Break Up Sex
This was a story of catharsis. No names are mentioned, some events are fudged, but it's based on true events.
Break Up Sex
by pyrostinger
I can't believe I just did that.
Even the hot water battering down my fur couldn't help the sense of being sullied. Which is probably ironic, since I'm a rat, and rats have a history of being dirty. Still, every fucking time it seems I regret doing this, but like some kind of emotional masochist, I keep at it. This probably sounds convoluted.
I know this guy. We're on-again, off-again lovers. We used to date, but I broke up with him. Reason was I couldn't keep dealing with the constant baggage he kept carrying around, dumping it on me and just about anybody who would listen. Not only that, he has these expectations that he makes of everybody he sleeps with, and pretty much wants their full, undivided attention while he dreams of getting himself into frequent chain bangs. The worse part is that he can never take responsibility for his passive-aggressiveness or the things that he says and does. He's always the victim, and even when he's at fault, he's not at fault. It makes the constant apologies he offers so very, very hollow.
And yet, for some reason, even though I broke up with him, and even though I resisted his constant calls to get back with me, then his later plays to my sympathy to get back with him... I keep fucking him.
Don't get me wrong, he's a FANTASTIC lay. I mean, jeeze that 'coon can fuck. It's probably wrong, but it might just be part of the reason why I got with him in the first place. That, and the last guy seemed to fuck him over. But really... he knows how to fuck. God, whenever I think about him and am able to separate his emotional bullshit from his fucking ability, I get hard. The guy could suck chrome of a trailer hitch, whatever the fuck that means. I suppose if the relationship stayed completely and totally on the "friends who fuck" level, I might just like him a little more rather than like him sometimes and utterly loathe the sight of him the next.
Thing is, with him, he can't separate that. I gave him a ring, back when we were dating, and the fucker keeps wearing it, especially when I'm around. He seems to toy with me, constantly shoving the ring in my face, and whatever he's wearing draws attention to it. It's maddening... it's like even though he's stopped asking, he keeps asking. But I still keep fucking coming back.
A typical "date", nowadays, goes something like this: we meet up somewhere, and then we go to his place. Eventually, we'll end up with the clothes off, in the bedroom, with me on the bed and him doing his thing between my legs. Have I mentioned that he knows how to suck cock already? Because it bears repeating. That raccoon knows how to fucking suck cock, and he is very, very good at it. Even when he starts to flash the ring at me, I can look up at the ceiling and close my eyes and just get into it, because he's so fucking good at sucking cock. But seriously, he has these enchanting blue eyes that draw you in, too, so if you look at him and you look at his muzzle and it's sliding up and down your crank, it's just all kinds of hot.
I mentioned that he's good at sucking cock, right? Good. Because he's either as good or better at fucking.
I suppose this is kinda the ironic part, since he's a bottom. A really vehement bottom, too. He utterly loathes the thought of him sticking his dick into anywhere, and you'll have to convince him to accept a blowjob because he is just that subby. He loves being fucked, rimmed, and degraded, and loves it when a top "breeds" him, which is to say cums inside him. Then again, he's perfectly happy when a top or multiple tops (going back to his chain gang fantasy, one that he's told me he's fulfilled a few times) blows a wad all over his back or his face. Again, he likes to be a slut in the worst sense of the word.
But I'm all over the place. Typical "date," right? Anyway, he brings me off, and I either cum in his mouth or cum over his face, whatever I feel like doing, and then he climbs onto the bed all sexy, lifts his tail and shakes his ass at me. This will usually prompt me to start eating out his ass, something I very much enjoy doing with him half because I never have to worry about nastiness because he fucking lives for this and half because he's cultured a kink for rimming in me. This is usually supposed to be the wait time for me to get it up again, but I'm usually hard within seconds and keep going anyway because it's just that damn sexy. That, and he makes the cutest goddamn moans ever.
By the time I'm finishing up licking him undertail, I'm stroking him off too, but somewhere he developed incredible discipline not to cum before his top did, so the most I can do is make him leak like a fucking faucet. That's cool, because it's, again, hot. That, and I enjoy the status of one of the few guys who's actually been able to make him leak like that (which might be a fucking lie, but it's still nice to hear). After that, it's pretty much a matter of lubing up, picking a position, and having at it.
This is when things usually start to turn south for me, because however we're fucking, he's shoving the ring in my face. Either that, or giving me significant glances. This makes it partially cathartic that I can call him any name under the sun and he's all for it. It's probably obvious by now, but our little sessions have gotten a fuck ton more vocal lately. Anyway, at some point, hotness overrides stupid shit and I'm slamming into him, riding that tight little ass for all its worth and then some, and he's off in Never Never Land because I fuck him so damn good. He likes it hard and fast enough that my balls are slapping against his ass or his own set, and he has to start biting pillows in order to not make such slutty noises. Which doesn't help in the slightest, but I'm okay with that because he makes the cutest goddamn moans ever.
The problem starts to rear it's ugly head again after the sex, after the glow, and I'm lying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, with him usually asleep and curled up to me, the goddamn hand with the ring on it resting on my chest. Don't get me wrong, he has his moments. He can be one of the sweetest people ever, and hell, I've even met myself a good friend that used to be one of his boyfriends, too, but... that ring pretty much represents all the things that went wrong with the relationship, that went on too long at that because he kept ignoring me and I kept holding out hope that maybe he could actually be inspired to change. Which is why I usually get the fuck out of there as soon as possible, and take a twenty to thirty minute shower just to try and wash all of this dirt off of me.
I mean, honestly, why do I keep having break up sex with him? After all the shit he's pulled? I mean, some of my friends are asking me why I'm not still dating him, because he was so nice. A few of my friends, the ones who've dated him before, know the truth, especially since they're the ones I frequently share my thoughts about over a few drinks. But still, even after getting out of the shower, I know that I'm gonna have a message on my answering machine. And I'm gonna ignore it for a few days, and then probably listen to it by accident or because I'm just so morbidly curious. And it's gonna be him, and he's gonna while and either directly or more recently indirectly ask me what happened and what he can do.
And I can't help but think, in the back of my mind, "Here we go again."