"slap me again"

"What?" He looks confused, a little nervous even.

"Hit me in the face, like you did in the shower." It sounds so stupid and you don't know how to explain yourself. Ever since you woke up this morning you've been confused, and anxious, and more than a little horny and distracted. You haven't been able to think straight. When Jess smacked you it fell away and you stopped worrying about everything. But you can feel it all coming back.

"Please baby," you touch his chest imploringly, "you didn't hurt me, it felt good." Not strictly true, but easier to explain than the truth. "I just need you to smack me," you move your hand down his body, "one more time," rest it on his throbbing hard cock, "and then you can fuck me." You stroke his cock slowly with one hand and look up into his eyes. There is a change in his expression as he takes in your words. He may not understand what you want but he's so **** to fuck that he won't question it either.

He raises one hand and your muscles tense involuntarily before he cuffs you in the face. It's hard enough to make you lose hold of his dick, but not as hard as you need.

You take up his cock again, with both hands this time, and start working it. "That wasn't enough! I—ah—please do it again," you tell him, "harder. I—"

This time he doesn't hesitate, and the blow comes before you expected, lighting up your cheek and mouth. And before you can say anything, another, harder, blow comes, unasked for but very welcome. It sends you reeling back. You don't see stars this time but a now familiar sensation overtakes you as adrenaline floods your body, lighting up your nerves and making your hands shake.

Your whole body is so charged that every touch and sensation threatens to overwhelm you. Jess is grabbing you with both hands, holding you up, you distantly realize, but all you care about is how his hands feel, pressing against your skin and digging into your legs and back where he's holding you.

And now he's grabbing your ass with both hands, lifting you up so you're sitting on the edge of the bathroom sink counter, and you're opening your legs so that he can move forward, between them, and there he is, and there's his cock—looking gorgeous—and he's pressing it up against you.

He lifts your chin with one hand, tearing your eyes away from his penis and making you gaze up at him so he can look you in the eyes.

"John," he asks