PREDATOR
by: Mark G.
Who am I?
What am I?
There is a dark side of myself that I must hold back. A side that knows
no bounds, but a side restraigned by affection and remorse. I go out at
nights and ponder these questions to myself. I drive around and watch other,
I go to dances and look at others, I go to bars and scan all that are around
me. At times, when I am out I am a hunter. But I know I am a hunter without
just cause to hunt. I am the type of hunter who preys on females. All they
are to me is an object, a trophey for my wall. To hunt, to capture, to
mount. To display as if a four legged animal in my den. People to me are
mere animals, just willing victims to be taken at will and used in the
ways I so desire. As I sit on the stool of the local hangout I casually
look around, checking out my surroundings, as if I am a beast hungry for
some flesh and meat. Every so often I glance looks from my left and from
my right, and all I see are mere glances back from eyes that I see that
need to be handled, that need to be made what to do, that need to be shown
that they are nothing but cattle that need to be slaughtered. I may find
a female more attractive than another, you know, those girls that wear
such flimsy appearal, that wear boot and shoes that say ‘fuck me’, those
girls that strut their stuff just knowing they are meat at an auction block.
Those girls I find hanging on my wall, hanging as if trophy from a season
of hunting.
There are other girls that strike my fancy. Girls that are young and
innocent. Girls that are curious to the life outside their family but unknown
of people like me. All I want is to devour. To sink me teeth into the young
flesh of a female. To fondle the zones all know that are off limits. To
shove their face into the ground as I hear them scream, knowing that inside
they are really screaming out my name. I know that they wanted me just
as I wanted them. Their words of “No” and “Stop it” are words that mean
“More” and “Harder.” Hell, to me I hear words of enjoyment and excitement.
I am there to give them all they want. Their night of enjoyment is something
I see as a night I fullfill theirs, and even my, fantasies. To have what
I want is all that I think of, no matter the consequences. I sit at the
bars at nights undressing those that want another to undress them. I check
out their ‘goods’ as if I’m at an auction, ready to buy the best slab of
meat there is. I imagine myself touching their breasts, their crotches,
feeling their wetness on my finger tips. I imagine myself spreading their
legs apart, licking their mound while a gag is in their mouth and their
hands are tighed. I see them on all fours, one hand over their mouth, the
other on their neck, forcing them down. I feel my prick being forced into
their ass, with little or no lubrication. The screams that are muffled
are music to my ears. I also imagine jerking off over their body, and climaxing
into their mouth. What pleasure it is seeing white, creaming cum dripping
down the creaveses of a beauties mouth.
Then I am shaken out of my vision by the waitress asking me if I need
another drink. All I wish to tell her is of something I want, then seeing
myself bashing her head in with my empty beer bottle and bending her over
and showing her what my next choice is. At times I feel that this is all
I think of. Sometimes I don’t what to hurt another, at times all I want
to do is get them drunk and make them think something other then what they
believe. To get them so waisted that you can do things to them and then
throw them out as if their are the trash that needed to be thrown outon
Monday morning.
I know I am never to do those things. Mainly becasue of what was said
above. I really hate seeing others in pain, in suffering, and in sorrow.
I hate those that think themselfs higher then another, especially males
over females. To rape some one is the lowest one can go. To deny another
respect and dignity is ignorant and absurd. But yet, yet, their is that
predator that is inside myself. That predator that cares to know no bounds.
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