Todestrieb
Lansdowne Street always looks like a ghost town at night, even when it is full of college students and other young people waiting nearly naked in the cold to get into one of several clubs that populate the area. Fenway Park looms huge over the jostling crowds, capping the noise on the street within its limits, leaving the sky above dark and impenetrable.
It's Ladies' Night at your favorite club. After showing your ID and having your hand stamped, you are ushered into the dark, sweaty space shaking with sound. You eye the dance floor for a moment, then make your way towards the bar at the side of the room.
A group of very drunk frat boys is seated at the bar. They are goosing one another and laughing hysterically. There is not a single girl sitting anywhere near them. They must be from MIT.
"Hey guys," you say, walking boldly up to the group as though you knew them already.
"Heeeyyy!" they great you in chorus, one of them harmonizing a melodic wolf whistle into the sound.
"I'm new in town," you lie. "Will one of you get me a drink?"
They all look at one another for a moment, then the one sitting closest to you nods, swinging around unsteadily on his stool to hail the bartender.
"So uh you like dancing?" the youngest of the bunch asks you, stifling a giggle as he finishes his question, looking you brazenly up and down.
"Not as much as I like fucking." It's out of your mouth before you know what you've said. Appalled at yourself, you smile seductively and shimmy up to the little one, running your hand up his pant leg. His smile melts into a grimace of abject terror.
"Uh great," he manages, looking to his buddies for help. But they all laugh at him.
"Don't waste your time on him. He's a virgin," says the leader of the group, handing you your drink. Downing it in a single gulp, you come to the conclusion that it is in fact cheap beer.
"Listen, guys," you say. "I'm looking to have fun tonight. I also need a place to stay."
"We live in a big house!" the little one declares, having recovered himself. "But you have to promise us you don't have any uh pathogenic, carcinogenic, uh diseases!" He breaks out into more uncontrollable laughter.
"Come on, guys," you command, nodding your head towards the door. Dumbfounded, they all sit rigid for a moment. Then the group's leader gets up and follows you. Another follows him. Then all four are following at your heels like puppies as you walk out of the club and turn towards the river. They are too drunk to realize that you know your way around too well for someone new in town.
"This is just like that vid on YouPorn!" the young one squeals.
Not at all unsteady on your feet, you are slowly swaying your hips from side to side. You have already removed most of your clothing and you struggle not to shiver as you move in circles along the inner circumference of the group. Their initial disbelief has given way to sheer excitement. Their logical minds have been sufficiently derailed by alcohol. This is your show now.
"Wow! Look at those tits!" one of them gasps.
"Come on, take it all off!"
Taking your time, you shake your breasts directly in the young one's face. Bending over in front of another boy, you ask him to slide your panties down your legs.
"Thank you," you whisper, stroking your hand lightly over the seams of his crotch.
You move to the center of the circle, where there is an old coffee table. Resting on your hands and knees, you gaze back over your shoulder at the leader of the group.
"Are you serious? Do you? Are you "
You nod in assent. Like most frat boys, especially the ones from MIT, he has an entire drawer full of condoms with potentially expired use-by dates. The other boys watch speechless as he pulls down his pants a bit, easily sliding a lubricated red condom onto his hard member.
There is a fluttering, breathless silence.
Then you feel it, that first indescribable invasion that feels so good, you spend the rest of the time wondering what you have to do to achieve that same sensation again. The boy has a clue as to what he's doing, and soon he has established a solid rhythm as his pelvis smacks against your ass. He is bigger than you would have thought, and you gasp a little, arching your back like a cat. The rhythm becomes faster, until finally he emits a loud groan, squeezing your ribs tight with his hand, and finally drooping forward on top of your glistening back. Looking around, you see three jaws on the floor, each of them trying furiously to process what has just happened, finding no good explanation for it, trying again to understand There are three more rock-hard penises that need your attention.
To your surprise, the little one stands up abruptly as though a geyser had just gone off under his seat. His face is red, almost angry in appearance as he stumbles his way towards you.
"Okay. Let's just get this over with."
A loud applause erupts in the room. His eyes are filled with terror and also something darker that you instantly recognize. You take him gently by the hand.
"Pull your pants down," you whisper. "Then lie down here." You get up, feeling the cold air soothe your sweaty back. Obediently, resignedly, he does as he is told. He looks miserable as you begin to pull at his nervous softness with both hands. Your pussy is full of a syrupy sweetness which hastens your efforts along.
"There's nothing wrong with feeling good," you say more loudly than you need to, beginning to handle him more roughly than you need to. Under your hands, he is trapped. His friends won't help him; you certainly won't help him. He is going to get fucked by you whether he likes it or not. There's nothing wrong with your feeling good. He whimpers a little as you slowly roll a condom down his pencil of a prick.
"No, wait, stop. I'm a virgin. This is wrong."
"I'm a Catholic too," you smirk at him, and again the room explodes with far-away laughter. He is actually beginning to cry as you finally manage to mount him. "Remember this moment," you whisper, lowering yourself carefully over him. He gasps, twisting his face this way and that. You can feel him shaking underneath you as you establish a slow rhythm. Why is he acting like this? Aren't guys supposed to like it hard and brutal? Your cheeks flush with rage as you begin to pound down on him harder. You continue hammering him into the table even when you feel that it is already over, has been over since...
"That's enough!" the leader finally interjects, his pants back on as he appears out of nowhere to pull you away from his friend. The little one's face is now streaked with tears and snot. When did that happen? You have to stifle a giggle. There is a suspended silence in the room.
"What the fuck was that?!" the boy screams, bludgeoning his way out of the stillness. He seemed to have been struggling against his shock, starting the scream minutes ago that only now has surfaced to the level of your ears. He is standing before you, naked and humiliated. Together you look like a perverse Adam and Eve. Looking furiously around him, he manages to locate his pants. He scoops them up in his arms, struggling with the lock on the door before bolting out into the hallway.
"Well," you manage to say, "It can only get better for him." But the remaining two seem to have lost their excitement. They cower and shrink into their chairs, glancing nervously at one another.
"Maybe you should leave," one of them suggests.
"Fine," you snap back at them. "What fine specimens of masculinity you all are, you fucking wimps."
"Get out of here, you crazy bitch!"
"Fuck you all!" You roughly pull your pants back up and throw your shirt on. Your hair is stuck across your sweaty face. You deserved to have this moment, but they took it away from you. You are furious as you struggle to maintain enough presence of mind to locate your purse and your keys.
As you are being escorted out the door, you suddenly feel a frigid and sticky wetness run down your head, onto your neck and down into your pants. Tasting a drop from your neck, you detect the same cheap beer that just a few minutes ago they had so eagerly bought for you. An ironic thought, that at least the alcohol can't really freeze in the cold, fills your head as they push you to the doorstep, shouting "Nasty skank!" and a few other choice things before finally slamming the door behind you.
You deserved to triumph. If there's nothing wrong with feeling good, then why aren't you allowed to feel good? The anger seething in you is so great, so far above and beyond you, you can hardly even see it. Its diffused rays burn you at first contact. Its shadow appears sparkling on every grain of concrete as you continue your aimless wanderings through the early-dawn city.
It's Ladies' Night at your favorite club. After showing your ID and having your hand stamped, you are ushered into the dark, sweaty space shaking with sound. You eye the dance floor for a moment, then make your way towards the bar at the side of the room.
A group of very drunk frat boys is seated at the bar. They are goosing one another and laughing hysterically. There is not a single girl sitting anywhere near them. They must be from MIT.
"Hey guys," you say, walking boldly up to the group as though you knew them already.
"Heeeyyy!" they great you in chorus, one of them harmonizing a melodic wolf whistle into the sound.
"I'm new in town," you lie. "Will one of you get me a drink?"
They all look at one another for a moment, then the one sitting closest to you nods, swinging around unsteadily on his stool to hail the bartender.
"So uh you like dancing?" the youngest of the bunch asks you, stifling a giggle as he finishes his question, looking you brazenly up and down.
"Not as much as I like fucking." It's out of your mouth before you know what you've said. Appalled at yourself, you smile seductively and shimmy up to the little one, running your hand up his pant leg. His smile melts into a grimace of abject terror.
"Uh great," he manages, looking to his buddies for help. But they all laugh at him.
"Don't waste your time on him. He's a virgin," says the leader of the group, handing you your drink. Downing it in a single gulp, you come to the conclusion that it is in fact cheap beer.
"Listen, guys," you say. "I'm looking to have fun tonight. I also need a place to stay."
"We live in a big house!" the little one declares, having recovered himself. "But you have to promise us you don't have any uh pathogenic, carcinogenic, uh diseases!" He breaks out into more uncontrollable laughter.
"Come on, guys," you command, nodding your head towards the door. Dumbfounded, they all sit rigid for a moment. Then the group's leader gets up and follows you. Another follows him. Then all four are following at your heels like puppies as you walk out of the club and turn towards the river. They are too drunk to realize that you know your way around too well for someone new in town.
**********************************
"This is just like that vid on YouPorn!" the young one squeals.
Not at all unsteady on your feet, you are slowly swaying your hips from side to side. You have already removed most of your clothing and you struggle not to shiver as you move in circles along the inner circumference of the group. Their initial disbelief has given way to sheer excitement. Their logical minds have been sufficiently derailed by alcohol. This is your show now.
"Wow! Look at those tits!" one of them gasps.
"Come on, take it all off!"
Taking your time, you shake your breasts directly in the young one's face. Bending over in front of another boy, you ask him to slide your panties down your legs.
"Thank you," you whisper, stroking your hand lightly over the seams of his crotch.
You move to the center of the circle, where there is an old coffee table. Resting on your hands and knees, you gaze back over your shoulder at the leader of the group.
"Are you serious? Do you? Are you "
You nod in assent. Like most frat boys, especially the ones from MIT, he has an entire drawer full of condoms with potentially expired use-by dates. The other boys watch speechless as he pulls down his pants a bit, easily sliding a lubricated red condom onto his hard member.
There is a fluttering, breathless silence.
Then you feel it, that first indescribable invasion that feels so good, you spend the rest of the time wondering what you have to do to achieve that same sensation again. The boy has a clue as to what he's doing, and soon he has established a solid rhythm as his pelvis smacks against your ass. He is bigger than you would have thought, and you gasp a little, arching your back like a cat. The rhythm becomes faster, until finally he emits a loud groan, squeezing your ribs tight with his hand, and finally drooping forward on top of your glistening back. Looking around, you see three jaws on the floor, each of them trying furiously to process what has just happened, finding no good explanation for it, trying again to understand There are three more rock-hard penises that need your attention.
To your surprise, the little one stands up abruptly as though a geyser had just gone off under his seat. His face is red, almost angry in appearance as he stumbles his way towards you.
"Okay. Let's just get this over with."
A loud applause erupts in the room. His eyes are filled with terror and also something darker that you instantly recognize. You take him gently by the hand.
"Pull your pants down," you whisper. "Then lie down here." You get up, feeling the cold air soothe your sweaty back. Obediently, resignedly, he does as he is told. He looks miserable as you begin to pull at his nervous softness with both hands. Your pussy is full of a syrupy sweetness which hastens your efforts along.
"There's nothing wrong with feeling good," you say more loudly than you need to, beginning to handle him more roughly than you need to. Under your hands, he is trapped. His friends won't help him; you certainly won't help him. He is going to get fucked by you whether he likes it or not. There's nothing wrong with your feeling good. He whimpers a little as you slowly roll a condom down his pencil of a prick.
"No, wait, stop. I'm a virgin. This is wrong."
"I'm a Catholic too," you smirk at him, and again the room explodes with far-away laughter. He is actually beginning to cry as you finally manage to mount him. "Remember this moment," you whisper, lowering yourself carefully over him. He gasps, twisting his face this way and that. You can feel him shaking underneath you as you establish a slow rhythm. Why is he acting like this? Aren't guys supposed to like it hard and brutal? Your cheeks flush with rage as you begin to pound down on him harder. You continue hammering him into the table even when you feel that it is already over, has been over since...
"That's enough!" the leader finally interjects, his pants back on as he appears out of nowhere to pull you away from his friend. The little one's face is now streaked with tears and snot. When did that happen? You have to stifle a giggle. There is a suspended silence in the room.
"What the fuck was that?!" the boy screams, bludgeoning his way out of the stillness. He seemed to have been struggling against his shock, starting the scream minutes ago that only now has surfaced to the level of your ears. He is standing before you, naked and humiliated. Together you look like a perverse Adam and Eve. Looking furiously around him, he manages to locate his pants. He scoops them up in his arms, struggling with the lock on the door before bolting out into the hallway.
"Well," you manage to say, "It can only get better for him." But the remaining two seem to have lost their excitement. They cower and shrink into their chairs, glancing nervously at one another.
"Maybe you should leave," one of them suggests.
"Fine," you snap back at them. "What fine specimens of masculinity you all are, you fucking wimps."
"Get out of here, you crazy bitch!"
"Fuck you all!" You roughly pull your pants back up and throw your shirt on. Your hair is stuck across your sweaty face. You deserved to have this moment, but they took it away from you. You are furious as you struggle to maintain enough presence of mind to locate your purse and your keys.
As you are being escorted out the door, you suddenly feel a frigid and sticky wetness run down your head, onto your neck and down into your pants. Tasting a drop from your neck, you detect the same cheap beer that just a few minutes ago they had so eagerly bought for you. An ironic thought, that at least the alcohol can't really freeze in the cold, fills your head as they push you to the doorstep, shouting "Nasty skank!" and a few other choice things before finally slamming the door behind you.
You deserved to triumph. If there's nothing wrong with feeling good, then why aren't you allowed to feel good? The anger seething in you is so great, so far above and beyond you, you can hardly even see it. Its diffused rays burn you at first contact. Its shadow appears sparkling on every grain of concrete as you continue your aimless wanderings through the early-dawn city.