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It seemed that the lyrics of the song on the radio spoke directly to him, lifting him up, making him feel happy that someone, somewhere understood what he felt. When he got home, Jess went straight to his room. As he was changing into his work uniform, he took a look at himself in the mirror. He was 16, had long, dark brown hair, electric blue eyes, was about six feet tall, and had slim body. The person staring back at him looked so far away, it looked like him, but it wasnt him. The eyes of the person in the mirror looked so desolate and empty it was shocking. Sighing to himself, he turned off the light and headed to work. At work that night, he just floated aimlessly through the evening, barely engaging the customers, just wanting the night to end so that he could go home and sleep. Sleep, the one thing and one time of the day when he didnt feel hollow, lifeless. When didnt feel anything but peace. The next day was Saturday and he didnt have to go to work or school so he could. We followed the same plan Carrie had, snuggling, caressing, talking about nothing at all in quiet tones. When the time came, I pulled him to his feet, telling him to shower. “I want you clean, so I can mark you with my scent.”He showered, noticing his new boxers when he came out. White silk. He donned them without comment, and lit the candles, settling in to wait.He looked at me when I walked into the bedroom, eyes widening in recognition. I had the same wedding lingerie Carrie had worn. We caressed and fondled with increasing urgency. He dropped me on my back, but I pushed him off. “No! I want you to do me like you did Carrie. Make me your bitch first, then make me your lover.”It was all I needed to say. He flipped me like I was a feather, pulling me up to my knees. One advantage I had over Carrie was I didn’t need lube, I was dripping like a bad faucet when he entered me. It was the biggest thing I’d ever had in me. When he hit my cervix I screamed and gushed, the first of many. I.
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