Lies 017

Oh yes, the old thrusting in and out. Looking down at her laying there, eyes closed. Her mousy hair just a bit ruffled and out of place. Looking like an angel.

And what the hell is this about? How did this happen?

Was it the drugs? The booze? Whatever happened to romance? Respect? Whatever happened to getting to know someone really well before pushing them over, pulling down their pants, and having a go?

I mean, yeah, this must be great. It really MUST be.

But, I don't know, you stalk someone, you think of them obsessively, and when the moment finally comes, it's not how you think it would be, and it's not the same.

Maybe this is better. I haven't had to use duct tape, and she won't be emotionally traumatized for life.

Looking at her face, how she's biting her lip, she seems to be enjoying herself.

I just have to do the thrusting, and live with the back pain later.

Thank god I drank just enough to numb, but not too much to put me out of the game.

Oh yes, I bet you anything this is just actually awesome. Here I am, pushing in and out. Everything is warm and wet and wonderful, just as it should be.

Only, I think she's being a bit rash here.

I hope she doesn't find those photos of herself hidden under my bedside drawer. Those would be hard to explain.

Just need to pretend I'm fucking a prostitute, and forget it's her, at least for the first few times.

Yes, that will keep me calm.