I like you, Chris. You understand me. You listen to me. I like that -- I appreciate that.
You look cold -- are you warm enough? I can bring you more blankets if you nee- no, you're good? Good.
Where was I? Ah, Michelle. She was so beautiful -- I remember laying her down on the ground, the way she looked with the grass under her... She'd said she didn't want to get her clothes dirty, that I'd like her better without dirt on her, but I knew she didn't really mean it. I mean, that skirt alone just shouted her desire for me, that hot summer day.
Her long blonde hair was just so decadent -- I wrapped it around my fingers and just felt it, held it -- smelled it. She smelled so fresh and clean -- like autumn and summer and sun and wind... I can't describe it. It was magical.
I tore her shirt open, and she shrieked, and I felt her thighs squeeze under me -- women have such gorgeous inner muscles there, I just love to see them... I filled my hands with those beautiful tits and squeezed, squeezed hard. She moaned, low in her throat, and her hips bucked, but she couldn't move me - not that she wanted to. Without touching her, I could tell her pussy was wet. It doesn't matter who touches them, women always get wet, that's why they like wearing those tight tops and short skirts, so we can touch their pussies and feel them all wet and ready, all the time...
Sorry, I got caught up in myself. Right, I tore her shirt open, and squeezed those tits of hers. They just barely filled my hands, but I don't always like 'em big. She had great nipples -- they responded fantastically to being pinched. I like to pinch hard, to see those pink or brown tips turn white. Even the cold fish types react when you do that -- and who doesn't love a woman who thrashes about in bed?
She tried to hit my hands away, but it wasn't a very strong battle. We both knew who would win that fight -- and it wasn't her. Heh heh heh.
Her skirt had come up a little with her thrashing, so it was easy to push it up to her waist. I had to lift up a little to move it the rest of the way, and she tried to move, but I told her I wanted to be in charge this time -- that she could be on top later.
She kept wiggling as I undid my pants, but froze when I got my cock out. Her eyes took in its beauty, its majesty, its grandeur and splendour... I have a beautiful cock. Just big enough to fill a woman's hand or mouth, not to mention those wet pussies of theirs... I love to hold a woman's head, just grab fistfulls of their hair and fuck their pretty mouths, God that's so hot.
Oh, c'mon Chris, tell me you don't love the feel of a woman's mouth sucking you, or convulsing around you... no? Oh, I don't believe you.
Anyhow, I got my cock out and stroked it, right in her face. I could see she was almost scared of it, but she wanted it. Her eyes were focused on the sight of the head of my cock, moving in and out of my fist. If I hadn't been so hungry for her pussy -- and if I didn't know she wanted me to fuck her hard, like the dirty little bitch that she was, wel, I'd have finished right there in her face. But alas, I had other plans...
I backed down her body until I was kneeling between her legs. She tried to bring her knees together, but I pinched the inside of her thigh -- hard -- and that stopped that. I had one hand on her thigh to keep her in place, and one hand working up and down my cock. I could feel her leg muscle tense, like she was going to run. We couldn't have that, so I got my knife from where I'd put it beside us, earlier, and laid it high against her inner thigh. I angled it just a little, so she could feel the sharp edge against her.
She froze, as any good girl would do. "We don't want those pretty legs of yours to get marked up, do we? And you already made me bruise you once." I said, trailing off a little as I focused on how beautiful the metal looked against her tan flesh. "So beautiful..." I told her.
"But of course, this trampy thong must go," I said, as I slide the blade up and cut the sides of it, right over her hip. I slid the backs of my fingers into the crotch of her thong and pulled it away from her, throwing it far from me. I set the knife beside her at the same time -- I didn't need it yet.
"Only whores and strippers wear thongs, good girls wear white cotton panties at all times." My cock jumped in my hand as I pictured her as I'd often seen her, at home in her bedroom, clad only in white cotton underwear -- beautiful bras and panties.
I asked her when she'd started wearing such ugly underwear, and she said she'd started for her boyfriend.
Oh, you were her boyfriend, Chris? You two dated? It was because of you that my sweet, beautiful, innocent girl started wearing whore's underwear, started
flaunting herself in short skirts and short tops, started coming home late, with her clothes and hair messed up? That was because of you?!?
But I knew that. I did. I saw you dropping her off late at night. I saw you dressed up in fancy clothes to meet her parents -- and I saw you feeling her up outside, on the patio. You should know better, Chris -- you should know that women are to be respected and treated well, not treated like whores.
But you dressed my darling like a whore, then treated her like one, didn't you, Chris? You convinced her that she didn't need anyone else, that she was no better than any of those other whores you've dated.
I was always on the ouside, Chris -- do you know how that feels? Do you!?
No, Chris. no. You really don't. Why? Why do I say that? Because I got to see you. You got to be inside, always in the warm, never in the dark. Never outside in the cold, looking in, starved, your fingers frozen to your camera, waiting for hours at a time to see your beautiful, sweet, angel... No Chris, you really don't know what it's like.
But there, there on that forest floor, finally I would know what it was to be inside. There I was, one hand on my cock, one hand on my angel's thigh, and she was about to be all mine, finally. I was almost overcome with humblesness -- the feeling, the knowledge was just that incredible.
I looked at her face and I could see tears running down her cheeks. My angel was also overcome with emotion. She, too, understood the beauty of what was about to take place.
I took my hand off her thigh and rubbed it across her pussy, feeling the heat coming from her there. I slid my index finger into her, hard, the way I'd seen you do to her on the patio one night,
Chris, and like with you, she jumped and squealed. She wasn't as wet as I might've expected, but that was fine. I could still manage -- my cock was wet enough for both of us.
I lined my cock up with her pussy and slowly pushed forward, putting my hands on both of her wrists, which were still beside her face. She was so tight, I had to push harder than I might've otherwise liked, but I was there, finally, inside.
It was warm and nice and welcoming inside of her. I just stayed there for a moment, savouring the feeling. She started to struggle then, wiggling around, trying to get me to move, to love her properly. But if this was going to be our first time together, then I wanted it to be special.
I took my time at first, sliding in and out of her tight, hot pussy. She wasn't moving much anymore, and she had her face turned to the side. I wanted to see her, kiss her, look into her eyes -- you know what I mean, don't you, Chris? Or do you prefer doggy-style, where you don't look at your darling's face, that angel from which all girls look more or less the same? Yeah, I know, I saw the two of you...
You used to fuck her, my darling little angel! But I, I showed her love. I showed her how a
man makes
love to the woman
he loves, Chris. It's a shame you'll never be able to appreciate that, it really is.
I stopped moving, and she turned to look at me. Her eyes were shining brightly with tears, and I was touched that she was so moved by our first time together, like I was. I leaned down to kiss her beautiful mouth, and she bit my lip, hard.
I jerked my head back, my lip pulled painfully and even tore a little. I confess, I got a little mad -- who wouldn't? -- and I hit her. Not really hard, just a slap on the face, but I hit her. She'd hurt me!
She stared at me, tears running down her face, and a pink impression of my hand started to show up on her cheek. I leaned down to kiss it, and I told her I was sorry, that I'd make it up to her, and I started moving back and forth again, always telling her how sorry I was, and kissing her face, her ears, her neck.
The feel of her, the knowledge that it was us, together,
finally... well, you know how it is your first time with a girl, right, Chris? Sometimes it just doesn't last as long as you'd like, you know? Well, nonetheless, it was amazing. I came so hard, I was stunned. I mean, seriously stunned. I collapsed on top of her, telling her how much I loved her, how I'd always loved her, and I'd always protect her, and that was when she freaked. She just freaked out, trying to throw me off of her, clawing and biting me, just frantic.
All of her flailing had knocked me out of her, so it was an easy matter to crawl up her body and sit on her chest to keep her in place. I had my knees on her arms, and I put all of my weight on her to keep her quiet and in place, and it worked, sort of. She was still twisting and squirming around, so I hit her again, just to get her attention -- you know, like they do in the movies. It worked, in that she stopped and stared at me, panting. I told her it was normal to be scared when one first encountered strong emotions like this. I told her I'd been scared when I first knew I loved her, but that I'd grown to accept it, and it was a good thing.
This didn't seem to console her. She started screaming again, swearing at me and tryuing to unpin her arms. Now, normally I don't mind when a woman is going crazy beneath me -- you know what I mean, don't you Chris? -- but this was simply unacceptable. I tried to tak to her, to get her to see reason, but there was no getting through to her.
I settled myself more securely on her chest, pressing my weight on her more firmly. I saw her take a deep breath -- as much of one as she could -- and I figured she was going to scream. Well, it's one thing to have a lady scream in
passion, you know what I mean, but we couldn't be having with screaming out of fear, no. No, not that. Not then.
I put my hand over the lower half of her face, and I leaned forward a little, putting some weight behind it to drive my point home. I needed her to
listen, to
understand, that we were
meant to be!I kept my hands in place as I explained this to her, that she and I were destined to be together, that I
loved her, and I knew she loved me. I could tell she loved me, that she understood me, that she was my soul mate.
She kept making noises under my hands, but they weren't clear words, and I wanted her to just
be quiet, to just
shut up, wouldn't she just
shut the fuck up already and listen!I lifted my hands up after that and looked at her. She was finally quiet, finally not thrashing about, and I was able to tell her how long I've loved her, and the dreams I've had for the two of us. I told her of the dreams I've had for the two of us. I told her of the house we could live in, the wedding we could have -- though of course I'd listen to her choices in that matter, I know that women plan their weddings from the time they're born -- the children we'd have, beautiful children with my nose and ears, and her hair and eyes, her beautiful... beautiful... dull... eyes...
I realized then she wasn't breathing, or moving, or anything. She wasn't hearing my plans for our future! I needed her to hear them, to tell me that she'd dreamed of the same future...
So I shook her. I shook her shoulders, and slapped her face, squeezed her hands, I even tried blowing into her mouth a few times, but nothing -- she was gone.
I put her body on the blanket, and wrapped her up carefully -- I didn't want to run the risk of that smooth skin getting damaged. I put my knife in my pocket, loaded her in the car, and drove her out here, to your cabin, where I could keep her safe. I laid her out on the bed, arranging her just so, and then I came in here to sit and watch her. And wait for you.
I knew you two were going to meet her tonight, and I had plans for you all along. You know the story from here, don't you Chris? You came in, dropped your bag by the door, then went into the bedroom and saw her on the bed... you came in here and noticed me, and then we fought.
You're a strong guy, Chris, but you were no match for me. It was an easy matter to get my knife out and into you.
It moved so smoothly, too... I hadn't thought it would, for some reason.
Deep in your stomach I was able to sink my knife -- just like sliding a hot knife through butter. I slid it up as I pulled it out, and you just looked at me, shocked. You looked at your bag, and looked at me, then sat down in that chair, there, like you needed to catch your breath or something. I went over to you, and you were asking me something -- you wanted to know who I was.
How could I answer that quickly? The easiest way was to start right from the beginning, so I told you of working at the gas station, and you seemed so interested and understanding, I knew you'd get how I felt about Michelle...
But you got angry. I understand how devastating it was to learn that you and Michelle weren't meant to be, that it was her and I who were destined all along... But you really should've have tried to attack me, Chris -- we were getting along so well...
It's confused in my head, Chris, and I thought talking to you would help sort it out, but now I just don't know. How many times did you rush me? How many times did I have to fight you off? I just don't know... and my head hurts, now...
I think I'm going to go lie down with Michelle now, Chris. We'll need some privacy -- I want a big family, you see -- and I've been away from her for some hours already, as I talk to you...
I'll just put some more wood on the fire -- you're almost blue, you're so cold! I hear sirens -- I wonder what's going on? Ah well. Can you deal with anyone who might come to the door?
Thanks, Chris. You're a good friend.
