Remember When We Were Young
His thoughts were completely on her, as usual. As he carefully, and strategically placed items around the room, he mentally played out the scenario – wanting, as always, for his script to go perfectly. His desire, to achieve a level of bliss and sexual satisfaction for his partner that they had only achieved on rare and magical occasions. There was a time, in the not so distant past, when passion – consuming, feverish, and sometimes dangerous – was the rule, and not the exception.
He thought of a few of those times now.
He remembered, in college, when she had been intoxicated at the fraternity house. He understood her game, of course. They had broken up just recently before. She loved her future husband, and would do anything to help convince him that he should respond in kind. How he had hurt her during those times, those younger years before marriage. He recalled how strange it felt to see her dancing so closely with the hulking – linebacker, offensive lineman? He had noted the the firm grip of his hands on her buttocks, the grinding of his pelvis against her stomach, and the tongue exploring every part of her offered mouth. He understood clearly from that this man would have no satisfaction until he took her, roughly and completely. She had drunk four or five beers, which was plenty sincan escort enough, given her light constitution, to cause her to risk her then-virginity, her safety. Given the player’s importance to the team, rape wouldn’t even be the case – just two drunk college kids having sex. He knew she wouldn’t be able to extricate herself, once they made their way upstairs to the frat house bedrooms. He hesitated, considering following to see how the situation would develop. It was a tantalizing prospect, the idea of surepticiously watching this inebriated brute ravage this girl – HIS girl. He also knew that he would feel horribly guilty later if he were to allow it to happen, knowing that her efforts were to make him jealous. He believed her when she told him that only he had been intimate, to any degree with her. He decided that he couldn’t live very well with himself if he did nothing to prevent what was clearly aligning to become a potential rape. This guy, who he had met on a couple of occasions, took pride in how much he could get a girl to do with him while intoxicated. He could easily envision him forcing his cock into each of her orifices, violently fucking her in every way, shoving himself into her mouth, then pussy, then asshole. He knew that, as with other conquests, he would then offer ankara escort her to some of his closer ‘buds’ on the team – slapping their shoulders and telling them they owed him one for his ‘gift’. Then, left in the aftermath of the ordeal, the girl would have been changed, irrevocably scarred, likely far removed from the woman he’d come to love and eventually marry.
He had acted, approaching her and demanding that she come to the car to get her keys. The hulk turned to him, eyes narrowing in recognition that something was not in accordance with his plan. Glowering, posturing menacingly, he growled “She better be back soon.” But she did not return, transported instead to her future husband’s dorm room, after a brief stop at the bathroom to vomit up the alcohol remaining in her stomach.
He then thought of a later time, just before they were married, when he was living at Randy’s apartment. She had been influenced by some secondary pot smoke on that evening, which would explain why her inhibitions had been lowered, then removed completely. He didn’t know what the combination of factors were that caused her to become so incredibly turned on – rabid with her own desire. She had been vocally demanding, tearing her clothes off and directing – no, ordering him on precisely what to do and how she etimegut escort needed him to do it. When he moved too slowly she grabbed his pants, swearing as she ripped them down his legs. Then she had grabbed his underwear, almost tearing them off in her feverish haste. She had thrown herself back onto the bed, spreading her lovely legs, imploring him to “fuck me hard – now”. Then, when the missionary position seemed to not provide enough satisfaction, she had pushed him backward, mounting him and dropping immediately onto his cock, slamming up and down until, amidst grunts and profanity, she had thrust upward just before her pussy showered him with her juices. He had relished the extreme level of intensity, would give anything to resurrect the passion in his wife once more. His efforts now were in fact part of that drive to rekindle the desperate, needful, sexual energy that she had demonstrated on that occasion. He wanted her to know how much he desired that animalistic sexuality she had sometimes revealed. He paused, ruminating for a moment on a night when she had crawled on top of him, lowered her mouth to his ear and whispered “I want you to shove your cock into my cunt, right now.” Where had that come from? How did this sweet, seemingly innocent woman transform into the sexual vixen in the blink of an eye? He was thrilled then, and thinking of it even now brought pleasure shivers and a growning hardness in his jeans.
He waited for her now, clinging to the hope that somehow, the passion could be ignited again.