Drawn (BWWM)

Call Girl

Nalia

"Turn around," he commanded.

Nalia felt her heart drop down to the pit of her stomach as she presented the male with her bare breasts. Greedy eyes rested on the bags of flesh as curious hands pawed at her globes. Her shirt fell to the dirty ground of the forest as he neared her. She felt his bigger hands clutch her chest with anger, stubby nails tearing into sensitive flesh. Thrashing in his hold, she tries to find some sort of control in their coitus but is found without any as he tightens his hold on her chest and makes her stand back and allow him to control their confrontations. Which he usually did.

She decides that she hates this.

It's formulaic, she's coerced into propping herself against the trunk of the tree and as he settles her against it letting out a slight grunt as he buries himself into her. He lets out an exasperated sigh, she snaps her eyes shut and focuses on her 'happy place'. Where she's not in the forest behind the school during some ungodly hour having awkward fumbling sex with him.

She's back at home, making cookies with Pop. She's putting the cookies in the oven, and she slams the door shut with a smile. Brown eyes trace the orange glow of the oven light, imagining the sensation of heat, baking the fluffy small balls thoroughly, it leaves a golden brown hue. The fresh scent of chocolate cookies hangs in the atmosphere.

"Nalia" he grunts, pushing her back into the tree. She ignores him and clutches her eyes tight. He doesn't even exist. The sweat that she feels against the nape of her neck, isn't there. The cool air of his deeply seeded breaths against the lower side of her face isn't real. Her face welts up in embarrassment as he clutches her sides, noting the extra fat that she never really worked off. All at the moment, everything seems so mundane. This has become a tragic reality.

The oven timer suddenly dings in her head, and she can see a smaller version of herself stumble over a ladder, getting the oven mittens. She slips the bright red pair on her hands as she reaches to open the oven. Pop looks at her warily, before letting a smirk cross his features.

"Go ahead Baby-girl." he smiles.

She clutches the handle of the oven, and pulls the oven door down, allowing the odor of the rich chocolate pastries to bring her to life. The aroma drives her to her climax, and she feels herself clamp against his hardened member, anticipating the height of their heated interaction, her teeth digging into her lower lip. She feels herself let go at that moment and let out a huff of release. But she can still feel him going for his own, so she lies in wait. She feels their unmentionables hit against each other, flesh grinding against flesh, and it disgusts her. The raw bark against her back, the absolute disarray of emotions. She opens her eyes to see his face flush a horribly red hue, as he continues slapping into her. She's reminded of tomato by the way his cheeks puff out and she can't help but move. But she remains still. The rawness of the bark against her back, brushing into her skin. She watches as he recoils, slowly as ecstasy takes over his eyes. Then he lets go of her and throws her a harsh glare before re-buttoning his pants. It's a painful reminder of what couldn't be.

Of what shouldn't be.

He fumbles with his clothes before emerging dressed, brown shorts and a black polo. She smells the odor of his body on hers, and she hates it. Her bra was not salvageable. One strap had been torn into two due to his ravenous behavior. She's wearing an old solid burgundy shirt and thick high waist pants, her hair is pretty short, and her face is sunken. The most depressing part of the day was definitely when she had to walk deep into the woods and wait for him to show up.

"My house, on Friday," he says, after the long silence. "If you don't come, you'll regret it."

She nods her head, compliant. She wishes that he wouldn't inconsiderately schedule things without asking. Nalia moves at the feel of sudden invasive hands against her backside, she looks at him with a frown. He had already gotten what he wanted, so she pushed off his grubby hands.