Location: Some part of the world
Interested In: Women, Men
It all starts with the same way she raises her hand to you in case you should turn it on." "How long is it going to take? I've never brought someone up." "Three inches and a half. It usually doesn't take as long as that." "What do you mean?" "I mean, you guys really do know how to fuck, don't you?" "We're the first ones to try." "What about my cat? I didn't bring her." "Your just jealous." "I'm not so sure you should be in here talking about it." "Yeah, whatever." I had the same thought while we were having that first bit of fun. But by then she had stepped up, kissed me on the forehead and headed to the bathroom. I had gotten into the car and was in the passenger seat, only too, of course, there was no need to drive. The little weasel was talking to me. "Well, I did take the liberty of installing a 'Speak now' button on your seat. It will stop you having to pretend that you have a problem with your self. It will also tell all the "friends" if you forget your password." "How does it work, though?" "Well, you tell them that you have a self-defense problem, and the code word. Then it will appear on their screens, along with the warning that this is a test. If you think you know what's coming next, you will pass." "So, do you think my self-defense course would work?" "Hell, yeah! I've had one in the past, but… (LAUGHTER)…" "I know you do.
I see that you have it in the car." "No, I didn't mean to get into a fight with you. I was just —" "Yes, well, I definitely want to try it, but… I already tried it, a couple of times… failed miserably once…" "Tell the truth, then." I raised my eyebrows in surprise. This had not occurred to me. My disdain had been pure and undiluted. I knew from experience that self-defense could be a great teacher. But was it so different this time? I was staring into a man's clear blue eyes, and I didn't know if I looked familiar. I made a conscious effort to remain non-threatening and professional. The other occupants of the seat seemed to be watching us patiently, as I patiently explained my engagement to the other occupants. I had never really been self-conscious about my physical appearance, beyond the concern that others would assume I was not professional. People assumed I was a flirt, a moneylender, a housewife.
All those assumptions proved to be wrong though. I met my victim in the flesh. The trauma of the first strike was terrible, but the subsequent light touches and long-term relationships had a profound effect on me. People who know me know I am a very difficult woman. But it all seemed so fresh and exciting, and I wanted to write this personal letter to myself, detailing my feelings. It was a difficult project, writing in plain sight, yet it was my most ambitious project as well. I tried to convey to myself the depth of my hurt, the violence of the first strike, the powerful feelings I had to put out. I tried to reach out for people, but it was an uphill battle. People are frightened and even angry when they see me in the street. It's a frightening thought..
Jiji was not currently in the industry taking on boy meat.
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