It was at community college, she came up to me. Of course, being a brooding art student I was used to the curious approaching. She, however, was an art groupie. She made conversation but I was detached and preoccupied with my thoughts. Shortly she invited me to her house. Her mom offered us sandwiches but she refused saying we would be in her room studying.

It was news to me. We went upstairs.

In her room she asked as she locked the door, "what do you like?" I made a short answer, "abstract art." "No, silly, I'm talking about sex." "I like you, " I said. She laughed. She got on her pink bed in that pink room. She spread her arms. "Tie my hands to the bed, " she said. I looked around as I sat in the chair taking off my shoes and gym socks.

I could find nothing so I used my socks. It was my first time for anything like this. I stood back to look at her and saw her sniffing my socks.

I had been wearing them all day the embarrassment hit me. She liked like the smell but I don't know how I feel about that. "Get on top of me, " she commanded me and I did so. "Slap my face, " she said.

I tapped her cheek.

"Harder, like a man." "Real men don't hit girls, " I said. "They all do, now come on and hit me." I slapped her.

The guilt I thought would be there wasn't. "Again and this time make me feel it." I felt wrong so I took it out on her. "You playing bitch!" then I slapped her. I felt her writhe in pleasure beneath me. So I told her what a slut she was. I whispered it in her ear and slapped her some. "Pull my hair.

" I whispered some more and pulled hard. I did this and felt her writhe.

I started to cry because I knew I should feel guilty but wasn't. I whispered even more. I came to the realization that she writhed more when I whispered that when I was physical so I continued: "You cheap slut, you're perverted.

You're a playing bitch, you know. Ten of you wouldn't equal a normal girl.

You're not fit to touch my used condoms. Who's ever going to want to marry you, to be mother to their brats? You're trash, you're nothing." She made me see a part of myself that I was scared of so I punished her with my words. For doing so she said, "stick your fingers in my panties, stick them inside me." I did, I jammed them in her cunt, in spite or maybe because of what she made me feel. Not long after she began to moan and I felt the contractions on my fingers. I left, running, in tears to the park. I went into the men's room and in a stall I jerked off.

She tried to talk to me but I wanted nothing to do with her.

I transferred to a four-year school not long after. I got myself a nice girl for a girlfriend. She asked me to tell her about my past but I didn't want to. When she promised not to tell me her story I told her mine. I was ashamed but she said it was just a matter of taste. Some guys like baseball and I like art, it was like that. Then she had me do the same to her but this time I felt good about it.