Todestrieb
Anna O. and I have something very interesting in common.
We both love to masturbate.
For as long as I can remember, I have started every morning with a good wank. I used to do it in bed because it's more comfortable there, but Jane found that objectionable so I took refuge in the shower. I have a great cock, longer than average and super thick. I just turned 45, but thanks to a flawless diet and a shitload of yoga and cycling, I stay rock-hard for as long as it takes to make her scream or make me scream. I love watching how the veins get all stressed and tense, just like my face when I'm angry. Sex is an angry act, and anyone who says otherwise is deceiving themselves. It's certainly an angry thing in the morning, standing there in the shower, ready to put my fucking fist through the wall as all those memories come flooding in, back in Indiana that cheating two-timing bitch and I spray the shower low and high with my seed. I watch as it mixes with the water, washes down the drain, reassures me that I am in fact nothing and therefore don't need to be troubled.
Anna brought up the subject before I did. She saw how my hand kept resting on my crotch and made some crack that my doing that reminded her of her father, whom she of course hates.
"Actually, it was just there because it was there. Nothing sexual intended." Liar. I am a liar. But I wanted to draw her out. "I see there's something in it for you, though. Did you want to talk about it?"
"What is there to say?"
"Don't say anything."
And with that, I unzipped my fly for the second time in our professional collaboration. Feeling the cool office air and seeing Anna there in all her pale splendor, my Little Bighorn stood right to attention. She couldn't do anything but stare at it. I swear I saw her hands twitching. She wanted to reach out and grab hold, stick it in her mouth and thank me profusely when I slapped her across the face with it. She sat in all her moving stillness, staring, just staring down in a state like physical suspension. As much as I wanted to fly across the room and nail her to the spot, I exercised my amazing self-control. I channeled all that sex fever into my shaking right hand, which I began to run very gently up and down my shaft. Speech was next to impossible, but I did manage to say,
"Get going on yourself and we'll continue our conversation."
She licked her chops once more at the sight of my cock, but since she is likewise a creature of amazing self-control, she managed to shimmy her way down to her back, dropping her pants off the side of the examination table. She turned her face toward me once, as though to make sure that the whole thing were not an illusion that would soon prove embarrassing for her. Seeing that I had not changed that gradual stoking, she reached down under her panties to do likewise. I was amazed at how gently she touched herself, this girl so filled with violence. Another Anna revealed itself as her fingers seemed to write a secret message in her flesh. A soft Anna, an Anna that would kiss rather than bite, an Anna that might even be capable of trust. Reassured in my methods and inflamed by that heavenly vision, I began to pull harder at myself.
"Tell me, Anna" I said, "How long have you known how to pleasure yourself?"
"Since I was three or four," came her quiet answer.
"And what did you first imagine while you were doing it?"
"That I was a deer being hunted, like Bambi."
"And did you ever get shot?"
"Always, that was always how it ended."
"Interesting. Did anyone ever see you while you did this?"
"I often touched myself in public. I thought it was natural."
"It is natural." Looking at her, I could see Anna's cheeks were bright red, her back arched, her eyes shut tight and straining bravely towards recollection.
"Do you like to get fucked, Anna?"
"Oh God yeah." The speed of her hand increased, a change that I gladly matched in my own efforts. I wondered how much longer I could last. I wasn't in control anymore; it was all Anna. Everything is all Anna.
"Tell me how you like to get fucked."
"I like it hard and rough and impersonal."
"Yeah? Do you like the sight of a big hard cock?"
"Fuck yeah."
I could tell from her voice she was almost there, but there was still something missing from the equation. I hadn't found what I was looking for yet. We were both about to run out of time, so I asked her the following question:
"When was the first time you laid eyes on a man's hard cock?"
At this her hand froze suddenly, paralyzed within her delicate sex. I waited breathless for her response.
"When I was seven years old," she murmured, staring up at the ceiling.
"Did it hurt?"
"Yes."
"Did it hurt a lot?"
"Yes!" To my surprise, she began clawing at herself with both hands, twisting in all directions as she screamed, "It hurt worse than anything you could ever imagine! It hurt! It hurt! It hurts!"
My hand hesitated to take up the battle again, but I needed to stay on Anna's otherworldly level. I began furiously jacking off, seeing visions of violent assaults and everywhere, everything devastated by fire. Hot and heat, I could feel my shirt soaked through with sweat. As I imagined her getting raped, I again had to hold back from tackling her there on the bed, from proving that I could do it better than he did, harder than he did, crueler than he did.
"Pain, Anna. Fuck the pain! Fuck it hard!"
An inhuman sound filled the room as we both disappeared into our own worlds to finally reach that lonely summit. I fixed my eyes on her, on the thought of her little cunt pounded into a bloody mush. I choked silently on my breath, quickly pulling out the Kleenex that I keep in my pocket for just such occasions. I had achieved my goal.
Anna lay curled up tight on the bed, facing the wall with both hands covering herself protectively. She was crying audibly and I could feel my heart breaking as I looked upon her. I wanted to stroke her hair lightly as I had so often done for my own daughter, whispering my love into her ear. But Pandora's Box stood open in all its cruelty and would have to remain that way until a resolution could be yes, at any cost, a resolution. I quietly fastened my pants, wiped my brow and covered my guilty body with my lab coat.
"Ok, Anna," I said coolly. "That's all the time we have for today."
And I left the room.
We both love to masturbate.
For as long as I can remember, I have started every morning with a good wank. I used to do it in bed because it's more comfortable there, but Jane found that objectionable so I took refuge in the shower. I have a great cock, longer than average and super thick. I just turned 45, but thanks to a flawless diet and a shitload of yoga and cycling, I stay rock-hard for as long as it takes to make her scream or make me scream. I love watching how the veins get all stressed and tense, just like my face when I'm angry. Sex is an angry act, and anyone who says otherwise is deceiving themselves. It's certainly an angry thing in the morning, standing there in the shower, ready to put my fucking fist through the wall as all those memories come flooding in, back in Indiana that cheating two-timing bitch and I spray the shower low and high with my seed. I watch as it mixes with the water, washes down the drain, reassures me that I am in fact nothing and therefore don't need to be troubled.
Anna brought up the subject before I did. She saw how my hand kept resting on my crotch and made some crack that my doing that reminded her of her father, whom she of course hates.
"Actually, it was just there because it was there. Nothing sexual intended." Liar. I am a liar. But I wanted to draw her out. "I see there's something in it for you, though. Did you want to talk about it?"
"What is there to say?"
"Don't say anything."
And with that, I unzipped my fly for the second time in our professional collaboration. Feeling the cool office air and seeing Anna there in all her pale splendor, my Little Bighorn stood right to attention. She couldn't do anything but stare at it. I swear I saw her hands twitching. She wanted to reach out and grab hold, stick it in her mouth and thank me profusely when I slapped her across the face with it. She sat in all her moving stillness, staring, just staring down in a state like physical suspension. As much as I wanted to fly across the room and nail her to the spot, I exercised my amazing self-control. I channeled all that sex fever into my shaking right hand, which I began to run very gently up and down my shaft. Speech was next to impossible, but I did manage to say,
"Get going on yourself and we'll continue our conversation."
She licked her chops once more at the sight of my cock, but since she is likewise a creature of amazing self-control, she managed to shimmy her way down to her back, dropping her pants off the side of the examination table. She turned her face toward me once, as though to make sure that the whole thing were not an illusion that would soon prove embarrassing for her. Seeing that I had not changed that gradual stoking, she reached down under her panties to do likewise. I was amazed at how gently she touched herself, this girl so filled with violence. Another Anna revealed itself as her fingers seemed to write a secret message in her flesh. A soft Anna, an Anna that would kiss rather than bite, an Anna that might even be capable of trust. Reassured in my methods and inflamed by that heavenly vision, I began to pull harder at myself.
"Tell me, Anna" I said, "How long have you known how to pleasure yourself?"
"Since I was three or four," came her quiet answer.
"And what did you first imagine while you were doing it?"
"That I was a deer being hunted, like Bambi."
"And did you ever get shot?"
"Always, that was always how it ended."
"Interesting. Did anyone ever see you while you did this?"
"I often touched myself in public. I thought it was natural."
"It is natural." Looking at her, I could see Anna's cheeks were bright red, her back arched, her eyes shut tight and straining bravely towards recollection.
"Do you like to get fucked, Anna?"
"Oh God yeah." The speed of her hand increased, a change that I gladly matched in my own efforts. I wondered how much longer I could last. I wasn't in control anymore; it was all Anna. Everything is all Anna.
"Tell me how you like to get fucked."
"I like it hard and rough and impersonal."
"Yeah? Do you like the sight of a big hard cock?"
"Fuck yeah."
I could tell from her voice she was almost there, but there was still something missing from the equation. I hadn't found what I was looking for yet. We were both about to run out of time, so I asked her the following question:
"When was the first time you laid eyes on a man's hard cock?"
At this her hand froze suddenly, paralyzed within her delicate sex. I waited breathless for her response.
"When I was seven years old," she murmured, staring up at the ceiling.
"Did it hurt?"
"Yes."
"Did it hurt a lot?"
"Yes!" To my surprise, she began clawing at herself with both hands, twisting in all directions as she screamed, "It hurt worse than anything you could ever imagine! It hurt! It hurt! It hurts!"
My hand hesitated to take up the battle again, but I needed to stay on Anna's otherworldly level. I began furiously jacking off, seeing visions of violent assaults and everywhere, everything devastated by fire. Hot and heat, I could feel my shirt soaked through with sweat. As I imagined her getting raped, I again had to hold back from tackling her there on the bed, from proving that I could do it better than he did, harder than he did, crueler than he did.
"Pain, Anna. Fuck the pain! Fuck it hard!"
An inhuman sound filled the room as we both disappeared into our own worlds to finally reach that lonely summit. I fixed my eyes on her, on the thought of her little cunt pounded into a bloody mush. I choked silently on my breath, quickly pulling out the Kleenex that I keep in my pocket for just such occasions. I had achieved my goal.
Anna lay curled up tight on the bed, facing the wall with both hands covering herself protectively. She was crying audibly and I could feel my heart breaking as I looked upon her. I wanted to stroke her hair lightly as I had so often done for my own daughter, whispering my love into her ear. But Pandora's Box stood open in all its cruelty and would have to remain that way until a resolution could be yes, at any cost, a resolution. I quietly fastened my pants, wiped my brow and covered my guilty body with my lab coat.
"Ok, Anna," I said coolly. "That's all the time we have for today."
And I left the room.