This is all organic, biological, normal… methodical. Visual stimulation occurs in my mind, causing arousal; her sense of being needed/wanted causes her emotions to be excited, resulting in a desire to make her partner happy.  We return to our natural state, unencumbered bodies, sliding next to each other the way they were created to. Senses strike senses and erupt in excitement. Certain nerves are driven to an ecstatic state, and the feeling of pleasure occurs. Our bodies were made this way. This shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s simple, natural behavior.

            But I guess she’s never done this before. We’ve been dating for two months, and she thinks I love her. She tells me to be gentle and that she trusts me to treat her well. Whatever. She’s just meat to me.

            Males and animals have a lot in common; especially males and carnivorous animals. You see we both see the same thing in other creatures: meat. The beast finds the meat and it could overtake it and kill it immediately, but instead it decides to chase it a while, then bat it with its paw, claws sheathed. Watch the creature roll around, wait until it’s helpless… then sink its dirty teeth into the animal and watch it bleed. Then the difference occurs: males don’t kill their prey, unless their prey is incredibly lucky. No, they let them suffer the rest of their lives. The bleeding never ceases with this pray. The man, one day, will either impregnate and get stuck with one prey, come to grief with his past and settle down with a creature unbitten, or will live its life guiltlessly slicing into animal after animal.

            We begin to kiss, she’s gentle and passionate and loving. Every kiss she sends my way tells me that I’m special to her, that she truly cares about me, that all she wants is to make me happy… because that’s how I make her feel. Happy. Blissfully happy. Me, I just want to throw her down and rip her to pieces. I just want to make her feel like the worthless shit she is. But she thinks I love her… that’s how I’m going to win.

            She pulls off her shirt as she whispers “I love you Todd…” Bullshit! You barely know me! You just know how I hold you when you’re scared of the lightning like a pathetic puppy and you know that I whisper the words you want me to say when your friend says mean things to you or you have a fight with your mother or you get a bad grade on a test and you start crying like a three-year-old.

I whisper back “I love you, too, Amy.” That’s what she wants to hear right? That’s all she’s really asking for: some more emotional bull to hold her over until I get what I want. I pull off my shirt and my belt. I do it subtly between cute little kisses on her cheek – I feel like I’m going to puke all over her! But I can’t… because she thinks I love her.

The process is long and boring; she insists on being romantic! I guess it’s understandable that she’d be this way, this being an “important moment,” her first time… She’s watched too many movies. She thinks this is “terribly romantic!” Hollywood has just ripened this one perfectly! She was just waiting for a boy like me to come along. Whisper to her, make her feel so completely ecstatic to wake up every morning, make her pathetic, waste-of-a-life feel worth living. And I’m good at that happiness shit. She thinks I love her… because that’s what she wants to think.

I finally get to the main event… I push into the narrow opening. She shudders… “It hurts don’t it?” I want yell at her, “You thought this moment would be blissful, didn’t ya?” – stupid, pathetic little bitch that she is. She’s just begging me to break her heart! But she thinks I love her… that’s why she’s in pain…

            Tears start to well up in her eyes. She thought it would be so very different from this, more beautiful and pure and worth singing to the world over; but I’m not holding back now… I’m charging in and she’s just going to have to deal with it.

She whispers “Todd… Todd… It hurts! It hurts a lot! Slow down! Please!” I want to yell at her, TOO LATE NOW, WHORE! You wanted this, and don’t you dare forget it! I made it plain and clear why I wanted to meet you tonight, and you’re not backing out now! Sit back and take it! This is MY TIME! All of those movies and dinners and sweet nothings… that was your crap, THIS IS MINE! But I say nothing, I just keep going, she’s not stopping me for anything. I just need to keep her thinking that I love her… a little while longer

Her will, like her fantasy, begins to ooze out the membrane at the bottom of her eyes… Sometimes they’re called tears.

            “Honey… stop it… You’re hurting me, Todd...”

            Fricken a… stupid, whining waste of breath! Fine, I’ll throw you a line.

            “It’s ok, Amy, it’ll only hurt a little while longer.” I sweetly whisper to her, in the same voice I used when I called her, telling her how much I longed to be with her!

But I know it’s not true…the part about it only hurting “little while longer.” It’ll hurt for a lot longer… first when it breaks inside her and she bleeds – which will be damn annoying to clean off my clean car seat – then again when she realizes she’s addicted and she can’t stop doing it and she’s hitting on every drunk bastard in the bar to get more. Once more it’ll hurt her when she’s impregnated by one of those sorry idiots and she’s stuck with that winner and his putrid offspring, or just the baby, or she’s stuck with the emotional scars after hitting a chop shop to have the little puke cut to pieces. Maybe she’ll just live her life being called a whore, as she slowly becomes one and she’s no longer appreciated for her beauty or for her strength of character… and she’s just another easy score in the corner booth of the bar.

Or maybe it’ll really get to her earlier than that… when she realizes what that spot on my balls is…

But she thinks I love her… I would never do anything to hurt her.

            She’s grabbing whatever she can, trying to relieve the tension anyway possible: the seatbelt, the front seat, the cup holder, me… If I really loved her, I’d slow down, take down the intensity, and treat her with more respect… But I just want to use this sorry little slut for just a while longer… But she thinks I love her… that’s why she’s here now.

The two animals wrestle for a while, the prey thinking it’s getting its way, not realizing for a moment that my teeth are already slicing into her jugular...
            Then, finally, we’re done. Just as quick it was at the start. I roll over and look at her, sweetly. She’s panting, tears streaming down her face like a leaking boat. I wipe them away… cause that’s what you do when you “love someone.” Right?

            “Are you happy?” I whisper… pretending, for a moment, to actually give a shit.

            “Yea…” She lies. I know she’s lying: she’s feeling like a piece of raw meat right now. Raw meat that has been stabbed with a fork, sliced to pieces by the knife, half-eaten by a disgusting, fat slob of a man with the red juices of the undercooked meat slobbered across his face. Then, over half-eaten, the tub of lard wipes his mouth with a napkin, washes his hands in the sink, and leaves the pieces on the table.

But she needs to lie, because she, in all her naïveté, thinks I love her… which is exactly what ruined her life.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Disclaimer: In this story swearing is frequent, not because the author believes swearing to be necessarily essential to art or expression, but because the persona that the narrator takes on in order to tell this story would be most likely given to swearing frequently and also because it gives him a quality worth hating. It also is used to show his utter disdain for the protagonist (Amy).