*This story is for my dear J. It’s about seeing this weird world through your eyes.
Reprints are welcome, but please give credit where credit is due and please do not remove this statement.
*Chapter 1: The Senses of the Body
Physical sensations flooded me. In my dream, I walked naked through the manzanita, desire scraping at me like a knife, but with pleasure. My nipples were swollen as if they were about to ooze milk, and the pain was completely real. Lower body expects to be possessed, penetrated, satisfied. In my dreams he wore the mask of a shepherd god, disillusioned, all the men of my past.
Waking up from the dream was the beginning of another ordeal. My uterus shrinks into a ball, making me feel the emptiness in my lower abdomen. The plot of the dream began to blur, but the physical sensations were just beginning. My lower body wasn’t wet, but my nub began to burn for no reason, like a fire burning with urgency. Through my nightgown, I could feel the sharpness of the quilt, piercing through my desire. I squirmed gently as lust slowly began to crawl over my heart like ants. Time stood still at the moment of the explosion, waves of pleasure traveling from my nerves to my mind, and everything stopped.
Turning to look at the sleeping man. A perfect end to a quiet, empty, guilty feeling. My body began to relax, taking me into another dream.
I loathed the need, loathed my body, loathed all the sensations. I was even more disgusted with my inability to control and escape the emptiness that followed. The need is always greater after the orgasm, and all the searching ends in emptiness.
Chapter 2: Hibernation of Desire
As a student the boys loved to explore my body. It didn’t feel much at the time, and even brought pain sometimes. I didn’t want to have sex with boys because the touching wasn’t comfortable, not like everyone said it was.
The first experience was mostly painful, with only a thrill of devotion. It was sobering to see how things began and ended, the boy clumsily moving in and out of me, then pulling out and shooting all over my clothes. The footage was as good as any porn I would watch later in life, a story that took place in a distant country that had nothing to do with me.
Then I realized that masturbation was much simpler for me, at least everything was under my control, but I could never get into the legendary oblivion. I was always aware of every move, every process, and every ounce of post-orgasmic remorse. It was the same with every man I proceeded to have, the same porn plot, with only the male lead changing occasionally. It still hasn’t changed after marriage, except that the protagonist is starting to get fixed.
Chapter 3: Climax
He was the first man to give me an orgasm. Years later, I have forgotten what he looked like, but I still remember the feeling of his penetration. He was a man who shouldn’t have been there, but he left countless evidence of his visits inside me… orgasms.
I knew he wanted me when I first saw him, and I knew I couldn’t escape. A flicker of a lucky thought led me into the trap, and perhaps the trap was set up in my subconscious. But it all clashed quite a bit with the morals I had locked up knowing, especially the oblivious pleasure when he caressed my nipples, and especially the second he penetrated when I immediately ejaculated, the first time I had ever felt the power of a man’s penis.
After such a long time I was still ridiculously able to remember what his penis looked like. The slight curve upwards, the slight shiver of an excited erection, the liquid in front of the glans, the warmth in my mouth. I had never actually looked at his lower body, so how did these memories remain? Perhaps my memory fabricated them, perhaps it was a kind of physical preservation, preserving every backstabbing event that the mind demanded to forget.
I couldn’t resist his every tease, even a look or a sound. I try to avoid it, but my body expects him to enter me day and night, so I accept his every request. I loved it when he licked my nub, when he kissed my nipples, it drove me crazy, it shamed me, it hurt me.
He always thrusts in when I can’t take it anymore, and I try to refrain, I try to fight my body with my sense of reason and morality. Then I started to get disoriented, the heat flowed through my body and I started to forget. The only thing I can do is I don’t cry out, even though I’m broken inside, it’s the last line of defense.
I love him, but I don’t love him either. He satisfied me physically but left me empty inside. I must admit that in those days he had brought me to orgasms I hadn’t experienced before, and that I could be completely satisfied while in bed. But perhaps the only thing he possessed was that prick, the only organ I could still remember about him now, and the only thought I had of his whole person. It occurred to me that I still loved him, but it was only the prick that I loved, perhaps with the addition of his deft tongue that kissed my pussy and nipples.
I didn’t know he would abandon me, I really didn’t at the time. I hated him even though I always wanted to leave him, and I think I would have left him back then even if he hadn’t, but I still hated him. Maybe it was vanity! Doesn’t he have the patience to wait for me to leave of my own accord?
Chapter 4: Abandonment
The desire started to get stronger, even with the man on the pillow, but it was still empty. How was it all different from a quilt when her husband was always taking care of himself, going in, cumming, then pulling out and cleaning? More body heat, I guess!
The man got me very easily. Abandoned out of revenge? Or because desire had been triggered?
The first time we went out I was already expecting him to make love to me, and I knew we would make love that night. With him everything was simple, I had given up any morals and manners and simply wanted this man to poke me.
Sky rain, he is undoubtedly very good at pleasing women, and kept telling little stories. The desire in my heart had already sprouted when I got into the car, and by this time my lower body was already wet, and I was waiting.
The rain was getting heavier, and the night on the beach was so quiet that the world suddenly seemed like it was just the two of us.
He kisses me and puts the back of the chair down. The thought of how many women have slept in the back of this chair popped into my mind. The thought makes me feel funny, but not jealous.
This is another masterpiece. Should I feel lucky?
He kissed my earlobe and my entire body was paralyzed from my long ago arousal. Maybe it’s funny now that I think about it, the car was really, really crowded, but I didn’t know anything else at the time.
I pulled my panties off myself and pulled my skirt up to my waist. I don’t know how I managed to be so bold, but I just could in front of him and he reassured me. I knew I didn’t love him, I just wanted him to penetrate me. Is that what reassures me? A lot of the time he acts like a teacher and all I need to do is learn and the endless acquiring.
He got inside me very easily and I wet the entire cushion with my love juices.
He pumped rather gently, with indirect violent thrusts. Each thrust brought me joy, and the sudden jerks were like music that messed up the steps and brought me to orgasm after orgasm. I didn’t know orgasms were this easy to come by, and I never knew I could handle so many of them.
He took so long, so long, that I realized afterwards that we had gone through two hours. I just couldn’t take any more pleasure and I begged him to stop, begged him not to continue.
His cock was still raging as he lay panting on top of me. I gently caressed him with my hand and felt it still covered in my love juices. He didn’t cum that night.
Chapter 5: Conflict
I started drinking, I actually started drinking during my last man, but not as bad as this. I would see my husband and I would want to cry, I didn’t know how I could be like this, only drinking could make me feel like it was all justified.
The man’s appearance was an accident. I felt an intimacy when I first met him, but I didn’t want to reach out to learn about him, things were complicated enough.
He’s not a man who will give up easily, endless attacks, endless invitations. The point is, he’s different from all the men I’ve met in my life. Everything he said went straight to my heart, I resisted, but it was no use, he just spoke to my every thought.
He cares about me, unlike others, and I know he loves me, and I know I’m in love.
I know I can’t fall in love with him, we both have families, the problem is I’m in love with him. Love is something I don’t understand, I used to think I fell in love with every man I was with, I loved my husband so I married him. But what this man gave me wasn’t such a simple feeling, it was a devastating love, and for the first time I knew what love was.
I wished I could stop my sex game, but I couldn’t and I began to suffer. When I get an invitation call I always refuse first, then I start to soften due to the insistent tone of the person. This man just had the ability to get my body’s desires high, and his voice made my entire lower body wet.
We try all kinds of sex positions, and places. He satisfies me, and my body is filled with his cum, full, and overflowing, and I love the feeling of it slowly flowing out afterwards. I love being able to grip his thick arms during sex and feel my nails in his flesh. I love the way he looks full of himself when he makes love, I love how easygoing he is, I love that I don’t love him.
But my morals are slowly coming back, not because of my husband, but for the man I love, even though I’ve never confessed my feelings to him. I really don’t know how I fell in love with him, we didn’t date or even meet in person, we just connected through the internet alone.
Chapter 6: Love?
Never before had I felt such a sense of fear, it was a deep awe, when I first met him. That fear extends to this day, to this day. Before every date I feel a cramping in my stomach, lightheaded, and sweaty. It wasn’t until he wrapped his arms around me, kissed me, and touched me that the feeling slowly faded.
Then after leaving his side I would feel relaxed and at ease. It wasn’t until the next date that all the uncomfortable feelings resurfaced.
I forgot all about his first kiss, only remembering my constant refusal, the same as the first time we made love. I only remember fighting back with all my might and pushing him away fiercely. I had never done this to any man before, only him… I was so afraid of him, and I loved him so much.
I don’t understand the emotion, and I don’t think I ever will.
I can’t let go of my feelings for a long time with him, I just want him to go away and stay away from me. Every time I had sex I was in a state of confusion, I didn’t know what I was feeling, I was kind of in a state of total amnesia. This has been going on for quite some time.
The game still goes on. I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that with this guy he can satisfy me physically! Actually, that’s not entirely true, it’s exactly the fact that I have complete control over every single one of my senses.
I could clearly experience my pleasure when he kissed my nub, I could feel the size of his prick when he came in, he was a living entity, an object.
I can remove my clothes in front of him without any shyness, I can meet his onslaught with all my strength and enjoy one pleasure and orgasm after another. He has all sorts of tricks up his sleeve to satisfy me, and we enjoy it in the car, in the hotel, and in his home. The point is that I can know everything about me, because I play the role of a third party in this, and it’s like watching a movie while we make love.
The man’s thick prick thrusts into the woman, pumping with the sound of love juices. The woman’s lower body meets it quickly, explodes, stops, gasps, and then moves on to the next high. The woman straddled the man, fighting to squeeze the prick in deeper, her long hair flowing, sweat dripping down her body until she came, until the entirety of the man’s semen was poured into her body without a drop left.
It’s a very real kind of lovemaking, like a documentary, and sometimes I even feel like I can rewind it. It feels different from the men I love, with whom I have no control and I never know what’s going on at the time.
The only problem was that I was stuck in a state of endless remorse after every game. It was difficult to leave the glamorous drug, and it really took a tremendous amount of willpower to reject him, although several times I still succumbed to my body’s protests, like a withdrawal from an addiction. But I succeeded.
Chapter 7: Feelings from the Soul
The more I tried to get clear on what I was feeling, the further away it got from me until I finally gave up resisting it.
When I was with him that day I remained passive and let him undress, I didn’t try to figure out anything else during sex, I just looked into his eyes. Those eyes were the ones I had always avoided, there was a fiery destruction in them. I just looked into his eyes and opened the bars of my heart and let that love flow in. At once, all my repressed feelings rushed out and I wanted to cry.
He kissed me, just one kiss, and the world began to spin. It felt like the tip of my tongue could reach every part of my body, like my whole body was being touched. I didn’t need anything else, just one kiss and I could come, it was incredible. I gave up thinking, gave up understanding, and simply thought that I loved him.
I didn’t feel his body, because it was completely inside me, completely closed. I hadn’t felt an orgasm like this before, one that lasted and didn’t recede. I was shocked by the sound of my own cries, but soon I was back in our bodies, yes, our bodies.
I was always used to showering immediately after finishing, but I held him close, I didn’t want him to leave me. Feeling out pussy full of cum and love juice, he didn’t shrink and kept it up. I was beginning to fear him quitting, I wanted him inside me forever and ever.
This is my love, and I’ve been seeking it for years and finally realized that this is what it is. I have sought pleasure with all my heart and soul, I have experienced it and savored it, and today I realize that this is what it is all about.
Chapter 8: Hate and Love
It’s not a game anymore, he’s my life, even though it’s wrong.
One late afternoon, I received an angry phone call from his wife, and I listened numbly. I could feel out soul starting to be drawn out of my body and the sound was so far away. I calmly told her that I understood that it was a mistake and that it was none of my business about her husband loving or not loving her, that it was a personal issue for her.
I took a vacation from work and wandered the streets without purpose, tears streaming down my face. The phone rang and I switched it off smoothly, I knew it was him, but at this point all I needed was solitude.
I hate him, I hate so, so much that he came into my life. He gave me love and then took it away from me. I know he will eventually come back to his family, he is a good and responsible man and I am just a selfish and worthless woman on the outside.
I refused to listen to all his explanations and his bitterness, and although we are still together, I will not forget the provocative words of his wife that day. He would come home daily and I would end up empty, that voice kept echoing in my ears.
I loved him more, in fact it had long been too full to love more, but I began to hide my heart.
There’s actually never a shortage of suitors around, and I started accepting some dates out of hate.
I don’t know what I hate, and this hate is lonely, a hate with deep love.
Is it hate that he still loves his wife? Maybe the hate is for my inability to leave him, for living in the shadows on my own!
One short lunchtime date after another, which makes me feel somewhat balanced. I hate that his shadow is always there when I make up my mind, I can’t betray him, but I want to so badly. I want to smash what is precious to him and make his heart ache, I but far I have the courage to die.
The man had been struggling to talk about his work for about ten minutes now, and I’d had three lunch dates with him off and on. He loved to talk about himself, while I listened and ate my food in silence, my mind drifting to the far reaches of the sky. An hour of lunch time is spent listening to him talk, and I actually love listening to him talk because I don’t need to say anything if he keeps talking forever.
He was charming and handsome and this was the second time he asked me to dinner. Cross my heart in front of him I dialed the phone and told the man that I had a temporary appointment with a colleague in the evening, and dialed the phone again to notify my husband in punch card style that he would return home at night.
When I got back to the office I noticed a vague pain in my lower lip and looked in the mirror, faint blood marks.
Chapter 9: Revenge
Going up to the motel was a natural thing to do, and agreeing to the dinner would have been an implicit consent. He wasn’t very patient, but it didn’t matter, I wanted nothing more than to break myself.
I’m looking forward to a few hours of indulgence, pleasure, and no holds barred. I’ll give up everything, my self-respect, my thoughts, my love. That’s what I want tonight, two bodies that don’t know tomorrow, sharing the most intimate and private of secrets.
He kisses me and I kiss him back, with all the passion I have. We shared a bath together, our bodies rubbing against each other in the tub. My desire is so high that I feel like I’m going to explode in my body, and my lower body expects to be entered by him. I want him to penetrate, I want him to poke me hard.
He kissed my nipples and I rolled on the bed, my whole body on fire. I wanted him to kiss my nub, and I spread my legs wide with all my might, with no thoughts of shame, something I had never done before. My lower body undulated up and down with his tongue as I squirted out one orgasm after another. I knew the sheets were wet, soaking wet, and I wanted him to poke me so badly.
Holding his cock and thrusting felt so good. He entered so roughly, thrusting so hard, and everything turned me on so much. I arched my body so that each thrust could go deeper, more in, more comfortable.
Drops of his sweat fell on me, he was tired, and I touched his forehead lovingly.
I woke up, fully awake. All the sensations brake away and recede. Feeling the man in my arms was such a laugh, and I damn well did laugh. I began to laugh, unable to stop, my body laughing until it began to twist and start to cry so that he couldn’t keep moving.
He looked at me with incomprehensible eyes, and he didn’t want to stop, so the prick was still in my cunt. But I felt him slowly start to shrink and shrink.
By the time I was able to get my emotions under control, he had gone into the bathroom to rinse off. I got up and went to the bathroom and stepped into the tub as he looked at me in surprise. His cock was starting to thicken again and he reached out to touch my breasts and I brushed his hands away. I felt sad, for him as well as for myself, watching his prick shrink under his straddle, that tonight’s romantic adventure was over.
Chapter 10: Understanding
I became afraid that he would find out about this story and I was sure he would leave me because of it. Life was in a state of tension and every word he said, every look he gave me made me feel like something was wrong.
All games stopped because I stopped hating him. In fact, I know I didn’t hate him in the first place, I hated my own incompetence. This man I could actually reach out and take, but I was afraid, afraid of the accusations of others, afraid of the look in my husband’s eyes. The only way I can let go is to put myself in the worst possible state, to have the courage to wipe the sweat off his forehead.
One day his emotionless voice came through the phone and faintly said Will you marry me?
He lost his job, his house, his car and even his children. The man completely destroyed himself just to marry me. Would I be so stupid? As crazy as he is? Okay, I admit I am crazy in some parts of my life, but I will always be a delicate person. Whether it’s work, life, or relationships I’m very separate and I hate anything I can’t get a handle on and I hate change.
This good-for-nothing man now appeared before me, downtrodden, hopeless, worthless.
I didn’t answer his question as I briefly began to tell my story from the first man, stories that have been dusty for a long time. I kept talking, without a trace of emotion, until I finished talking about the last incident the other day. He didn’t make a sound, and when I was done I gently put the microphone on hold, tears slipping down my face without realizing it, but with a great sense of relief.
I picked up the phone and dialed my husband, I simply told him that I wanted a divorce, that I didn’t need anything, I just needed to be free. I just needed freedom. I wanted it all to be done by the end of the night, and if he was against it, I would do whatever it took. Leaving my husband stunned, I hung up the phone, feeling free as a bird, my heart soared.
The phone rings, it’s that rotten man with nothing to lose calling. He still says the same thing, faintly will you marry me? I don’t think so! Idiot! Don’t you know your life is ruined?
I let out a loud cry. I do, of course I do. My dear, a thousand times yes!
(concluded)