There is no fucking way he thinks of her as only a friend. He glared at me like he wanted to kill me when we faced off. Like Charles Manson, I can’t do it so I’ll have someone else do it for me, kind of psycho. He’s harboring some serious feelings for my Tennie Girl and something in my chest is telling my brain we don’t like it.
“Was it good? Did you enjoy it?” I ask, knowing two virgins fumbling around in the dark could never be a good experience, I want to hear her answer.
Chewing on the fingernail on her index finger, she ponders for a moment. “Do you want the truth?”
“Always.”
“It was painful and the reality is I don’t see what all the hype is about. He said we needed to do it again to get it right but I was done after the first time.”
Laughing to myself, I bet he did want to do it again. All those tits, bare, in my face and I wouldn’t climb out for days. That’s probably what part of his problem is, he didn’t get to enjoy any of the many perks of Tensanne naked. Those tits are going to be my first stop on the road to the promised land between her legs.
“So, you don’t understand what is great about sex?”
“No, it’s messy, difficult and takes very little time. The romance novels I read make it sound so romantic and hot but it was painful, awkward and I would rather read it than do it.”
Laughing out loud, I make sure her eyes are on me. I want her to feel my words. “When it’s done right, Tennie Girl, you will see what all the hype is,” I joke but the laughter dies when thoughts of touching her fill my mind. “There is nothing quick about it. It’s bodies slapping, pulse-pounding glory right up until the explosion at the end. Touching, tasting, feeling someone’s body is the most exquisite action there is and that release at the end is as close to heaven as we ever get while were still alive. Someday, someone will show you the way it should be.” Thinking that someone had better be me and I wouldn’t let her out of my bed until every inch of her body had been pleased beyond her wildest dreams. Pleasured better than any words she has ever read. Hell, when I’m done she will be waxing poetic with her own words.
Her eyes turn to melted dark chocolate, her pupils expand, the tip of her tongue wets her lips and the air gets thick. Sexual tension fills the empty space between us. My want for her is palpable, existing as a tangible object that can be touched. My balls ache for release, hanging heavy between my legs. My dick is so hard it’s painful and aching with each pant of air she draws in, pulling my eyes to her pebbled nipples poking out, her shirt and bra doing nothing to hide them from my eyes.
I can feel her want for me radiating from her body, her breaths are shallow, her rapid pulse makes the vein in her neck throb and she’s clenching her legs together. She’s trying to fight it but my words have her squirming with need.
Shaking the fog from her head, her eyes returning to normal, she says, “Between the two of us, you’re the sex expert so I’ll take your word for it,” she shrugs. “We better get going, it’s getting late.”
Grabbing our things, feeling the jab she just threw like a kick to the nuts, I enjoy the cold air blasting me on our walk back to her dorm, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. I tell her I’ll see her tomorrow.
On my way, back to the dorm I send her a text,
K: I keep forgetting to ask. When do you turn eighteen? Inquiring minds want to know, lol.
T: February 14th. Why?
Because I will make you mine on that day Tennie Girl, if I can wait that long, I think but my response to her,
K: Just curious when you would be legal. Don’t want to corrupt you too much before then.
T: Ha, Ha Kohl. Goodnight.
K: Sweet dreams, Tennie Girl.
Chapter Eleven
Sticks and stone may break my bones but words will never harm me. Wrong, words can hurt more than a punch to the face.
—anyone who has ever been bullied
Tensanne
One Month Later, the week before Christmas.
IN CONCLUSION, MY bully was a thirteen-year-old girl with an alcoholic mother who was friends with her target. One day, something irritated her, something about her friend rubbed her the wrong way; that was the first day she decided to slam her friend into a locker. The torment spiraled out of control from there. Through many hits and rumors, these former best friends became enemies. The subject of her bullying taking an overdose of pills and almost losing her life was the tipping point. After years of abuse, the young girl couldn’t take anymore. My subject is now twenty-one years old and in college. There is not a day that goes by that she doesn’t regret the trauma she inflicted on another person. Though she asks for forgiveness from her target, she has never been able to forgive herself, I type finishing up the final paragraphs of Dr. Parker’s bullying assignment. With the beginning of Christmas break tomorrow, our papers are due today.
The final project for the semester. I learned a lot during my time with
