Button pushing

Before he leaves, there is more violent kissing, I shove him up against the fridge, banging his head against it, once, twice, he keeps his hands behind him, he doesn’t touch me, he just stands helpless in the face of my attack as he moans into my mouth.

He reaches for me when I pull away out of the kiss, he reaches for softness, straining to touch my lips with his, trying to keep contact with me, gentle, tender, as if he wants to counter the aggression, but I can feel him wishing, then, to draw me into brutality with his softness, to make me crazy with it.

He is learning already how to push my buttons. Good boy.

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