Not just any story (END) My dark eyes search for a button in the night. my mind clouded with gore images of my recent ni

Not just any story (END) My dark eyes search for a button in the night. my mind clouded with gore images of my recent nightmare just look for a lighter and a cigarette. Damn Nightmare! - I say to myself, remembering the blood on the walls and dead and rotting animals in my nightmare.... - The weas that I dream of. I better not listen to cannibal anymore - I say, while I instinctively start listening to cannibal corpse "dead human collection". I move in bed. And I settle in, while I smoke my cigarette. I left the soft ones for the strong ones I wonder what will become of me in 10 more years I feel my body yearning and screaming. My body wants something He wants to calm down, he wants to satisfy himself. I finish the cigarette and turn off the discman, while I begin to gently touch my vagina, images of rods hitting my legs pass through my mind, of a guy penetrating me hard while pulling me hair and tells me what a whore I am. I like it, I would really like to feel it like that in reality. I start rubbing the "homemade vibrator" with my clitoris. I remember the feeling of that cock in my mouth, and his ejaculation excites me too much to remember that night in the rain, sucking like a bitch in heat. I feel my orgasm unleashing and I can't stop biting the pillow, while I moan thinking about how I would like to have the one with whom I held that "dialogue" by submitting myself, riding me hard, hitting me with a belt while pulling my hair. I still remember his words"I'm going to take care of you, but I'm also going to mistreat you" unfortunately it was never real, but that fantasy, that desire to be subjected remained, like a palpable mark on my strange conception of sex, which has changed over time and something like experience. But I don't finish masturbating. I leave the "vibrator" there, I grab the discman and listen to cradle of filth (her ghost in the fog) while I imagine whoever had the "dialogue" with me hitting my buttocks with his hands, feeling how he submits me and humiliates me. It is no longer him, but you who I imagine having me You will come to sodomize me, right? I imagine your member inside me, while you pull my hair and You lick my lips, you put your tongue between them and I feel a kiss, but no passionate, not tender, but an invasive kiss, a kiss that feels like a rapeI feel possessed by the memory and desire of being used by you, possessed by you. And I'm done. I feel how my vagina is filled with my juices, I grab and I twist my nipples while I appease my moans by biting my lips. If the If the night were longer, I would continue masturbating, I put my fingers in and out to feel the last orgasmic sensations that completely flood me for a few seconds. Little by little my mind becomes normal. I grab "Chronicle of a death announced" and I read calmly, waiting for sleep to invade me. That feeling of need no longer invades me. Nor of grief. The time will come when I must feel, the time will come when I must love. Now, I just want to live, as I am, as who I am. I will feel again, I always do it again. The future, the changes, everything is coming quickly impressive, and I wait for you, calm and without anxiety Therefore this is not just any story. It is not the typical story where the protagonist dies, it is not where she seeks "help" nor is it where he finds the one he thinks he always dreamed of and spends his nights thinking about him and her days being with him... The dreaded time will come when I will have to grow up Why? Why speed it up if I know how to take it? END