The last one had already been trained. That mature look on her face took away all the pleasure. How can she even expect to kindle my fire when she lacks all the authenticity that she should have?
She was tall and when she moved, her skin showed signs of age. On her face, I knew that I saw that she had already experienced something like this before. She wasn't the best trained anyway, or the most experienced. She didn't seem addicted to drugs or anything.
However, she vaguely knew what she was doing, what she was becoming. I still took joy that she was surprised when she realized that the terms were not really what she thought she had agreed to, but she nevertheless had to accept the circumstances. First, because of duty. Then, because of forcefulness. How could she stop this train anyway? It was bound to wreck the moment she stepped into my door.
At first, I didn't notice her ridiculous level of awareness. If I had known that she was going to lower her hands in submission and open her mouth as if someone had told her how to treat me before, I would not have taken her with me. I won't cringe, though. I still had a good time with her.
It's funny how she simply opened her mouth when I approached. I swear she was a bit too cognizant of her duty. Even if it hurt, even if she didn't want to be here at all, she still did it all without a hitch. She was tall, had brown hair, light skin, almost flat chest, but just enough for it to be perfectly round. She tried to behave younger but didn't accomplish anything more than ridiculing herself and almost making me cringe.
I took it out on her and I felt relieved when all the tension in me just left as I punched her a few times. Her little screams, at last authentic, as I hugged her neck between my thumbs and indexes, were the pinnacle of my enjoyment. When she didn't say anything even after the first signs, I was really put off. She knowingly delivered herself to the slaughterhouse and then just moaned in pain as if she understood that this was what was coming.
Was I really so predictable? Did I look like a gorilla in heat? She was a biologist after all. She had even talked to me about mating rituals. And now here I am, a crude natural phenomenon, accepting my instincts. Regardless of the justification, the look in her eyes was a bitter reminder of the little authenticity of this scene that I could have ended even before it started.
But no matter, as I said, I had a good time and she's now gone. These memories shall stay with me only and I'll smile every time I remember her little pig-like squeals as she tried to breathe for the last time.
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the world of marine animals is very cool indeed