Ravishment

She came up with the idea, actually. I’ll be always in debt with her because I blockaded a memory of my adolescence. When I was a kid, well, a teenager, I have this sort of fantasy just because the first porno magazine that I saw in my whole life was this shitty stupid little rag hidden beneath the father’s bed of my then girlfriend. He was (still is) a sick motherfucker. It was a photomontage of a history placed in the future, depicting a vampire (!) doing a lot of women with latex clothes with blood dripping. I was playing peek-a-boo in her house, that’s the reason why I found it. Horny as hell, I locked in their bathroom. That girl never allowed me to do anything before or after this day and, I don’t know why, I never wanted to convince her to any sexual interplay. Probably it was because my little girlfriend was a bore anyway and I was too young.

For some months I have had these violent fantasies, but I totally erased from my head, like it was a dark side put down aside for healthy reasons.

So, twelve years after, I just can’t imagine that scene. After two years of relationship, she became complaining about the routine, but I thought everything is just fine. Until one night, just when I was taking off my uniform, all of a sudden, she smiled to me and walked till my room, laying in my bed. I understood. But he started to complain when I was opening the zipper of her trousers. Astonished, I stopped immediately, but she said “go on” to me. So, after a second, she began to ask me to stop, so I stopped again. She smiled to me and said again “go on, even if I cry, please”, so I figured it out and loved the idea. An insight came out to my mind: if you really want to stop, just says “game over” and I will stop. She agreed nodding her head, looking really excited, smiling like a sun in a child’s drawing. Promptly we set out the rules.

I opened up her zipper and she started begging to me to not do that. So I grabbed her two hands with my right hand, I am really bigger than her, and took off her jeans while she was swinging beneath my body, trying to escape. She was wearing red panties, I never saw her with red panties. I tried to take off her shirt, but I can’t do it with only one hand, so I release her hands and she, weakly, tried to push me. I knew she was having fun, she was really strong, in spite of being a small girl. So I slapped her in the face and she could not hide a little smile. Now I was really turned on and I tore off the old t-shirt she was wearing. Her small breasts, how I miss them, were scarlet and pointed. Sounds like shit, I know that, like I was idealizing the past, or the kind of rough report printed in old naked women’s magazines, but she never looked so beautiful.

She pushed me again and was not easy to take away her panties. To tell the truth, I can’t manage to do it, she continued to push me, so I just pulled the cloth for the side and, this time, grabbed her hands with the both of mine.

It was REALLY healthy. She shone in those days. I never saw her so affectionate. We did it again two or three times and I will never tell to anyone what happened. It will sound like a lie. She never cried.

When she finished the relationship, two years after, because she thought we’re not passionate anymore, I cried, what did not happen with me since I was a boy.

DEDICATED TO JOB

19/04/2009