By C. A. Tryst (sobrattycatlady). Copyright 2025. All rights reserved. Do not use without permission.

—

Some of this is not true. I do lie for drama. How much? I’ll never tell.

I’m lonely in my marriage. Well, correction–I wasn’t getting fucked. Which, for me, was devastatingly lonely. I crave the kind of attention you only get from being good and properly fucked. I want to be called a “good little girl” despite clearly being very bad. I want all my holes stretched and filled with cum just to feel worthy. I hadn’t felt worthwhile in a long while–but let me back up so you understand more about my slutty, romantic-loving ass.

One Christmas, my ex-boyfriend Chuck contacted me. We hadn’t been in touch since I got married almost 16 years ago. We were in a picture-perfect romantic relationship for two years–the kind you only read about in stories. Soulmates, true love, the whole damn deal. Then Jax happened. And with him, the rave wave of the 2000s hit our tiny town like a neon tsunami. You know the phrase “sex, drugs, and rock and roll”? Well, the early 2000s were sex, drugs, and techno.

That chaos led to our breakup while I was on vacation with my parents. We eventually got back together, but this time in an open relationship that lasted another two years. So, he was mine again… well, not just mine–but that didn’t bother me. At the same time, I was also in a poly BDSM relationship with an older couple, including Jax. Those years were full of threesomes, underground sex parties, manipulation, lying, cheating, and ultimately, heartbreak. It couldn’t be avoided. But oh, the sex was wild. Worth it. I’ve never talked about it until now.

I’m the one who secretly craves submission but is a brat at heart, so I have to test your every move. I cuss too much. I’m snarky. I’m wildly unladylike but can still pass as a lady. I prefer tight jeans and combat boots but can rock a dress and heels and look sexy as hell. Chuck brought out a challenge in me like no one else ever had. He also brought out the lady in me, too. Later on he became a pleasure dom to others, but in a way, he was always that–it just didn’t have a label back then.

And the thing about pleasure doms? They’re so intoxicating. They’re good at orgasms–clearly–and you get hooked like it’s heroin. Chuck was more than that to me, though. And it scared the shit out of me because I thought I was just another notch on his well-worn bedpost. I challenged him on a daily fucking basis, mostly to curb my own addiction to him. To a fault.

We met at Kung Fu class when I had just turned 19. I was still deep in my 90s grunge punk phase, complete with a massive chip on my shoulder because I had just broken up with the Sifu’s son. A Sifu, in case you don’t know, is the instructor in Kung Fu. I’d dated his son for a year, and he dumped me to try and go back to his ex–who was, at that point, my friend, and now my best friend, Brittany. We bonded over what an absolute asshole Christian was and started calling ourselves the ABCs: Abused By Christian.

That night, I was already in a shitty mood. Brittany had just told me that Christian asked her out again–again–right before class started. And then Chuck walked in. It was like he brought an electrical storm with him. He stood in the doorway and scanned the room like he owned the goddamn place. I was in the middle of taking off my combat boots, doing my best not to stare at the fresh meat–I mean, new guy.

Brittany was already on the mat, stretching with the other “dojo ding-dongs”–yeah, I know dojo is a Japanese term, not Chinese, but it still fit. Chuck sat down right next to me. Out of ten empty chairs, he chose that one? I went completely rigid. It was like a wolf had just walked out of the woods and plopped itself beside me.

Brittany clocked it immediately and smirked at me from the mat just as Sifu barked for us to begin. I jumped up, bent over to shove my boots under the seat–my ass absolutely in Chuck’s face–and at that exact moment, he said “Hi.” Basically, to my butt. I didn’t even bother to stand up straight. I twisted around and looked at him upside down between my legs, giving him a full once-over. He just grinned, probably catching the scent of my arousal. I could smell it, so I’m sure he could too.

We both walked to the mat and took our places. Since he was new, he was placed off to the side, and I ended up next to Brittany. In this class, we always start by standing in silence until Sifu greets us with the Bao Quan Li–a fist salute. Brittany leaned over, hip-checked me, and nodded toward Chuck. I rolled my eyes.

After our warmups, we broke into smaller groups to work on katas–a series of choreographed offensive and defensive moves that are honestly kind of beautiful when done right. Chuck was put in my group, working on the first belt. He looked at me and said, “Did you just start this class too?”

I shot back, “Um, no, silly. I wasn’t standing with you, was I?” Like I said–I was in a mood.

Turns out, I’d never be able to talk to this man without being sarcastic. Ever.

He chuckled. fındıkzade escort “My name’s Chuck. What’s yours?”

“I’m Cindy.”

We shook hands, and when his grip met mine, it felt like electricity and a hug at the same time. I started showing him the moves alongside the others, and he asked, “How long have you been here?”

“A year. Off and on.”

He looked around, then opened his mouth to say some asshole thing I knew was coming, so I cut him off. “Yeah, yeah–I know what you’re thinking. I should be farther along than the first belt, and you’d be right. I missed a few weeks of class, and I’m being punished.”

He smirked. “Sounds like something you’re used to.”

“Excuse me?” I snapped.

“Being punished,” he said casually. “Now show me the kata again.”

I stared up at him, incredulous. “Um, you could say please.”

His eyes lit up at my irritation. “I could… but I didn’t.”

ASSHOLE.

We were practically nose to nose, just glaring at each other when Sifu called for sparring. We all gathered into a large circle in the center of the room. I moved beside Brittany, making sure I was directly opposite Chuck, still giving him my death glare. He was just smiling like a smug fucker.

Free sparring is how we ended every class–one-on-one fights in the middle of the circle, with Sifu jumping in to correct technique or offer better moves. If you “won,” you stayed in to face the next person. I never won. Like, ever.

A few students had their turns–punches, sweeps, kicks. Then it was Christian in the ring, and Sifu called my name. Great. Public punishment it is. I was furious, so this was perfect.

I stormed in and immediately went for a chokehold. Christian grabbed my arm and threw me to the floor. I broke the fall and whipped my legs around to sweep him–and I actually succeeded. That made him mad. Just as we were about to full-on wrestle, Sifu stopped us and told Christian to get back in the circle. Apparently, I “won.” What?

Everyone was holding their breath. It was clear we were about to actually fight, not just spar. I stood up, adjusted my gi, my jacket pulling open to reveal a bright red bra under my tight white tank top. And then Sifu called Chuck.

Fuuuuuck.

Smirking, he stepped into the ring and said, in a drawn-out Southern drawl, “Whatcha gonna do, darlin’?”

I growled and punched at his face. He casually slapped it away and sidestepped.

“Come on, you can do better than that.”

I closed the distance and went straight for a knee to the balls. But before I knew it, he had me turned around, pressed against him, his forearm tight across my neck. My pussy was drenched. I started breathing hard, and he whispered in my ear, “You’re supposed to tap out.”

I hissed, “No. This isn’t good enough.”

So he tightened his hold, cutting off my air for real, and took me all the way to the ground–behind me, his legs wrapped around mine so I couldn’t move. My vision started to fuzz around the edges, and then Sifu called, “That’s enough for tonight. Let’s line up.”

I felt like I had just had sex in front of the whole class.

Chuck unwrapped himself from me, and I stayed on the mat for a second, gulping in cold air, stars blinking in my eyes. He backflipped–yes, backflipped–to standing because of course he’s a goddamn show-off. He turned, offered me a hand, and said, “Red’s my favorite color,” nodding not-so-subtly to the bra he’d seen earlier.

My cheeks flushed. And I’m not the type to get embarrassed.

After class, I headed straight for the bathroom. In the stall, I pulled off my uniform pants, and the cool air hit my soaked panties. Fuck. My pussy was throbbing so bad, I knew I could cum in under a minute. So I sat down on the toilet, leaned back–the metal of the commercial flusher digging into my spine like a gun to my back, somehow making it hotter. One hand slid into my panties, rubbing my slick clit up and down with one finger as fast as possible. The other hand slipped into my bra to pinch and roll my nipple, hard. I came in less than thirty seconds, quietly, in case someone else came in.

I finished changing into tight black jeans, tied a flannel around my waist, and left on the white tank top and red bra. I licked the taste of myself off my finger, washed my hands, and walked out, scanning for Chuck–but he was gone. Thank god. He’d probably know exactly what I’d done and I wouldn’t have a clue what to say.

Most of the adults were still inside talking to Sifu about boring shit–competitions, bedtimes, whatever parents talk about. So I went outside, where I found Brittany chatting with a couple other dojo ding-dongs. Christian came outside and said, “It’s my two favorite bitches.”

I snapped, “Oh fuck you and the horse dick you rode in on.”

Brittany and I both got into it with him, cussing back and forth, until I started throwing punches. None of them landed, of course. So I kicked him in the shin with my combat boot. The other guys dragged him off, trying to calm things avcılar escort down. I was crying angry tears, turning to Brittany when Christian came back and said, “Hey–we weren’t done.”

I spun around, and he landed a roundhouse kick straight to the side of my face.

I went out like a light.

When I came to, I hadn’t opened my eyes yet. I had no clue what had happened, but my head was pounding. Someone was touching the side of my face–gently–massaging my temple. The smell of him was intoxicating: Cool Water cologne and something else… something primal. Home. Lust. “You need to open your eyes for me. You’ve got a concussion,” a soft, low voice said. Concerned. Caring.

I opened my eyes and met Chuck’s blue ones, staring into my green. “There she is,” he said with a small smile. “Welcome back, darlin’.”

I tore my gaze away, glancing around the room. Most of the students were gone. Brittany was still there, biting her nails. I looked at her. “What happened?”

“That motherfucker kicked you in the fucking face. I guess you win the ABC Award of the Year,” she said.

I started to get up, but Chuck placed his hand on my chest and gently pushed me back down. “Stay. I’ll get him.”

He stood, turned, and walked away–calm and deadly. I watched Sifu across the room with Christian. Chuck walked straight up, said a few quiet words, then grabbed Christian by the shirt collar like a misbehaving child and marched him back over to me and Brittany. My eyes went wide. He really just did that. In front of Sifu. To Sifu’s son.

Christian had a fine bruise forming under one eye.

“Did I do that?” I asked.

Chuck said, “Yes, you did.”

Brittany grinned. “No, he did.” She looked at Chuck meaningfully.

Still wide-eyed, I just stared at them both.

“Now apologize to the lady,” Chuck said, tightening his grip on Christian’s collar.

Christian breathed in, started to argue, but Chuck pulled harder–the fabric beginning to rip.

“Alright, alright, dammit. I’m sorry. Are you satisfied?” Christian huffed.

“Not in the least. Do better,” Chuck snapped, letting go of his shirt and gesturing for Brittany to follow him as he turned to talk to Sifu.

I sat there dazed. Pissed. And sad. A tear rolled down my cheek as I realized… I really did win the abuse award tonight.

Christian sat beside me. “Hey.”

I didn’t look at him. I stared at the ground, trying not to cry.

“Hey, look. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kick you. I thought you’d block it. I’m sorry. And… I’m sorry about asking Brittany out too. I’m being kicked out of class for a while. Probably won’t come back anyway–I’m starting a new job, okay? You won’t have to deal with me anymore.”

I didn’t lift my head. Ever the romantic, and refusing to say goodbye, I said, “I only ever wanted to deal with you.”

He didn’t respond. He got up and walked out. Forever.

I kept staring at the ground until a pair of black cowboy boots stepped into view.

“Darlin’? Can I take you home, make sure you’re safe tonight?”

I looked up, about to say I rode with Brittany, but she was behind him nodding like a proud big sister. She’s always been my compass. I looked to her any time a boy asked me out–even if this didn’t feel like that. But maybe it did.

I didn’t want to talk. I just nodded. Chuck helped me up by the elbow like a gentleman from another time.

“Call me when you get home,” Brittany said as she opened the door.

Chuck walked me–no rush–to his truck and opened the door. Before I could step in, he scooped me up and lifted me onto the seat. It wasn’t even that high. Show-off.

I turned to face the front and he leaned in, close–too close. The tingling in my skin was electric. He looked into my eyes, reached around me, and buckled my seatbelt.

“I had it,” I muttered.

He just smiled. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

How the hell do you say no to that?

He shut the door, walked around to the driver’s side, and slid in. I followed every movement–his light jeans, his tucked-in black tee, the silver belt buckle, the black boots. His blonde hair–long on top, short on the sides–was straight out of every 90s teen magazine I used to have in my bedroom.

Fuck. I hated to admit it, but the hair, the manners, the cowboy charm–it was all really, really hot.

He started the truck, and the country station blasted on cue. He immediately began singing along:

“Hey pretty lady, won’t you give me a sign?

I’d give anything to make you mine o’ mine…”

I couldn’t help it. I smiled. He was so damn cute.

Then he glanced at me, serious. “Darlin’, I need you to do me a favor tonight, okay?”

“What is it? I’m not agreeing to shit until I know what it is.”

“You’ve got a concussion. You can’t fall asleep for a few hours. Brittany said you can stay on the phone with her. Whatever you gotta do, just stay up. I’ll call and check on you later. If you’re still on the phone, it won’t wake anyone up.”

I sighed like şirinevler escort a brat. “Fine.”

We chatted the whole ride to my parents’ house about random shit–growing up, favorite foods, family. We developed this cute, chaotic way of bickering where we both started talking fast at the same time, but somehow still understood each other. Even though my head was pounding from the concussion, I thought it was adorable.

He told me about all the martial arts styles he’d studied and what belts he had.

I raised an eyebrow. “Dude. Why do you even need this class then? You basically know everything.”

“I wanted to try something new,” he said with a little smile, glancing at me. “And I’m glad I did.”

He pulled into my driveway. We sat in the truck a minute saying goodbyes. He made me promise–again–to stay on the phone with Brittany and said he’d call later to check in. I headed straight down to my basement room and called Brittany.

She answered immediately. “So? How’d it go? Did you fuck him yet?”

“Girl, damn. I know I’m slutty, but I’m not that slutty. Jesus.”

She laughed. “He is really cute though.”

I sighed. “Yeah. I might actually have to start coming to class more often.”

We talked for a few more minutes, then I told her I was going to shower and I’d call her right back.

Upstairs, I avoided the parents, headed to the bathroom, and stepped into the shower, my head spinning–but not from the injury. I kept thinking about Chuck. What was he like in bed? Was his cock big? Was he a good kisser? Did he eat pussy? God, I hoped so.

I grabbed the handheld shower wand, adjusted the water a little warmer–imagining it was his mouth–and brought it to my clit. I gasped when the stream hit just right. Leaning back against the wall, I lifted one leg up onto the tub lip and ran the water up and down like a tongue. My orgasm built fast. I exploded with the water pulsing against my clit and slipped two fingers inside to extend the high. Panting, I stood there, letting the shower wash over me.

After drying off, I grabbed a snack in the kitchen, still wrapped in just a towel, my wet hair clinging to my skin, and made my way back down to my room.

“What the fuck!” I yelled.

Chuck was sitting on my bed.

“You broke your promise. And so soon,” he said, voice low and deadly calm. “Do you have any discipline at all, darlin’?”

He sounded pissed. It was really fucking hot.

I became very aware that I was standing there in nothing but a towel. We hadn’t even kissed yet, and here he was, in my bedroom, seeing me practically naked. Oh my god–Brittany was right. I am a total fucking slut.

He raised one eyebrow, tilted his head. “What are you thinking right now?”

I flushed. Oh no. He knew. He could tell I’d just been thinking about fucking him.

His eyes widened, waiting for an answer.

I swallowed. “Um. Well. I was thinking about what you were like in bed…”

I looked down at the floor, crossing my arms across my stomach, humiliated.

“Well, darlin’, I am on your bed, so…” He laughed at his own dad joke.

I laughed, but not at the joke. “You laugh like Eddie Murphy, you big nerd. I better call Brittany back.”

“No need,” he said. “I already talked to her.”

“What?! Did you tell her you were coming here? She’s going to think I’m a super huge slut now. Great.”

He raised his eyebrows again and smirked, amused. “Are you?”

That motherfucker. He probably does fuck mothers.

I glared, tapping my foot, waiting for him to apologize.

“What?” he said, hands out like he was innocent. But then something shifted in his expression–primal and nurturing all at once. “Come here. Let’s get you in bed.”

“Oh my god. We just–” I started, but he cut me off.

“I can smell your pussy from here, and I want to taste it. Don’t make me ask again. Come. Here.”

Oh. No. He. Didn’t.

“What are you gonna do, make me, Mr. Murphy Laugh?”

He wasn’t amused.

Oh shit.

He stood up and had me pinned against the door by my throat in one fluid motion. My towel dropped to the floor. He didn’t squeeze hard, just held me there, locking eyes.

“You have the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen,” he whispered, his breath hot and minty, laced with Cool Water and something wild. Just his scent made my mouth and pussy salivate.

He paused, glanced down, then back up with a wicked grin. “You seem to have dropped your towel.”

I couldn’t even speak. He was staring at me like I was his favorite fucking meal. I could feel my wetness dripping down my legs. He growled, low and husky.

“I smell you.”

Fuck. That’s hot.

“You know you have a concussion, and we shouldn’t raise your blood pressure too high,” he whispered in my ear, voice like sex and smoke. “You need to calm down.”

I shuddered, quivering as his words brushed warm breath across my neck. He sucked on my earlobe, and I let out a long sigh.

“Shhh, darlin’, or this will all be over before we get started.”

I took a jagged inhale, tried to still myself.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispered.

Then his hand trailed lazily from my hip to my stomach, up between my breasts, stopping at one nipple. He circled it with his fingertips until it stood at attention–both of them did. I was trembling, barely able to stand. If he weren’t holding my throat, I’d have melted to the floor.