“What the f**k do you think you are doing?” He snarled, as he stopped moving inside me.
“I wanted to remove your shirt. You always wear it, whenever we are together,” I said hesitantly, surprised by his anger.
“What I choose to wear when I’m f*****g you is none of your concerns, only mine,” he voice strained with venom, his eyes flaring with rage with every word that came out of his mouth.
“Why? What's so wrong with removing your shirt?
I’m stark naked as the day I was born beneath you, so why can’t you also do so, huh?” I said but received no reply from him, except his heavy breathing, and clenched jaw—so I continued.
“It feels weird, you know. It’s not normal at all.
And it makes me feel…”
“I give no f***s about how you feel when I’m f*****g you.
I don’t damn f*****g care. You m
