I Do Not Lust For Difficulty

He likes to make me cry. I don’t mean with pain – which he likes as well – but by making life difficult; making life overwhelmingly complex. He likes me emotionally torn. He likes me confused and upset. He likes crazy women. He likes teasing. He likes to trip up my peace. When I was raped, it made him hard.

So I drew a line. “Stand here, or here.” And told him there was no in between. Stood up, got off my knees. Didn’t call him by that name he gave me. Looked into his eyes and only had to tilt my head back an inch or two to look up at him.

He couldn’t decide. Stepped onto one side and looked me in the eye.

“Happy?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

He placed one foot on the other side, but wouldn’t commit his body to that inevitability. He wouldn’t make me promises. He got distracted and walked away, and looked back over his shoulder at me, and it was clear nothing over there was holding him. I was pushing. I was crying. He didn’t show concern, but he looked.

“I’m not crying for you!”

“I know.”

He walked back, stood in front of me, with his arms crossed. He looked into my eyes and fed me little white lies to delay his truth. He ran out of words and offered it, covered.

“There’s more, but I can’t tell you here.”

I looked around. Where else did we exist? I felt knots in my stomach. Sweet, deep, conflict that answered all my questions. I grinned, in my entire contorted body and saw some release.

“Then it’s too complicated, isn’t it.”

My turn to leave.

• • • • •

At home I held a glass and wondered how much pressure it would take to break into shards in my palm. I rolled my eyes, and cast drama aside. Slipping back in my chair, I parted my knees, and dipped two delicate fingers into my heat.

The knots melted. My temperature rose. I breathed, heavy, deep. I twisted about my hands. I penetrated myself. I took control of everything. I knew, so fully, how long and how deeply I had been controlled by his intangible desires. The freedom made me come.

Unlike him, I do not lust for difficulty. I lust for the end.

This entry was posted in Dark, Erotic Writing, Masturbation, Sensuous, Seven Days of Smut. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to I Do Not Lust For Difficulty

  1. lookingforapurpose says:

    I like this, freedom at the end makes the whole thing worth while. Not to mention the orgasm. You had me wanting to have one to from the breaking away from him part. Its something very pleaseing to get away from drama and emotional pains. I love the ending :)

    • LadyGrinSoul says:

      Thank you. I really do feel a lot of breathing space when moving away from drama. It’s important I think.

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