It was a beautiful Saturday night, a clear star lit sky with a full moon overlooking what seemed to be an ordinary neighborhood. As I drove through, its normalcy is what stuck me first, everything looked the same.
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He was oblivious to my pain. He was looking for his own gratification. It hurt so much. I couldn't speak. I was paralyzed.
I thought to myself, "He doesn't know what he's doing. He doesn't know its hurting me."
Suddenly, its over, a twitch of his hips, a grunt and he fills my ass with his cum. Rolling off in an orgasmic stupor before realizing I haven't moved. My tears have stopped but the my sobs shake me while I lay on my stomach in shock.
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I am a man haunted. Driven to the depths of despair and raised to the heights of ecstasy by that girl: a slim young creature who bewitched me and made me half crazy as I careened between fierce lust for her and bitter remorse for what I subjected her to.
It was not always this way. For most of my life I was the soul of dignity, a true gentleman. My life was a tranquil sea, roiled neither by triumph nor tragedy.
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It wasn't auspicious for a relationship; he wasn't quite...right.
Not that there was anything wrong with him per se, because there wasn't. We had met online through one of those dating apps; he was sweet and funny and intelligent. Normally he would have been perfect, but I needed something...more.
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It's a balmy August night in the city, the kind where you try getting away with as little clothing as possible. The air conditioning in the restaurant is going full-blast, and I can see your nipples harden through your barely-there sundress, a series of goose bumps forming along your perfect, alabaster skin. Because we are waiting for the guest you've invited, I fight the urge to lean over the table and kiss the ones where your neck and shoulder meet.
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