The way he touched me. So blissful. That night I was nervous. It wasn't my intention to be touched for my first time. I put on black lace for myself and go prevent lines showing, after all they weren't seen in the eyes as something that should be seen. I felt good. Finally getting to use that set I bought for someone else who I was never sure if they were even gonna come around. I was nervous, and couldn't tell if it was real. I lied and walked out that damn door and found myself nearly two hours away. I forget just because I'm 18 doesn't mean I'm invincible. I let him open me and spread me open. Something I haven't even let myself do. It hurt at first and felt like too much but I felt like I'd never get another chance to. I told him okay. Lewd moans and cursed escaped our lips, mine deemed to be less about the pleasure and more about the increasing anxiety that kept rising and appearing in my chest. The hands he laid on me, and everywhere he touched burned my skin. He acted like he cared and whispered sweet treats in my ear. Only for those to have to meanings behind them. At this point I didn't feel taken advantage of, because there was still a glimmer in his eyes, unfortunately it was just left over lust. I knew he didn't get his total of pleasure in, but I finally spoke and I couldn't take anymore. Overstimulated and tired, the sun was about to rise and the shift on my schedule needed to be punched in. Even after all that I had to drive myself in silence back home. I had faced my parents and their wrath, as I put my phone on do not disturb to avoid the calls and texts of fear as to where they're oldest daughter, their sweet innocent daughter may be. As she wasn't with her friends she had told them she'd be out with. Little did they know she was with a man, let alone a different city with a man. One she had met online and new nothing about. She had let a complete stranger in her, physically and mentally, just so she can say she was now a woman. They would be so disappointed. A lie got pasted over another, "I had a friend throw a bonfire". That friend being the future neurosurgeon that had his life together, and most importantly would keep in check. They could trust me there, but everywhere else they couldn't bare to look at me. And as the week went on, the texts got shorter, the fatigue and mental fog grew. It should have been special. Instead I had fallen a victim to a ghost, one with no emotions or regard. It was a huge coincidence that social media had brought up more information than he could've ever told me. Including that he is happy, and has his life together. That's all that matters at the end though right? As long as the man's happy, what is the woman to do? Now every time I look in the mirror and see my body, I picture him. As I try to eat I remember how he gripped my thighs and hips, so I drop the fork. Every time I see anything slightly related flashbacks appear, then sudden nausea. It wasn't the type of nausea you usually get, it was the type you get when you're finally disgusted by yourself. And that is exactly how I felt, and even still feel. Nothing goes by where I can't unhear his moans and his voice. And every time I close my eyes, here's there. Kissing me on the forehead and nose, telling me he loves me, when it's all just a lie. A lie to me intimate with a girl who knows nothing about the real world.
- im.
