Hurt & Anger at the Hotel del Ardid

She thought she could assuage my pain but it turns out she didn't really know herself all that well. It was the lies she told to allow herself to break up with me that hurt the most. Such great insults to my character. And deep down she knew they weren't true but she needed something to tell me besides "remember how I told you I love you upwards of 100 times? Psyche! Anyways have fun with the trust issues." An immaturity that's all the rage these days. People imagine themselves to be much different people than they actually are so they can look at themselves in the mirror. It makes me wonder why people are so intent on protecting their ego when they don't have much to protect anyway.

Look at my pain, let's have a pain-off. Am I beating you yet, huh? Did I share enough pain that you feel for me, empathize with me, no matter what I do? Or did I just remind you of your own pain and cause you to retreat more into yourself. So you can examine your own personal trauma that is only applicable to yourself. Trauma that no one besides you will ever truly know. I'm guessing the latter.

Well, the pot has gone around the circle and back to me. Might as well give it another toke before passing it back around. Around and around it goes, the question is will I stop it next time?

Might as well, it is my pot after all. I mean as far as they know. So I put everything away on the second retrieval and try to transition back to being rational and a little bit above it all. I still got to seduce my way to a bed after all. So I got to get the girl to know me a bit better, or at the very least get her comfortable with me.

How to create a sense of safety? The kind where she senses I would be acting that comforting no matter what my intentions are. No fear that it would go away the moment she told me she's not interested. A belief that my act goes deeper than my skin. A soft touch would be required here. A light touch is different than a soft one. A light touch implies I'm quick on my feet, only making contact when I have a purpose. And when I do it's forceful and quick. A soft one means I go slow but hard. It's all about the ease here, an intense ease at that. And I'm guessing an intensity of feeling with all the softness that can be allowed is indeed where she gets off.

Well, some light physical comfort ought to do the trick. Pat pat pat my hand goes on her right shoulder. Comforting yet assertive, a favorite combo of mine. It should provide a potent mix on her psyche. With that, she looks up at me. Glad to see the proper height discrepancy between a man and a woman is in effect. Just as it should be. It would be hard to pull this off if she were the one staring down at me.

A simple "hey," from me is all that suffices. Anything more would probably be overkill.

"Hey," she says back, necessitating a bit more substantial response from me.

I would ask her about what she's passionate about, but that often leads to fear. As if I'm going to use my knowledge to attack what she's passionate about, belittle what matters to her most in the world. "See that ocean right there, I mean do you really see it?" I ask her instead, really getting self-parodical with my pretentions here. We're in American Beauty territory here.

"Yeah I see it," she replies.

"You know, just looking at it is such a reminder of the natural beauty we have in our world. I could just stare at it for hours and hours and not get bored." Pssssh, not when I have Nintendo to play.

"Yeah, I get that," she says.

Got that relaxing, comforting feel down now. Time to take this to a more amorous mood. If I'm not wrong then she's the type of girl that feels the need to keep up the illusion of sanctity. I'm going to have to break that illusion and tell her that she's all the better for it. Make her feel like she'll be more accepted by doing something that people would call her 'slut' or 'whore' for doing. If not by the world then by herself. I'm sure most gals would enjoy a night of physical bliss with a guy they feel uninhibited with. I just got to make her feel like that's what she's signing up for rather than me taking advantage.

I have to make sure that I'm the twist of fate that I profess to be. The prophesized one who with just one night in my arms will make everything better, soothe some of her pain. With as little self-regard on my part as possible. I have to make sure she sees me as the person who wants to take our connection to the highest reaches, be as close to one another as possible. Make her think that the fact that we just met is beside the point, frivolous even. Create a wonderful experience for both of us to share and think back on fondly. All through the act of emptying my dick in her of course.

"It's lovely to share something, isn't it? Seeing something awe-inspiring and knowing someone feels the same ways as you do." I'm coming off a little strong here but maybe that's what's needed in this situation. And it does set me up for what I want to share later.

"Yeah," is all she says with an unfortunate level of ambiguity. The silver lining is she's still undecided so I know that I still may have a chance. How to make our physical connection a sale she can't refuse? I know, promise to fill the hole that's inside of her and make quite good on that promise later. Tell her I know the real her, or at least the person she wishes she were and then tell her that's the genuine version. Who does she wish she were? I'm going to go with someone who's a little more self-assured, while still maintaining the caring persona that she's frightened of being told is wrong.

"You know you're really cool, being able to balance kindness and self-assurance like that," I just straight up tell her. Wow, I didn't even have to neg her.

She smiles and says "thanks." Now I'm going to have to come up with something that isn't a compliment, can't go back to that well again for a bit. Otherwise, she'll really know that something's up. And I've still got some gaps to fill before I make an irrevocable move.

Now how to build up the fantasy of who she wishes she were without feeling like I'm too enthralled with her? Remember, it's all about ease. Our inevitable consummation should seem like the most natural choice. "Yeah it's good you got that nailed down because there are so many people who don't, they're just waiting for someone else's approval. Or they mistake being an asshole for confidence." Well, distinguished her from the competition. I didn't over compliment her but still managed to make her feel good, good for me. That's the power of putting other people down.

She nods. Let's see, I feel like I need to do one more thing before I make my final move, but what? What could close any distance between us? Summer, what do you want from us? Bliss, of course, pure and mindless bliss. Some of that unadulterated Soma. Give her comfort without the repercussions of it.

Emotional vulnerability, of the forged kind of course. That's what's needed from me. Make something up from my past, a secret shame that's not so shameful. It's just a test for her to pass with flying colors.

"Whenever I go to the beach I always think of my brother. We used to go here a lot, or I mean other beaches. I hate to admit it but there's always some melancholy mixed in with all the natural splendor," I say, setting it up.

"What happened?" She asks, almost quaintly.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I don't want to bum you out," I caution while drawing the line to her inevitable ensnaring.

"No it's ok, you can tell me," she pleads.

"... He... He was... on the drugs... Not the pot kind... The worse kind... And I... I wanted to help him... But I didn't want to ruin our relationship. He told me... He had it under control. I... I wanted to believe him... but... then I got the call and... and... I'm so sorry," I say turning my head as if to cry. Withdrawing from the world and more importantly from her. I'd like to thank the Academy.

"It's ok," she says as she hugs me. There, she's now the hero of this story. And what does the hero get? A kiss, a little bit different from those fairy type ones. No happily ever after/vanishing into the ether kiss for this one. I give her a demanding kind, the kind that commands of her to live up to it. And who's going to turn a dude down after he told them about his dead brother, huh?

Really going in for the passion for this one. No ironic distance here or anything to protect me from a fear of failure. All my chips are loaded and placed directly into her mouth. Yet, from the sensations on her lips, I can tell she's being drawn into me. She's the one mirroring me, growing more and more stimulated as time goes on. What can I say, passion makes perfect.

Yet a kiss is not an invitation to the boudoir. The game is far from over. Though it does have a start that's going to be hard to bungle up. Kissing a guy in front of a beach, that's the cover of every romance novel. And god, are there some pages for her to flip through in this book.

*******************************

We're heading to their room now. My new hopeful straight-up dumped her now ex to my gain. Over text even, guess their relationship was truly one of convenience rather than one based mutual respect and admiration. A single lady is a bit easier to seduce anyhow, I mean not by that much but every bit counts. It's just one less factor I've got to take into account. She even told him to vacate the room, that one does elevate my hopes quite a bit. Running into him would've not been my cup of tea.

But who do I run into during our sojourn through these halls of the hotel but the group of girls from the night before? Awkward. Something in Denmark ain't smelling too good right about now. Think, I got a few seconds before their apoplectic rage sets in. What do I do?

"Hey, how's it going? So nice to see all of you. I hope you're all doing well. Let's all hang out again sometime. I'll be sure to call you," I rapidly and graciously say. They're stunned, they don't know how to respond to this. Thank god. That gives me time to ferry my new crew across before the old group comes to their senses.

Once that's over with and the old group can't see me I stick out my tongue and point to it with my finger in mock disgust to my new band of pals. The new crew all laughs at this, even though they probably have no idea why it's funny. Oddly enough though it's the kind of laughter that's based in objectivity, as if by laughing at my insult to those people they are committing a morally correct action.

The illusion of objectivity without the reality of it. That is what is needed by most in today's climate. The confidence one is correct without having the mental thought processes of checking if they are weighing them down. The trust that their basest programming is correct with no other thoughts contrary to the matter. The ability to excise anyone from their network of compassion without knowing that the logical conclusion of their actions would result with everyone being excised. Me, I found a different path. I've learned to be wrong while still being able to look at myself in the mirror.

I'm a weird man living a weird life. I know I'm weird because once upon a time I looked in vain for objectivity. Now I know that's a fool's errand, but at the time I went down some pretty weird paths to figure out what's what. In truth, we are all living in a dream world. You're alone with your thoughts and then you die with your thoughts. You can't factor objectivity into that.

Anyway, we're back at the 3 room suite their parents must have so graciously paid for. We crack open some beers. You only live once, might as well make it for as short as possible. I can tell you all about the wisecracks, fun and earnest feelings to really get the empathy going that I throw out or you could just take my word for it and we can skip to the next sex scene that will inevitably fail to get you off.

So off me and... God, I think I've forgotten her name already, huh. Hope that won't matter. Anyways the other couples leave and so it's just me and her, naturally off to bed together. Or at least that's what I assume as I follow her to her bedroom without asking. I know that sounds creepy but rest assured I make it so it's as natural as can be.

So in front of her bed, I grab her head and kiss her oh so passionately. Really getting her lips to quiver too. Soft but solid grip holding her in place. Adding a little sway to us, making it a little bit more playful, in place motion to ensure that she doesn't feel trapped. I move my head away for a second to smile at her, letting her know that this is all nice and friendly. She smiles back out of some ill-defined need to reciprocate actions.

Moment of truth time, do or die, in or out. I have to translate lip service into going all the way. What's left to do? What barriers of hers have I yet to break down? What would keep us apart? Thinking, that's what. The chance to say no, to retain the status quo, to protect herself against everything and anything that might happen.

Can't let her do that, I have to do the feeling for her. Make her feel that I know better. I'm the one sent down from above because God doesn't trust her to think for herself. But that's ok because I'm here now. I'm here to do all her thinking for her, and what I'm thinking is that we should go to bed and explore each other's sexual prowess.

Now how to wrap all of that up in a pretty bow for her? What to say? "Don't you feel it too?" I ask her. She doesn't but that doesn't mean she won't say no.

"I do," she responds. Good for her. I plant another kiss on her. What's next? Maybe I give her the false flag that objectification can be defeated by feeding it too much. If she gives herself to me as a bodily object then there will be no reason for me to objectify her because I already have her. Little does she know that I'll be gone from her almost immediately as soon as she gives herself away.

"I want to go with it," I tell her. Still not defining what it is.

"I do too," she says. And then I reach for her garments and she allows it. She allows herself to be laid bare before my eyes. An act of sacrifice on her part, the good kind that allows someone to grow by cutting off a little piece of themselves. The inhibitions that shielded herself from undue intrusion are gone, allowing herself to be invaded by whatever I have in store for her.

I am about to put the finishing touches on my great undressing. There, that's a naked girl right there. No escaping the light for her, it surrounds her now, finding its way into every nook and cranny on her body. All in the name of exposing herself to me. Me, me, lucky me.

The naked girl, the sign of intimacy that many men have craved for, paid for through second-hand sources just to experience what they were missing. In a distanced manner of course but still in some tangible way. The simple aestheticism of it all blown up into proportion because it's marketable. By companies and by girls themselves, because the flesh and blood aspect is what guys are really going for here. Relatability isn't likely to find a home here, not when seduction and mating are the names of the day.

Evolution favors the selfish gene, the one that does everything it possibly can to propagate. To pass itself down through the eternities of time. Survival of the fittest can't account for the peacock's tail. And the genes in me want to propagate, they really do. They want to become immortal, mixing and matching their way with so many specimens through the halls of time. Who am I to deny them that? I serve them, they are my master.

The idea that we are part of our species beyond purposes of simple classification is a lie. We are a part of ourselves and that is it. The purpose of the others who belong to the same genus as me is for me to conquer them. I conquer them by making everything me, I infect them with my ideas, I infect their woman with my genetic material, I will infect their futures by having their women constantly compare them to me. It's all coming up me baby.

And all this comes to mind from staring at a naked girl. indeed I've found the true meaning of summer. Strip away all the iconography of the beach and bikinis, it's the fantasy that you will be accepted at your basest. The person who just wants to have fun and forget about all their worries, not owe anything to anyone. Just fun in the sun. To become a part of this inflated fabrication, to be even for just a moment free from the woes that define the human experience.

However, I have a little different type of base. Strip around all my strategy and higher thoughts and what have you and this is who I am down to my basic level. I just want to win. This is who I am, this is who I've become. The society I know is more akin to a warzone, A warzone where most of the players are deluded and running around in circles not knowing where the battlefield actually is, but a warzone nonetheless. I know though, it's every man for himself and one against all. No way the three musketeers are making their way in the world today.

I've been accepted into the fabrication that is summer. I even took my sense of self along for the ride, not many can say the same about that. In a sense, I have become summer, a symbol of warmth and carefree that women have given themselves to. I Didn't even have to pay a dime. And I did it all by doing something that the guy usually has to pay for. She's looking at me, so happy to be naked in front of me. That dumb bitch, if only she can see what's inside me now. She wouldn't be so happy. But no, don't give the game away. No undue taunting.

So now, time to claim my victory. I do my own undressing. Why, what a hard dick I have! All the better to fuck her with. On top of her is where I go. Better to lay claim to the land that is so rightfully mine. She, she wanted her fantasy. She wanted her summer. She wanted her fantasy of the summer she saw on her tv, beach babes, six-pack guys and carefree fun. Well, this is the summer of my discontent, and what a discontent I have. I have hurt and anger coursing through these veins of mine. Now time to deal with it. Burning off steam by doing such intimate acts under false pretenses. She wouldn't love me for me so I had to become someone else, someone worse.

This was all about connecting to me, wasn't it? All along, finding out the depths that I would go to for self-understanding. Learning about me, proving that I could do this. Grabbing evidence that I am capable, I'm not the weak-willed scum others could step on and feel no empathy. I am above them all because I have taken what they all wanted, the vision of purity that's about to take my cock up her snatch.

So here I go. I make sure to warm up her opening a little by playing with her clit so it's wet enough for me. What a nice guy I am. But only until she's ready and then it's my needs only babe. Just be glad that there's some overlap where your and my pleasure meet. Well, her time for solo pleasure has come to an end, time for me to stick a cock in it.

Oh yes, that's the ticket. Buy the ticket, take the ride. And what a ride this is. Corrupting the innocent, unsullied earth becomes scorched. Just enjoy the pleasure, you've earned it. Oh god the pleasure, what pleasure. A pleasure we all hunger for. Each day, every day we all yearn for it. We were cursed with this need but now this need has become an asset. All because I followed the need for the pleasure I'm experiencing. The pleasure that soothes my angst and tells me it's all ok. No need to worry, I've done my part.

I'm on top of a girl in a state in which I'm supposed to be the most vulnerable. Yet I have the power. I'm dominating this bitch. Just watch as my dick goes in and out of her, sending jolts of pleasure up my spine with every thrust. Go dick go! I fucking love you my dick, you're the best. Give me the pleasure that you were made to, that is my command.