Make up sex

Was she overreacting? Of course she was, she knew very well that he just took a glance down that woman's shirt, and she had looked at some shirtless men herself. She wasn't really mad. But she had realized something of late. Make up sex was always better. So much better. When they had sex normally, she was lucky to cum at all, but they had never had make up sex without her cumming at least twice.

She shivered as she imagined what kind they'd have. Maybe he would be mad, and get sadistic, holding her down and fucking her raw while she begged for cock. Or he'd be apologetic, and submit to her, lying down while she rode him like a porn star. Or he'd be loving, and they'd embrace and make love tenderly, kissing and fucking until daybreak.

She felt guilty for doing this to him, accusing him of only thinking about sex. She was the one who couldn't think about anything but sex. Her thoughts turned to her persistent fantasy, the make up sex that would happen only after something huge.