OddManOut

Men have long dominated society and the world at large.  The feminist movement and equal rights amendments sought to alter this natural order only to end up sweeping the grand design of normal human interaction and relationships under the rug of denial and ?politically correct? legislation.

A woman is by no means inferior, or lesser, nor is she incapable of making valuable contributions in the arts, sciences, philosophy.  She most certainly is?

However, clearly our socially acceptable political arena has committed the sin of gross overcompensation, and I muse at the frequent lamentations of women and the ?castrated man? of today ? owing to the fact that it was clearly ?women?s rights? that wielded the knife in the first place. 

They cry ?there are no real men left, oh woe unto us.? Then presume to instruct boys and men in society as to what a man is, when obviously the one and only thing a woman can do, is offer a woman?s opinion from a woman?s point of view, as to want a man should be.  

A woman cannot know a man?s issues, nor his mind, nor what it means to be a man.  She cannot see through his eyes, nor perceive as he does.  She knows not of his trials or struggles, not his method of attack ? she can only think she does.        

By virtue of being a woman, she approaches a situation from a different point of view than a man does ? and of course - visa versa. 

In fact, it is this profound difference in perspective, and point of view that has for countless years been referred to as the ?battle of the sexes,? and constantly serves to add gasoline to the fires of upset and pain, misery and confusion, marriage and divorce ? odd infinitum.

For example - - no one wants a child to come to harm.  This is simply sane and rational.  However, a woman?s perspective, is that the child must be made totally safe from all harm, at all times.  Further, that ?laws be passed? to insure that all children are all safe at all times.  This is not evil or malicious ? this is simply motivated by her love for her child ? the healthy, natural, normal female nurturing instincts that God saw fit to instill within her as principle care giver to the small children, and thus, guardian of the species to some extent.

But - - life cannot be legislated or regulated in such a manner, no matter how much we might wish it so.  Life is not safe.  Life is not all comfort and ease and entertainment ? and in fact, sheltering and cuddling and pampering a child ? isolating him from the world in order to keep him safe from it - deprives that child of many necessary and valuable life lessons.

My son, whom I adore more than my own life, at the tender age of 2 while teetering on unstable legs, one day discovered the fascinating spectacle of a lit and flickering candle, and reached out to discover and explore its strange and delightful properties.  Innocent, exploring and all things good and right in life, right??  But I knew the flame would do him harm and gently drew his grouping hand away.  Again he reached towards the flame.  And again I drew away his tiny little hand. 

He objected to this intrusion on his innocent explorations  - as a 2 year old would ? and screamed his protest, and yet again reached for the flickering and fascinating object of his curiosity.

One final time, I took away his delicate little hand and spoke harshly in my tone ?NO?

And thus, the confrontation began.  He glared defiant and red faced into me, screeching in outrage and demanding his right to freedom of exploration.  Steely eyed I met his gaze and would not yield, for I had what he had not - wisdom.

Time passed as slowly as did the snot on his cheek, and his lip quivered as he searched for a way around my gaze.  He fumbled a bit at speaking his mind (only two mind you) and took a step or two first this way, then that, bent on the acquisition of his goal. 

And I resolved to abstain from further intervention as yet again he reached out to the fascinating flickering flame.

Now you and I know full well the consequence of such action. 

It was foretold, predicted - inevitable.

But my son, whom I adore above my own life was only two, and could not understand such reasoning?s, nor could he at such an age effect within him the self discipline to submit to my instruction.

So I allowed him to burn his hand.

That tiny delicate fragile little hand, seeking only to explore and learn, so tiny that it took all of it to wrap around my finger - took upon its tender flesh the sting of fire.

And he learned.

And my son, at two years, two weeks of age, knew not to play with fire ? ever again...

 His hand healed very quickly, no damage, no scars.  But the lesson remains to this day, and he now stands tall enough to look me in the eye.

In other words, the natural nurturing desire to keep the child safe from all harm and pain, all the time ? ultimately brings down upon the child far greater pain and struggle than a broken arm or singed fingers ever could. He becomes dependent on mother, or like substitute for validation and shelter.

It paints within the mind of the child an illusion of life, society, reality and existence that is not real.  It creates a false picture, a skewed perception of the world ? resulting in an unavoidable catastrophe of traumatic emotional and psychological proportions when the child is finally confronted with the harsh realities and horrors of life. 

 The child naturally retreats from the brutal harshness of life, unprepared and unschooled in how to deal with it.  He/she retreats into a self created, self delusion, a fantasy realm of his/her own making, where in the creator is God, and all things and people within it obey the edicts of the creator. 

We are all God inside the imagination ? and all things are as we wish them to be.  We need not make compromise with ourselves inside the sanctity of imagination. 

But this escapism only serves to exacerbate the situation.

For the harsh and cold realities of life are not dismissed at the wave of our hand, they care not for our petty longings and self serving desires ? and, unrelenting, they assault the battlements of our fantasy world, chipping at the stone of its foundations until there is not left but rubble.     

My son?s mother would not have sat back and allowed my son to burn his hand.  She would instead have scooped him up and carried him to her lap.  Or put out the candle.  (In fact, she tried both, but acquiesced to my decision.  We had a hell of a fight about it afterwards.) 

She would have sought to keep him from harm, protect him from the momentary pain of the flames caress, and in doing so ? deny him the lesson so well learned.

I believe this illustrates one of the profoundly different ways in which a man, and a woman look at the same situation.  We each see it differently.  Simple as that.

Owing to the fact that my son will grow to be a man, leave his mother and father, and walk his own way through life - - which way do you think was, ultimately, in his best interests?  Taking him away from the flame so he did not get burned, because he was only a child at the time - - or letting the flame sear into his mind a life lesson???

     Clouds hung thick and low in the darkness of a cool night late in May. Rain spattered against the windshield of her car and the wiper on the drivers side would not make a clean sweep across the glass, so she had to squish down a bit and peer through the windshield from just over the top of the steering wheel.  Figures! It is never the passenger side wiper that gets messed up.
     It was not raining to badly, but enough to make the road a bit slippery - oil and rubber from the previous months traffic was all over the road, and until now the days had been warm, and not much rain. Every once in a while she could feel the back end of the car skitter sideways a bit, and it made her overly cautious.

She was driving annoyingly slow as far as the car behind her was concerned. 

She sometimes was blinded by the glare of the headlights in her rear view mirror when the car behind her got too close.
Still, it was a lonely, unlit country road, through a seemingly unending stand of trees, at night, and in the rain no less ? so she felt justified in making the car behind her slow down a bit.  For his own good.  She clicked on the radio to help calm her nerves.  Country music. Shesh!  ?His dog died, his wife left, and his truck is broke - no wonder the guy is drunk.?  She changed the station.  Old time rock and role - even worse when she stopped to think about it - these were the songs she grew up with and now they were calling them ?oldies but goodies!?  Almost insulting.
     Her thoughts drifted a bit, listening to the songs, humming to herself as she started the turn. Laying across the road, right in the middle of it like some sort of bridge, was a tree the side of  Mt. Everest.  She had to stomp on the breaks with both of her tiny little feet and pull against the steering wheel at the same time to stop the car before it hit the trunk of the massive tree that lay blocking the road. 

?Shit! Perfect! Raining cats and dogs, and now?.?  Suddenly she scrunched her neck down into her shoulders and gritted her teeth at the sound of screeching tires rapidly approaching from behind. The sound stopped, and she paused, listening.  Cautiously she opened one eye and peeked to the side without moving her head.   Then paused, listening.  No impact. No crash.  The car behind her had managed to stop in time, and she now felt she could exhale.
     She turned her head to the passenger side, scanning the seat, checking to see what had fallen to the floor just as the driver of the other car tapped on the glass right next to her face.  She screamed, startled and jumped so high in her seat that she nearly hit her head on the roof of the car.  Then settled down, blushing a bit at her over reaction.  Hell what did she expect him to do, just sit there?  She rolled the window down about 4 inches - lifting her nose a bit, and smiled up at him. The pattering of the rain on the hood of the car and the pavement, as well as the shoulders of a man standing at her door came to her ears all at the same time, and she could almost distinguish one sound from the other.  She could smell the dampness and moldiness in the air,  and hear the branches of the trees groaning under the added weight of the water on their leaves.
     "You ok in there little girl?" came the question from the man, large and imposing in his rain coat.  He stood silhouetted against the night air, the headlights from his car blasting like knifes of white light behind him.   His face was concealed by the raised collar of the coat and an old fashioned 40?s style hat, dark tan, drenched and dripping, the rim sagging on one side.                                                                                                 Suddenly she felt a bit nervous.                                                                                                                          

?Yes, I'm fine - like you, I saw it in time and was able to stop. Thank you for asking.  I?m glad you could stop in time and?um?not hit me." She put her hand back on the window handle, ready to roll it back up quickly if she needed to, and it made her feel like she was in control - safe.                                                                                                            "Well, looks like we are both heading back to where we came from huh?" came the voice, deep and resonant over the rain. "You got family waiting for you?"                                                   "No, I was going to surprise my sister and spend the weekend visiting her - but it looks like I am not going to make it." 

SHIT! Stupid, stupid stupid she thought to herself. Telling a total stranger something like that! Stupid!   She took a mental note where she had put the cell phone and cast a glance to her purse, still on the seat next to her. 
     ...Suddenly, without any warning she felt a powerful steel like grip lock around her neck. She gasped and could see the man's arm shoved through the opening in the glass and she could feel his powerful fingers wrapped tightly around her neck.   Instantly panic swelled up inside her and she frantically tried to roll up the window against his arm.  She could see out of the corner of her eye, wide and frantic with sudden terror as his other hand, clenched in a fist, sliced through the air to slam into the window glass like a hammer, shattering it instantly.  Then almost as if it were a snake, the other hand too was around her, grabbing her hair and yanking her head toward the now blown out window.                               

He let go of her neck for an instant and unlocked the car door, then opened it, and after reaching round the window frame and grabbing her by the hair again, he hauled her out of the car.   She felt her hip and thigh slam into the wet pavement as she was pulled by her hair from the car, the pavement almost grabbing at her as she fell. 

He had her by the hair, and every single strand of it was screaming at the violent grip, as if it was not sure weather to stay rooted in her head, or to let go by the root, and flow into the hand of its captor.  She screamed, as she felt the wet road scrape against her side and her hair stretched and pulled as he began to drag her around the open car door.  She was suddenly struck by the terror of knowing that the rain and the isolation were such, that no matter how much she yelled and screamed, no one would ever hear her.  "Oh God - please help me!" she screamed out helplessly as she felt him dragging her across the wet pavement.

     A roller Coaster ride. Yes, that is it. You know the kind, when you are sitting there waiting for the ride to begin, and all of the sudden - whosh!! you are swinging up in the air. And then it seems as if you just hang there, in mid air for a moment before you
slowly begin to fall back down again.  She was aware of this strange sensation - almost
floating in mid air over the hood of the car for what seemed like several minutes before suddenly being slammed down against the hot metal of the front of the car, face down.  It knocked the wind from her.  Her hair splayed across her face and draped in long silky brown strands across the hood of the car, as she became aware, dimly, almost like in a dream, that her hands were being forced behind her back.  And then, all of the sudden, she could not move them. "Strange" she thought to herself, she could no longer move her hands.  She just lay there, across the hood of her car, legs dangling over the fender, bent over, only distantly aware that her hands were being tied behind her.  She watched the steam rising from the hood of the car, and the rain drops splattering down on it in hundreds it tiny silver streaks, helpless as her hands were tied behind her.                                                    When she got her wind back, and realized what was actually happening, she felt another wave of terror flood through her, and again tried to scream out.  "Stop! Please!" She screamed into the rain. 

"Please, no!" she cried again and then felt a rough hand wrap what she eventually realized was a strip of leather around her face and across her mouth. She tried to wiggle out from under him, but he easily overpowered her. She tried to shake and wriggle her head to prevent him from tying the gag securely, but only made him synch it tighter.
     Now gagged, her hair secured by the leather straps in front of her face, wet from the rain and matted to her cheeks, her hands bound behind her back with something that felt cold and hard and very unyielding; she lay bend over the hood of her car, and began to sob.  Tears choking in the back of her throat as the gag prevented her from crying aloud.  She knew she sounded pathetic, sobbing through the leather gag, not really making much of a sound at all.  ?What were his intentions?  What was this man going to do?  What did he want with me??  And somewhere, deep in the pit of her gut, she knew the answer to these questions, but she dared not address it, she could not accept it!                            ?NO!? she determined inside her, and she shook her head trying to dislodge the thought from her hind, denying it utterly.  ?NO!? she screamed through the leather gag.   She tried again to wrench her arms free, writhing violently on the hood of the car, she arched her back in protest and kicked out with one leg behind her, hoping to catch him somewhere, anywhere, with the heel of her shoe.  But once again her head was yanked up by the hair and her face was suddenly slammed back down on the wet steel hood of her car with enough force to dissipate her sudden determination to resist.  And again, in hopelessness and terror she tried to talk to her captor.                                                                           "Money" she tried to say from under the gag and turning her head as far as she could to the side.  From the corner of her eye, she could see the figure, standing there, looking down at her, rain pounding his shoulders, running in torrents from the brim of his hat. Her breathing was quick and labored as she tried again to bribe him. "Money," she tried to say again.  ?I can pay you ? anything you want.  Just name your price and let me go.  PLEASE!.  Please, don?t hurt me.?  The words garbled and inaudible from under the leather gag. 
     She could only just see him, barley, through her wet hair, over her shoulder. Her breast heaving and sticky through the fabric of her soaking wet blouse, pressed against the hood of the car. The headlights shinning through the streaks of rain, casting shadows, eerie and ominous against the fallen oak tree that lay, like her, totally helpless across the road.
     She lay there, bend over the hood of the car, gagged, hands tied behind her back, in the rain, for what seemed like hours.   Then, over the spattering of the rain drops on the metal of the car, she heard him.  His words were cold and harsh and surged like ice  through her entire body.  She felt herself tremble.                                                                                                                    "Let?s have a look at that ass." she heard him say, and through the corner of her eye, she could see him step toward her, both hands reaching out.                                                 "Oh My God!  OH MY GOD!!" she muffled through the hard leather gag, and again tried tugging at the unyielding steel that bound her wrists.  Violently she tried to struggle, but the side of the car was slippery and wet and she could feel her thigh sliding uselessly against it.   Then she could feel his hands grabbing at the bottom of her skirt.                She could feel the fabric stretched tight against the back of her legs as he took it in his hands and paused for an instant.  A brief instant, in which she found herself praying that the fabric would hold.  Desperately hoping against all reason that somehow the fabric of her skirt would resist his efforts.  But it was no use. 

Suddenly she could ?feel? as well as hear the fabric tearing, splitting in two; and she felt a triangular seam of cold, wet night air sliding up the back and inside of her legs as her skirt was ripped in two from the bottom up.
      He tore it open clear to the waist band in one fluid motion.  Heavy and wet, she could hear the tattered fabric slap against the side of the car and stick as he cast it aside, spread wide open, exposing her to the night; exposing he to the rain; exposing her to him...                            "Oh God, PLEASE!" she screamed - but only inside her head now.  She knew she would not be heard by anyone, no matter how loud she cried.  And on a road like this - it was very unlikely that anyone would ever travel down here, in this weather, this late at night.
     She remembered thinking how strange it had been that there was another car following her down this lonely stretch of road. "Odd" she thought as she peered through the ever increasing volumes of rain beating against her windshield, every now and then stealing a
quick glance in the rear view mirror.
     A very sharp sting on her ass brought her quickly back to the terror of the real world, back to the moment.  Then another. "Augh!" she could hear herself crying under the leather as her tormentor smacked her wet ass.  The tiny, scant little pink panties were no barrier, especially wet from the rain that beat down on her ass almost as hard as his hand, and the sting of his spanking lingered after each smack.  ?Oh GOD!  Please.!?           Then with a savage violence, she could feel his hand take hold of the elastic of her
panties and stretch. The front of her panties felt like a rope biting against her thighs as he pulled back on the delicate cloth.  She tried to struggle again, but he only grabbed her hair and pressed her face against the hood of the car with his other hand, the metal cooling off from the constant rain.  He lifted her waist clear up off the fender of her car as he pulled at the back of her panties, stretching to their limit.  Then they gave way, and she felt her hips crash back down onto the fender of the car as the swing that he had lifted her by, her panties, no longer supported her.  ?Please.? She muffled again, now totally naked from her waste down, her ass exposed to him wet and stinging from his slaps.  She felt the light, delicate fabric of what was once her panties, torn and tattered, wet and clinging uselessly to one ankle. 
     She could sense him standing behind her.  She could feel his eyes on her flesh, leering down at her ass as she lay bent over the hood of her own car, the motor still idling, headlights defying the darkness and casting glistening shots of silver as the rain fell through the beam.  Then she could feel his hand, caressing, wondering over the smooth round swell of her upturned ass, exploring slowly, leering lustfully down at her.  His hand was cold, possessive, and almost detached as he explored her.                                         She could see the branches of the fallen oak tree in the headlights of her car, looking more and more like claws, themselves reaching out to grab her. The trunk of the tree almost seemed to leer at her, mocking her, pleased with her predicament, as if the tree were enjoying the show, waiting its turn with her. 
     His hand was still wrapped in her hair, pressing her face against the hood of the car, but now she was completely exposed to him. Naked from the waist down, her once light blue floral pattern skirt split in two, her panties, what was left of them, clinging to her ankle.
     She could feel the rain and the cold night air dancing across her ass cheeks, tickling the back of her legs, tormenting her, caressing her as she stood there, naked to the night, bent over the hood of the car.
     "Oh my God, PLEASE!" she cried, muffled under the leather gag.
     Smack, another stinging blow to her now naked ass cheek.   And then again.  Her ass felt hot under his spanking, and at the same time she could feel the cool night air, and the fresh summer rain drops that seemed to join him in spanking her ass.
     Then again his touch turned soft and gentle, if not cold and possessive.  He began caressing her ass, probing with his fingers inside her thigh, stroking his hand over her form as she lay there.  Slowly, with deliberate propose, she could feel his hand working its way, almost lazily toward her pussy.  Inch my agonizing inch she could feel his fingers drawing closer and closer to her.  Again she squirmed, writhed on the hood of the car, but it had the wrong effect, both on her, and her captor.  She felt herself grind her hips back and forth as he caressed her ass. She felt the cold steel of the fender of her car sliding, wet and smooth under her thighs, the cool night rain tickling her upturned ass cheeks, red and stinging from his smacks...
     Then she felt him sliding fingers into her from behind, spreading her lips, opening her to the night air, opening her up to him.  She felt him entering her, exploring her.  "Oh GOD PLEASE!" she said again as she felt his fingers probing into her possessively.  He slipped his fingers deep into her, and she gasped under the gag, and involuntarily arched her back a bit as he entered.  Then she felt him touch her ass.  She thought perhaps with his thumb as he fingered her from behind, and the sensation confused her.  Frightened her all the more.  A strange feeling came over her as he fingered her and slowly circled his thumb around her upturned ass.  ?Oh PLEASE!? again she garbled under the gag and slid her face across the hood of the car, trying to turn and look at him as he toyed with her.    
     And then she noticed it.  Quietly, softly,  - and much to her horror, she could feel herself warming to his probing.  Juices began to flow within her.  She could feel her body betraying her, responding to his touch, against her will.  This monster who had grabbed her and thrown her over the hood of her own car, this beast who was delighting in her, tying her up and simply taking her like a common whore with no thought to her station and position in society.  This bastard who had ripped her clothes off. This total stranger who stood behind her caressing her ass in the rain was getting a response from her.
     She lifted her head off the hood of the car terrified at her own feelings as well as the situation, and again tried to cry.  She was feeling a wetness she knew was not caused by the weather. And she was horrified at this sudden realization.  All the more so - because she knew HE knew it too.   He could feel her response.  He knew her body was betraying her.  And no matter how much she struggled, no matter how desperately she tried to break free or plead or resist, he knew her body was responding. 
     "Oh God, PLEASE!" she said again - yet in spite of the gag, somehow even she heard a change in the tone of her voice.   She lay there, in the pouring rain, bend over the hood of the car, staring through the headlights at the fallen tree, naked from the waist down. Her hands tied  behind her back, gagged, as she felt herself being spanked, fingered and explored from behind by a man she could not even see.  And once again, she heard her own voice from under the leather gag.  But somehow it was different.  Somehow it did not really sound like her, though deep in her mind she knew it really was her.  This time, it was if she was almost asking, ?Please.? 
    

     Instantly he slammed his fingers deep inside her, fucking her from behind with his strong fingers as if he knew she secretly wanted it.  He heard the tone in her voice.  And he responded to it!  Pleased with himself leering down at her in cold blooded lustful pride at his accomplishment as he toyed with her.  Aggressively, forcefully, he drove into her, circling her vulnerable and totally exposed virgin ass each time he did so.  ?Agh!? she cried again as she felt his hand slap against her ass.  She could not help herself, she could not seem to control her body any longer.  She felt herself arching her back to him, lifting her ass higher in the air, spreading her legs, using the fender of the car to brace her self as he probed and explored her.                                                                                                 Then, suddenly, without warning of any kind, he stopped.  He withdrew his fingers from her now wet pussy, and stood looking down at her, not touching her.  She groaned horrified, shocked at her reaction.                                                                                         Then something inside her gave way.  Something snapped.  Something deep inside her sprang to life and totally consumed her mind and her body like a tidal wave.  Something she had never before dared to acknowledge or look at.  She felt a horrible disappointment, a deep longing and desire for more of his probing.  She suddenly realized she wanted his fingers inside her, wanted his touch.  Needed it.  She began to wriggle her hips in the air as if begging for more.                                                                                                     ?Oh God ? PLEASE!? she managed from under the gag as she writhed on the hood of her car.   ?Please.?  And this time, there was no mistake.  This time, it was a request.  A pleading in her voice.  And this time, she was not ashamed.                                          That was when she heart it.  At first she was not sure, because he was so slow about it, deliberately and tantalizingly slow about it.  Agonizingly slow about it.  But, from under the gag, yet clearly heard over the beating rain on the hood of the car, she heard herself cry out, ?Yes, Oh yes, Please.  Please!? as she finally recognized the sound of his zipper sliding down.                                                                                                                     She lay there, quivering, trembling with wanting and excitement and hopeful anticipation.  Abandoning herself to the new found aching and longing inside her as she listened to him removing his manhood from his pants.   ?Mummmm, yes.? She muttered with quickened breath under the gag.  ?Oh yes, God, YES.? She screamed quietly to herself as she realized she was, indeed going to get fucked.  And then she realized she was slowly, waving and grinding her ass in the air, undulating against the fender of her car,  beckoning him, inviting him, taunting him ? God, she was DARING him to take her ? and take her HARD!                                                                                                                    He stepped up behind her, close, and she could feel the large, blunt, swollen tip of his cock suddenly spread her now dripping wet lips and nestle itself just at the entrance to her pussy.  Then he just stood there, motionless one hand on her ass, the other taking hold of the hair at the back of her head and lifting her face off the hood of the car.  Poised for the strike.  She arched her back to him, and tried to spread her legs wider in anticipation, gasping for breath through the gag, pleading in her eyes as she tried to look at him.  Panting, grinding herself back and forth against his cock, trying to draw him inside her, writhing under his hands, desperately yearning to be totally filled, completely taken right there, tied, gagged, and bent over the hood of the car out in the rain.                   ?OOOHHHH   GGGGOOOOODDDD!!! She screamed as, without warning he suddenly drove himself deep into her from behind, stabbing his engorged cock to the hilt within her, the swollen tip forcing her apart as he entered in one quick violent thrust!            

And again he paused.  This time thrust completely into her, every inch buried within her yearning wetness.  And he paused.  Not moving.  Just standing there, his cock enveloped deep inside her, holding her by the hair, pressing down on the small of her back, looking down at her upturned ass.  Not moving.  Standing perfectly still.                                                                             Her mind racing, her heart pounding in her chest, she simply could not help herself.  She had lost all self control.  She suddenly and totally cast off all restraint, shattered all thought of social standing or acceptability, or self perception.  She willfully abandoned  any sense of personal dignity, or identity or pretentious self respect and threw herself willingly, and completely and totally into the delicious joy of the moment and the absolute surrender she was forced to yield up to her captor.  She belonged to this man now, she was his possession.  His toy.  She was his totally and completely, and she found herself desperately wanting to be nothing more than his prize.  She wanted to be taken, used for his pleasure and to hell with what society had to say about it!!                     ?Please! She begged as she lay there bent over the hood of the car, his cock buried deep inside her.  ?PLEASE!!?  And almost savagely, she began to grind and buck and thrust her hips against his throbbing hard cock, impaling herself on him, trying to fuck herself with his hard cock.                                                                                                             He then began to withdraw himself, and then thrust into her, sliding himself totally into her and then almost completely withdrawing, only to strike again and again.  Moving with purposeful rhythm and forceful determination in each thrust.  Fucking her slowly and deliberately, pausing briefly while immersed in her wetness to grind his hips against her, probing at various angles with the tip of his cock, sliding up against the walls of her dripping flesh before he would pull back for another strike.                                             Her mind raced in a thousand different directions.  Her heart pounded and she gasped for breath.  Suddenly, and for the first time in her life, she was fully aware of the cool summer rain dripping on her skin, and it was delicious and wonderful.  She felt the soft breeze tickling her wet skin and she thrilled at the feeling of the metal under her thighs, the steel restraints binding her wrists behind her back, even the harshness of the leather gag aroused and excited her senses.  She could feel her hair, wet and matted and stuck to the sides of her face and the tattered remains of her panties clinging to her leg.  And most of all, the glorious, savage, wanton thrusting of this rock hard cock sliding deeper and deeper into her.  ?Oh YES!!  PLEASE!  FUCK ME!  Fuck me PLEASE!? she begged him from under the gag.  ?Harder!? she pleaded as he thrust into her from behind.  The flesh of her wet ass slapping up against him with each thrust, the zipper of his pants against her ass cheeks, the sudden sticky contact of her thighs against the fender of the car as he continued to fuck her.  Then, suddenly he removed the gag from her mouth, and let it fall around her neck like a collar, still tied.  Instantly she screamed out in a clear, loud voice, ?Yes, Please Fuck ME!  Fuck me hard.  Oh God yes!  Please fuck me hard!?  and she felt his hand wrap itself around her hair and pulling her back against him with each thrust.  She bucked and writhed in uncontrollable lust, forcefully taking his cock deep inside her, impaling herself and sliding her thighs in spasms against he side of the car as she tried to arch her back, and raise her ass higher in the air for him.  Trying to open herself up more to him.  Totally surrendering to him.                                                                                        

Letting go of her hair, she felt him placing both his hands on her hips, wrapping large strong hands around her waste, seizing hold of her, and began slamming her back and forth against him as if she were merely a doll.  Controlling her, sliding her across the hood of the car, back and forth over his pounding erection.                                                                       She arched her back as much as she could and spread her legs and reveled in the sensation of being slid across the hood of the car as he moved her back and forth on his cock.  Thrusting into her from behind, and guiding her with both hands as he took her.  She responded by once again crying out as she bucked and writhed beneath him, ?Oh  yes, yes, please fuck me, fuck me like a whore.?  And she could feel herself beginning to contract, the muscles within her beginning to spasm and convulse in orgasm.  The flood of release welling up inside her like a ocean wave.                                

Then all at once, screaming out in uncontrollable ecstasy as he slammed into her again and again, she exploded in wave upon wave of spasms.  Twitching and convulsing and writhing on the hood of the car, wallowing in a sudden pool of cum that oozed from her as she gave herself over to the total release.  Her mind went totally blank.  Numb.  Nothing in the world existed for her save the sensations she now experienced.  The cool wind and rain on her naked skin, the steel around her wrists and sliding under her erect nibbles, his strong hands moving her entire body back and forth across the hood of the car, the raging hard piston that the pumped into her, and the flood.  God, the flood of release, the wave after wave of cum that drenched and soaked her and glistened on the shaft of that glorious cock.                                                                                                     Her entire body, suddenly drained, slumped limp across the hood of the car, the machine behind her still slamming himself into and out of her with purposeful determination.  She could feel him tensing up.  His muscles taunt and hard, his thrusts more and more aggressive behind her.  She could hear and feel him slapping up against her with each stab of his raging hard cock.                                                                                                 He took her hair in one hand, pulling her head back, and leaned down against the small of her back with the other, pressing his body weight on to her.  His thrusts driving and violent and desperate.  She could hear hum moaning over her shoulder, grunting as he stabbed at her, his pace quickening and harder with each thrust.   ?Yes!  Yes! Take me.  Fuck me like a whore.  Please fuck me hard,? she cried spreading her legs as far as she could along the fender of the wet metal car, again lifting her ass up to meet him.             And then, all of the sudden, he had withdrawn completely from her.  So quickly that she still bucked and fucked at the air, her dripping cum soaked pussy shocked and begging for the cock that had given her such release.   She felt herself being pulled by the hair to her feet, and standing, legs spread on the pavement again, still grinding and fucking the air where his cock used to be.                                                                                               Then she felt the fabric of her blouse torn open, her erect nipples, firm ripe breast suddenly exposed to the air.  It felt wonderful to her, being tied, and stripped, her clothes in tatters clinging to her wet body and she thrilled at being completely naked in the rain.  Her breath came in gasps, still weak in the knees from such an explosive release, as well as the renewed excitement and lust of things to come as she found herself standing tied and naked and under his control.  She could feel his hot breath in her ear as he reached around and roughly took her breast in one hand and whispered in her ear.                       ?You like that don?t you slut??  He asked, his cock pressed up against her wet ass as he held her close. 

?Yes, Oh yes! I love it.?  She answered, ?Please fuck me like a whore, fuck me hard like a little whore.?  She begged and began rubbing and grinding her ass back against his cock, trying to entice him into finishing with her.                                                              He turned her around to face him, and for a brief instant she could see his face under the rim of his hat, hard and stern like chiseled stone.  His eyes glinted in the lights from the car, a flash of pure, raw lust in his grin as he began to force her to her knees before him.  She did not resist his forcing her down on her knees, but instead, with his hand wrapped in her hair, dropped before him.  As she moved into position on her knees, she lowered her eyes, in part to avoid looking into his, and in part to look upon the cock she now hoped and prayed that she would be allowed to taste.   She closed her eyes again, and pleaded silently to herself, ?Please let me taste it. please.?                                              Her hair was still entwined in his hand, and as her knees hit the pavement, without actually realizing she was doing so, she found she had her mouth wide open and her tongue out, darting hungrily in the air for him.  She could taste the rain on her tongue as she licked the air, moving her face from side to side desperately groping the air with her tongue, searching for him.  But he held her face out of reach.  She opened her eyes and looked at him, his swollen hard cock only inches from her mouth, raging hard and covered in her own cum, glistening in the rain, a tiny droplet of sticky white pre-cum seeping from the mushroom tip.  She could see it.  Waving at her, teasing her.                   ?Please sir, please let me taste it.  Fuck me in the mouth.? She begged, again opening her mouth to receive his cock, straining against the grip he had on her hair.  She tried again to release her hands from the bindings that held them, hoping to wrap her hand around his cock and devour it, but they would not let go.  She opened her mouth again and looked up to him, eyes pleading.  Then begged again. ?Please fuck my mouth like a cum slut, please, please fuck my mouth sir.?  And with that he leaned forward and she could feel the tip of his cock resting on the tip of her outstretched tongue.  She seized it in her mouth instantly, almost leaping on it hungrily.  As if suddenly starving, she began sucking on his cock with unbridled, unashamed abandon.  Reveling in the taste of him, slurping and gulping with more enthusiasm and excitement that she had ever felt before.  She could feel him slowly thrusting into her mouth, and she eagerly opened to allow him deeper access, greedily sliding her tongue along the shaft as he slid further into her mouth.  As he withdrew his cock from her mouth she licked at the shaft and danced the tip of her tongue across the head.  ?Thank you sir.? She heard herself say as she licked at it, ?thank y?? as he thrust himself back into her mouth, guiding her down on him by her hair.                                                                                                                                   And again, for some reason she could not phantom, and did not care to question, she felt a surging and contracting from deep within her, welling up from somewhere inside he as she knelt there on the pavement in the rain greedily sucking on his cock.  Overcome with it, another wave of release, spasm after uncontrollable spasm of cum flooded through her as he thrust in and out of her mouth and she cried out in her total joy at yet another orgasm.  She almost collapsed, and would have had it not been for him holding her hair, and the rigid pole of flesh that she had in her mouth like a fish on a hook.  She moaned aloud as he stood over her, fucking her mouth, her spasms subsiding.  She opened her mouth wide and reveled in the taste of him.  Basked in the joy of it as she knelt  on the pavement by the side of the car.

Hungrily she sucked at him as his thrusts increased their speed and intensity in and out of her mouth.  ?Yes, please, yes.? She tried to say as fucked himself down her throat.  She could feel him again tensing up, stiff and strong behind his cock, and she knew he was getting very close.  Again she could hear his grunting and feel his intensity and she reveled in the sensation of his hand in her hair as he forced her to suck on him.  She increased the strength of her sucking, desperate to feel him explode in her mouth, wanting more than anything to taste his cum.  ?Please, yes.? She muffled under his thrusts.                                                                                                                                           And then suddenly, explosively, she felt spurt after spurt of hot cum erupt from the tip of his delicious cock as he forced her to suck at him.  Like a starving little slut she gulped at it slurping hungrily, desperate to taste every salty drop of his cum and she could feel him straining and twitching in his release into her mouth.  She found herself almost overcome with joy.  She was suddenly and completely pleased with herself, victorious as she gulped at his cum.  And she smiled in triumph knowing, feeling she had been pleasing to him.  The evidence of his pleasure hot and salty in her mouth, and spilling down her chin.     She continued to suck at him, trying to drain every last drop of his delicious nectar, lovingly and gratefully caressing him with her tongue as his spasms subsided and he began to relax a bit.  She could feel his grip in her hair relax, and she moved her head forward to swallow more of him. 

For several minutes, they stayed there.  She knelt on the pavement, her clothes ripped to shreds and clinging in tatters to her wet naked form.  Her hands tied behind her back, as she lovingly sucked at his cock while he stood over her, both of them almost silhouetted in the glare of the car?s headlights beside a fallen tree on a lonely stretch of country road out in the cool summer rain.                                                                                            Never before in her life had she felt such release.  Such total surrender and the overwhelming joy that, ironically, came with her restraint.  As if the bindings freed her.  For the first time in her life, she was totally free to be herself, free to truly be what she was born to be ? a woman.  She no longer needed to put on a socially acceptable mask of proper conduct, or worry about the correct way to behave, and in the process, cheat herself of the freedom she had been given by the bindings of this man.  And she knew she loved him.  She knew in her soul that she would forever belong totally to him.  And as the rain drops caressed her naked breast, they mingled with her tears of joy.                   

With a tenderness and kindles in his motions, he stood her up, and turned her around to release the bindings around her wrists.  She turned to him, smiling and gazed into his eyes.  And he smiled back to her.                                                                                   ?Hot about a cup of hot coco by the fire, sweetheart. Would you like that?? He said to her.                                                                                                                               ?With those little marshmallows on top?? she asked playfully, giggling. ?I love those little marshmallows.?

?As you wish, sweetheart.?  He responded and wrapped his coat around her, rubbing his hands up and down her shoulders, warming her.  ?maybe a nice hot bath too, would you like that baby??

 ?Mum yes please, Daddy.? She cooed and kissed the tip of his nose giggling again.

?I love you, Daddy.? As she started toward the other car.

?I love you too, baby girl.  Let?s go home, get you warm and snug by the fire.? 

Men have long dominated society and the world at large.  The feminist movement and equal rights amendments sought to alter this natural order only to end up sweeping the grand design of normal human interaction and relationships under the rug of denial and ?politically correct? legislation.

A woman is by no means inferior, or lesser, nor is she incapable of making valuable contributions in the arts, sciences, philosophy.  She most certainly is?

However, clearly our socially acceptable political arena has committed the sin of gross overcompensation, and I muse at the frequent lamentations of women and the ?castrated man? of today ? owing to the fact that it was clearly ?women?s rights? that wielded the knife in the first place. 

They cry ?there are no real men left, oh woe unto us.? Then presume to instruct boys and men in society as to what a man is, when obviously the one and only thing a woman can do, is offer a woman?s opinion from a woman?s point of view, as to want a man should be.  

A woman cannot know a man?s issues, nor his mind, nor what it means to be a man.  She cannot see through his eyes, nor perceive as he does.  She knows not of his trials or struggles, not his method of attack ? she can only think she does.        

By virtue of being a woman, she approaches a situation from a different point of view than a man does ? and of course - visa versa. 

In fact, it is this profound difference in perspective, and point of view that has for countless years been referred to as the ?battle of the sexes,? and constantly serves to add gasoline to the fires of upset and pain, misery and confusion, marriage and divorce ? odd infinitum.

For example - - no one wants a child to come to harm.  This is simply sane and rational.  However, a woman?s perspective, is that the child must be made totally safe from all harm, at all times.  Further, that ?laws be passed? to insure that all children are all safe at all times.  This is not evil or malicious ? this is simply motivated by her love for her child ? the healthy, natural, normal female nurturing instincts that God saw fit to instill within her as principle care giver to the small children, and thus, guardian of the species to some extent.

But - - life cannot be legislated or regulated in such a manner, no matter how much we might wish it so.  Life is not safe.  Life is not all comfort and ease and entertainment ? and in fact, sheltering and cuddling and pampering a child ? isolating him from the world in order to keep him safe from it - deprives that child of many necessary and valuable life lessons.

My son, whom I adore more than my own life, at the tender age of 2 while teetering on unstable legs, one day discovered the fascinating spectacle of a lit and flickering candle, and reached out to discover and explore its strange and delightful properties.  Innocent, exploring and all things good and right in life, right??  But I knew the flame would do him harm and gently drew his grouping hand away.  Again he reached towards the flame.  And again I drew away his tiny little hand. 

He objected to this intrusion on his innocent explorations  - as a 2 year old would ? and screamed his protest, and yet again reached for the flickering and fascinating object of his curiosity.

One final time, I took away his delicate little hand and spoke harshly in my tone ?NO?

And thus, the confrontation began.  He glared defiant and red faced into me, screeching in outrage and demanding his right to freedom of exploration.  Steely eyed I met his gaze and would not yield, for I had what he had not - wisdom.

Time passed as slowly as did the snot on his cheek, and his lip quivered as he searched for a way around my gaze.  He fumbled a bit at speaking his mind (only two mind you) and took a step or two first this way, then that, bent on the acquisition of his goal. 

And I resolved to abstain from further intervention as yet again he reached out to the fascinating flickering flame.

Now you and I know full well the consequence of such action. 

It was foretold, predicted - inevitable.

But my son, whom I adore above my own life was only two, and could not understand such reasoning?s, nor could he at such an age effect within him the self discipline to submit to my instruction.

So I allowed him to burn his hand.

That tiny delicate fragile little hand, seeking only to explore and learn, so tiny that it took all of it to wrap around my finger - took upon its tender flesh the sting of fire.

And he learned.

And my son, at two years, two weeks of age, knew not to play with fire ? ever again...

 His hand healed very quickly, no damage, no scars.  But the lesson remains to this day, and he now stands tall enough to look me in the eye.

In other words, the natural nurturing desire to keep the child safe from all harm and pain, all the time ? ultimately brings down upon the child far greater pain and struggle than a broken arm or singed fingers ever could. He becomes dependent on mother, or like substitute for validation and shelter.

It paints within the mind of the child an illusion of life, society, reality and existence that is not real.  It creates a false picture, a skewed perception of the world ? resulting in an unavoidable catastrophe of traumatic emotional and psychological proportions when the child is finally confronted with the harsh realities and horrors of life. 

 The child naturally retreats from the brutal harshness of life, unprepared and unschooled in how to deal with it.  He/she retreats into a self created, self delusion, a fantasy realm of his/her own making, where in the creator is God, and all things and people within it obey the edicts of the creator. 

We are all God inside the imagination ? and all things are as we wish them to be.  We need not make compromise with ourselves inside the sanctity of imagination. 

But this escapism only serves to exacerbate the situation.

For the harsh and cold realities of life are not dismissed at the wave of our hand, they care not for our petty longings and self serving desires ? and, unrelenting, they assault the battlements of our fantasy world, chipping at the stone of its foundations until there is not left but rubble.     

My son?s mother would not have sat back and allowed my son to burn his hand.  She would instead have scooped him up and carried him to her lap.  Or put out the candle.  (In fact, she tried both, but acquiesced to my decision.  We had a hell of a fight about it afterwards.) 

She would have sought to keep him from harm, protect him from the momentary pain of the flames caress, and in doing so ? deny him the lesson so well learned.

I believe this illustrates one of the profoundly different ways in which a man, and a woman look at the same situation.  We each see it differently.  Simple as that.

Owing to the fact that my son will grow to be a man, leave his mother and father, and walk his own way through life - - which way do you think was, ultimately, in his best interests?  Taking him away from the flame so he did not get burned, because he was only a child at the time - - or letting the flame sear into his mind a life lesson???