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The girders that made him were not undone by Her but by his willingness to accept the healing Love could gift. Such is the essence of all creation. These are the rules. The shifting from one song to another brought him to the present smoothly, the memory brought both pain and acceptance. A strange mixture to cause peace. Back to the purpose, he demanded himself. He was to write a letter to Her. So far from him, three hours drive was an eternity and a breath to lovers. He needed her and wanted her to understand. So he writes, ‘Dear xxxxx..’ No, not correct, he rewrites. ‘Dear xxxxxxx, Our time together was too sweet for my memories, I feel them, like in those silly romance movies we never watched together, filled with background music. Yes, I can actually remember our times together as if floating in a song…’ He pauses a long moment, knowing that while the music he speaks of could be contained in a song by Tool, Nine Inch Nails, Dave Matthews Band or even Simon and Garfunkel, it would. It actually sounded like he was wanking to the sight of my naked body!Then, I felt lips close over mine. I continued to play dead. The lips moved to my breasts, in turn, and they did their own thing, popping into erectile little darts.Then, I felt a body heat near my loins, inhaling my female scent. Was he trying to find pheromones?I braced myself mentally for what was certainly next. I imagined his penis would be coated with precum from the wanking it took and I awaited my rape.It wouldn't really last long, two or three shoves, tearing open my membrane and sliding, not waiting for me to generate sufficient inner lubrication to allow me to dilate smoothly around this penile invader.I felt his weight upon me, crushing the air out of my lungs, and I thought, "Oh, no! This idiot is accidentally killing me, and I have no way stop it!"Perhaps I had shown some muscle tone, insofar as firming up against the first onslaught of this guy, but now I lost even that, and was 'dead meat' under.
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