Inside the mind of a pervert

Timeline 16:

Mediocre experiences with mediocre men. Something was missing, excitement, chemistry, fireworks and mind blowing sex. I suppose I had to find my stride, but at sixteen you’re about as sexually vibrant as a bowl of chicken soup. I was masturbating like, well, a teenager, but I wasn’t getting anything from men. So I tried something completely different. She was beautiful, olive skin and full lips, like something you’d see on the cover of a magazine. I felt much more confident with women. I felt like a predator around women, I had a confidence with them I just didn’t have with beautiful men. I ate her all night and she came again and again, but there was something missing again. Although I felt a power it was inside me, not because of her. She felt like masturbation, comfortable and pleasant but utterly devoid of passion. I needed something raw and base and carnal, something to make me feel like my body and mind had become something formless and explosive.

Timeline 24:

And that’s when it happened. This man was utter filth, he was everything I’d been waiting for. He was the man to rip out orgasm after orgasm from me and still make me feel like I could fuck him again and again. Our first night together wasn’t extraordinary, but the more time we spent together the more we found each other’s sweet spots. Mine just happened to be deep inside my arse. The first time I felt his cock inside my rectum it felt like I should have been on the toilet squeezing out a huge turd, but after that, and every time since it was the most exquisite, delicious, painful thrill. I was finally wet, oozing with sexual arousal, screaming and growling. The soft pop of my sphincter as the tip of his cock slid slowly into my arse made me take fistfuls of the bedsheets and roar like an animal. Nothing my body had tasted before was like this. Blindfolds, gags, hands tied behind my back, my hair in his fists ripping back my head and arching my body in sexual crescenticity. He was a fucking lion, he tore me to shreds and I reciprocated every line of blood drawn. Teeth and nails and aberration inflamed with the temper of a storm I felt like every atom of my body had been not only set on fire but sent to the depths of hell and back. If death was anything like this then I would have died with my arms outstretched and blood dripping from my body, crucified in carnal sacrifice.

I didn’t love him though, not until he left. And that sweet agony of longing when he’d gone was the only thing I had to remind me of that sweet, delicious torment. My flesh had become as well-versed as a living Rumi poem. All my future liaisons were to be measured by this man, nothing less than earth shattering would do from this point on. Never again would I just settle for the mundanity of a man thrusting away for his pre sleep orgasm. My body knew what it wanted now, and my mind was set free.