Free R/T/M by Sean Douglas

it was time to live.
         But in those few days something about me had changed.
         Metamorphosis is a cliché, but I’d like to hear your suggestions.
         I knew that my heart had been broken and would never heal.
         I knew that I could feel lust and compassion and sympathy but I would never love another woman.
         I knew intuitively that you only get one shot at something that burned that brightly and seemed like it could last forever.
         So there you go.
         Even someone as alien and abnormal and fucked up as I have become can love.
         It doesn’t excuse my actions, but maybe it explains them.
     
         It took a girl almost literally throwing herself at me to break my year of self-imposed celibacy.
         I’m in the dining hall and my friend Joe comes up with this redhead.
         She looks a little heavyset but she’s got blue eyes and a nice face.
         But remember I’m Mister Hate right now so I don’t make a fuss over her.
         We talk a while and she invites me to go to a Beltane celebration.
         I figure, what the fuck, so I agree to go.
         She picks me up and we go out to this Beltane celebration.
         It’s out in the country on some old farm.
         There’s a bunch of people in renaissance garb and cloaks.   You know tights and poet shirts with big poofy sleeves and v-collars with a rawhide lace across them.   And everyone had long stringy hair.
         It was a fucking joke.
         The only cool person was this old dude that everyone said was a druid priest.   But he was really drunk and I didn’t really get a chance to talk with him because he was surrounded by crazy looking people in cloaks.
         Night falls and there’s a pit and a big old bonfire and there are people in cloaks dancing in circles around it.
         All day long people kept giving me knowing glances whenever the redhead introduced me to them but I ignored them.   The glances , that is.   I wasn’t planning on making anything big about the outing.
         It’s time to go to bed and the girl and I have a tent all to ourselves.
         I’m used to sleeping in my clothes, so I just take off my shoes and lay down on my back with my hands behind my head.
         The girl says she’s going to get comfortable and s he takes off her poet shirt and crushed velvet skirt.
         I thought she was overweight.   Instead she has huge tits and big hips.
         A real hourglass figure.
         She climbs into the sleeping bag and I spoon her.
         I start rubbing my hands over her body and she cranes her neck around and starts kissing me.
         I get my fingers into her and she reaches back and puts a hand into my pants and starts jerking me off.
         She moans and shakes when she cums on my fingers and she takes her hand off of my dick and out of my pants.   Guess I have to wait till next time for mine.
         We go to sleep and the next day is pretty uneventful.
         I catch a lot of knowing looks again but whatever.   They probably figure we fucked, but fuck them.   All of those ass-pirates can go get fucked.
         We make plans to hang out a week later.
         She comes over to my dorm room and blah blah blah we fucked.
         It’s always great to fantasize about great big firm tits, but finally getting them is kind of disappointing.
         Anything over a D cup is a waste and this chick had to custom order her bras because t hey didn’t carry her size in stores.
         She did this thing where she’d pretend to pass out during sex because it was so good, then she’d gasp and look at me like she didn’t know who I was or where she was.   Fuck it.   I didn’t care.   I just kept fucking her.
         One day she shows up and we get into it and when she takes off her shirt there’s a tattoo on her tit that wasn’t there last time.   Her personal sigil