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And in doing that, I kept myself from dreaming and hoping and from reaching.
I won’t make that mistake again.
Besides, not everyone can be everything all the time.
All we can be is ourselves. All we can bring to the table is us. And we are perfect, whatever shape and form and spirit we come in, and I’m never ever going to forget that.
The only problem with not forgetting is that I remember.
I remember every single thing about that night. Every single thing I felt andevery single thinghe did.
I specifically remember that one time — and there were multiple times during the night after he took my virginity — when he did all those things to me in front of a mirror. And he wouldn’t let me close my eyes. Every time I did, either from feeling too much because God, he was giving it to me from behind and everything feels way too big and huge and full in that position, or because I didn’t want to watch my body jiggle and fly from his brutally delicious thrusts, he would spank me.
He would smack my ass, tug on my curls, wrap his hand around my throat and whisper hoarsely, “If you keep closing your eyes like that, I’ll assume you love being smacked in your juicy ass.”
“I d-don’t.”
“No?”
I swallowed under his palm. “I-I mean, I do. I think.”
He smacked my ass again. “You think?”
Moaning, I met his eyes in the mirror. “It hurts though.”
The look in them was wild, almost manic. “It’s going to hurt worse if I do more than smack your ass.”
I’m still not sure how it worked but his words, those smacks, the threat of him doing something worse, made my pussy cream even more as I asked, “What?”
He turned his head and, looking directly into my eyes, he first licked the fluttering pulse on my neck like some kind of a hungry animal, before whispering, “Like fuck it.”
My pussy clenched along with the other hole he was talking about. “You wouldn’t.”
His mouth was formed in a thin line and his next words were even lower and scarier. “Wouldn’t I?”
“You —”
He licked my neck again. “I’ve been dying to get in that ass ever since I first saw it strutting in through my front door in those tight jeans you wear. All I need is one little excuse to make it happen. So if you want to leave this cabin with your asshole untouched, keep your eyes open. Keep looking at what drives me crazy every minute of every day. Your pale skin, your soft curves.” He followed that with squeezing my hips, my lower belly, dimpling my flesh, making it all red and pretty. “Keep looking at that sweet as honey body that made me do it. That made me cross all the lines and lie and cheat and fucking threaten to get you here.”
And I did.
I kept my eyes on him and my own body.
Even though there were moments when I wanted to close them just so he’d do what he threatened to. The only reason I didn’t was because I think I was mesmerized by my own curves. I was mesmerized by how they bounced and jiggled and how every time they did, he’d groan and speed up his thrusts.
So yeah.
I remember.
I also remember how during one of the times, he laid me out on the bed. How he towered over me, his knees on either side of my head, his large hand on his even larger cock — he was right; it was a monster with a thick girth that made my throat run dry — as he jerked off to my body. I wanted to touch him while he was over me. I wanted to touch his cock but he wouldn’t allow that. He needed me to focus, he said. So I lay there as he showed me how crazy my body drove him as he jacked himself off, his eyes roving over my curves, his hand moving faster by the second, the slick sounds driving me insane. And then when he came, he painted my body with his thick, viscous cum. Mostly my big tits — as he called them — and my rounded belly.
I couldn’t resist swirling my fingers in his cum and rubbing it all into my skin. I also put those fingers in my mouth to taste him. I have to admit that I was a little self-conscious about that, especially because it made his nostrils flare and his features twitch with an expression that even now gives me shivers. But that was my only chance, see. To taste him. To know him that intimately, so I did it.
Later, I also traced his body with my hands, kissed his skin, licked his tattoo. Because I knew I wasn’t going to have that chance again.
And I was right.
I’m never getting that chance again.
