“Seriously love,” she said as a sneer curled her lip, "Are you just going to stand there all day like a wanker or are you going to get your money's worth?”
"I'm sorry," I stammered, barely able to form a coherent thought, much less a sentence, "it's just, well, it's just that it's…" Fighting panic, I reached into my pocket and grabbed the wad of bills my father had given me and threw them on the bed.
She laughed. She threw her head back and laughed, shaking the curls that covered her bare shoulders as she dropped the silken sheets.
"Is that what this is all about little boy? Did Daddy give you money for your first little fucky fuck?”
I heard the words and felt the shame of her intention but I was transfixed and unable to respond. She stood there, a real, naked, woman, and she was there to take me for the first time. That was all that mattered. Her sneer meant nothing.
The four steps across the carpet between us seemed like a thousand miles but somehow I crossed them. With matching height we stared at each other eye-to-eye and I reached out and touched my first breast. It was perfection and I could feel the heat of her skin on the palm of my hand. Making a circle between my thumb and forefinger I slowly cupped and caressed the skin as it came to its bumpy point and without any forethought I took her nipple between my fingers and pinched, hard.
“Shit love," she tried to back away "that hurts."
"I know." I felt nothing except the speeding freight train of my heart as I realized the tables were turning, and as a sneer curled my lip, I said, "I think it is supposed to."
"I'm sorry," I stammered, barely able to form a coherent thought, much less a sentence, "it's just, well, it's just that it's…" Fighting panic, I reached into my pocket and grabbed the wad of bills my father had given me and threw them on the bed.
She laughed. She threw her head back and laughed, shaking the curls that covered her bare shoulders as she dropped the silken sheets.
"Is that what this is all about little boy? Did Daddy give you money for your first little fucky fuck?”
I heard the words and felt the shame of her intention but I was transfixed and unable to respond. She stood there, a real, naked, woman, and she was there to take me for the first time. That was all that mattered. Her sneer meant nothing.
The four steps across the carpet between us seemed like a thousand miles but somehow I crossed them. With matching height we stared at each other eye-to-eye and I reached out and touched my first breast. It was perfection and I could feel the heat of her skin on the palm of my hand. Making a circle between my thumb and forefinger I slowly cupped and caressed the skin as it came to its bumpy point and without any forethought I took her nipple between my fingers and pinched, hard.
“Shit love," she tried to back away "that hurts."
"I know." I felt nothing except the speeding freight train of my heart as I realized the tables were turning, and as a sneer curled my lip, I said, "I think it is supposed to."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is fiction, however......
Is there a moment when a man turns? When he changes from shy and oppressed too angry and vindictive? Where is that moment when he realizes that he is stronger physically than she is mentally? Where does the man become criminal when he realizes that might makes right?
The movie cliché of visiting a hooker for your first sexual experience goes way back in American cinema. The shy boy who can't get the girl on his own is taken or forced or funded by friends expecting much hilarity and sexual embarrassment to ensue. For those who see virginity as a burden and women as the feared enemy, the situation is fraught with emotion.
You feel the failure of not being able to get a woman without paying the price. You fear being unable to perform up to your expectations, and you fear the painful disdain of a professional who has seen it all and knows what failure smells like. So I put myself in his shoes and imagined what it must feel like to make the discovery of your own strength at the moment of greatest humiliation.
Does that strength turn to confidence, to dominance, or does it leap across social norms and turn into subjugation of the enemy. Did he, at that moment, relive every painful high school rejection at the hands of the beautiful girl? Does he have a certain girl in mind, perhaps the girl next door who was his best friend until puberty intervened and she became, "that girl."
Where did he hide his pain? Where do we hide our pain? Can we store it deep enough that it does not come to the surface when given the opportunity? Do we suppress and hide and control the anger of a million humiliations until we find the perfect victim? Or can we truly let go of the pains of our past and find peace?
Where do we go when we discover the ability to control and return pain to others?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Go see who is is playing along at http://insatiabear.blogspot.com/
Soren: http://amorousdays.blogspot.com
Drenchxoxo: http://thedrenchedone.blogspot.com
Rozewolf: http://wordwytch.wordpress.com
Lexi: http://lex-ploits.blogspot.com
Just a Taste: http://sexandchocolatecake.blogspot.com
Big Geek: http://getting-a-grip.blogspot.com
Cara: http://bigakboy.wordpress.com
Spring Flower: http://agirlsgottahaveoptions.blogspot.com
Advizor: http://advizortoall.blogspot.com
Max: http://mystic-satyr.blogspot.com
Soren: http://amorousdays.blogspot.com
Drenchxoxo: http://thedrenchedone.blogspot.com
Rozewolf: http://wordwytch.wordpress.com
Lexi: http://lex-ploits.blogspot.com
Just a Taste: http://sexandchocolatecake.blogspot.com
Big Geek: http://getting-a-grip.blogspot.com
Cara: http://bigakboy.wordpress.com
Spring Flower: http://agirlsgottahaveoptions.blogspot.com
Advizor: http://advizortoall.blogspot.com
Max: http://mystic-satyr.blogspot.com
7 comments:
Great story and I loved the twist! Happy FFF~Katia
This is the mark of a well-written tale, in this case: that I truly don't want to know what happens next, because I'm afraid to find out. Rejection and scorn are powerful scourges, and more than a few of us have felt their lash. But fortunately only a few let it drive them to depravity, to use of force. The rest rise above.
Thought-provoking and more than a little disturbing. Nevertheless, thanks much for joining in this week.
-- PB
I've always found the rite of passage from boy to man as an interesting one. We celebrate such an event; even encourage it. It's not the same for that young girl struggling to embrace her womanhood is it? I often wonder if there was more equality with that step between genders if we'd be more healthy sexually. I believe we would. I can say, for me, it took me quite a few years to really hone in on my sexuality, feel natural about it and use each experience as one that made me a better woman overall.
As usual, you've made me think this morning. Nice work!
This is indeed a thinker, and also a disturbing tale. I can't help but wonder how this woman gets repeat business if she's taking customers who are this fragile and abusing them in this manner. Surely she's been bitten before by it. And then I think, well, maybe that's the point, maybe she specializes in hard-luck cases who need to have someone to hate-fuck, to get it out of their system. I'm not sure that's any happier a situation. And of course the commentary makes everything more opaque but in a wonderfully thought-provoking way.
I like it. I wonder what kind of men those boys turned out to be though. It is a darker story and perhaps a little disturbing, but I can live with that.
What great thought behind this one. Certainly makes one think...
~Soren
I think that the well paid tart is about to find out just how sweet and sour life can be. The pup is more of a pitbull than a poodle. Good story, and one I would like to see an expanded version of in the future.
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