Rock Bottom Desire

That’s not really your thing.” Brad had said, his words hanging in the humid summer air like a persistent mosquito. It had been a few months since they moved in next door, and my wife, Sarah, and I had tried to make a good impression, offering a welcome barbecue and friendly conversation. We were devout Christians, and they knew that, but we’d always enjoyed meeting new people. Brad and Amy seemed like decent folks, albeit a bit intense about their new hobby. The ax throwing, as they called it, had presented itself as an opportunity for a double date, and despite my initial reservations, Sarah had agreed.

As we pulled up to the establishment, “Splintered Souls,” the rustic charm of the building was immediately apparent. A large wooden sign hung above the entrance, depicting a menacing axe swinging through a target. Inside, the air smelled of sawdust and fresh-cut wood. The space was filled with targets of varying sizes, mounted on wooden stands, and a collection of axes, each gleaming menacingly. Brad, already sporting a bright orange flannel shirt and a wide grin, greeted us with an enthusiastic, “Welcome to Splintered Souls! Glad you guys could make it!”

Sarah, ever gracious, offered a warm smile and a handshake. I noticed, as I always did, the way her denim jeans hugged her curves and how the lace-up boots peeked out from beneath them. She wore a simple white tank top, but it did little to conceal her athletic physique. Brad’s girlfriend, Amy, was equally striking, clad in a short black dress that showed off her toned legs. Her long, flowing blonde hair cascaded down her back, and her emerald green eyes held a captivating intensity.

Brad launched into a detailed explanation of the rules and techniques, demonstrating the proper stance and swing. We each received an axe, a hefty piece of steel mounted on a wooden handle. The first few throws were clumsy and awkward, but with a little guidance from Brad, we slowly began to find our rhythm. As we continued to practice, a competitive spirit ignited within us. The challenge was on, and we were determined to see who could land the most accurate shots.

The friendly competition quickly escalated, and soon we were all vying for the top spot. Brad, predictably, proved to be the most skilled, his throws consistently hitting the center of the target. Sarah, surprisingly, was a natural, her movements fluid and precise. I managed to keep up with them, but my aim wasn’t quite as sharp. After a while, we decided to take a break and grab a drink at the small bar inside. Brad, fueled by several beers, launched into a rambling monologue about his obsession with ax throwing.

“It’s just so satisfying, you know?” he said, gesturing wildly with his hands. “The feeling of the wood splintering as the axe connects with the target, the satisfying thud of the head hitting the center… it’s primal!” He paused for a moment, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You should try it sometime. It’s not really your thing, but it's a good way to release pent-up aggression.”

Sarah gently squeezed my hand, a silent suggestion to steer clear of Brad’s ramblings. The conversation shifted, and soon we were discussing our shared faith and the importance of maintaining a strong moral compass. Brad, after a few more beers, became increasingly animated, his comments growing more explicit.

“You know, the act of throwing an axe is quite similar to the act of having sex,” he declared, his voice slurring slightly. “Both involve a focused energy, a certain level of aggression, and an overwhelming urge to connect with another person.” He leaned in close, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “And let’s be honest, both can be incredibly stimulating.”

My face flushed with embarrassment, but Sarah, with a knowing smirk, simply rolled her eyes. It was clear she wasn't particularly bothered by Brad's inappropriate comments. As we continued to chat, Brad abruptly stopped, a look of genuine apology on his face.

“Oh,” he said, a blush creeping up his neck. “I forgot.”

Sarah, intrigued, asked, “Forgot what?”

“Well, you know how it is,” he explained, glancing at Amy. “Once you’re married, you know.” He proceeded to draw an imaginary line on a graph, illustrating the decline in sexual activity as one ages. “And you’re Christians, so…” He trailed off, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. “So, you know, that’s not really your thing.”

As he spoke, I noticed a subtle shift in Sarah’s demeanor. Her eyebrows arched slightly, her eyes narrowed, and a faint smile played on her lips. It was as if she were silently acknowledging the suggestion, yet simultaneously dismissing it. She tilted her head to the side, as if considering the possibility.

Without a word, I took charge. I stepped closer to Sarah, placing my hands on her waist, pulling her slightly closer. Her body responded instinctively, leaning into my embrace. My fingers gently traced the curve of her hip, sending shivers down her spine. Her eyes met mine, a silent challenge passing between us.

I lowered my head, my lips brushing against her ear. "Don't worry," I whispered, my voice husky with desire. "I know what you're thinking." Then, without warning, I lifted her up, carrying her over my shoulder like a precious burden. She shrieked in surprise and delight as she clung to my shirt, her fingers digging into my back.

As we walked toward the wall, I kept my arm wrapped around her, maintaining a firm but gentle grip. The scent of her perfume filled my senses, intoxicating me with its blend of floral and musky notes. We passed Brad and Amy, who watched us with a mixture of amusement and envy. Brad, recovering from his earlier outburst, simply grunted in approval.

At the wall, I gently set Sarah down, placing her against the cold stone surface. My gaze lingered on her body, taking in every detail. Her white tank top clung to her breasts, highlighting their full curves. The lace-up boots peeked out from beneath her jeans, a tantalizing reminder of her physical prowess. Her eyes, dark and intense, held a captivating allure.

As I leaned in closer, my hand moved to her hair, gently pulling a few strands loose. Her skin felt soft and warm against my fingertips. I lowered my head, my lips finding their mark on her mouth. The kiss was slow and deliberate, filled with a passionate intensity that left no room for doubt. Her body responded eagerly, arching into my touch, her breath becoming ragged and shallow.

With a deep sigh, I pulled back slightly, savoring the lingering sensation of her lips on mine. My gaze returned to her, tracing the curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw. It was then that I noticed a subtle tremor running through her body, a sign of mounting arousal.

Without hesitation, I leaned in once more, deepening the kiss. My hand moved down her chest, slowly tracing the line of her nipples. Her body tensed beneath my touch, her breathing becoming more rapid. It was clear that she was on the verge of climax.

As the moment approached, I shifted my grip, bringing her closer to my body. Her hips brushed against my legs, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. With a final, desperate gasp, she arched her back against my chest, her fingers digging into my shoulders. Then, she let out a primal scream, releasing her pent-up desires in a torrent of ecstasy.

I held her close, savoring the moment, as she writhed and moaned with pleasure. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us, lost in the throes of passion. The sound of her cries echoed through the establishment, drawing the attention of the other patrons. But we didn't care; we were lost in our own private world, a world of lust, desire, and unbridled pleasure.

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