tHEcUCKyOUwANTED
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Joined: 10/3/2009
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She was a brutal one. Some girls had grace. Kali had size – sheer physical power. But worse: she really enjoyed brutality. Where most girls “knew better”, she didn’t even care. She experienced the pure physical delight of violence. She hurt men the “old fashioned way” – by being their physical superior. She was bigger – taller; heavier; stronger - in other words, an athlete. Even before her teens, Kali took to sports. Surpassing the males, she learned the joy of “competition” (but who could compete?). Embarrassing the males filled her with a bliss some girls would find surprising; some women would find it surprising. But Kali never thought twice about her depth of enjoyment. On the field, something transformed her. Beyond any thought of regret, the dark haired beauty let loose the battler inside. She relished victory – dreamed of it; celebrated it; breathed it. She hit harder than any of them – a male who collided with her in soccer fell flat on his back; an elbow during basketball gave another a concussion. She never thought twice but any observer eventually lost count of the boys who limped crying off the field with the wind knocked out of them. She was a berserker. Green eyed, red lipped, wide mouthed, dangerously tall; endlessly vibrant – healthy as an ox, her heart beat like a hammer inside her sturdy frame; shapely as a nubile young goddess – but dangerous. Her sheer physicality was unmatched by any man. As she grew older, her long eyelashes were lush: they attracted even the most distracted of men. Surely in a night of making love, were she to truly uncork her bottle, she could slay a man with sex. But she never took a man, and she carried on her love of sports, and her athletic instincts were honed and increased beyond what most men would ever know. She had the soul of Hercules – she delighted in battle. While drinking she grew hot tempered, but she never hit a girl. But if any man stupid enough to cross her path with a cocky attitude might receive the trouncing of his life. Her fists were hard and heavy and she had such a hook when she swung that perfectly balanced, uncommonly broad shoulder, that more than a few large men were ruined by the embarrassment of having been knocked out in one punch from Kali. Through the whole thing she might never stop smiling. In fact she smiled more broadly, with a humor in her eyes; the humor of an undefeatable woman who had never lost a challenge. The stronger opponents had it worse, for once Kali had “warmed up”, she grew positively fierce. She could take a punch, but her body shook with anger; to see it most men trembled, and the unlucky opponent would look up with surprise and his fear was visible. Even the best fighters backed up; though too stunned to avoid her wrath. Many of the beatings were harsh. When she unleashed upon a man who dared to strike her, it was a sickening feeling that ran through the room; for it was pitiful to see a man beaten thus. And she was totally relentless in a rage. And she hit so hard the man’s head might bounce against the floor a dozen times. In conquering him she might grip his throat with a fury that shook his soul; or give him such a stomping that the ribs would not heal for months. And so it was, she took her man, from one of these, and no one dared to stop her.
She forced him, some might say. She didn’t really think of it – she had won. Defeated, he looked around. Being dragged up, he was stunned. The faces around him looked on in shock – no one knew what to do. They only knew something was about to happen that they did not care to think about. You cannot rape a man, they say; but Kali seemed capable of anything. He probably did not want to go with her after being stomped that way, but either because he was too afraid or too shaken, he didn’t resist either when she pushed him out the door, dragged him down the street, marching ten blocks to her house and stopping to shove her tongue down his throat at her front door. She held him like a leave and he trembled at the taste of her whiskey. She didn’t say anything, she just did it all, and soon he was undressed in her living room, and she was caressing him. “She is so fucking big!” is all he could think as she pushed him down into her couch. She was so, so big. She seemed to view it as a contest. All the things the school boys ever felt, he must have felt more strongly. She bruised his ego so deeply he barely knew what was happening. She was so jazzed on herself, she could hardly have stopped, almost as if this was the first time sex with a man had ever occurred to her. She meant to bag him and would have satisfaction. She made his cock hard, her pussy was dripping, she mounted his pelvis and crushed him with her pussy. He came very fast, but she made him finish her. It felt so good, she forced him to pleasure her orally until she fell asleep on the couch. He woke up in her arms. She drove him to work. His name was Mark.
Kali hoped he didn’t feel too bad. She thought about him – that was so much fun. She thought he was funny. She thought he liked it though. She wanted more. He was fun to wrestle down, and got so excited. She enjoyed holding him at night. It made her at ease to smell his hair on her pillow. She felt bad for hitting him but it would not be the last time. She couldn’t help it, when got defensive. She didn’t think about it – she was all action. She demanded whatever she wanted right there on the spot, and if he didn’t do it she made him submit. If he didn’t like it well… he stuck around. But that’s getting ahead.
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