I love sex and being roughed up so much that one day, while fighting with my stepbrother, we ended up having anal sex 🍆🍑🤌🏻

I’m fucking addicted to sex, but not the lovey-dovey, cuddly kind. No way. What really gets me off, what makes me lose my shit, is the fight. The struggle. That feeling of being overpowered, of not being able to escape, where the intensity is so fucking brutal it hurts and feels amazing at the same time. The rougher it is, the harder I come. It’s that simple. And that messed up.

My stepbrother, Pablo, and I have always had that dynamic. Ever since my mom married his dad and we got thrown into the same house when we were seventeen, the tension’s been insane. We were like two magnets with the same pole, always pushing each other away, but with this energy thicker than the air itself. Him, with that rugby-built body, broad shoulders, and me, smaller but just as stubborn. The fights over the TV, the bathroom, the last beer… that was our favorite sport. And we always, always, ended up shoving each other, grabbing arms, breathing heavy, with a look that said a thousand dirty things.

Everything blew up on a Saturday afternoon. The ‘rents had gone out of town and the house was ours. He was watching a game at full blast and I wanted to play music. The usual shit. “Turn that crap off,” I snapped, trying to grab the remote. He hid it behind his back with this smug grin that drove me nuts. “Come and get it, short stuff. If you can.”

And that’s how it started. I went for him, and in two seconds we were wrestling on the couch. He pinned me, holding my wrists above my head with one hand while the other gripped my jaw. “You like this, don’t you? Always starting shit,” he said, his voice rough, his face inches from mine. I struggled, not to get free, but to feel the strength in his muscles holding me down. I felt his hard-on against my thigh and a wave of heat shot straight through me.

“Get off me, asshole,” I spat, but my voice sounded weak, broken. He didn’t let go. On the contrary. He looked down at my lips and then back into my eyes. It was like something snapped. Without a word, he leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t a love kiss. It was a kiss of pure rage, domination, need. I kissed him back with teeth, biting his lip, and he growled, turned on even more.

In one move, he yanked my shirt off. My bra lasted about two seconds. His hands grabbed my tits hard, almost hurting me, and I fucking lost it. “Harder,” I moaned, and he knew the game. He flipped me over and pressed me against the back of the couch. I felt the rough denim of his jeans against my ass, and the huge bulge he was packing. “You’re such a slut,” he whispered in my ear, pulling my pants and panties down in one go. I was already soaked.

But he didn’t go where I expected. Instead of taking me from the front, I felt his spit-slicked fingers opening me up from behind. “This is for being such a brat,” he said, and before I could even brace myself, I felt the head of his dick, huge and rock-hard, pressing against my other hole. I tried to squirm away, more out of instinct than refusal, but he held the back of my neck with one hand and my hip with the other. “Relax. If you fight, it’s just gonna hurt more,” he said. It wasn’t a threat, it was a fact.

The pain was fucking brutal, a sharp tear that made me scream into the couch cushion. He didn’t stop. He pushed in slow but without mercy, all the way to the hilt, filling me up in a way I’d never felt. My body went rigid, but he started to move, and bit by bit, the pain mixed with this intense pleasure that made me see stars. It was invasive, possessive, like he was claiming me from the inside.

“You like getting your ass fucked like this, you little whore?” he grunted, breathing hard, pounding into me harder and harder. I couldn’t speak, only moan, but I nodded. It was true. The rawness, the pain, the submission… it was pushing me over the edge faster than anything ever had.

He felt I was close. He changed the angle, gripping my hips tighter, and started giving me these short, deep thrusts that made me cry out with every one. “You’re gonna come with my dick in your ass, aren’t you?” he said, and it wasn’t a question, it was an order. And I obeyed. I exploded with a choked scream, convulsing around him, feeling my body give up completely.

That sent him over the edge. With a roar, he grabbed my hair, shoved himself as deep as he could go, and let go inside me, a hot stream of cum that I felt burning. We stayed like that, gasping, stuck together, for a minute that could have been an hour.

When he pulled out, he gave my already red, marked ass a slap. “Don’t tell anyone,” he said, like it was nothing. But his look was different. And so was mine.

Ever since then, I start fights that always end the same way. With him fucking my ass against the wall, in the kitchen, or in his room, harder and rougher every time. And me, who thought I’d tried everything, discovered that the more it hurts, the louder I scream, and the more I fucking love it.