The night I thought I’d killed him with sex.

This is an anonymous guest post…

It was a birthday celebration night, his not mine. Everything was in place, sky high heels, short tight dress. He told me I looked like an expensive hooker. I beamed at the compliment.

We enjoyed a meal at a gorgeous underground restaurant then cocktails in the bar. Lots of cocktails. As was usual, the alcohol led to a heated conversation about a girl from his work and my jealous obsessions. He stormed off leaving the bar for a cigarette and me to pay the bill.

It was pissing it down. He flagged down a cab and we slid onto the back seat, the angry horn kicked in almost immediately. We started getting it on. My knickers were removed and deposited out of the cab window somewhere around Tottenham Court Road. We staggered into our flat tearing at each others clothes. He fell on top of me and began fucking me. We like our sex rough and often there is slapping and choking , pulling each others hair…………You know, a little slap and tickle. It never hurts anyone.

I was wearing the most excellent little belt , shocking pink patent and the buckle was a pair of cherries. I took it off and wrapped one end around my hand. He was fucking me hard by now and holding my neck down, starting to choke me. I slipped the belt around his neck and grabbed the opposite end of the belt in my other hand and pulled it as tight as I could………

I woke up on the bathroom floor. I was naked but I had pulled the bath mat over myself at some point in a crap attempt to cover my arse. I could taste sick.

Slowly it came back to me. The night out, the cab journey, the sex, the belt.

‘FUCK.’

I very slowly got to my feet and headed to the bedroom. His jeans were still around his ankles, his shoes still on, his head was face down into the duvet and his arms sprawled either side of his head. The beautiful pink belt was laying on the floor.

‘I’ve killed him’

I stepped closer and touched his back. His head shot up, he stared at me. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Then he looked around the room and at my horror filled expression. ‘How the fuck did we get home?’

By about lunchtime we had remembered, kind of. I’d choked him and he’d passed out but it had coincided with me feeling sick, so I’d heaved him off me and crawled to the loo, thrown up and passed out.

Now that’s a hot date with an expensive hooker for you.

About cuntychoppalops

Blunder cunt - An old school definition meaning one who takes a long time to accomplish an objective due to an easily distracted mind.
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