LOVE WITHOUT END

(EPISODE TWO)

When I say ‘devil’ I am not implying that he was a dark hideous man. Ironically he was the opposite. He had this great physical construction, he had hands that can bend minds and melt hearts. Little wonder I willingly gave him my virginity on the most auspicious of nights. My reader, do not hastily rush to the undue conclusion that I was a bitch, or a random girl anyone can have casual sex with no! It’s not about what I did but what I could not stop myself from doing. I had a large sex drive, I commend myself for keeping ‘clean’ till I clocked seventeen. You have no idea how much I hug my pillow each night, how much I dream of the day a guy will hold me with passion and contempt and love and oneness. I simply took the chance I got, I was even secretly in love with him, Our principal allowed ‘love-style’ relationship between wards in school but he would not condone sexual or hyper-sexual interactions. Within my home I was also a very confined girl..I was the most beautiful girl in a school with the most beautiful students. It was only normal that my parents should protect me from wandering guys that are always ‘taken to mars’ by the perfections of my hips and the wonders of my breasts…some of them would lick their lips each time they glanced at my cheeks. I was one such marvelous creation of God. So I took my chance when I found it. A chance to go higher in ranks among my friends, a chance to feel the oranges and apples of sexual indulge, I really needed to become a woman so to a large extent I do not even blame my friends.

Or maybe you still do not understand? The mysteries of a growing woman. Maybe it’s hormones. Maybe it’s just the works of God, but when I am alone I imagine it all. I imagine Delarosa sitting on a desk in front of me. He had the cutest smile in class….I imagine him showing me all those smile, poking my nose…teasing my lips with his fingers. I imagine Adrian sitting so close to me…my skirt rolled up, him, whispering in my ears, telling me how much I make him drool. Or should I tell you how much, every night I imagine myself in the hands of my class teacher. Teacher Al-Al’min a young but handsome white Muslim teacher from Qatar. He had short well-treated beards and small snort nose. He never use harsh words…once I slipped and fell and my class teacher was right there for me. He held me tenderly, attended to my bruise. With his hands around my shoulders he brought me back to my sit and got me nutrient milk. He made me drink it and told me to take a nap for the whole day. Each time he touches me I feel electrified and polarized. But I tell you my reader; he was doing all that in respect to his religion and for the good of humanity. He was a very, very kind teacher. I miss him every day.

But why do I feel like this? Much more why are girls deprived of that opportunity to freely express their love in the society? Why are we looked down upon when we approach the guys we love? Why do I have to love him secretly, why do I have to fathom all this sexual thoughts with him yet I dare not make the move? And even when we do, why do that same guy make shit out of us? Why?! I gave him all of me. I gave him my heart, my conscience and my innocence. I gave him my privacy and I let him stick his fingers into me with all willingness. I lost my honor for him, I didn’t think it twice when I let him kiss me down my neck, slipped his hands into my top and made me sit on his dick. I was not in any way blinded, I simply allowed him fulfill my dreams ‘cause I found him worthy of my heart and purity.