe we can go tonight? You think I’m still the same size as last time?”

She was spunk and sunshine, a world of brightness woven into wavy blonde locks and crystal-blue eyes. He was a foot taller than she was, a slumbering beast of chiseled granite and soft stubble on a masculine jawline.

Their bedroom bathed in soft morning light, white sheets askew as she took her ‘little spoon’ position, more of a backpack, her delicate limbs clinging to her man as one might imagine a spider monkey would. Her fingers splayed along his thick head of deep-dark hair; her voice a musical lilt, carefree and.

“I’m not super worried about it or anything but I think we both know I gained a few pounds. Should we get a Peloton bike? I think we should get a Peloton. I kinda want one. You should buy me one,” she whined with full vocal fry, giggling her babbling-brook giggle and patting his cheek a few times.

Her frame was smooth and feminine, bouncy and energetic, restless and vibrant, constantly moving. He laid there as still as stone, like an animal in hibernation, his broad chest barely even moving with his breaths.

“Oh we could get two of them and do lessons together! Like, they have all these great trainers to pick from. You’re already super fit but you gotta support me and stuff. And I get to see you work out more,” she said, mussing his hair more, stifling another giggle, biting her lip as she ran a set of fingertips along the stubble on his chin, her other hand landing on his shoulder, rubbing and kneading in a slow, steady motion.

“God how do you do that? I swear your muscles have muscles. Hey Libby was wondering if we wanna hang out tonight, I think she wants to do a fondue-and-wine thing. Does she still have that pergola by the pool? I loved what they did with the hanging flowers there. She’s so good with arrangements, like, decorations like that. I wish we had a bigger yard to work with.”

She squinted, leaning in closer, contorting her body around his upper back.

“Baby you have a huge blackhead, here, lemme…”

She put her dainty fingers to skillful use, poking and prodding and pressuring at his taut skin. She wore an oversized t-shirt, one of his of course, over a pair of panties. He wore a pair of gray lounge pants, the kind that cost a couple hundred bucks for no good reason.

She popped the offending blackhead to her satisfaction, resuming her morning activity of hair-mussing and shoulder-massaging as she clung to him, her body cool to his warm, her flesh giving to his unyielding.

“What do you wanna do for breakfast today babe? I could make French toast again. Do we still have some of that blackberry syrup? I wanna try that new coffee too, the one we got from the farmer’s market last month, remember the one? I think you w — ”

His initial movement was subtle, but still enough to grasp her attention and startle her. She stopped talking, mid-sound, leaning back as his frame rotated abruptly.

He clapped a hand around her neck and she made a quiet squeaking sound, her eyes opening wide to find his as his body moved, as he lurched, as his other hand searched and grabbed and pulled and tore the panties off and pushed his own pants down and he was on her an instant later.

She made another pathetic, pitiful noise, only for his hand to renew its throat-tightening grip, his massive hand feeling like it could almost ring her neck fully. He rocked his hips back and forth, he reached, he adjusted, and a moment later he grunted, having begun penetrating the woman.

He did not go gently, nor did he hesitate. His hulking, bulky form gyrated and rocked, pistoned and thrusted, his manhood piercing her and drilling her. She stared up into his emotionless face, her mouth hanging agape as she pawed at his powerful forearms.

She would squeal, and he would squeeze her neck, and she would make halting, interrupted sounds, choking and gargling. She struggled, she writhed against him when her body wasn’t bucking from each impact, when her quiet screams weren’t drowned out from the sound of their flesh smacking together.

They were high school sweethearts. They had been together for over twelve years now.

And she tried to speak, and it came out in a gasping staccato, quiet and cut off at each sound.

“Oh-my-god!-Oh-my-god!-Fuck!-Fuck!-Shit!-Fuuu-ck!-ck!-g’ck!-g’ck!”

He just kept chokefucking her into the mattress, until he wasn’t, and he let forth his one triumphant moan, like the beast he was, her legs shaky and kicking as she scratched and clawed at his chest, as he pumped her full of fluid, as he pulled out and rolled off the bed and walked into the shower.

She laid there, his throat still catching on her words, her eyes still rolling and glazed over, her arms unsure where to land and her toes not knowing whether to curl or uncurl.

She muttered to herself, vague little hazy things, “fuck” and “Jesus” and coiling and uncoiling her beautiful body as she heard him start his shower.

Maybe they could go on a walk this afternoon, try that new place in town that opened up next to the brewery.