27/12/2013 @ 10.16 pm

He, who is familiar and yet exuding an aura of mystery tonight, greets her at her doorstep.  He apologises for being late, but he had to run down a few shops to find the perfect rose, which he presents in his hand previously hidden away behind his back from her sight.  “How romantic is this?” He teases, quietly confident that she would reciprocate in kind.  And as she is about to respond, he dramatically lets drop the single thornless stalk of rose onto the floor, and with the same hand that dropped it, pulls her from waist towards him.  Not expecting such a turn of events, her body surges with an incessant rage of excitement and she lets him pull her towards him.  He leans towards her, and kisses her, forehead first and then cheek to cheek and then ear…there are no words as he gazes on her and at her every reaction…he stops for a while, and whispers in a faintly optimistic tone, “you don’t know what you’re missing”. 

The words break her trance and enter her slipstream…she knows he is persisting with the “ear thing”, and she is not sure it is a good idea, though she cannot resist smiling at his persistence.  She is about to say something.  She opens her mouth but before she is allowed to say anything, his tongue is in her mouth, searching and forcing itself onto her tongue, and lunging at it with spasmodic bouts of domination…it seems to tame her initial surprise and mild skepticism with a foreign object inside her.  She keeps her eyes closed, as if to savour the newfound splendour of such intercourse…it is actually turning her on….and when she opens her eyes, she finds him gazing upon her with intense yet bleary eyes...In that moment, he is showing an inexplicable vulnerability that confuses her as much as causes her to fall in awe of him.

He immediately notices her staring, and then retracts his tongue from her mouth as if to taunt her with love, “I told you it would be nice”.  She sees him moving down and feels him necking her with minor jabs and suction, and she moans, a little at first, and then a little more.  The jabs and suction quicken…he becomes literally unrelentless and she is feeling a little attacked now (in a good, pleasurable sense). It is at this point she closes her eyes again and surrenders yet again to an intimacy she now feels coursing through her veins at 100000 miles per hour.  He has moved his attack over to her breasts which he has somehow exposed from her dress, tugging and sucking against her nipples with his cool, moist lips….and as he works deeper down her naval and even deeper into her nether regions, she is getting excited.

Her body starts to spasm uncontrollably, her cunt has gone from the moist of the first kiss to a warm, agonizing wetness. Her instincts take her over, as she places a finger right in and flexes it…he removes her finger and demands that she surrender herself fully to his dominance without adulteration.  Yet he knows she is a woman of her own free will so he reacts with an increased motivation to keep his control over her…pushing her down to the floor to spread her legs on her knees before ripping her dress off.  Such violation allows him the sensual upper hand of pleasure, and allows him the practicable convenience accessing her clitoris, upon which his tongue gets lapping and even bitey.  She is by now a total victim of his dominance, all her guard down, and truly surrendered. 

She starts to pant a little, and he is getting extremely turned on by her in all fours.  “I gotta fuck you now”.  He moves up and onto her, his fingers having taken over where his tongue had left.  Her eyes, still closed up to this point, opens momentarily only to see his penis hardened hard, but not enough to see it being shafted inside of her.   But she feels it within her, and it is a highly anticipated encounter.  She relaxes and contracts herself, as he starts pounding her, gently at first, rhythmically even, but always stealthily increasing in pace, intensity and vigour.  And he doesn’t stop pounding.  She cries out as she climaxes.  Still he doesn’t stop pounding.  She feels assaulted, what is this violation that is going on?  He finally collapses, as the vortex of the assault comes to them, next to her and all that is, all that was, has come to pass.

She opens her eyes, satiated, loved and connected; and sees the carnage of the assault…torn dress, crumpled jeans, juices spewed…and then she meets his eyes, intense yet bleary, and now teary.  Teary. 

“Why are you crying, dear?”

He gazes into her face and pours his heart and soul out to her.   He explains, that the bane of his entire sexual existence had been pornography.  It [pornography] had been a life long crutch, necessitated initially by a lack of self and later on, by a desire to do good.  In particular, he had been in a sexless relationship of 4 years during which he had to confront his inner demons of the consequences of such a relationship.  He found himself struggling to honour his commitment to her, often feeling empty about the suppression of sex and feeling inadequate about himself, he found himself turning to the comfort of It, a realm where he could indulge in any fantasy he craved and not feel bad about it (since he wasn’t actually fucking a real woman).  He did not know It would cause him to descend into the very darkness itself where “normal” porn stopped cutting it, and even “hardcore” porn took (at times) hours just to find the right one…but It did.  By the time he realised how bad It was, the reality presented a choice of continuing with It; or feeling entirely hapless in a sexless relationship; or cheating on her with a real woman - something he swore he would never do to her or any other woman in his life…and he did what he had to do (i.e., continue with It).  And in that reality spawned his nightmare and insecurity, that maybe, just maybe, he was addicted to It and had lost his all libido with real women.   He relinquished his personal power over real women, and it was too painful and frightening to confront It.  Or rather, he thought, he could sweep this under the rug, so long as he never lied to his partner about the fact that he used It – after all, everybody uses It in this post-modern world, don’t they?  Little did he know that in all his effort to shroud his toxic shame regarding his affliction to It, he only frustrated himself and the only woman that mattered to him.

“I am crying because for the first time in my life, I need help; and I don’t want to lose you over this.  I love you so much that I can’t live without you.”

He then reaches out to her hoping against hope for a returned acceptance from her…

Love & peace.