Love or Something Lie It

Dear Michael,

I am writing you this letter to try and explain to you (and myself), why I have decided to leave you.

When I look back over what has happened since I met you there are so many emotions to describe what I've been through at various stages of the year that I do not know where to start. Happiness, disgust, betrayal and naivety are a few that come to mind. But, to have gone in such a short time from being a mental and physical virgin to a woman who allowed herself to be used for vaginal, anal and oral sex all at the same time speaks for itself.

You did not force me into anything: this road was freely and willingly travelled, I chose it and I travelled it. I could have left at anytime I wanted to, but chose not to, not knowing that sex can be as addictive as any other pleasurable activity, especially when taken to an extreme.

This letter is being written with the help of a detailed diary that I have kept over the last year or so; for there is no way that I could remember the details that you will read here.

As I write this, I realise that I have partaken in some things so depraved that I am ashamed to admit to them, and, one year ago would never of even thought about them, never mind find myself capable of doing them.

Again, I have no intention to try and blame you for what has happened, although a portion of the blame must fall on you, after all, you knew what you were doing whereas I was a virgin in more ways than one. But, to be fair to you, I started this journey, and only I can finish it. Try to read this letter to the end, and then maybe you'll understand why I have to go my own way to try to re-find that quiet corner I was living in before you came into my life, to try to find some peace of mind and break myself of this addiction.

When I met you in that run-down café by the side of the canal that day it must have been fate. Even though I was born and raised here in Birmingham, I had never been along the canal bank until that day. What possessed my to walk along it that day I will never know, or to walk into a café that looked from the outside more like a run-down shack, only the sight of an old Wurlitzer jukebox through the grime encrusted, cracked windows told me any different.

As soon as I walked in the door I saw you, my eyes guided to you as though they had been seeking you all my life. I sat down at the table next to yours and waited to be served, not knowing that in that kind of place there's no such thing as table service.

While I waited to be served I looked you over, even though you were looking through the window and more interested in what was going on outside. Sliding my wristwatch up my arm I lamely asked you for the time, even though there was a huge, neon clock advertising Coca Cola over my head with a tick loud enough to wake the dead.

As soon as you turned to face me I could see from your expression that you had been crying. Nevertheless it was your eyes, those eyes that sunk straight into mine and latched onto my brain, holding it, controlling it, and making it yours. As I sat there with mouth agape staring, you must have thought that I was on something or mentally incompetent, for I have never eyes as powerful as yours, before or since.

Without even being asked, I stood, walked over to you and sat on the opposite side of your table, unable to break my gaze into the most beautiful, powerful and, (as I know now), the most dangerous eyes I had ever seen. It was only when you (or was it I?), I broke eye contact that either of us was able to speak. The first words that you spoke only compounded my feeling of helplessness.

'Where have you been until now? I've been waiting ages for you.'

'I'm...I'm sorry; I think you are mistaking me for somebody else. I didn't arrange to meet you here. This is the first time I've seen you...'

The broad smile that broke over you face took me by surprise and stopped me dead in my tracks.

'In this lifetime, yes. But we have met before, I can feel it and so can you, which is why you sat here in the first place. Now, if you're waiting for someone to bring you something to drink you're wasting your time, it's self-service. What would you like?'

Without even waiting for me to answer, you brought me the only thing I drink when I'm out, diet Coke with plenty of ice. As you placed it on the table I opened my mouth to ask you how you knew, and the realized I'd be wasting my time. Of course you knew...and, in the back of my mind, I knew also.

'By the way, my name is Rebecca, Becky for short.' I said, trying to make some semblance of conversation. 'And you are...?'

'Michael. It's reassuring to know that you didn't change your name, although all my life I've felt that I should have been called something else...'

Taking a sip of the Coke and fighting to keep my eyes off yours, I tried to logically analyse what had happened since I walked in, why I felt in immediate danger yet helpless to get up and walk away.

By now you know where I stand on things mystical, i.e. reincarnation, life after death, life before birth, the spirit world etc. etc. Before I met you I'd never given it much thought, and yet there have been times since I met you that I've thought of nothing else.

Did we have some unfinished business together from a previous life? I don't know. What I do know is that when you invited me back to your place, a well-ingrained self-defence mechanism taught to me by my mother regarding virginal women being alone with men on their initial meeting clicked into place.

I have never told you how hard it was for me to get up and walk away from that hurt, puppy-dog look of yours, but with the sexuality oozing out of your body the way that it was, I now know that my virginity would have been history if I'd gone with you. It was anyway three days later, but I believe that I have brain washed myself into believing that that incident was of my own choosing, not yours.

The second time that we met you were again waiting for me when I walked in, but this time you didn't even let me sit down. Standing, without a word of explanation, you left your unfinished coffee on the table took me by the hand and walked me out the door, and I, like an obedient child, went with you.

'Do you realize what these last three days have been like?'

There was a hurt in you voice that, either by accident or design, made me feel guilty, something that I hated (and still do). If you'd asked me, I could have told you how the previous three days had been for me, with a constant ache in my groin that didn't go away, (even after constant clitoral masturbation), and nipples that stood so hard that they were painful whenever I thought of you (which was often).

'I have had an almost constant erection ever since we met.' you continued, 'I go to bed hard through thinking of you and find it impossible to sleep without masturbating first. I just need to think of you and it stands so hard that it is painful. Nobody has ever had that effect on me. Does any of what I'm saying make sense to you?'

I nodded my head, then too shy to share with you the details that I have just written about myself. I had had male friends before, but they were just that, friends, not lovers. I had always believed that when I met the man who was going to take my virginity I would know it, like I did now, with you.

I had known that that day was going to be the day even before I reached the café, I could feel it. I could feel your magnetism pulling me to you. Fantasy? I don't think so, not something as strong as that was. I had had my fantasies about what losing 'it' would be like and under what circumstances, but none of them included the way that I gave it to you.

That morning I had taken a long bath and meticulously shaved my legs, armpits and, for the first time, vaginal hairs, even those downy ones around my ass. I shaved my crotch because something told me that you'd like it that way. I had read that some men like shaven women, and I wanted you to get as much pleasure out of the day as I hoped to receive.

By the time I came to dry myself I too was pleased that I had shaved, it felt so erotic! Looking at myself in the full-length mirror, I imagined myself as a schoolgirl going out on her first date, even down to the churning in my stomach.

Fondling my vaginal lips in front of the mirror they felt far softer and erotic than they had the night before when I had masturbated myself four times before finally falling asleep. With all of the erotic feeling coursing through my body my vagina was so wet that I even thought of rubbing myself off before I went out, then pushed the thought from my mind. 'Today is the day when I hoped to do the real thing', I though, as I put a panty-liner into my briefs to absorb the flow of juices.

I was impressed when you showed me your place. I was expecting it to be like all the apartments of single men are supposed to be: untidy and in good need of a clean and dust. Just glancing around I could see that you were a person who was fussy about the image that he showed to others. I was even more impressed when you showed me the bedroom, bed re-made after the night before and also devoid of dust.

It was then that you held me tight to you and kissed me for the first time, hard, your tongue forcing itself between my teeth. There was urgency about your kiss, and when you removed one of my hands from your shoulders and put it between you legs I could understand why. Your penis was standing hard between your legs, and the length and thickness of it frightened me.

I began to have reservations about what I had hoped to do, and you immediately picked up on them, gently easing me out of my coat, all the time showering me with gentle kisses. I remember that it was as you started to open my blouse that you said to me 'Remember, this is not a prison. The key is in the lock and you can leave any time that you want to.'

My blouse and bra were removed with well-practiced hands, and I began to think how many other women had you practiced on before you got to me. The thought vanished out of my mind as you fondled my breasts, then lowered your head and sucked hard on one of my nipples.

The effect was something that I had never experienced before, a gentle fire starting in my groin that had grown to be a furnace of heat by the time it reached my naval.

You opened the top two buttons of your shirt and then said to me 'Now, you continue. Undress me'

This being the first time, I just went with my instincts and hoped that what I was doing was right.

It was as I removed you undershirt that you said to me 'Now, bite my nipples. I also like it.'

You are not very hairy, so it was easy for me to start licking one of your nipples, but that was not enough for you, you wanted me to bite you as hard as I could. Frightened of hurting you, I increased the pressure on your nipple until I was biting you as hard as I dared. You groaned as I bit you, and I could feel your body shuddering with pleasure. I was pleased that I was doing something right.

All the time I was biting you, you were fondling your erection through the fabric of your trousers. I had been using both my hands to fondle you face while I was biting your nipple; you removed them and held them to the front of your trousers.

'Undress me. Everything. I'd like that.'

In all the movies I had seen and books I had read it was the man who undressed the woman, but I could also see that you were so enjoying yourself that I didn't want to spoil the mood. I remember dropping you trousers to the floor and feeling the wet head of you erection brushing against my hand as it protruded, greedily, over the top of your underpants. With your erection as hard as it was, the elastic of your underpants was pulled tight, and, frightened of hurting you, I asked you to take them down. This you did with practiced ease, the whole muscle jumping forward towards me as you did so. Glancing down I could see that it was huge, with a bright red head just protruding out of its foreskin. It throbbed as it stood out from your body.

Easing my mouth off you nipple, you sat me down on the bed. Taking your erection in your hand, you smiled at me 'He's big, isn't he?'

I nodded, unable to take my eyes off the glistening monster in front of my face.

'Does the size frighten you, do you think you'll be able to take all of it?'

Seeing an erect, male penis for the first time I was frightened by its length and thickness, especially the thought of taking that whole thing inside me. I know now that you have seven and a half inches, not the biggest I have seen or taken since, but at that time it seemed enormous.

You didn't wait for an answer. Pulling back on you foreskin so that the whole head was exposed, you said to me 'Go down on me, especially around the head, that really turns me on.'

Feeling like a stupid schoolgirl, I wished that I had told you earlier that I had no experience with men and I didn't know what 'going down' entailed before I had gotten myself into that position, but I didn't. By this time you were masturbating yourself freely with one hand, each pull of your hand producing small spurts of transparent liquid. The other hand you put behind my head and gently pulled it towards you erection. 'Lick it first, see if you like the taste.'

Opening my mouth to lick you, you roughly pulled my head forward and, before I knew it, your penis was in my mouth. I should have protested, but then I thought that that was what men did. As I have said before, naivety.

Your taste was not at all un-likeable, a mix of sweet and sour together, like some Chinese food. Then both of your hands clamped the side of my head and pulled it backwards and forwards along the length of your erection, deep groans coming from the back of your throat as you did so.

'Now, you do it by yourself, I'd like to watch you.'

Removing your hands, you used then to fondle your nipples while I experienced going down on my first man. It was not long before you were bucking your hips into my face and your erection deeper and deeper into my throat. Then as your erection touched the back of my throat, I panicked. Unable to breath, I used both my hands to push you away from me whilst pulling my head backwards as hard as I could. You smiled down at me. 'Well, what does he taste like?'

Having no previous experience of oral sex with men, there was no way that I could answer your question, so I just nodded and said 'O.K.'

Now' you said, 'let me see what you tastes like.'

With that you lay me back onto the bed and, without another word being spoken, removed my, skirt, shoes, and tights.

Looking down at me you said, 'has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful breasts? Your nipples are just the right size too, not too big...'

All the time you were talking to me you were masturbating yourself, rubbing the small squirts of juice all over your erection. Then as you raised my hips and removed my briefs, you held them close to your nose and inhaled deeply, your eyes closing as you did so. 'My God, you smell so good!'

All this time your erection was throbbing between my legs, and the size of something like that coming into me terrified me and my fear found its voice.

'You're not going to put all of that inside me! There's no way I could take all of that!'

Looking down at my crotch, you smiled.

'Of course I'm not! I am going to take you the same way that I took you the first time. Did you think I wouldn't remember that you were a virgin?'

What you said shocked me into silence, sure that you were confusing me with somebody else, that is, until you raised my legs and brushed your tongue the full length of my vagina up to my clitoris.

A noise that was between a scream of fear and delight came out of my mouth, which made you smile.

'You taste as good as you smell! It's nice that you remembered to shave. Today was the first time, right?'

I was about to nod my head or say 'Yes' or something, but before I could, you pulled the lips of my vagina apart and, playing with my clitoris with your thumbs, stuck your rigid tongue as far into me as it would go. The effect on the whole of my body was electric. I'd never thought that a man would like putting his tongue in there, but what you did next I remember only too well, with no help from my dairy.

Moving your mouth to the top of my vagina, you sucked the whole of my clitoris into your mouth and sucked on it as hard as you could, at the same time both your hands founds my erect nipples and started rolling them between your fingers and thumbs, also as hard as you could.

You said later that it only took me half a minute to climax; to me it seemed like seconds and then the whole of my body exploded. Bright lights flashed through my head, every muscle in my body convulsed, and then there was a sharp pain from where I understood my hymen to be and the next thing I felt were two of your fingers deep inside me, masturbating me as hard as you could while you continued to bite on my clitoris, you free hand rolling my nipple, harder and harder.

Incapable of talking never mind stopping you, all I could do was lie there while first one climax and then another and another ripped through my body, destroying all communication between my brain and its lower realms. Then you raised my legs as high as you could, I felt a tearing sensation deep inside my groin, and then your wiry pubic hairs were nestling up to my shaven crotch.

Lowering your arms so that you head was alongside mine, you whispered in my ear.

'Well, Rebecca, your virginity is history, so lay back and enjoy being a woman. You know, I don't remember you being this tight!'

I would be lying if I said that I remember what happened next, your version was that you made gentle love to me. From where I was, all I do remember was that you seemed to get bigger and harder each time you pulled backwards and then pushed into me again and again as hard as you could, the whole of my groin numb. It like seemed ages until you suddenly pulled out of me, and then I felt your sperm splattering all over me, from my face down to my thighs.

I vaguely remember you towelling me clean and then helping me to my feet and supporting me as you led me into the shower. Slowly the water revived me as you soaped me all over, including my now painful crotch. I distinctly remember telling you how much pain I was in, how I felt like I had been torn inside by a rod of iron. You laughed, telling me that the first time was always like that, and then dismissed my pain by asking me to soap you down, including your already half-hard penis.

I didn't meet you again until a week later. I needed that week for the pain in my groin to ease. For three days after I left you house every time I went to pee there was a burning sensation so bad that I thought of going to the doctors thinking that maybe I'd been infected. Then it lessened, to be replaced by a pain of a different sort, an aching void in my womb like something was missing.

Night times were the worst. It was then that I replayed again and again how you had filled my womb with your huge erection, the ache getting deeper and more urgent each time that I went over it in my mind, but incapable of stopping myself. It was then that I learned what sexual frustration was. Exploring and experimenting with my fingers I taught myself to masturbate, each time stopping myself before I climaxed, frightened of losing control of my body as I had done with you.

My fingers were a poor substitute for how you had filled me, but at least they reduced the ache to a level where I could fall asleep, escape from the knowledge that only you could fill the vacuum deep inside me. It was that knowledge, that only you could really fill the void in my life that led me to telephone you. Mores the pity that I had no idea what a dildo or vibrator was at that time, I could have saved myself a lot of heartache and physical pain. With that information I could have learned to satisfy my own sexual needs without making myself completely dependent upon you, the source of all my problems.