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Somnophilia / Hate Sex

KATE AND GARRETT

Kate can't stand the sight of Garrett. He makes her want to rip her own eyes out… so why are her panties so wet?

Kate never liked Garrett. She couldn't put her finger on why. Maybe it was because he had that stupid little ponytail he kept up in a thong. Maybe it was because he would pull pranks on people all the time and then grin and laugh like it was the funniest thing he had ever seen. Maybe it was because he could never take anything seriously. Kate wasn't really sure. All she knew what that whenever you put them in the same room together, it would be a maximum of five minutes before they were tearing each other's throats out. Shouting and screaming was commonplace as was an exchange of names so horrible that most of their friends left the room and just let them get on with it.

Then their little screaming matches they would go their own ways and calm down… or at least that's what they used to do. A few months ago they figured that shouting and screaming at each other was an excellent bit of foreplay. It soaked her underwear faster than any finger action could and made him harder than marble.

That's why Garrett had her pushed up against a wall and was pounding his hips into hers at a furious pace.

"You're such a bitch," he whispered into her ear, careful to keep quiet. Their friends were in the other room.

"You're a dick head," she told him breathlessly, clutching at his locks.

"Can't fucking stand you," he panted, glancing down between them to watch his cock disappearing into her wet folds. It was quite a sight to behold.

"Feelings mutual!" Kate cried rather loudly when he hit a sensitive spot. Both froze, listening, waiting to see if they had been caught. When no one came t investigate, Garrett started his thrusts again but this time he lifted one hand to her mouth, pressing it over her lips to stifle her cries of pleasure.

"Loudmouth!" he grunted, hips losing their rhythm as she squeezed around him, her orgasm flooding through her and leaving her like a rag doll.

Garrett followed shortly behind, her hips thrusting into hers before he pulled out and came on her thigh, his cum marring the otherwise perfect flesh.

He slowly let her legs fall to the floor and he braced his hands either side of her, panting.

"Why do you always do that?" she asked, rifling around in her pocket for a tissue. "Why do you have to come on my thigh like a heathen?"

"Would you rather I come in your mouth?" A smirk graced his face and she slapped him on the chest. "Or your ass?"

"Don't be disgusting." She wiped the sticky liquid off her skin.

They heard a commotion from the other room so Garrett quickly tucked his flaccid cock back into his boxers and hoisted his jeans up as Kate finished cleaning herself and pulled her skirt down, her underwear tucked safely in Garrett's pocket.

Bella came in, laughing at something Emmett had said as she left the room.

"Have you two worked everything out, yet?" She glanced between them. "Or are you still throwing insults at each other?"

"I'll always insult Katie," he knew she hated that name. "It's too much fun to stop." Garrett grinned and the urge to punch him began to build inside Kate.

"And I'll always insult Garrett because he'd just too much of a complete donkey knob not to." She smiled sweetly at him.

Bella rolled her eyes. "Seriously - it's like you two are fighting extreme sexual tension, you should just bang and get it over with." If only she knew.

Kate followed Bella back into the living room. Perching herself on the edge of the sofa she felt slightly vulnerable without any underwear on.

Garrett came in a moment later and when he turned to face the television, Kate's face flushed. The black leather thong he had used to keep his hair in a ponytail had been replaced by a piece of material made up of a similar shade of blue to her underwear that he had shoved into his pocket not ten minutes earlier.

She opened her mouth and then closed it - she couldn't say anything. And when Garrett turned and winked at her, he knew it.

God, she hated him.