That’s How It Feels
When I was 18, I went out with a guy who was 10 years older than me. He was still living with his parents and feeding off their estate, but ah well, I fell in love with his eyes. Unfortunately, I got stuck with the whole, horrible package.
To begin with, he was unbelievably controlling and over-the-top jealous almost the minute we got serious. He also kept invading my every moment.
For example, he found out where I was having dinner with some friends, showed up by “coincidence” to check if there were guys in our company, and then stayed without being invited. At some point, I found out from his friends how he’d bragged that “Hey, an 18-year-old is screwing me”.
As in how cool am I? But I let it all slide because…Well, he was pretty good in bed. This came back to bite me. My interest levels were getting lower and lower by the day, then one night, while in the act, he accidentally slipped and went into the “wrong” place.
Full throttle. It was the scream heard around the world. But somehow, it only got worse. After asking if I was okay (I said, “no”) and waiting 30 seconds, he just kept going. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
I spent the next weekend alone with him at his place, and his parents wouldn’t be back until around Sunday afternoon. I knew this was my chance for revenge.
After breakfast and some relaxing time on Sunday morning, I put on a suggestive smile. I asked, “So, do you want to see how it feels to sleep with an 18-year-old”? I then led him to his parent’s bedroom and pushed him onto their bed.
I gave him my naughtiest look, and he put up little resistance as I tied his legs to the bed; handcuffing him to the railing was even easier. But then I suddenly stopped, got out of bed, and reached into my overnight bag.
Then I grabbed my eyebrow tweezers and got to work down there. He wasn’t a particularly hairy guy, but there was still quite a lot to work with. For every hair I plucked, I gave him a reason why. It took him a while to realize that the more he swore and cursed at me, the slower I’d pull the hairs out.
But by the final few hairs, he was suffering quietly, so I knew he got the point. Afterward, I got dressed, looked at him lovingly, and told him, “THAT’S how it feels”. Then I left him there for his parents to find. Zavarakatranemi