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The Bathroom Mirror

Nothing Personal
© 2003 by Dawn Wan D'Stylo

She knew what she wanted, and how to get it.  The path toward sexual satisfaction was littered with the carcasses of men that found out too late they were nothing more than a temporary distraction.  Her arms, mouth, and vaginal crevice gaped like stainless steel traps for whatever struck her momentary fancy, but heaven help those that thought they were going to get close to her heart.  Some had cried out that she mustn't even have HAD a heart, as they slipped from the precipice and were lost forever from sight.  Fortunately, there never was time to discuss such things, for the cleanup crew usually arrived in short order, like a 'Humpty-Dumpty' cavalry, in time to save the day.  And to save her from an embarrassing exploratory to see if in fact she even possessed that organ.

It wasn't personal however, it was just how she preferred things to be.

It's not like the men in her life didn't get something out of an encounter with her.  She prided herself in being able to satisfy and be satisfied in equal measure.  But once the sheets were stained, her preference was to wake up in the morning, alone with her favorite company.

"Meow!" her cat Cougah would say in greeting as she hopped upon the bed, anxious for her morning kibble.

"Meow backatcha!" she said as she yawned and stretched.  Rolling over toward her puss to give her a scritch, remnants of dried cum un-adhesed from her matted vaginal hair, sending a waft of locker-room and fish market into the air around her.  She sighed as she stroked Cougah's fur, content that an 'essence' was the only thing she had to deal with as she contemplated the day to come.

The force of the water beads from the shower stung her back as they hit the spots where fingernails had extracted skin samples.  She took pleasure from that painful reminder as she buried her emasculated faux-phallus deeply within her.  Her orgasm came in shudders, and her nipples ached a little as she prodded a few extra times for good measure.  Which was the better fuck? Did it make any difference?

The day flew by as it always did, amid a flurry of power-suits and business meetings.  And while she lingered over a drink in the corner of her favorite watering hole at day's end, the ease with which she caught the eye of her next intended almost disappointed her.  A bit of a chase might make a refreshing change, if only to set the mood a tad.  All the same, she doubted this lack of challenge would get in the way of her having a fair fuck.  She'd certainly do her best to make sure of that.

Sometimes it began with a dinner date, but she was just as happy to have it 'on the go'.  Some men wanted a slow seduction, peeler-style, while others couldn't get their clothes off fast enough.  Either way didn't matter much to her.  She did lament the loss of a perfectly good blouse, torn and ripped around her naked breasts as this evening's catch pounded from above while her stiff nipples chafed on matted and sweat-infused chest hair.  She fondest hope was that this one would be kind enough to avoid getting cum on her skirt when he pulled out to perform his machismo geyser.

Another date, another notch in her snatch.  As she lay alone on her bed once again, her torn blouse and stained skirt a-kimbo, she thought about how nice it would be for her and Cougah to have a little doggie to play with.  Yes.  A nice pit-bull, possibly, that she would call Eunuch.

© 2003 Dawn Wan D'Stylo.  All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

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