Abuse: The Complete Trilogy (33 page)

“There is
only one good, knowledge—and one evil, ignorance.”

―
Socrates

~~~

Renata
Koreman

Ignorant people
thoughtlessly assert,
“That was years ago, why don’t you just get over it?”
That
simple statement is easy to say, but so difficult to do.

Survivors would
love to ‘get over’ their issues and move on—if they only knew how! Denial only
goes so far. Recovery takes time, hard work and, more often than not,
professional help.

There’s no
magical cure. Most people don’t realize how deeply their past influences their
present. Their personalities, responses to life, thought patterns and feelings
are affected daily in so many ways.

Some think
accepting therapy shows weakness. They couldn't be more wrong. It takes bravery
and strength to open up to someone. Hell, sharing oneself means a person must
face
the trauma that hurt them so badly—not to mention personal fears, failures
and shame.

Memories are
fearsome demons more horrific than in any Stephen King novel or nightmare.
Ugly, hard truths hurt like the devil. If a person isn't ready to face up to
their past and themselves, counselling doesn’t work.

As the old joke
goes:
How many psychologists does it take to change a lightbulb?
One, but he must be ready to change.

As corny as this
joke is, it’s true. In order to respond favorably to therapy, a person must
make a real effort to change.

I’ve worked hard
to overcome a lifetime of fear. I still work hard at it. Sometimes things
happen, forcing me to see how far I have yet to go. I take anti-depressants to
help manage my inexplicable low moods. Rejection kills me. At times, I stutter.
I still have sudden panic attacks and I often feel stupid and undeserving.

At times, I feel
as helpless as the child I once was. Fear, grief, depression and panic can trap
me in an unexpected emotional ambush.

Words, a smell,
a taste, maybe even an old song can transport me into the past. Within a
heartbeat I return to a time and place that
hurts
. Such memories are
sharp and sudden, like a kick to the gut—or maybe more like a knife, slashing
open an old wound.

Abuse is a
timeless memory that brands a person’s soul.

These hidden
scars never go away. As André says, they must be addressed. Otherwise, just
like cancer, the poison spreads and can destroy a person’s life. 

André states
people are unhappy because they’re afraid to tell their stories. This is
certainly true for those of us who have been abused. When a bullied or molested
person speaks up, they are often met with disbelief, denial, blame or disgust.

Sometimes they
are simply ignored.

Grant blames
himself for being a victim. When I look at him, I see glimpses of myself. He
feels guilty and unworthy of love.

Why is it his
fault?

Because it
happened to
him!

Yet, in this
magical moment—in fact, all evening, Grant has felt none of these things.
Usually, just the idea of intimacy freaks him out.

I hope to avoid
triggering bad memories by instituting the ‘no touching’ rule. I won’t touch
him and he won’t touch me—unless he’s
absolutely certain
it won’t
disturb him.

Control was
wrested from him far too often as a child. That’s why I’ve told him if he’s
confident enough to touch, he can go ahead and do so.

This is
his
therapy,
so all choices need to be his.

Even then, we’ve
both agreed there will be no penile penetration tonight. That has always been
his most dangerous trigger for humiliation and shame.

So far, this
plan has been working. I’m thrilled because at this moment, he’s light-hearted
and carefree. It's wonderful to see.

Grant
never
takes
off his clothes during sex. Yet, right now, he’s naked in a well-lit room and
still able to be himself in front of me. This is a significant milestone.

Knowing this
fills my heart with a special kind of joy. I’m helping him face lifelong
problems and it’s working.

Pride is one of
the seven deadly sins, but I just can’t help myself.

Damn, I’m
good!

Grant says he’s
underweight compared to what he used to be, but I see no evidence of this.
Physically, I think he’s perfect—smoking hot, in fact. He’s only about an inch
taller than I am, but he’s probably twice my size in bulk.

His gorgeous
body is all well-defined muscle, his strength and forceful personality make him
seem huge. He’s such a powerful, masculine presence.

Deliberately, I
slowly run my eyes over his tight, muscular frame in a seductive
I-want-to-fuck-you-more–than-life-itself visual caress.

His eyebrows
arch and his lips curve up in a slow, knowing smile. Grant’s intense gaze
sizzles with erotic fire. It’s obvious he desperately wants to fuck me too.

My core tightens
and my breath catches.

I
crave
him. I want to bite his broad shoulders and lick his washboard abs. I imagine
running my fingers through his dark brown hair then gliding them along his neck
and trailing them over his broad, bare chest.

This inability
to touch him is torture.

I long to devour
him, immersing myself in his masculine scent and taste. I want to lick every
inch of him. I’d kiss and nibble each curve, valley, dip and ridge of his
scorching hot flesh. I’d caress his massive biceps, lingering on his thick
forearms, wrists and hands.

Grant has strong
hands.

Manly
hands.

Hands with long,
thick fingers made to touch and pleasure a woman. They match his gorgeous
hard-on.

I flip my card—I
throw a four. With a smart-ass grin, sure of his win, Grant flips a three. Both
of us laugh uproariously for no particular reason except that we both wrongly
assumed I’d lose this round.

“Truth or dare,”
I say.

“Truth,” he
responds.

“How did you get
those scars?”

I’ve wanted to
ask him that question since I first met him. I haven’t, because I’ve been
afraid to upset him. Yet, he’s so upbeat at the moment, I figure he can deal
with anything I throw his way.

“I’ll never tell
you that,” Grant says in a subdued, final tone that clearly signals the end of
that discussion.

“Bummer,” I say,
intentionally lighthearted. “OK. Well, then you’ll have to take a dare, and
because you’ve already gotten out of one request—you can’t renege on this one.”

His eyes narrow
as he looks at me suspiciously. “Fine.”

I lick my lips
with anticipation. “I want to see you play with yourself while I imagine
sucking you off.”

His erect dick
jerks at my words and his whole body tightens. Rendered helpless by the
gorgeous feast before me, I can’t help but stare at Grant’s red, swollen flesh.
I shut my eyes for a moment, imagining it pulse as he climaxes.

I swallow and
shake my head. “Fucking hell, I really need to watch that big cock of yours
come.”

Grant’s body
strains with sexual tension but he says nothing. Somehow, I manage to lift my
gaze from his fascinating erection. Our eyes lock as a sizzle of sensual
electricity flows between us.

Will he do it?
It would be a big step, another first. He’s told me he’s inexperienced with
women and has never had a relationship. He’s admitted he only agreed to see me
because he knew he’d be paying for it.

Other than quick
pecks, the man never kisses on the mouth. What will that be like, when he
finally
thoroughly
kisses me? The kind of penetrating, sexy, tongue in
the mouth kiss that makes a woman imagine being penetrated somewhere else?

His inexperience
is such a turn-on.

Can
he
pleasure himself while I watch? He’s certainly horny enough—that throbbing
shaft of his is dripping. My mouth waters from the mere thought of watching him
stroke himself. Man, I wish I could taste him.

My breath
quickens.

A few moments
pass quietly while we stare at each other.

“I want to tell
you my fantasies while you jerk off,” I say, with a suddenly dry mouth. “I need
to know what that thick, hot cum of yours looks like and feels like when it
sprays on my tits.”

I’m down to only
wearing my light blue panties. Our sexy
‘Truth or Dare’
card game has
created an entire evening of seductive foreplay. My swollen breasts are flushed
and full—I ache to have his hands upon them. My erect nipples are bigger than
they’ve ever been before. They look like erasers from the tips of oversized
pencils.

Grant hasn’t
moved but his eyes smolder with lust as he stares at the dark, moist stain on
my panties—clear evidence of my arousal. He knows
exactly
how much I
want him.

Will he take the
dare?

His penetrating
gaze cuts right through me as he shifts his buttocks forward to the edge of his
chair, giving me a great view of his bobbing erection.

Lips firm,
Grant’s expression still doesn’t show any obvious reaction.

Despite trying
to remain focused on his face, my eyes are drawn back to his cock. Thick and
heavy, it sticks straight up from a dark thatch of pubic hair. Its tip glistens
invitingly, making my mouth water. Eager and reaching, it wants to be inside of
me. It needs to plunder the dark, wet heat of my body.

My inner walls
clench at the thought. That’s exactly what I want, too.

Our ragged
breathing is the only sound in the room. He parts his legs, showing me his
heavy balls. Fuck, he’s as hot as hell.

An absolute
ocean of lust surrounds us both. I can smell his arousal, just as I’m sure he
can smell mine.

“Watch me,” he
says boldly, his voice a low growl.

“Sex is as
important as eating or drinking and we ought to allow the one appetite to be
satisfied with as little restraint or false modesty as the other.”

— Marquis de
Sade

~~~

Renata
Koreman

Eager
anticipation runs through me, jolting every nerve. I feel as if I’ve received a
booster shot of adrenaline.

His smoky eyes
are hard upon me. They slide over my face and body in slow, hungry appraisal,
taking time to focus blatantly on my lips, my breasts and then between my legs.

Much to my joy
and surprise, there’s nothing at all reserved about his bold, sensual stare.
I’d assumed that he'd be insecure and would hold back because of his past. How
wrong could I have been?

Grant, modest?
Meek? Shy? No way!

Woo hoo!

This is an
in-charge, alpha male sitting here before me, gloriously on full display.

His gaze locks
with mine.

Riveted by his
dominance, I tremble and can’t look away. With the palm of his right hand, he
grips the base of his cock and begins to stroke the area slowly. With his other
hand, he cups and fondles his balls.

Holy fuck!
I think my heart just stopped. He’s so incredibly sexy!

I can’t help but
squirm under his concentrated attention. My pulse spikes and my body begins to
tingle. Blood rushes south between my legs, stirring countless nerve endings. 
A small sound, a whimper, escapes from the back of my throat as goosebumps rise
across my sensitive skin.

At first, he
takes long, lazy strokes, slowly and deliberately pumping his palm up and down
the rigid length of his erection. From time to time, he adds a sensual twisting
motion.

Fascinated, I
swallow hard as I watch him pleasure himself. Could anything be more erotic
than this?

The desire to
taste him, wrapping my mouth and tongue around his big, gorgeous cock is
overwhelming.

I lick my lips.

Eyes widening,
Grant notices, which thrills me.

He fondles the
rigid length of his erection, shifting closer, his beautiful shaft points
toward my mouth. Is he teasing me with it? I bite back a moan and clench my
thighs together in a fruitless attempt to ease the growing ache between them.

“You’re so
mean!” I gasp.

“Am I?” he
murmurs, raising a dark, mocking eyebrow.

The rat! Is that
a satisfied glint of mischief I see there in his eyes? Playfully teasing and
taunting, Grant’s a quick learner. In my opinion, sex is definitely the most
fun you can have with someone you care for.

God, I love his
hungry grey-blue eyes—eyes that are dark with desire.

What is he
thinking behind that weighted stare? I wish I could get into his head. I want
to know everything about him. So far, he’s surprised me at every turn.

Is he imagining
his cock in my mouth or in my pussy? Does he have dark fantasies that he’s
ashamed of, like burying himself balls deep into my ass? I seriously hope he's
not fantasizing about the scary, kinky stuff André is into. Somehow, I doubt
it, yet anything that gets Grant off will do it for me, as well.

Grant’s steady
rhythm doesn’t change. Up and down. Up and down…

My gaze remains
fixed on his raging hard-on as I follow his lazy, practiced movements.

His huge shaft
has stiffened further, growing thicker and larger than it was before—and that’s
saying something. His cock is a freakin' work of art. It’s engorged, primed and
ready with the healthy male need to mate.

Seeing him so
hot for me drives me wild.

Clear beads of
pre-cum drip down his solid, veined shaft. Grant licks his palm, adds the
moisture from his pre-cum and continues stroking himself until his cock
glistens. His smoky gaze stays locked on mine as he rubs his hand over his
length. His fingers slide to the head, squeezing lightly and then moving over
the wide, rounded crown of his penis.

“Jesus,” I
whisper softly.

He hasn’t even
touched me yet, but I’ve never been so turned-on in my whole life.

God, I want
this sexy, gorgeous man! I'm so hot for him that I fear my pussy's about to
burst into flames. Maybe spontaneous human combustion really DOES exist. This
is what causes it.

As he continues
to stroke himself, his abs, stomach and hips flex and contract, flex and
contract. The intensity of his breathing increases. I hear the air moving in
and out of his lungs. Initially he breathed slow and deep, but he pants as he
becomes more and more aroused.

So am I.

Originally, I'd
planned to keep talking to him as he stroked himself—to tantalize him with
sexual suggestions. This proves to be virtually impossible because my brain is
stupefied by erotic sight and sensation.

Has
all
of my blood travelled south? It sure as hell feels like it. Heavy and swollen,
my sex pulses with arousal. I feel as though my heart has moved between my legs
too. My clit is pounding. I doubt that I have enough blood left circulating
through my brain to enable me to form words, much less sentences.

Still, I decide
to give it a shot.

With great
effort, I say, "I bet you’ve got bucket-loads of cum for me in those big,
heavy balls of yours.”

Grant arches a
brow.

Breathless, l continue,
“I can’t wait to see it, feel it and smell it. I swear I could climax just from
watching you come.”

“When I’m good
and ready, you’re gonna get your wish,” he replies darkly.

Talk about
animal instinct! I honestly think I can hear the man growl. I shiver as the
primal, sensual sound he makes skitters across my flesh.

My face heats
with both a jolt of surprise and lust. Where does all of Grant’s sudden
self-confidence come from?

I open my mouth
to speak, but shut it again. I have no idea what to say. I’m dumbstruck—that’s
the word.

I’ve been
rendered speechless by his hot, alpha male dominance.

Apparently,
there’s a sensual core of authority built inside of Grant. He’s a masterful,
stubborn, hot-blooded man who knows his own mind. I admire that. Much to my
surprise, I crave his control. It feeds my arousal.

As a
people-pleaser with often shy, mouse-like tendencies, I’m jealous of this
powerful facet of his personality. I doubt I could ever have the same type of
cool authority that Grant displays. I’d love to have that kind of
self-assurance. It adds even more to his appeal and his presence.

Confidence is so
unbelievably sexy.

I’m seriously
turned on by Grant, even more so now than when we first met. He drew me from
the moment I first laid eyes on him.

I’m mesmerized
by the carnal thrill of watching him work his big erection and the sounds of
his now ragged breathing. He smells fantastic. Everything about him screams
strong male animal, bursting with testosterone and lust.

Watching him
masturbate is so far beyond hot.

Riveted, I sit
here on the bed before him, enjoying the steamy, erotic display he puts on for
me. I can't understand why I'm suddenly so short of oxygen. How can I be out of
breath without being touched or even moving? It’s as though I’ve been running a
marathon.

Desperate for a
taste of him, I lick my dry lips.

I'm so turned
on, I desperately need relief. I slide my hand down under the waistband of my
panties to find my swollen clit. The first touch makes me groan. My pussy
quivers as I begin to circle it and stroke myself. Tender and heavy, my breasts
throb, aching to be touched. I reach up and squeeze them, temporarily easing my
need.

“God, I want
you,” I moan.

Despite his
stony expression, I can tell how much my words affect him. Grant’s dick jumps
in his hand. He continues working his cock, keeping that smooth, slick skin
sliding up and down. He says nothing, but the rhythm of his movement increases.

Mouth parted,
his chest heaves as he greedily sucks in air. From time to time, his body
tightens as his muscles coil with building sexual tension.

My own body
hums, vibrating shamelessly with anticipation and lust. Watching the primitive
action of a male in rut is such a turn-on to me.

Grant stares at
me through hooded eyes, his pupils are dark with passion.

“You’re going to
kill me, Grant,” I say, my voice harsh with need. “I’m aching and empty. I want
you inside of me so badly it hurts. If we didn’t have this blasted ‘no touch’
rule in place tonight, I’d come screaming from just a single brush of your
hand.”

His jaw
clenches, but again he says nothing.

With deliberate
intent, he stands up and steps closer to the bed, until he’s standing directly
in front of me. Naked heat sizzles between us. He stills his hand and then
begins thrusting into it, using his hips and thighs, his tight muscles working
as he pumps.

I can read what
he’s thinking—it doesn’t take a detective to connect those dots! His actions
closely mimic the in and out movement of sex.

Nostrils
flaring, breathing hard, Grant is fucking his own hand.

Is he imagining
pumping that thick cock of his into my dripping wet slit? Or does he want to
fuck my mouth? He shifts restlessly, his hips flexing as he bucks.

There’s a faint
liquid, slapping sound of flesh on silky flesh as he works, driving himself
rapidly toward orgasm. I wish he’d slide his body into mine.
 

I need him
inside me—I don’t care where. Between my lips, in my pussy or up my ass. God, I
just want him anywhere and everywhere.

My internal
muscles pulse and I moan loudly. “Grant?” I gasp.

“Yes?” His voice
is rough with lust.

Fascinated, I
watch as he continues to jerk himself off, picking up speed. It’s so fucking
hot! A soft whimper comes to my ears and I suddenly become aware that the sound
came from me. Heated and urgent, my entire body quivers.

“I want to put
my mouth on you,” I pant, while desperately working my pussy. “I want to suck
you so hard that I pull every drop of cum you have right out of your cock. Oh
fuck, Grant, I want to suck you dry.”

A low guttural
noise comes from deep inside him. His jaw flexes from his violent inner
struggle. The man has been fighting to maintain control of his urges, but I
think he just lost the battle.

My naughty words
have driven him right to the brink of orgasm.

“I’m gonna
come,” he gasps.

As his control
breaks, his eyes open wide with both surprise and pleasure. The cords and veins
in his neck stand out as visible evidence of the strength of his passion. Grant
wants me, and he wants me
badly
.

“Yes! Yes!
Please let me see you come,” I almost sob with frustration and need.

This is what
I’ve longed for—this is where I’m supposed to be.

I realize that I
crave being desired, being lusted after. I long to be
needed
and
wanted
,
even more than I desire my own release.

Needed and
wanted, but not by just anyone.

I only want
Grant Wilkinson.

I need him.

I love him.

What in the hell
is wrong with me? How can I be thinking such crazy thoughts when I’m teetering
on the brink of an orgasm?

No one ever said
that falling in love was a sane thing to do.