The Splendor of Virginity
His hands gripped firmly onto my forearms. With each thrust of his weight, his grip tightened, and I could feel his jagged fingernails digging into my skin, deeper and deeper. His nose and mouth breathed acrid foul into the hair on the back of my head. An unmistakable mix of accords; cigarettes and burnt black coffee. Violence or passion, I mused, pure carnal animal instinct or total dominance and submission of control. I bellowed a thousand curses and a thousand cries of pain, but they could only be heard in silence and the cringing of my face with each passing second.
I didn't run, I didn't push him off of me and I didn't fight. No, this is what I wanted, I echoed, again and again. This is what I wanted. I didn't want to be a child anymore.
There can only be awkward air after such an act. One has little choice in the matter other than deciding how long the moment is to last. I cut it short. `I'm going home' .
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