A Grey Cardigan Unfurled

Soft, murky light streamed through the window. It was a quiet winter afternoon.
"Sit down beside me," he suggested and she did this. He gazed at her neck a while. She smiled self-consciously. Her skin was as smooth as the sky. Her breasts were firm, taut. She wore a blouse and cardigan, as she had been instructed. Her small hands lay on her lap and he suddenly recalled a conversation with her at work regarding the knee as an erogenous zone. Now he moved his hand on to her knee cap and began massaging it through the denim of her jeans. He looked out the window as he did this, breathing heavily.
She moaned softly. That did it. He began slowly unbuttoning her blouse, relishing the unclasping of each individual button which revealed more of that dreamlike, honey hued flesh. She sat passively, allowing him to do this, hands still on her lap. He placed his mouth on her chest and sucked slowly, mindlessly. Her perfume was almost making him delirious. He undid the few remaining buttons and pulled open the blouse to fully expose her breasts, hidden behind a green brassiere. Next he undid her belt and unbuttoned her jeans, revealing the white cotton of her panties. Here was the dripping secret of her sex which his trembling hands longed to probe. He stood back and snapped a few photographs then set the camera down and asked her to lie down. She complied, smiling nervously, and lay spread eagle on the bed. He climbed atop her and began kissing her chest and stomach, his fingers tracing the delicious contours of her ribs. She moaned softly again and arched her back. His hand maneuvered one pert tit out of its bra cup and then ventured down between her legs. He slid his fingers under her panties and into the moist heaven of her cunt. Her wet hole sucked his fingers in easily and she groaned as he nibbled her ear lobe then kissed behind her ear. He lifted her forward slightly to facilitate the full removal of her shirt and cardigan. Now she lay topless on his bed and what a surreal, magnificent sight it was. He felt he might faint or else burst into tears of gratitude.
He sucked her tits a while and rubbed his sweaty hands over her. In particular he liked to grasp her hips, her ribs, her neck. Christ, the muscles of her neck were so perfectly formed it was devastating in a way. He removed her jeans and then panties, and then stood back to appreciate the splendour before him. He lifted his camera and snapped a few more shots. His cock was so hard he felt sort of sick and he was experiencing a tender ache in his groin. He pulled his trousers and briefs (which were damp with pre-ejaculate) to his knees and then mounted her awkwardly. His dick slipped inside her easily and again he had to stifle the urge to shed tears of euphoria.
He began thrusting with apocalyptic abandon, really driving it home hard. He relished the wet slapping sounds of the repeated collision of their genitals. The only other sound was her head bumping against the headboard of the bed. He held her wrists at the side of her head and grunted as he fucked her. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted slightly. She emitted ambiuous sounds somewhere between pain and pleasure. She had submitted to him fully. He pushed his thumb between her lips and she sucked it languidly, nibbled it slightly. That did it. He felt his orgasm approaching like a tidal wave, an insurmountable biological occurence which washed away all pain, anguish and anxiety and rendered the beaches of his mind quiet and barren.

II

He pulled out with seconds to spare and shot a seemingly endless load of come over her tummy and tits. Then he collapsed beside her, drained and exhausted. They lay side by side on their backs exhaling deeply. She was trembling slightly. After a few minutes he composed himself and went to the bathroom to retrieve toilet paper. He wiped down his dick then took a fresh wad of paper to clean up the odious mess he had created on her perfect flesh.
He wiped her down then tossed the sodden paper aside and got into bed beside her. He kissed her hair and brought her against him in a tender cuddle. She turned away from him, resting her ass against his crotch, he rested his lips on the back of her head, and they dozed in ths manner for a while. He made a mental note of his next project: come on her shoulder blades. And her neck at some point, obviously. There was also the knee/thigh region to consider. Ah, the vast carnal possibilites.
Presently he began to feel restless. He was too hot lying so close to her. He got up again, moved to the radiator and turned it down and then paced around the room. She stirred slightly and turned to watch him with quiet caution.

He rushed forward and punched her, twice. She shrieked and began curling into a defensive ball. Inspired, ignited with the thrill of violence he laid a few blows into her back and then grabbed her hair and knocked her head against the wall. Then he climbed atop her, straddling her chest, and forced her to deepthroat him. She gagged violently, her face contorted with misery. He pinched her nose, denying her oxygen. She was pinned, helpless. He pulled out and came over her crying, mascara streaked face.

He stood still, watching her contemplatively. He was horrified by this vile reverie, horrified by the potential for depravity which lingered in the dark recesses of his psyche. In spite of this horror, he was also aroused. Perhaps the horror was learned, the violence innate, instinctual.

****

He sat before the monitor, listless to the point of being numb. He had been trawling pornographic websites all day using the search terms "shy teen grey cardigan" to absolutely no avail. The websites he had found had become increasingly feckless and depraved. He had downloaded a few videos that had been to his liking and had subsequently jerked off. Each jerk-off served to increase his sense of ennui. He felt washed out, a husk of a man.