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Ripped Rob

I know you're fingering yourself, you dirty slut.

"So I have to admit to being terribly confused. This is the category for straight men, right?"

I used to know this girl, Carly, this hot little blonde chick. We had gone out a few times. She was this good girl, godly even, at least up until she unzipped my pants, eyes wide.

We only went out a couple times. I had to move away for school. But we kept in touch now and then. She use to call me up out of the blue. We'd talk. We'd talk about this or that, catch up on old times, how things were, etc.

But it was all bullshit; I knew why she had called. She'd be sitting there with just a tshirt on, fingering herself quietly while we talked. I'd hear her breath quicken. I'd know. But that's why she was calling me: because I knew.

I'm the only one in the world that knew what a freak she was. Everyone else thought she was this perfect goody goody. But I knew she was a slut. I knew that she was my slut.

I owned her.