No-one could ever understand why Corrine Hanson, 22, was seemingly unable to keep a man in her life. She was, after all, shockingly beautiful. She had gorgeous pre-Raphaelite hair, the purest of blacks, poured like melted wax around her broad, pleasant shoulders. And her face? Well, this was equally worthy of the attention of a painter, presenting as it did a perfect balance of Latin softness and Germanic nobility, the result of an Italian mother and Norwegian father. Yes, Corrine was beautiful alright. On that everyone could agree. But she was never seen with the same man on more than one occasion. And no-one, not even her dearest friends, could manufacture a satisfying explanation for this.
One day, one of her closest friends, Paul, bent on attempting a clearing of the fence from friend to lover, asked Hanson on a date. She accepted, as she always accepted the offer of a date. But in this case, she was especially pleased, since the two were already very affectionate with one another.
They met up on a rainy Saturday at his house, where they spent a pleasant evening watching a Japanese horror film on Netflix. And as the credits rolled, the host duly asked Corrine if she would like to go upstairs.
“Before we go any further,” Hanson replied anxiously, standing up from the couch on which they had been slumped, and turning to face her date, “I want you to know something. I can’t have the same thing happen again. I don’t want you to be like the others.”
“Tell me,” Paul said keenly, desperate to hear whatever she had to say. “I won’t judge you. It’s me, remember.”
And so, believing his assurances, Corrine told him. And then his face froze in shock.
She was disappointed by this reaction, but she was not surprised by it. It had happened so many times before.
“Well, regardless of how you feel,” she remarked sternly, “I must insist on having my fun. You know, I really thought you might be different. Obviously I was naïve. But it’s out of your hands now. I’m sure you understand.”
And so the two of them went upstairs and had hard and lengthy intercourse, Corrine moaning and growling with pleasure throughout, as, astride him, she rubbed her sweaty vagina forward and back on his reflexively stiff penis.
Paul stayed silent as a stone, his face unchanged from its condition upon hearing Corrine’s secret. But he had no way out now. It was out of his hands.