...My Newton couldn't
hurt a fly.
It just wasn't in his
nature.
Haven said this
countless times, it came as easy as breathing.
This was Newton we
were talking about.
Sir Newton, as I
christened him on one of our numerous play dates and had somehow stuck.
"I've decided you
will be my girlfriend", he said when we were just six and playing
"daddy and mummy". No questions. Just a statement from someone who
knew what he wanted and went for it. Smug lil' peacock he's always been. But he
made up for it with the kindest heart and most disarming smile. You couldn't
help but love Newton.
I couldn't help but
love him.
Forget that he
"broke-up" with me two weeks after when I gave him that permanent
scar on his forehead...story for another day. But it was too late. He had
stolen my little heart.
And so in primary six
when he was head boy and I social prefect, and we barely spoke in school even
though we saw every sunday in church; when Pearl my best friend asked who my
class crush was, I said Sir Newton.
In SS1, when my school
debate team went against his and his head debater, the big bully, picked on me,
much to the chagrin of his team mates, Newton found a way to redeem the situation
when it was his turn to speak. It cost his school the first position but he
didn't mind. "Second position isn't so bad, besides I can't stand
bullies", he said casually when I asked him why he stood up for me.
That's My Newton for
you.
And when we both
gained admission into Essex. Him to study Computer Systems Engineering, and me to study Law and Philosophy, it
didn't come as a surprise few months into the term when we began dating. It was
only natural.
We did everything
together. We ate together, spent all-nighters in the library together, played
pranks together, traveled to Paris on our second year anniversary together, and
when his dad died, we dealt with it together.
We were a team.
"What's yours is
mine", he'd joke when he stole my last bar of chocolate from the fridge.
When I grabbed his ass in the hallway, I'd throw over my shoulders, "It's
mine remember". And when we exchanged short notes...you know how every
couple have a 'thing'?, that was ours; His was signed, 'Your Newton'.
And that night like
any other night, when he kissed my nose, I smile and waited for him to get to
my lips. And when he went to my ears instead, chuckling at the disappointment
on my face just as he flicked the lobe with his tongue, I sighed softly. When
he took my top off I let him. When he trailed kisses from my neck down to my
navel, I sucked in a breath.
That was My Newton, he
took my breathe away.
When he unbuttoned my
pants, I couldn't get out of them fast enough. Next went his shirt, followed
swiftly by his shorts. "Easy Tiger", I said jokingly, which earned me
the tickles and had both of us in a mock-struggle. He was on top. Half-kneeling,
half-sitting, even as his hard-on was pressed across my abdomen. He bent over,
the laughter in his eyes replaced by desire and I thought to myself how lucky I
was to have him.
What followed was an
hour, maybe more, of passionate kissing, some fondly, kneading, more kissing,
licking, then sucking and then some more kissing.
Tonight was different.
It was heaven. It was
hell.
It was pleasure. It
was torture.
I hated that we had to
stop any moment soon. It was especially hard for him, coming so close but never
actually going all the way. But he had agreed to wait till I was ready.
Two years and
counting.
My Newton had waited.
"Newton...",
I whispered waiting for him to take the cue and roll off, even as I wished he
wouldn't. I moaned as I felt Him on my wetness. "This is torture", he
groaned and remained in position.
"Just the
tip" he whispered.
"Newton...we
shouldn't ".
"I wouldn't hurt
you I promise".
"I know baby,
but..." I trailed off my tone begging him to understand.
He trailed kisses
round my face, still pressing in.
"Newton!"
"Newton
Stop!"
"Newton you're
hurting me!"
"NEWTON
PLEASE!!!"
"NEWTOOOOOOOOON
NOOO!!!"
"n-n-newton?"
I choked out, after what felt like centuries.
There were no further
words.
My brain refused to
comprehend what had happened.
He hugged me all night
long.
I let him even as his
arms felt like steel against my warm skin.
There were no words.
There were no tears.
All that lingered was
a sense of nothingness.
I listened in a trance
as his breathing slowed into a steady rhythm.
What just happened? I
asked myself.
Could it be ....?
Was I just .....?
I couldn't bring
myself to complete the thought.
My Newton couldn't
hurt a fly.
It just wasn't in his
nature.
I guess I couldn't
call it RAPE
"What was mine,
was his."
After all, he was My
Newton.
Right?
xxx
Inspired by a true story.
