Self-Admittance
You may touch me," I challenged him. I would take no pity on the brainless fool who stood staring at me intently as I stepped from the shower. An immediate bulge formed in the front of his pants. His face turned bright red as he searched for words. His attempts made more futile by the fact I had not yet tried to cover myself.
"I said you could touch me.." I repeated, putting emphasis on each word, but none more than the word "said" itself.
The moron kept staring at me. His lecherous eyes washing over my entire body, making me feel...unclean. Had I been seventeen again, I would have been abashed. But I am 18, and have had near an entire year to behold many forms of sexuality. None of it frightens me. None of it embarasses me. It is as any other part of life. It had many uses, most of which pleasurable.
The fool stepped towards me. His face was meant to look seductive, but he merely passed off as an aroused ape. When he was but a foot away, he lifted a hand to my breast. I stopped him switfly, smiling, coyly, "What is your name, boy?"
He answered absent-mindedly , his eyes never moving from my still exposed breasts,"Mark," he had said, and raised his hand to my breast again.
"Okay Mark," I raised an eye," do you like what you see?"
He nodded and firmly grabbed my breast with a sweaty hand.
"Oh yes.." He mumbled, still transfixed.
I looked around the smallish bathroom, while Mark's gaze left my breasts and travelled further down my body.
The bathroom definitely wasn't big enough. This clumsy oaf would be like a raging bull in a china shop. I'd end up with a fucking concussion.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked, but I did not need to, for I already knew the answer. I always knew the answer.
He grunted,"Fucking.."
Bingo. The same reply always given once that question was asked. Well, save for once, but who has time to dwell on the past? Or is that what I've been doing these last months since Raymond left...
"You'd like to fuck? " I asked, knowingly teasing him. I wondered if his short-fused brain and throbbing cock could handle it.
"Oh yeah," He muttered. A low gutteral sound that signalled his pants were about to burst - he was so ready to screw.
I rolled my eyes," Well, Mark, why don't you take off your clothes?"
And here it starts. The Game. The game I've played more times than I could remember. The game I've lost only once. You see, I've fucked many men, but only made love to one. I've screwed for all different purposes, but I've only loved one man. And when it ended between us, it was then that I lost, unfortunately, at the time, I hadn't even known I was playing. But it was then too, with my broken heart that I developed a hatred for men. I vowed I would make them all feel the hurt and pain. Just as I did. But in different ways. Whichever ways I could manage.
This was the true power of a woman. I wasn't afraid to admit it. It was a power few men could resist. The surging temptation which diffuses from a woman like a scented oil. The temptation of a woman classified as "easy" .
At this point in my ponderings, Mark had himself completely undressed, save for his socks and his shoes. He gave me a lopsided grin and I grinned back wickedly. Tonight I would take him to places he had never been before. But not without a price. I would also get something that I wanted tonight. Not without the consequences...and all in due time.
He began kissing my neck, with uncertainty, then he lowered his kisses to my chest. He was attempting to please me. His lips moved over my nipples and I tilted my head back in a moan. He wasn't like the others. I felt a surge of pity for him. He somewhat reminded me of Raymond, the way his lips lingered over my breasts, breathing dizzying hot breaths onto my nipples. The sudden thought unnerved and disturbed me.
Mark wasn't only in this for self-gratification. He was trying to see that I enjoyed it as well. Maybe I'd go easy on him. He seems inexperienced enough to not be like the others.
I moaned again as he moved his mouth over my other nipple, and this time, as I did, he pressed his body - hard phallus and all- against me. He sighed into my ear," Make love to me...please?" And the game abruptly ended. All my former hatred and malice melted away. Mark was just a boy, and I was about to destroy him.I was about to do irrepairable damage to someone who wanted to experience that one feeling that everyone longed for. The very same feeling that - in wake of it's withdrawal - had left me a bitter woman in need of revenge.
But I, feeling no love for the boy myself, could not deliver the nurturing lovemaking he so desperately wanted. His deep brown eyes watched me carefully, and I ran my fingers down the side of his smooth face. He was actually quite good-looking. Maybe my earlier perception of him had been hasty, and , well, wrong.
But he wasn't Raymond. No lover could ever be like Raymond. And I often find myself comparing bedmates to him. No one has ever come close. Raymond is the reason I started playing this diabolical game, unknowingly, at first. He is to whom I lost. He was the one who had stolen my heart and taught me most of what I know today. Of everyone I've fucked. Man or Woman, only him I loved. But to him, I was a Mark. Unimportant. Just another pawn in a sick, twisted game. A game with no real winners. But he's made himself the prize. An unobtainable prize at best. Forever out of my reach. He had been gentle, passionate, strong, sexy, and seemingly sincere. But such is the truth with most predators, his looks proved to be deceiving. He was a predator. Just in it for the hunt.
I broke from the memory and found that Mark was looking at me again. His eyes trained on me in what now seemed to be concern.I leaned forward and kissed his cheek," Let's find a bed."
The night wouldn't be a total loss. I would provide a gentle first time for an inexperienced boy, and as the rushing raindrops slid down the windowpane, so too did some of the former pain left by my first endeavors in love. True, I've never had a lover like Raymond, and maybe never again will, but sex is what you make of it, and in most cases, so is love. And from now on, I plan to make a lot more out of both.