High, defined bridge that has that “scoop.” An upturn tip. Big, bold eyes a light shade of blue. Long, thick
eyelashes. Thin brows with well-defined arches. A slender, oval-shaped face. Perfectly straight teeth the
color of a porcelain toilet. Plump pink lips. High cheek bones. Smooth, flawless tanned white skin. Long,
thick hair free of frizz. Oh, and make it straight. Long, slender, toned legs that are silky smooth. Tiny
waist, bigger hips and a big, firm ass. Flat stomach. D-cup breasts. Save for her eyelashes, eyebrows and
hair on her head, she should be completely hairless. Make her youthful-looking. Innocent. Sweet. But
also make her a little bad. Kind of frisky. Naughty. A bit of a whore. But she can’t really be a whore; just
act like it, because after all, they want her ‘tight’. They want her a virgin. A virgin whore.
That’s what guys want. They want the perfect ten. A dime. The whole fucking shebang. A chick who can
cook wonderful meals, clean the house lickety split – and still look smoking hot while doing it. She needs
to be good at giving head. She needs to love and crave sex. She better be a freak in the bedroom. High
self-confidence. High self-esteem. Hard-working. Intelligent. Caring. Nurturing. Puts others (aka, his)
needs before her own. Selfless. Pretty much: perfect.
The perfect woman. Super woman.
Too bad she doesn’t exist. Yet, society holds women up to such standards. If you aren’t as good as so
and so, you aren’t good enough. You can’t be yourself; you have to be like blankity blank or xxxity x.
Fuck society and all of its sheep.
Life for me was different now. I ran away from the “real world” and took the time to rediscover myself.
Instead of caring about what others thought, I took it upon myself to develop my own opinions,
thoughts and standards. Being one among none had its positives. Waking up to nature’s beauty each
day was my new reality. There was no one to judge me. No one to laugh at me. To make fun of me. It
was me and only me.
Until today.
He was, I’d say, average height. A bit on the thin side. Shaggy, unkempt dark brown hair that looked as
disastrous as Edward Scissorhands’. Dull green eyes, which were average size, and a bit on the round
side. White skin that was sun-bitten – you know how there’s sun-kissed? Well, he was real tan, so it
looked like instead of being kissed, the sun bit the hell out of his skin. And crooked teeth that were no
good by society’s standards.
“Hey there! I’m Zark.”
His first name was a cussword coined by the author in the sci-fi novel A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
Wonderful. It sounded more like a nickname than anything.
“Is that your nickname?”
He shook his head. “It’s my real name. Even says so on my birth certificate.” With that, he smiled. That
was when I finally caught sight of his crooked toothies.
“I’m a traveler,” he told me once I let down my guard. “I love it.”
For having such disaster-zone hair, I was surprised that he kept his face shaven. “I’m not much of a
traveler,” I said, picking up my water bottle and taking a swig. “I just wanted to discover myself.”
“Discover yourself, huh?” His smile turned into a big grin. “Out here, all alone, among the vegetation
and animals – that’s how you’re discovering yourself?”
I nodded, and then I smiled. “Exactly.”
“Me too!”
“Really?”
With a nod, he took off his hiker’s pack and set it down. “I just turned twenty, and well, I wanna learn.
Learn more about myself.”
“Twenty, huh?”
“Yep. And you – how old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
“Nineteen, huh? I would have thought you were fifteen, maybe sixteen.”
“Yeah…a lot of people think that. I guess I just look young.”
He laughed. “Well, you do! Round face, childish cheeks. You’re cute!”
All I could do was blush. This guy was refreshingly and awkwardly interesting! Even though I wanted
nothing more than to fix his hair, I kept my devilish hands to myself.
“But hey, sweetie,” he began, already giving me a pet name. “Do you mind if I sleep here with you?”
“I don’t mind.”
“Of course not.” He sneered. “Everyone can use a companion, right?”
I sneered back. “Not me. I’m a loner by nature. I live for a bed all to myself, and no one else around.”
“I promise I’m different from the rest.”
And with that, he stripped off his shirt and shoved it into his pack. Before me stood a skinny guy whose
chest was barren of any hair.
--------------
A complete stranger who crossed my path just mere hours ago. A complete stranger whose last name
was unknown to me. A complete stranger whose fingers were creeping up my thighs. With one hand, I
ran my fingers along his shirtless chest. Smooth skin. His thin lips were locked with mine. As he pulled
them away from mine, he smiled and hugged me tight. “I know we just met and all –“
I brought my finger to his lips and held it there. Using my free hand, I brought it down to his boxers and
pulled on the elastic waistband. “I don’t want to do it, Zark, okay?”
He grabbed my hand and gently pulled it off. “I know.”
“But I do.” Replacing my hand on the waistband, I pulled harder. “I do.”
Silence.
Instead of waiting for a response, I shoved my hand down his pants and felt for it… felt for it…and found
it. Grasping my hand around his erection, I jerked it up and down…up and down. Zark yanked down his
boxers and carefully pushed me to the ground.
We were outside, on the ground. Among the grasses. In between the forest of trees. By a river. Rocks
dotted here and there around us. Crickets chirped ferociously. My back against the dirt and grass. Parted
thighs and a stiffy waiting to penetrate. Fullness. Warmth. Thrusting. Barely audible moans and grunts.
Deep breathing. Hearts racing. Hooting of the owls. The water of the river flowing downstream.
Pleasure.
And when he came, I didn’t even know until he stopped. Once he pulled out, he lay next to me and
looked up at the stars. Black against white-yellow speckles. The Big Dipper. The Little Dipper. The full
moon. Serenity. Peace. Beauty. Nature at its best.
Our first encounter – of the bodily kind. Close Encounters with Disaster-zone and his penis. Awkwardly
enjoyable.