Bassim
VIP Member
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2008
- Member Type
- Student or Learner
- Native Language
- Bosnian
- Home Country
- Bosnia Herzegovina
- Current Location
- Sweden
This is the fifth part of my short story, The Lonely Wolf. Please would you correct my mistakes.
It took me months until I recovered from this unpleasant episode. However, I was intrigued to go to the bottom of my feelings. Was my disgust towards this woman caused by her unattractive body, or was it something deeper behind my reaction. I started to behave like a spider looking for a “victim” and spinning my nets all over the town. I went to the night-clubs a few times but declined the advances of the women I did not like for some reasons. Then one evening I was lucky. She was a young, beautiful girl, without company and without money. I treated her with a drink, then another, and she looked at me gratefully with her dark eyes. We chatted the whole evening. She told me about her childhood and her parents who divorced when she had become a teenager and how their separation had affected her own life. I listened to her story but tried not to become emotionally involved. I wanted her young body, and was not interested in her soul. I was selfish not because I wanted to abuse and exploit her, but because I wanted to find answers about myself.
She followed me to my flat gladly. She smiled at me. Her dark eyes sparkled under the streetlights. This was probably not the first time she followed an older man to his home. Maybe she was still searching for her father, hoping that the next man she met would be him. Maybe she knew that older men would always treat her with drinks, be generous towards her and respect her.
We took off our clothes almost simultaneously. Her body was slender; her firm breasts were round and her shapely legs were like a fashion model’s. She gave me a teasing look, aware of the power her young body wielded over men. She certainly believed that I was going to behave like others. I was going to grope her breasts, cover her body with my saliva and whisper obscenities into her ear.
My goal was to prove to myself that I was a real man, a man with drives, who craved a woman’s body, enjoyed good sex, and had tenderness for another human being. Unfortunately, when I saw her body I understood that I was not an ordinary human being. I was never going to be as others. I was condemned to live the life of an outcast who should stay away from his fellow citizens and look for companionship somewhere else.
“No,” I said. “I can’t.” She stared at me understanding nothing.
“This is absolutely wrong,” I said.
“What is wrong?”
“Everything. From the beginning. I shouldn’t do this.”
She gave me a look of disgust. Her eyes fell upon my flaccid, shrunken organ and she winced.
“You idiot!” she shouted. “Why did you drag me all the way to your flat when you’re impotent? You should buy yourself a silicon doll instead.”
“Please let me explain. There is something with my feelings that I can’t control....”
She cut me in saying, “I’m not a psychiatrist. I did not come here for a therapy session.” She dressed hastily and left my flat without a word, slamming the door behind her. I sat on my bed, put my head into my hands and started crying. What have I done to deserve such a fate? I was never envious; never bore a grudge against other people; I did not hate anyone. I wished everyone happiness and success, but instead of blessings, I only received more pain and suffering. I tried to find any kind of rational explanations, but all my enquiries ended in a blind alley. In the end, I had to accept my suffering just as the blind have to put up with their blindness or disabled with their handicap.
TO BE CONTINUED
It took me months until I recovered from this unpleasant episode. However, I was intrigued to go to the bottom of my feelings. Was my disgust towards this woman caused by her unattractive body, or was it something deeper behind my reaction. I started to behave like a spider looking for a “victim” and spinning my nets all over the town. I went to the night-clubs a few times but declined the advances of the women I did not like for some reasons. Then one evening I was lucky. She was a young, beautiful girl, without company and without money. I treated her with a drink, then another, and she looked at me gratefully with her dark eyes. We chatted the whole evening. She told me about her childhood and her parents who divorced when she had become a teenager and how their separation had affected her own life. I listened to her story but tried not to become emotionally involved. I wanted her young body, and was not interested in her soul. I was selfish not because I wanted to abuse and exploit her, but because I wanted to find answers about myself.
She followed me to my flat gladly. She smiled at me. Her dark eyes sparkled under the streetlights. This was probably not the first time she followed an older man to his home. Maybe she was still searching for her father, hoping that the next man she met would be him. Maybe she knew that older men would always treat her with drinks, be generous towards her and respect her.
We took off our clothes almost simultaneously. Her body was slender; her firm breasts were round and her shapely legs were like a fashion model’s. She gave me a teasing look, aware of the power her young body wielded over men. She certainly believed that I was going to behave like others. I was going to grope her breasts, cover her body with my saliva and whisper obscenities into her ear.
My goal was to prove to myself that I was a real man, a man with drives, who craved a woman’s body, enjoyed good sex, and had tenderness for another human being. Unfortunately, when I saw her body I understood that I was not an ordinary human being. I was never going to be as others. I was condemned to live the life of an outcast who should stay away from his fellow citizens and look for companionship somewhere else.
“No,” I said. “I can’t.” She stared at me understanding nothing.
“This is absolutely wrong,” I said.
“What is wrong?”
“Everything. From the beginning. I shouldn’t do this.”
She gave me a look of disgust. Her eyes fell upon my flaccid, shrunken organ and she winced.
“You idiot!” she shouted. “Why did you drag me all the way to your flat when you’re impotent? You should buy yourself a silicon doll instead.”
“Please let me explain. There is something with my feelings that I can’t control....”
She cut me in saying, “I’m not a psychiatrist. I did not come here for a therapy session.” She dressed hastily and left my flat without a word, slamming the door behind her. I sat on my bed, put my head into my hands and started crying. What have I done to deserve such a fate? I was never envious; never bore a grudge against other people; I did not hate anyone. I wished everyone happiness and success, but instead of blessings, I only received more pain and suffering. I tried to find any kind of rational explanations, but all my enquiries ended in a blind alley. In the end, I had to accept my suffering just as the blind have to put up with their blindness or disabled with their handicap.
TO BE CONTINUED