Young Writers Society

He doesn’t touch you. He doesn’t dare touch you.
You just sit there and watch him talk. And you like watching him, don’t you?
Like the way his lips smack in to one another after every “thhh” and “sssss”.
Does he make you nervous?
He does. Look at your shaking hands.

He says: “You know I can’t touch you the way I want to.”
You just smile with your trembling hands, you smile and he stares.

You feel his fingers claw up your thigh. Your plaid mini skirt, you wore it for him.
For this moment.
Every smile, every breath, all time has led up to here.
To this moment.

“I can’t touch you.” He says it soft now, almost as a whisper, as his nail beds disappear between the crack of your upper thighs.
Goosebumps rise on your pale pores. His touch sends shock waves through out your skin.

You want him to stop, but in the sickest way beg him to keep going. To keep touching you, because you like to drown out the noise with his oily hands. You like that he forces your focus.

“You know I can’t touch you.” He grabs at your arms. It’s hard and his fingers dig into the array of goose bumps lining your skin.
It hurts, the way he grabs at you, so rough as if to hurt you.
But you say nothing.
You like the pain that you feel, you like the message it sends.

“Not in the way that I want to.” He doesn’t kiss you. He won’t. Affection isn’t what he wants, and it’s not what you came to give.

He tugs at the straps of your tattered bra. His hands feel heavy and you suddenly want them gone.
You want to run don’t you?
You wish you could.

His heavy hands cup your small budding breasts.
Run.
You say stop, but he doesn’t stop does he?

He holds you down. “Don’t run little girl, Daddy wants to play.” You squirm and kick.
You wanted this didn’t you?
You with your mini skirt skimming across your thin legs.
You with your shaking hands.

“I can’t touch you, not in the way that I want to.”
Just lie there little girl, and scream.

Wow, I think this says a lot, because I know a lot of girls who have been in this situation with older guys, and it's a scary thought. I liked the format of this, it actually kind of had a rhythm and pace to it, and was very easy to read. Almost like poetry. The topic was interesting the way you portrayed it, and sometimes this is difficult because it's been done so many times before, and yet you've made it unique again in the way you approach it. Very interesting.
Keep writing,
StoryWeaver

Erm....well, this is very.....Twisted. It's well written, and scary, I'll give you that, but it honestly just made me want to throw up. I'm not sure what was going on in your head when you wrote this, but whatever it was it was powerful. I've known people in this situation, though I've never been in it myself (thank god) so I don't know how accurate or inaccurate this is, but it somewhat worries me. I definitely think you should rate this R if you haven't already. The mods will rate it if you haven't. Over all it's well written, but very, very worrisome. I'm not sure why you wrote it or what you were thinking, but you did a good job *shivers*.

That was the best thing I read all day. In a twisted sort of way. It completely scared me (I jumped when someone came in the room) and I thought the last line was incredibly effective. Just a question: how old is the girl? I thought she was really young at first, but then you mentioned she was wearing a bra. Anyway, I thought this was amazing writing.

Thanks, I was definately in deep thought when I wrote this, just having a bad day. She's like thirteen or fourteen, it's between her and a teacher. She doesn't realize what she's gotten herself into before it's to late.

This was...crazy.
It was written very well, and the description was amazing.
It made me shiver.
I could get a clear picture in my head of what was happening, and I think that was the creepiest part of it.
It leaves me with a lot of questions though.