This Erotic Bite comes from a reader, known on Fetlife as GirlFromPeterPan. I want to thank her for giving me permission to publish her wonderful story here. I’d been curious to see what a story about Primals would read like, and I certainly enjoyed it. I hope all of you will as well. You can find GirlFromPeterPan’s profile link at the end of this post. Be sure to visit her, and share some love.
They were looking each other straight into the eyes. The anticipation of what was to come was growing. They did not touch, not yet. And while they were standing, leaning at opposite walls of the small elevator in his apartment building none of them dared to speak. They had completely entered the state of non-verbal communications. It nearly seemed they had unlearned language with all its constraints and expressions. Enough of imagery, societies own masturbation.
In the small space of the elevator she feels the hair on her arms rising, she feels like she can hear the sound of his blood rushing through his veins. No touch, no word begins to create a tensed atmosphere. “I have nothing to say,” she thinks to herself still holding a firm stare at his face.
Tonight she was not shy. Looking at him, scanning him from top to bottom with hungry, desirous eyes. He is not aware that she looks at him like this most of the time they spend together. The elevator doors slide open. In a swift motion he strides passed her, opens the door to his apartment. The silence of the empty room covers their skin. With his back to her, he is aware that she observes every move he makes. He could turn, look up into the mirror, but he waits head down for her to make her move. Awaiting that she will lose her self-control on the hunt. A transformation to end between the sheets.
She strikes now. Attacking him from behind, she bites his neck and thinks of the mark it is going to leave on his skin. Sliding her hands from behind on his chest, she unbuttons his shirt and with every pore she breathes in the smell of aftershave that covers him. Her teeth seem to lock onto his shoulder. The groan that leaves his mouth satisfies her. She pushes him against the wall and slides her hand down his pants just to be pushed back herself. Again the two find themselves standing apart waiting for one of them to make the next move. The air can be cut with a knife, thick with arousal. When he pulls her arm towards him, shutting her dangerous mouth with his other hand, pressing her against him to feel his erection, she knows he wanted to win the showdown this time. She bites his finger as hard as she can, an attempt to free herself. But he throws her over his shoulder in a swift motion to drop her onto the bed.
Her look makes fun of him, asks him to come closer if he dares. Like a lioness preparing for her attack on all four is she approaching, they are both prey for one another.
He could not let her ride him tonight, he will not give her this triumph. There is no doubt that he will in the end over-power her. The look in her eyes is forceful and her finger nails digging deeper and deeper into his shoulders in this position, she scares him a bit. But, he will win this fight.
A smooth turn, twisting her arm behind her back makes her into the antelope. He pushes her down, face down, chest down, into the mattress while he himself finishes inside her ass. She attacked him, but now he finds his triumph in her exhaustion. A beaten animal, heavily breathing lies next to him. Like a peacock feather to his hat, he wants to grace himself with it.
When he opens his eyes after a few minutes of bathing in his glory. She is already on her feet. She gathers her clothes, dresses swiftly. She checks the time on her phone: 13pm. While she straightens her hair and puts it up, she turns around and says, “That was fun.” She winks, picks up her books from the floor. “I have an exam soon. Again, that was fun.” The door shuts behind her. He leans against the wall sitting on his bed when he realizes that she had gotten what she wanted once again.
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