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Most of the time, you let me lead the way. Or at least let me think I did. Like the time we went to meet some of my friends. The night ended very early, unexpectedly.

There had been some sort of argument before we got there, and they had all left, except for the one guy who I didn't really like in the first place. The whole time he was talking to me, his eyes were all over you. I was pissed off enough, and then you started flirting with him. I went from pissed to mad.

I remember how you kept asking about him on the ride back to your place. I had told you the quieter I got, the madder I was.

I responded to your questions with short, one syllable answers. I knew you could see the color rising in my face, yet you seemed almost determined to push more buttons. I grew silent.

We pulled up to your place, I put the car in 'Park', and just glared at you. I remember how cooly and evenly you met my hard stare. And then smiled. You got out, but before you slammed the door, you leaned in and said *quot;What a pussy!*quot;

I felt the steering wheel shake in my hands, as a cold bolt of rage took over. As you reached your door, you turned and shouted *quot;Hey Pussy! I forgot to give you something!*quot; and gave me the finger.

I don't remember getting out of the car, or storming through the door, which you had left open behind you. I do remember finding you in your room, backlit from the soft glow of a bedside lamp.

You stood confidently as I shook with rage, knowing I would never hurt you. Without a word, you moved slowly to me, and gently sat me on your bed.

You asked my forgiveness, I sat in silence. I realized slow, steamy public agent porno music was playing from the small stereo in your room. When you began to sway with it, I couldn't look away. Your eyes locked on mine as you began a slow strip-tease.

One by one, the buttons on your shirt opened, revealing yourself to me bit by tantalizing bit. Your fingers teased along your skin, the shirt slid off and fell. Your thin bra unclapsed in front, but still covered your beautiful breasts.

Slowly, so slowly, you let the straps fall from your shoulders, hinting at more beneath. I remember how warm my leather jacket was getting.

Your arms crossed, the bra became a willing captive of gravity. Knowing what was hidden under your forearms