The Savage Seduction of Mary

I've learned a lot about women over the years.

It hasn't been easy. I was a bookish nerd in high school, with clunky glasses, a pot belly, a bad haircut, and no sense of fashion or style. Back then women wanted nothing to do with me. They gravitated toward big dumb jocks, especially the ones whose families had money. My family was broke.

On the rare occasions I tried to engage girls in conversation, they treated me with a mixture of scorn and pity. I still didn't date much during college, but I was smart enough to recognize that I needed to improve myself if I ever wanted to lose my virginity.

So that's what I did. I studied hard, earned a degree in economics, and got a good job after graduation. I lost the flab by becoming a runner. I built up muscle lifting weights. I ditched the glasses and got contact lenses. I got a better haircut from a good stylist. I even learned some things about fashion and upgraded my wardrobe.

After a few years, things had changed. I did well at work, and before long I was managing a group of accountants and bookkeepers who did important work for the company. By my late 20s I had a nice car, a cool condo, a good salary, a growing investment account - and a lot of cute women who suddenly wanted to spend time with me.

It wasn't just me that changed: so had the women who'd scorned me. They discovered that the pretty boys they dated in their youth were a bunch of entitled losers. Some of those bozos flunked out of college. Others couldn't hold down a job. Some cheated on their wives and girlfriends. Most of them had flabby bellies and empty heads because they spent their evenings swilling beer and watching mindless crap on TV.

The women who'd been so anxious to spread their legs for those arrogant jerks had learned some hard lessons. By the time they were in their late 20s, they had gone through painful break-ups and divorces. It had taken a few years, but they finally realized that what they actually wanted was a guy like me.

But by then I could be selective. If a woman wanted to spend time with me, she had to earn it. I was no longer interested in fawning over a girl just because she was attractive and willing to spend time with me. I needed women who treated me with respect, and I had no use for one who wouldn't give me sex starting early in the relationship.

I came up with what I called "the three date rule."

It was simple. I'd take a girl out three times. If they went to bed with me after one of the first three dates, great. I'd continue dating them. But if they resisted my advances, I'd give them "the talk." Basically, I told them this:

"Baby, I'm very fond of you. I enjoy spending time with you. But I get the feeling that something is keeping you from being truly intimate with me. I'm not going to try to change your mind. I respect your values. But my feeling is that we've spent enough time together for you to decide if you want to pursue a relationship.

"However you feel, I support it. You should do whatever you want to do. But you need to know how I feel.

"We are two adults, and what I want from you is an adult relationship. If you want to keep seeing me, this relationship needs to become physical. Otherwise, I need to find someone who wants the same things I do.

"It's up to you."

In most cases, this persuaded women to have sex. One woman told me that "the talk" aroused her. She was surprised to meet a man confident enough to tell her she had to go to bed; most guys wheedled and implored and sometimes even begged. That was the kind of treatment women expected, and when I told them I deserved better, it convinced them I must be right. Getting an ultimatum from a dominant male was a turn-on.

When women refused, I felt they were doing me a favor. Some women don't want to have casual sex ever; I was glad to learn this before I wasted too much time or money on them. Some women just don't like sex. That's also something I needed to know early, so I was glad when women like this rejected "the talk."

Maybe one reason things went so wrong with Mary was that I was feeling a little too cocky. My "three date rule" made me think of myself as a guy in complete control of my sex life. I know one thing for sure: the fact that she was so gorgeous certainly contributed to my bad judgment.

The story of our relationship is kind of complicated, and I'm reluctant to talk about the parts that are especially embarrassing. But here goes:

Things got started while I was at the gym.

I like to lift weights three times a week. One day I noticed a spectacular beauty working out with dumbbells. She had a carved, buff physique that was obviously the result of tremendous devotion to diet and exercise. She had the kind of elegant, stylish hair style found on models walking runways. She wore expensive designer athletic gear that conformed to every curve and cleft on her body.

That was Mary. She was dazzling.

I saw her look in my direction. She did that several times. Mary finally walked over and struck up a conversation. I didn't learn why she picked me until she told me much later.

It turned out that Mary considered herself a psychic, and she believed that someone from the spirit world pointed her in my direction. She thought this meant we were destined to be together. I think that tells you all you need to know about what kind of woman Mary was.

I don't remember exactly what she said that first time. I think it was something like "Do you just use weight machines, or do you also like free weights?" It was one of those meaningless comments that was only important because it meant that Mary wanted to chat me up.

As everyone knows, women don't usually ask guys out. What they do instead is let guys know they want to be asked. Fine. Whatever. I invited Mary to have coffee after our workout, and she quickly accepted.

"Why is such a gorgeous woman looking for company?" I wondered as I got into my street clothes. If I'd been smart, I would have realized it was because she'd done things that caused her previous relationships to fall apart. But I wasn't being smart. All I was thinking was what she'd look like naked, and whether we'd need to have "the talk."

The first sign of trouble came on that very first date.

"What's your birthday?" she asked. When I told her, she asked for the year, too. "I want to draw up an astrological chart for you."

Uh-oh. I don't have a lot of patience for astrology, and I couldn't imagine being comfortable for long in the company of a woman who thought it was sensible. My feeling is that when it comes to dumb superstitions, astrology ranks somewhere between the Ouija board and Tarot cards.

It turned out that Mary believed in all three of those things - and more - and I regularly had to resist the urge to scoff at her beliefs. It was just the first sign that we wouldn't be compatible in the long term, but I told myself that didn't mean we couldn't enjoy ourselves for a while.

Look, I was anxious to get Mary out of her clothes. I'm a guy. It's what we do.

I'll just get straight to the central issue. We went out several times, and Mary resisted physical intimacy. She wouldn't even kiss me! Three dates came and went, and she managed to make me believe she'd ultimately decide to have sex if I was just persistent enough. I realize now I should have been more skeptical.

I gave Mary leeway because I was willing to do anything to get my hands on her incredible body. My three date rule never applied because Mary was did a wonderful job flaunting her body in a way calculated to make me think we'd be intimate - eventually.

I'm going to skip a lot of sordid details. All you need to know is I'm embarrassed to admit how long it took for me to realize that Mary was just using me to take her to fancy restaurants and elegant clubs. That's it. All she wanted was a guy with enough money to buy her stuff. My needs were of no interest to her.

One of the things that tipped me off was her large collection of expensive designer clothes and accessories. Purses. Shoes. Sunglasses. Apparel of all kinds. Mary worked as a stylist, and I know some of them earn good salaries, but it wasn't possible for her to afford all that stuff on her own. How does a stylist buy purses that cost $5,000?

I gradually realized that she must have found a series of guys willing to pay for whatever she wanted because they thought that someday she'd let them have that spectacular body. She apparently took each guy for everything she could, then moved on to the next sucker.

She was grooming me to be her next sugar daddy. And I gave her exactly what she wanted.

As all this was happening, I gradually figured out that Mary was an exhibitionist. It was amazing how much cleavage she would display in public. The thing that finally made me recognise her exhibitionism happened when I took her canoeing.

Because I knew she liked fitness, I invited her on a date paddling around on a lake just east of town. It was fun; we both enjoyed having such a pleasant way of getting an aerobic workout, and I liked that it didn't involve buying overpriced menu items.

But the thing I liked best was the tiny bikini Mary wore. Oh. My. God. It was as close to naked as she could be without violating the law. I had a lot of fun sitting behind her in the canoe and inspecting every inch of her body as she paddled through the water. Flexing back muscles never looked sexier.

This is taking too long, so I'll get to the point. It took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out what was going on, but when I did I felt humiliated. Emasculated. Mary saw me as someone who'd spend a lot of money on her and expect nothing in return.

And the worst thing was I'd given her exactly what she wanted! I'd been so anxious to take her to bed that I behaved like the stupid, desperate nerd I'd been when I was a teenager. I'd been smart enough to create the "three dates rule" to protect myself from users, but I'd been so spellbound by Mary's sultry appeal that I forgot my own rule.

It made me furious with her and with myself.

At first, I decided I'd never see Mary again. She called me a few times, leaving messages about some fancy, expensive restaurant she wanted me to take her to. I knew I'd have to talk to her eventually, but I put it off because I was too angry to have a sensible conversation.

But then I had a better idea. Mary had played me for a fool. Maybe I could return the favor.

"How would you like to go on a hike?" I asked when I was finally ready to talk. "I know a great place to go. We can see some beautiful scenery and get a nice work-out at the same time." Mary accepted; the fact that it involved exercise meant it was one of the few affordable activities she'd agree to do. I remember she wore a pair of tight short-shorts and a halter top made of thin material that showed the outline of her nipples. It was fun watching her fit body scramble up and down rocky trails.

After we hiked a while, I asked the question I'd prepared for her.

"Have you ever been to Key West?" I asked.

"No," she said. "I hear it's nice."

I told Mary I'd been thinking of taking a vacation, and Key West was on my list of possible destinations. "It sounds like fun," I said.

I had no intention of going to Key West. But I tried to think of a place she'd love to go, and Key West met all the criteria. It's one big tropical resort where affluent people splash in the surf and work on their tans while sipping fancy rum drinks. There are a lot of overpriced items aimed at tourists. Gourmet restaurants. Boutiques. The kind of stuff that makes Mary droll.

Her eyes lit up! I did my best to make her think I was considering taking her on an expensive vacation where I'd foot the bill for all the luxurious things she loved so much.

I let that idea marinate for a few days. The next time we got together I showed her some photos I'd found of Key West. The pictures confirmed it was exactly the kind of place she'd love to go - as long as I paid for everything.

"Maybe we could go shopping and get you some new bathing suits before we go," I said. That got her attention! I was speaking her language!

The next ploy involved telling her about a Key West event called Fantasy Fest. It's a big street party featuring a lot of drinking, music, and people strolling along the main street in sexy outfits - it's kind of like an erotic Mardi Gras.

I showed Mary photos that included gorgeous women wearing body paint and little else. Check it out on Google; the pictures show a lot of topless babes and a surprising amount of full nudity. Since Mary is an exhibitionist, she realized that Fantasy Fest was an opportunity to put her body on display in public before a crowd of lustful voyeurs. I'd picked excellent bait for my trap.

"If you'd like, we could probably find a good artist to give you a nice paint job," I said. "You'd look better than any of the other women down there."

That was it. Mary was hooked. She. Wanted. To. Go. I told her the date for the next Fantasy Fest and said I'd make reservations if she was sure. Boy, she was SURE! You could almost hear the wheels in her head crank as she thought of creative new ways to get me to spend more money on her.

"I'd love to do something like that!" she said. "I could work on my tan before we go!"

I gave her a few days to think about it. I had no intention of ever making reservations, but it was convenient to make her think that was about to happen. After she had a few more days to reflect about all the ways she could squeeze money out of me, I gave her links to websites for a couple of different resort hotels and asked which one she liked best.

I'm sure you won't be surprised that she liked the one that cost the most. After I'd done everything I could to whet her appetite, I did the thing I'd planned from the beginning.

It was time for Mary's customized version of "the talk."

"Mary, I've been thinking," I said. "You know how much I care for you. I love spending time with you. It's nice being with a woman who is so devoted to fitness. You inspire me to be more disciplined with diet and exercise.

"This trip to Key West has gotten me thinking about how much fun we could have there. But thinking about it made me realize something. The kind of relationship I want right now is an adult relationship. I'm ready to be with a woman who wants to be physically intimate. We've done everything else, but we haven't taken that logical next step in our relationship.

"We've gone out long enough for you to know whether I'm the kind of guy you want in your life. What I'm saying is that I want you to decide which direction we should take. If we're going to keep seeing each other, we need to take our relationship to the next level. If you aren't ready for that, it's fine. I respect your decision. But I'll need to move on. When I do eventually go to places like Key West with someone, I want to take my lover."

Mary was not happy. She wanted to discuss it more - while having an overpriced meal at some fancy restaurant. Over and over, she suggested we get together at a place like that to "talk," and I steadfastly refused.

"Mary, there's nothing to discuss. My mind is made up," I said. "We've spent more than enough time going to nice restaurants. What we need to do next is go to bed.

"Don't think I'm trying to pressure you. I just want you to know how attracted I am to you. I want you to know which direction I need for us to take. If you aren't ready to become intimate, we can part as friends."

You're probably thinking that I was being a real asshole by this point, and I don't disagree. Look, I was angry. I was angry at Mary for shamelessly exploiting my generosity. I was angry at myself for letting her emasculate me. I was angry at her for deliberately misleading me into thinking we'd eventually have sex.

I planned to get even, and I was certain it wouldn't happen unless I refused to spend one more dollar on Mary if she didn't give me some pussy first. It reminded me of the time I tried to get a cat to swallow a pill. That cat fought, and fought, and fought - but eventually I shoved the pill down her throat.

Mary agreed to my terms.

We've come to the part of the story where I tell you about having sex with this gorgeous creature. You'll be disappointed. Mary was terrible at sex. Awful in every way. I've never worked so hard to get so little satisfaction. It took a ridiculous amount of work to get her to take off her clothes and spread her legs.

The nicest part was that I was finally able to verify that she had implants. Her boobs were so big I figured they had to be fake, but they looked so real and perfect I wasn't sure until I could finally get my hands on them. She must have had a very good surgeon. I wondered how she could afford such high-priced implants, but then I realized she probably found some dumb guy to pay for them.

We had a routine. I'd come over to Mary's apartment, we'd have sex, then I'd take her out somewhere nice. She tried to reverse that order a couple of times, but I held firm: if there was no sex first, there'd be no expensive meal afterward. Over time she stopped struggling so much, making it easier for me to fuck her.

She didn't usually have an orgasm. I'm not sure she even liked having orgasms. It seemed to be one more thing she resisted.

But I persevered. I'd hold her wrists down as I worked my hard cock into her pussy. It took a lot of lube, but I did it. After we screwed for a while, she couldn't avoid feeling some pleasure down there, and she'd stop fighting so much. On the days when we spent an unusually long time fucking, she'd have weak little orgasms.

Does that sound weird? It felt weird. I'd never imagined that a woman would work so hard to avoid enjoying sex.

It didn't matter; if she wanted me to buy her an expensive meal, she had to earn it. I could tell that she was thinking all this sex meant I needed to start buying her things like jewelry, purses and designer clothes, but I put a lot of effort into delaying these shopping trips. I was making progress, but my plan still wasn't complete.

I intended to surprise Mary by doing something without her consent. I wanted payback.

On the appointed day I stripped off Mary's clothes and laid her down on the bed. Next, I applied some lube to her pussy. She had no appetite for regular foreplay - the thing that worked best was using lube to prepare her for my fingers, followed by my cock. When we got to a point where she seemed to be ready, I lined up my cock and pressed inside.

"Uggghhhh!" she always said. She usually squeezed her eyes shut, tossed back her head, and gritted her teeth when I forced my way in. I slid in and out, going a little deeper each time, until my cock was balls deep.

That's when Mary usually stopped fighting. I'd feel her relax, and I'd go in and out slowly so I could enjoy myself as long as possible. She was a lousy lay, but it was always fun feeling that gorgeous body and tight pussy. I usually had a decent climax before it was over.

But on this day I did something that's going to sound strange. I pretended to have an orgasm. That's right; after we'd had sex for a while, I faked an orgasm. I began slamming in and out of her pussy to make it seem I was getting ready to cum. I groaned theatrically and slammed into her body one last time, just as I usually did when I finished.

But I wasn't finished. My cock was still hard as granite and aching for more. I pulled out of Mary's body and lay down beside her. As I laid there, Mary did what she always did when we finished having sex: she ran to the bathroom to clean up. Then she came back to bed.

While Mary was in the bathroom, I got some lube and applied it to my cock. She had no idea anything was different when she got back under the covers. Mary didn't understand what I was doing as I turned her over and put her face down on the mattress. I spread her legs, got between them, and put the head of my cock against her tight little asshole.