It's a little intense.

Mary shoved Greg roughly onto the bed. "Undress," she said as she began to remove her clothes. Gone was any attempt at seduction; now that sex was basically inevitable, she felt no need to cater to him.

Greg was startled by her assertiveness, but he did as she said. As they hastily stripped out of their clothes, his concern was evident. "Are you-"

She cut him off by pouncing on him and locking her lips to his. She grabbed his hand and **** it down to her pussy, pushing him back onto the bed. After a shocked moment, he began exploring feebly. She broke the kiss.

"More. Harder." He began to thrust his fingers, but she stopped him. "Not harder like that. Rub harder." She reached down and guided his fingers to her clit. When he made contact, she sucked in breath with the sudden rush of pleasure. "That's good," she said.

She wondered why she bothered with a guy who needed a map to her clitoris. All of the normal warm feelings she had for Greg were missing and the equation wasn't adding up. He was of little material use to her - a museum curator didn't pull a particularly impressive salary - and the sex was lackluster. As he clumsily rubbed circles between her legs, she felt that she was lubricated enough to proceed. She reached down and pulled away his hand, then climbed on top of him.

"I guess you're on top," he said with some resignation. "Seriously, hon, you're acting-"

This time she cut him off with a hand across his mouth. Startled, he barely reacted as she guided his dick into her. "I don't want a fucking conversation, I want sex."

He obliged by thrusting weakly into her. With her on top, this actually made it more difficult for her to properly impale herself. It was one reason she disliked this position normally. "Just stop," she said with contempt. "Lie still and let me do this." He looked slightly hurt, but obliged.

Lackluster though it was, it was still sex. Mary felt like she was finally getting somewhere as she pumped herself against him. Her tits were bouncing wildly and her wild hair framed her sweaty face as she leaned over to improve her angle. At just the right angle, she felt the top of his shaft graze her upper wall and felt a sudden explosion of lust.

"More," she growled. Greg began to thrust weakly again and she put her hands on his thighs to stop him. "Not that."

An idea occurred to her. She reached down and raked her nails across his chest, leaving angry red streak.

"Ow! What the fuck?" he cried. "Mary, what are- Ow! Stop!" She had grabbed his left nipple and twisted hard. His pathetic mewling just made the whole scene hotter and she found herself nearing climax. As she dramatically sped up her pumping, she leaned over and bit his shoulder hard. He actually cried out in pain and she tasted blood on her lips, and all at once the orgasm came. It was unlike any she had experienced before, an overwhelming rush of pleasure without any warmth at its core. It was a cold, bitter joy, a transcendent bodily ecstasy without any warmth or affection in it. She finished and collapsed onto Greg, then rolled over.

Greg touched his shoulder and looked at his hand in horror. "You- you fucking bit me! I'm bleeding! Mary, what the fuck?"

She shrugged. "I wanted to see what would happen."

"You- that's- that's fucking ****! You can't just do that!" She saw tears in his eyes.

"Are you fucking crying, you pussy? Christ, why am I even with you?"

He stared at her for a long moment. "Mary, I think there's something really wrong with you."