The Emancipation of Shania

Unfulfilled

Present

Shania’s POV

I lie on my back just gazing up at the ceiling. If someone were to snap a pic of me right now, I would probably appear to be, at most, contemplating a change of paint on the ceiling. That’s how I imagine the expression on my face looks.

The reality though, is I’m not just lying on the bed staring almost blankly at the ceiling. I’m lying with my legs wide open, and my boyfriend Caleb is on top of me pumping his average d**k in and out of my barely awake p***y. His face is in my neck just below my ear and I am quite irritated by his panting and grunting. I contemplate throwing him off me and interrupting his undeserved orgasm. Too late. He speeds up his thrusting and gives a large grunt with his last thrusts as he climaxes.

Caleb rolls off me and onto his side. He removes, and ties up the condom, depositing it in the waste basket at the side of the bed, then turns onto his back. “That was awesome, babe”, he announces, breathing heavily. Then he sighs, which sounds like an annoying purr, and I want to punch him in the nuts. Repeatedly. 

Just in case I forget later, I must admit now. Caleb’s nearly 8” d**k, with a generous girth, is not average. I just said that to illustrate he is not satisfying me. I really cannot think positive thoughts about Caleb right now!

“You good, hun?” he asks, his tone making the enquiry sound rhetorical.

Good? I think ironically. If you were capable of good, I wouldn’t need to finish off myself after each of your mediocre performances!

“Hm,” I reply insincerely. I try to lace some sarcasm and irritation into my tone, but it’s too short a response to convey my sentiment. What? I can’t be blamed for my lack of enthusiasm, or failure at dialogue after that pathetic sessions.

My arrow falls way short of its mark, and Caleb’s face lights up like a bulb.

“We’re so good together, babe. I can’t believe after all these years of loving you, you’re finally mine”

You own me now? Show me the purchase agreement, prick! Damn! I am really frustrated. I need to come!

“I can’t believe it either!” I reply blandly. I yawn, genuinely, but inwardly I smile at how well the yawn goes with the sarcastic reply. I turn my back to him. He takes it as an invitation to spoon, and moves closer to me, until his now limp d**k is pressed up against my ass.

I had promised myself before we got to bed tonight, that if I got one more anti-climactic performance from Caleb, that would be the end for us.

“Caleb..” I start, deciding I don’t want to procrastinate and suffer this charade a day longer.

“Mmm?” he answers sleepily pulling me even closer against his body. “What is it, sweetheart?” f**k, I hate that he calls me anything other than my name to start, but can he at least stick to one pet-name, instead of trying the whole damn dictionary’s worth?

I’m about to tell him that we need to end this, but I hesitate, when I realize how comfortable I feel in his arms. Maybe comfortable isn’t the right word. More like comforted? God, am, I really that needy?

I decide one more night won’t make a difference. So instead I say “Goodnight”.

He mumbles unintelligibly what I assume is “Goodnight” and promptly falls asleep. I huff in resignation at the realization that was the extent of our post coital conversation. Not that it was much more even on the nights we weren’t having s*x.

Caleb and I have been dating for 4 months. We met at a conference of research scientists in Dubai 6 months ago. We knew each other from college, so we were both happy to have someone familiar there to talk to. After the conference, Caleb went to South Africa for a while, and I returned to my stylish, but modest apartment in New York. As soon as he was back home, he called and asked me out. I liked him, and had been thinking a lot about him since the conference, so I gladly accepted.

Everything was going great, until it wasn’t anymore. Many women at this stage would already have ended the relationship. But according to the guys I dated since college, before Caleb, I have ''issues". Seriously though, I do...have issues! I have past-hurt issues, misplaced religious ideology issues, self-esteem issues... That makes me slightly less eager to end a relationship where nothing is obviously wrong. Rather, I blame myself for being so insecure. 

Caleb is a good guy, actually. He treats me well. He is attentive, and generous. He lets me throw tantrums, and rubs my belly when I am having my painful periods.  I secretly enjoy the envious looks I get when I am in public with him. He is truly gorgeous with a magazine cover model body. 

I am far from ugly myself. I have smooth, unblemished, olive tinged skin, and waist length voluminous black hair,  thanks to my Indian maternal genes. My almond shaped eyes framed by thick dark lashes also comes from my mum, but the grey blue color with dark irises...that's from my dad. I cant fathom why Caleb seems to love my pudgy, out of shape, overweight body. He is strange, that way, I think.

After an insanely long period of drawing on my reasons for my 'issues', which exacerbate my annoyance with Caleb, I eventually shut off the painful memories. Caleb’s snoring draws me out of my haze. I huff loudly, and spring out of bed, heading to the kitchen for my favorite source of gratification…chocolate almond ice cream! And if that doesn’t cheer me up, I will just use my fingers later to do what Caleb couldn’t…