In Memoriam

I grabbed your hair roughly and thrust myself into you violently. There was no denying your lust and immediate orgasm as your cheeks blushed the most vibrant red. "You're my bitch, and I'm your man. Tell me how much you love my cock." You tried to mumble a word but only a moan was able to escape the mouth that was covered by my aggressive hand. A bite into your neck and I couldn't tell whether it was one of pain, pleasure, or a combination of both.

"You wanted PERFEKT. You got your PERFEKT. But now I'm too perfekt for someone like you."

My misogyny stems from the fact that they never love you, they love the way you make them feel. These vampires thirst after certain emotions that some people can provide them, and if you are able to learn their patterns and figure out how to release those chemicals in their head, like carnal beginnings intended, reservation has no extent. You are an object, a phallus toy, to be used to fulfill their desires, their needs, and their expectations.

That's why I'm aggressive when I fuck you -- and the more you beg for it, the angrier it makes me.