teasing me about him, and personally I don’t find that funny at all.
If I were less stressed and tired after my particularly shitty evening spent chasing after some little fool in order to explain – as if I owed it to her – that I did not in fact fuck her former classmate, a small flicker of intelligence might lead me to wonder why on earth she gets to me quite this much, but I am tired and stressed and I’m not asking any questions. I just think I’d better take care not to reveal anything about Rebecca’s offer of two thousand dollars, which I refused without batting an eye, I might add. I didn’t say no because I have feelings for Penny – no romance here, just a little common sense. I could have used that cash, but I’ve had my share of dirty money and maybe it’s time I earn some without sacrificing my own conscience.
I’m not sure quite how it happens, but my conversation with Penny suddenly takes a strange turn. Don’t push me too far, baby, don’t do it. I’ve been wanting you for weeks.
And then, with those texts from that moron Igor just adding to my frustration, and Penny boasting about them and trying to read them to me, all I wanna do is lift her dress and shove it inside her right now.
Don’t push me, Penny – I barely need an excuse. One more challenge from her, and then there’s no holding back.
I’m so hot for her, but I try to give her the space to leave. Maybe she’ll think about it and realise the mess she’s about to get into, and that I’m not the right man for a girl who wants princes and violins. I don’t know how to speak words of passion. If she wants sweet whispers and poems she should go.
I begin to undress in an attempt to scare her, but she’s not scared. She watches me as if I were a puzzle without an answer, then sits on the bed and calls me over with her eyes.
And that’s good enough for me. She’s not a little girl anymore, is she? And if it’s OK with her, then who am I to say no?
I put my tongue in her mouth, and she tastes good, sweet and juicy, so I devour her. I sink between her lips, and I’d like to stay like that for an hour, just kissing her, biting her nipples, licking her pussy, before spending the rest of the night fucking her in every corner of the bed.
But it’s not possible. There’s no time – it would be absurd and I can’t be indulging in all this crap. I just need to fuck her. Guys like me don’t bother with foreplay.
I’m undressing her and suddenly my lungs are expanding, like I’ve suddenly inhaled several tons of air all at once, and when she’s finally naked in front of me, my erection becomes one of the most immense I’ve ever had in my life. The blood is literally singing in my ears, flowing from my brain all the way down to my legs. I just don’t know what the hell is going on with me.
She’s tight, so tight and sensual that I multiply inside her. I look at her, and I push in again and again and again, as hard as I can, until I come, I come and cry out, I come and I want to call her by her name, her full name, Penelope, and it’s so strong, this wanting to do it, but I manage to stop myself.
I don’t want her to leave yet. We have to do it again. Once is not enough for me – it’s really not. I still have so many things I want—
And then I see the blood.
Blood on the condom, on the bed, on her skin.
I’m paralysed for a moment, looking at this sign that’s unmistakable. She was a virgin.
My memory rewinds to the moment when I entered her, and I see my passion, my violence, my rhythm, and I feel like someone who’s torn a lamb apart with his bare hands.
‘You should have told me!’
The idea that she might hate me now, the suspicion that what I did was horrible for her – it pisses me off and makes me feel weak, all at the same time. I need a damn cigarette. I have to think.
Think about what?
I’m sinking into a swamp of paranoia here, and it’s not my