I worked out tonight, a lot, and now my arms are sore and I’m feeling hard and pumped and aggressive.

I’m thinking of you in the kitchen, like a scene from a movie. You’re standing at the counter, and I slip my hand behind you and between your legs, and grab you, hard, and lift you up and throw you across the counter. I grab your neck and hold you there, and pull your short little pants down and take you from behind while you stand on the tips of your toes, never letting go of your neck.

I take you hard, without warning, and you hurt from the pounding, and I don’t stop until I come inside you.

And then I tell you you’re a good girl.