Please What?

"Please," I whisper, begging as I clench my eyes shut and feel tears I don't really understand blossom out between the lids.

"Please what?" he asks me, a cruel chuckle following it, "You'll have to be more specific than that. Please push your panties aside? Please push my big fat cock into your tight little slit? Please break you open? Please take your virginity? Please? Please don't stop?"

But I don't mean any of those and I know it. I know that I can't give in like this, that I'll regret it.

I want to get fucked, I do. I want it so badly that it's in the back of my mind constantly.

But not here and not now. Not in a dirty alley in fifteen quick minutes and definitely, absolutely, not by him.

Blake can't be the one to take my virginity. I can't let him.

Much as I might want him too, I know that's a bad idea.

But I can't deny him. My body can't deny him. My lips literally won't form the words and my vocal cords won't make the sounds to make me say 'Please just leave me alone' so instead I go with the closest I can come.

"Please fuck my face."

Yes, it's a far cry from begging him to stop. But frankly begging him to stop is absolutely not an option for me now and I know it. The need felt here is mutual between the two of us, and leaving without some measure of satisfaction is really a step too far.

Besides, the shock of my words has him stop even if just for a moment. Too bad for me it stops with him pressing so hard and so fully against my sex.

So, really, it gives me no relief at all.

For a moment all that I can feel is the pulsing of his head and the pounding of my heart and it takes me an instant to realize why it all feels so strange. It's because two people couldn't be more misaligned. Each beat of mine is followed in perfect synchronicity by one of his. So while we are keeping perfect time we are on opposite measure.

Polar opposites, we are.

This doesn't help me realize how wrong we are for each other, not unless you're counting the little knowledge that is almost academic in nature. And I already know that, the brain that is operating this body when it isn't dealing with the waves of heat rushing over me knows this.

It's a lot like being an addict. Maybe it is actually being an addict. No, I can't say that. That downplays what others have to deal with.

But still the comparison is apt, because when I'm sober I can't stop thinking about how wrong it is and when I'm riding high I can't stop thinking that all I want is more.

My sober brain doesn't go away though, not fully. It doesn't now and it never did on any of times I've gotten drunk or any of the few times I've gotten high. I guess that probably says something about me or at least over the foundations of my true nature.

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