Starburst
Registered User
- Joined
- Jun 17, 2009
- Messages
- 9
- Points
- 0
A little, short, not too great something that I thought of in less than... umm.. 12 hours? It's really not really great, and I've written other stories before, but this is a new one, so. Kinda sounds non- fiction, but it's fiction. Hope you guys enjoy this. 🙂
-------------------------
Is it possible for one to be loved? For one to fall in love? I thought it was, until it occured to be what love really is. Or was.
Sure, I've fallen in love before. He was my first love, my true love, the unregrettable, and the one I will never forget. I always thought we fought a lot because we cared about each other too much, but it was actually the foreshadowing of the unfortunate break up. I may complain about it to myself a little bit too much, or may exaggerate the fact that I did everything for him, and that I'll never let him go, but it was only the small addiction admitting that it wasn't an addiction, or admitting that it was, and was slightly confused.
What makes love the way it is is the feeling of safety and trust. Of course, I trusted my first love with everything. I was honest, pure, innocent. I had nothing to hide, and I never lied to him. I love how he made me feel safe. He was protective, and he never laid a hand on me, except a gentle one.
I was never afraid when I was with him, and I think that's why I loved Aaron the most. He was honest with me, and if he was going to do something, he'd probably tell me first. Even if it was a surprise party. Aaron was just sweet like that, and I hate how we ended.
After the addiction of wanting Aaron all the time finally came to a rest, I saw a different kind of love, that wasn't really love, but I thought it was love. I don't think it was fake affection. I just think that there was too much to hide. Like, there was a puzzle missing. That something felt wrong.
When I met Christopher for the first time, something clicked in my mind, and something clicked in his. We were flirty in the beginning, and we were together in the end. Ever since Aaron, I almost forgot how falling in love really felt, until I met Christopher. Now, since I've only fallen in love once, I did everything that I did when I was in love the first time. I was honest, and I gave him everything I had to offer. Christopher, I felt, tried to do this. He was confident in everything that he did. He was a little "bad boy" of his own. I thought he trusted me, but let's say that he wasn't an "Aaron".
I hate surprises, and unlike Aaron, Christopher didn't tell me everything that he was going to do before he did it. He'd sneak up on me half of the time, start kissing me out of no where, and bought me things for no reason. I thought a lot of this was new, and especially sweet, but he did one thing one night that really frightened me, and surely "surprised" me.
Christopher's lips are so tender, and so warm, that the love was a disease that began at the mouth. His lips touched mine, and the disease spreaded, and I instantely felt the passion that he felt. I loved every second of our endless love, our touches, and our relationship.
"Baby, I love you so much..." Christopher wrapped his arms around my waist. Our lips touched again, harder this time.
"I love you, too..." I tightened my arms around his neck, pushing my body up against his.
I felt myself begin to sit on the bed below me, as Christopher lightened the kissing on me, and opened his eyes. If he opened his eyes, I opened mine. If he stopped kissing, I'd stop kissing. He was pushing me down on the bed, and obeidently, I sat, without a fuss. I scooted back onto the mattress, getting confortable as Christopher slowly climbed on top of me, and pushes his face against mine. He bit my lower lip gently, as I began to lie on my back, and he settled himself onto me.
Our love was showing harder, and increasing my each breathless kiss, and I was loving every second of it. It wasn't the way he was showing me his care towards me, or the way his hands would grabbing onto my sides, and lightly rubbing him, it was the fact that he was actually doing this. The rush that he made me feel was unbarable, and the way Christopher smiled when he kissed me was addicting.
Christopher was aggresive. He never admitted it to me, but he showed it all. He slammed my arms up above my head, moved his body a little bit, and began to kiss me harder. The funny thing was that I love it when he does this. Christopher allowed me to show sides of myself that I never knew were there. I was almost like this.. secret "bad girl". A girl who liked it rough, and a girl who needed that affection she was longing for.
I couldn't help but whine when he tightened his grip around my wrists. Christopher let out a huge breath of air into my mouth. He liked it when I made noises. I liked it that he liked it that I made noises. It made me feel wanted; it made me feel special.
A hand snaked its way down the right side of my body. I opened my eyes just a little bit, since Christopher was too occupied with making out with my face, and having his eyes closed. I tried looking up just a little bit, but I saw from his arm that he was using one hand to hold my arms down. His other was rubbing up and down my body.
Now, I felt weird when he did this. It wasn't a sensual carress; it was more of a... ticklish one. My body jolted everytime his hand brushed my ribs gently, and my stomach sucked itself in when his fingers lightly scratched against my shirt. I couldn't help but move my body more to the right; I didn't want to start giggling.
Christopher slowly opened his eyes. I'm guessing he noticed mine were open, and the way my torso was reacting to the way he was touching. He slowed his kissing to a stop, and smirked slightly.
"Are you ticklish, babe?"
Instantely, I shook my head "no". I don't like being tickled, and I knew how ticklish I am. It's not fun not being able to control yourself, and have somebody over- power you just by touching you in certain ways. If Christopher knew I was ticklish, and with the way he's aggressive, everything would go downhill for me.
"I think you are, Honey," Christopher whispered, sending chills through my spine. It was the way he said it; it was the way of how evil it sounded.
Instant squeezing along my side sent my body into shocks. It's like I'm not in control of myself; I begin to squirm around, and I'm shrieking out loud.
"Baby, stop it!" I scream out to him, but Christopher's squeezing only gets rougher, and harder, and I feel vulnerable, and weak.
I few squeezes here, and few strokes there, and I was already going ballistic. I didn't think of it as much at the moment. He was only going to tickle me for a couple of minutes, and then stop, and get back to business. I figured that that was going to happen, but I was getting fearfull when the tickling was continueing, and the way he was pushing harder on my twitching arms, and the way he was wiggling his fingers on the sides of my ribs. It was getting rough. More serious.
"Awww.. are you ticklish here? What about here, baby?" Christopher's teasings were being whispered in my ear, his lips gliding lightly down the side of my neck.
The tips of Christopher's fingers were running up and down my ribs, causing me to shriek, and giggle in insanity. I clenched my eyes shut, arched my back the highest I could, and enclosed my elbows together, in front of my face. I felt this heat escaping from my face; I was blushing terribly. Couldn't he see that this was torturing me? Isn't he going to stop? Why isn't he stopping?
I yelled out a million "stops", begging my heart out. Christopher began to tickle my stomach, grabbing as much skin as he could, and squeezing it as if it were dough. My arched back fell onto ther bed, sinking into it as much as I could go, and wiggling my hips from side to side. My pitch in laughter was increasing, and I couldn't stop. I felt so helpless, so little. The evil hand didn't stop too. It was like the more I laughed, the harder Christopher tickled. I needed him to stop. This isn't funny.
I yanked on my wrists, and I was slowly causing them to lower more and more within each pull. Was he getting weaker, or could I be stronger than he is? However, I felt the weight he was trying to put on my arms with his one hand. He knew that I knew that if I just kept pulling, and if I just kept fighting, I can loosen the grip.
Christopher let go. He took his hand off of my wrists, and the viens in my hands relaxed, and breathed. However, the tickling was still going on, I was still laughing, and I felt stronger than ever. I was embarrassed, but determined to make him stop. My arms flew down to his hand, and I tried hard to push it off. Suddenly, I felt two fingers jabb way into my upper ribs, and swirl their way in between them. Christopher was using both of his hands to tickle me now; one on my tummy, and one in my ribs. I bursted out into ear- splitting laughter, freaking out almost. My hands tried to shove both arms off, but I was getting weaker by the second.. it was a tad too much.. I couldn't keep up with his strength.
It was upsetting knowing how fragile I was too him. Not only was it embarrassing knowing that he could take me down physically, but I was blushing at the fact that he was laughing at me, too. That made me cringe inside. I didn't like him tickling me like this, but what could I do? It was a joke to him to try to over power Christopher, and it was to me as well.
Fingers were roamed all around my stomach, sides, and ribs. Christopher even tried to worm a few fingers up into my underarms, but my arms were wrapped so tightly around my body in fear, that it was a little difficult for him. His voice wasn't even comforting anymore.
"Aww.. Honey, I didn't know you were so ticklish," Christopher told me, as he smirked, and laughed at my situation.
Over and over again, I yelled at him to stop. It was useless, but I'm always the one to keep up hope. I continued to yell, scream and beg him to stop tickling me, but it was getting harder. Christopher was tickling me with more pressure, and it was causing me to roam into insane laughter. Eyes clenched shut, tears sprouting at the corners of my eyes, and my body trying to curl itself up, I was intrue misery for a good twenty- thirty minutes.
---
Christopher did eventually stop, and when he did, he tried to kiss me and tell me that he loves me. I let him kiss me, but I didn't reply with the usual "I love you, too". I left home early that night, and while I was walking, I looked back at everything, even our relationship memories. There's was something about him that I just didn't like, and I was putting the puzzle peices together.
When we made out, I followed him. When he tickled me, he took me down. When he knew the actions I made with anything ( Like opening my eyes when we kissed ), he'd stalk them. Christopher was controlling. Abusive? No. He was a different kind of love, and maybe not the kind I should be with. Maybe a relationship is something that the lovers should both be in control in. Yeah, I like things a little rough, but I never admitted it. Christopher just did everything out of what he liked, and didn't care if I wanted it or not. Surprising.
Is this a happy ending, a tragedy, or a new beginning?
Probably all three.
-------------------------
Is it possible for one to be loved? For one to fall in love? I thought it was, until it occured to be what love really is. Or was.
Sure, I've fallen in love before. He was my first love, my true love, the unregrettable, and the one I will never forget. I always thought we fought a lot because we cared about each other too much, but it was actually the foreshadowing of the unfortunate break up. I may complain about it to myself a little bit too much, or may exaggerate the fact that I did everything for him, and that I'll never let him go, but it was only the small addiction admitting that it wasn't an addiction, or admitting that it was, and was slightly confused.
What makes love the way it is is the feeling of safety and trust. Of course, I trusted my first love with everything. I was honest, pure, innocent. I had nothing to hide, and I never lied to him. I love how he made me feel safe. He was protective, and he never laid a hand on me, except a gentle one.
I was never afraid when I was with him, and I think that's why I loved Aaron the most. He was honest with me, and if he was going to do something, he'd probably tell me first. Even if it was a surprise party. Aaron was just sweet like that, and I hate how we ended.
After the addiction of wanting Aaron all the time finally came to a rest, I saw a different kind of love, that wasn't really love, but I thought it was love. I don't think it was fake affection. I just think that there was too much to hide. Like, there was a puzzle missing. That something felt wrong.
When I met Christopher for the first time, something clicked in my mind, and something clicked in his. We were flirty in the beginning, and we were together in the end. Ever since Aaron, I almost forgot how falling in love really felt, until I met Christopher. Now, since I've only fallen in love once, I did everything that I did when I was in love the first time. I was honest, and I gave him everything I had to offer. Christopher, I felt, tried to do this. He was confident in everything that he did. He was a little "bad boy" of his own. I thought he trusted me, but let's say that he wasn't an "Aaron".
I hate surprises, and unlike Aaron, Christopher didn't tell me everything that he was going to do before he did it. He'd sneak up on me half of the time, start kissing me out of no where, and bought me things for no reason. I thought a lot of this was new, and especially sweet, but he did one thing one night that really frightened me, and surely "surprised" me.
Christopher's lips are so tender, and so warm, that the love was a disease that began at the mouth. His lips touched mine, and the disease spreaded, and I instantely felt the passion that he felt. I loved every second of our endless love, our touches, and our relationship.
"Baby, I love you so much..." Christopher wrapped his arms around my waist. Our lips touched again, harder this time.
"I love you, too..." I tightened my arms around his neck, pushing my body up against his.
I felt myself begin to sit on the bed below me, as Christopher lightened the kissing on me, and opened his eyes. If he opened his eyes, I opened mine. If he stopped kissing, I'd stop kissing. He was pushing me down on the bed, and obeidently, I sat, without a fuss. I scooted back onto the mattress, getting confortable as Christopher slowly climbed on top of me, and pushes his face against mine. He bit my lower lip gently, as I began to lie on my back, and he settled himself onto me.
Our love was showing harder, and increasing my each breathless kiss, and I was loving every second of it. It wasn't the way he was showing me his care towards me, or the way his hands would grabbing onto my sides, and lightly rubbing him, it was the fact that he was actually doing this. The rush that he made me feel was unbarable, and the way Christopher smiled when he kissed me was addicting.
Christopher was aggresive. He never admitted it to me, but he showed it all. He slammed my arms up above my head, moved his body a little bit, and began to kiss me harder. The funny thing was that I love it when he does this. Christopher allowed me to show sides of myself that I never knew were there. I was almost like this.. secret "bad girl". A girl who liked it rough, and a girl who needed that affection she was longing for.
I couldn't help but whine when he tightened his grip around my wrists. Christopher let out a huge breath of air into my mouth. He liked it when I made noises. I liked it that he liked it that I made noises. It made me feel wanted; it made me feel special.
A hand snaked its way down the right side of my body. I opened my eyes just a little bit, since Christopher was too occupied with making out with my face, and having his eyes closed. I tried looking up just a little bit, but I saw from his arm that he was using one hand to hold my arms down. His other was rubbing up and down my body.
Now, I felt weird when he did this. It wasn't a sensual carress; it was more of a... ticklish one. My body jolted everytime his hand brushed my ribs gently, and my stomach sucked itself in when his fingers lightly scratched against my shirt. I couldn't help but move my body more to the right; I didn't want to start giggling.
Christopher slowly opened his eyes. I'm guessing he noticed mine were open, and the way my torso was reacting to the way he was touching. He slowed his kissing to a stop, and smirked slightly.
"Are you ticklish, babe?"
Instantely, I shook my head "no". I don't like being tickled, and I knew how ticklish I am. It's not fun not being able to control yourself, and have somebody over- power you just by touching you in certain ways. If Christopher knew I was ticklish, and with the way he's aggressive, everything would go downhill for me.
"I think you are, Honey," Christopher whispered, sending chills through my spine. It was the way he said it; it was the way of how evil it sounded.
Instant squeezing along my side sent my body into shocks. It's like I'm not in control of myself; I begin to squirm around, and I'm shrieking out loud.
"Baby, stop it!" I scream out to him, but Christopher's squeezing only gets rougher, and harder, and I feel vulnerable, and weak.
I few squeezes here, and few strokes there, and I was already going ballistic. I didn't think of it as much at the moment. He was only going to tickle me for a couple of minutes, and then stop, and get back to business. I figured that that was going to happen, but I was getting fearfull when the tickling was continueing, and the way he was pushing harder on my twitching arms, and the way he was wiggling his fingers on the sides of my ribs. It was getting rough. More serious.
"Awww.. are you ticklish here? What about here, baby?" Christopher's teasings were being whispered in my ear, his lips gliding lightly down the side of my neck.
The tips of Christopher's fingers were running up and down my ribs, causing me to shriek, and giggle in insanity. I clenched my eyes shut, arched my back the highest I could, and enclosed my elbows together, in front of my face. I felt this heat escaping from my face; I was blushing terribly. Couldn't he see that this was torturing me? Isn't he going to stop? Why isn't he stopping?
I yelled out a million "stops", begging my heart out. Christopher began to tickle my stomach, grabbing as much skin as he could, and squeezing it as if it were dough. My arched back fell onto ther bed, sinking into it as much as I could go, and wiggling my hips from side to side. My pitch in laughter was increasing, and I couldn't stop. I felt so helpless, so little. The evil hand didn't stop too. It was like the more I laughed, the harder Christopher tickled. I needed him to stop. This isn't funny.
I yanked on my wrists, and I was slowly causing them to lower more and more within each pull. Was he getting weaker, or could I be stronger than he is? However, I felt the weight he was trying to put on my arms with his one hand. He knew that I knew that if I just kept pulling, and if I just kept fighting, I can loosen the grip.
Christopher let go. He took his hand off of my wrists, and the viens in my hands relaxed, and breathed. However, the tickling was still going on, I was still laughing, and I felt stronger than ever. I was embarrassed, but determined to make him stop. My arms flew down to his hand, and I tried hard to push it off. Suddenly, I felt two fingers jabb way into my upper ribs, and swirl their way in between them. Christopher was using both of his hands to tickle me now; one on my tummy, and one in my ribs. I bursted out into ear- splitting laughter, freaking out almost. My hands tried to shove both arms off, but I was getting weaker by the second.. it was a tad too much.. I couldn't keep up with his strength.
It was upsetting knowing how fragile I was too him. Not only was it embarrassing knowing that he could take me down physically, but I was blushing at the fact that he was laughing at me, too. That made me cringe inside. I didn't like him tickling me like this, but what could I do? It was a joke to him to try to over power Christopher, and it was to me as well.
Fingers were roamed all around my stomach, sides, and ribs. Christopher even tried to worm a few fingers up into my underarms, but my arms were wrapped so tightly around my body in fear, that it was a little difficult for him. His voice wasn't even comforting anymore.
"Aww.. Honey, I didn't know you were so ticklish," Christopher told me, as he smirked, and laughed at my situation.
Over and over again, I yelled at him to stop. It was useless, but I'm always the one to keep up hope. I continued to yell, scream and beg him to stop tickling me, but it was getting harder. Christopher was tickling me with more pressure, and it was causing me to roam into insane laughter. Eyes clenched shut, tears sprouting at the corners of my eyes, and my body trying to curl itself up, I was intrue misery for a good twenty- thirty minutes.
---
Christopher did eventually stop, and when he did, he tried to kiss me and tell me that he loves me. I let him kiss me, but I didn't reply with the usual "I love you, too". I left home early that night, and while I was walking, I looked back at everything, even our relationship memories. There's was something about him that I just didn't like, and I was putting the puzzle peices together.
When we made out, I followed him. When he tickled me, he took me down. When he knew the actions I made with anything ( Like opening my eyes when we kissed ), he'd stalk them. Christopher was controlling. Abusive? No. He was a different kind of love, and maybe not the kind I should be with. Maybe a relationship is something that the lovers should both be in control in. Yeah, I like things a little rough, but I never admitted it. Christopher just did everything out of what he liked, and didn't care if I wanted it or not. Surprising.
Is this a happy ending, a tragedy, or a new beginning?
Probably all three.
