Tuesday, February 24, 2009


"I won't hurt you, I promise". Beautiful words, so assuring coming from the face I loved, the words resonating from the corners of my heart, dancing back and forth. Already, I was pouring sweat, so eager. It would happen tonight.
And I believed him, as our lips collided, passing saliva, a twisted dance between two tongues. My body firm on top of his, moving against eachother, topless, clothing somewhere in the room, but not in or world. Then he turned me over, wrapping arms around me as now he was in control, nibbling at my neck, my head tossed back in XTC, nails clinging to the flesh of his back so securely, as his lips moved up and down the soft, pulsing surface of my neck, shifting down across my breasts, my stomach, down, down, down, further in to the untouched realms.
Yet, even while his face, so innocent (My God, you're beautiful, golden hair tracing the precious flesh on your young pretty face) looked up to me with expecting eyes, I couldn't help but flinch away from the one I had been waiting for.
"Baby, why are you so shy? I won't hurt you, I'll go slow". That voice, oh, you know how I want you. Why do you have to be who you are? What are you doing to me?
"I want it to be with you, but I can't". I felt like crying, now denying myself the one thing I've hoped for since our first encounter, rooftops ago.
"Let's try again", he offers, almost begging, and I lay my head upon his chest and listen to his fast, beating heart, music I could throw myself at him to.
Oh you, my beautiful thing.
However, even while he begged me, and reminded me how bad I wanted him. Even while his body was pressed to mine, and I could feel how badly he wanted me, I couldn't let him have me, though I knew as soon as I admitted defeat I would be longing to be back in his embrace, back against him, my mouth creating patterns across his neck as he would moan, so cute, so pretty, so perfect.
"This will happen", I promised him.
And I never break a promise. But how long will he wait for me? It seems a while, by the eagerness he showed, still so in need long after I'd given up. All those promises that he'd not hurt me, would make me feel good, all those little moans of pleasure...
Never have I felt so disappointed in myself.

Ferret, still a virgin.


  1. Lolololol.

    It didn't happen tho, did it?
    I mean, does 'just the tip' count?


    No, I'm proud of you. You thought he was lovely. He isn't lovely at all. You were a very stupid naive girl. But, oh *sigh*, there's going to be more of this, isn't there?

    PLEASE, past me, don't fuckin' romanticise everything. It's dumb as hell.
    Ugh. But later, you do worse than that, don't you? Where you treat everything like ugly filth. THAT IS WORSE.

    Just be normal? Please?

    Hahahaha, I'm totally going to give you a complex. Is future me why past me is so fucked up? :3