“It’s over, over, over.”
Anne tried to make her voice sound as determined as possible, even if she didn’t feel like it at all. At least she looked into a face that looked as miserable as a puppy dog who had just watched his mother being run over by a tanker. He’s not gonna start crying, she thought. The corner of Sören’s mouth twitched treacherously. But was it so hard to understand that they just didn’t fit together?
Okay, in the beginning the fine Mr. Langenhagen had really impressed her. Of course, coming from a wealthy family and just as ambitious as her, he was a promising medical student, an aspiring head doctor. He didn’t look bad either. In the beginning, he had always reminded her of this guy from an ancient action series. The “A-Team” was the name, and the actor George Peppard was a daring radiant man with stunning blue eyes.
But action? Not with Sören. He was soooo boring. His life was more like a ZDF spaceship episode. Recently, he had increasingly spoken of home and children. She was in the middle of her German studies and not even 24 years old, please.
And the whole vanilla cuddly stuff in bed wasn’t her thing either. The old in and out game, lovey-dovey missionary position with the lights off. As far as sexual freedom was concerned, Anne sometimes suspected that Sören had strayed into the wrong decade. The prudish fifties – that would have been his world.
“And it’s not working out with us in bed either,” she blurted out. She was both shocked and relieved to have finally said it.
Anne sat on the couch next to him in Sören’s apartment – of course in the noble Eppendorf, of course financed by his parents – the same couch that provided so much comforting closeness and now offered distance. That wasn’t so easy, though, because Sören was trying to kiss her. A more than helpless attempt to repair what was hopelessly in pieces, she noticed and tried to push him away. But Sören grabbed her hands and held them strongly, while his mouth sought her lips. She reared herself up. Useless, the damn designer sofa was so soft and big that it literally sucked you in. So, she tried to roll away sideways, but now he was half on top of her, so she had even less room to move.
“Stop it,” she hissed angrily and noticed with surprise that he didn’t react in the slightest. He had always given in as soon as she struck that note. Not today.
“If that’s what you want, you bitch,” he spat angrily.
Meanwhile he had let go of her hands and so she tried to push his shoulders away. But she was just so unsuccessful that she could only summon a feeble arm twitch . Sören had meanwhile taken her by the chin, brought his face close and pressed his lips on hers. His other hand wandered coarsely over her body, sometimes sliding under her bra or between her legs under the waistband of her jeans.
“You’re hurting me,” she wanted to say, with ice-cold contempt. But as soon as she opened her mouth, his tongue pressed between her teeth. It just turned into a pathetic mumbling. She tried in vain to kick him and free herself, but her legs stepped into emptiness. Instead, Sören pushed himself even further over her and now she felt his erection. It was hard as a rock and seemed to be yearning to seize her body.
At that moment, she was overcome with a feeling of complete helplessness. She was the antelope in the paws of a lion, the rabbit in the stranglehold of an anaconda. What could she do but become compliant? She timidly began to meet his tongue with hers, to accept his lips with hers. She could feel herself becoming very soft and supple. Almost automatically her thighs opened. Her breath went faster. Now she made only weak attempts to reject Sören. How sweet and exciting it was to be so completely defeated.
“Please don’t,” she sighed and lifted her lower body slightly so that he could pull down her jeans and panties more easily. Next thing you know, his own pants were on the floor. Finally, he knelt between her spread legs. His cock, when hard, was anything but boring. It was a mighty girth that had frightened her the first time. Even now she was in awe at the sight of him. If only the prospective surgeon had used this tool more confidently. But now he might do it, and she’d die o…