It hits me as soon as I walk in the door and I am immediately in a rage; the only good looking women at the gym are 17, or at least in high school (because here once you pass 22 you HAVE to engorge yourself and become disgusting if you’re a woman).
I see the twits these girls are dating, also dumbass high school kids and nearly lose it. These boys know nothing about fucking and should be sharpening their skills in the flesh game with the swollen, marshmallowy bodies of the mid-late 20’s cows around here that are desperate to get married but will never marry the “man of their dreams” because they’ve already gone over the line and lost their edge but instead of actually doing anything to take it back they’ll just bitch about men and life and sink deeper into a dis-satisfied desperation. Conversely, I should be teaching these girls about their organs, savoring and running my tongue across their soft but firm young and newly developed bodies, letting their dripping just out of adolescent pussies cascade over my mouth.
But I don’t just want to fuck them, possess them, mentor them. I want to also teach them a lesson, maybe not scar them for life, but at least leave a bruise or solid memory; that when they thought it’d be fun and they could handle playing “not that innocent” there was something much darker lurking and waiting for the best time to strike, and take advantage, ripping away the safety net of suburban society and the education system they cling to in their juvenile game-playing. Show them that they are not what they see themselves as being, just a fabrication they see on television.