#r4pem3

One day, I went to my cousin's birthday party. She was turning eighteen, had just started university only a few months ago, and since her father died, I was the only paternal figure she had ever known.

When I arrived, I hadn't seen her since before university, and she had changed so much. She was thinner, had stopped being so cheerful, was serious, and there was sadness in her eyes. I thought maybe she was maturing or was stressed about the new challenge.

When her mother brought out the cake, she refused to eat, and when they asked her to blow out the candles, she smashed the cake and ran off to her room. Her mother started insulting her for what she did, and she hurled insults back through the door. She had never done anything like that, not even at the peak of her adolescence.

I let her cool down a bit while having coffee with the rest of the family, then went to her room. I knocked on the door softly and whispered that it was me, that the idiot mother of hers was cleaning up the cake remains. The doorknob turned, she opened the door a little, and with eyes full of tears, she hugged me and started crying uncontrollably again. We went inside and sat on her bed.

I asked her what was wrong, and she said nothing. I tried several times, but there was no way she would say. I am a patient and understanding person, but I won't refrain from using violence if it serves to solve an even bigger problem. So, as you can imagine, I slapped her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and said:

"Tell me right fucking now what the hell is wrong with you."

She stopped crying and stared into my eyes. She lowered her head and said:

"Well… you know I started university recently…"

"Yes, I know."

"Well, I became friends with some girls from an upper year who still have pending first-year subjects… At first, they welcomed me better than anyone. You know I'm very shy and have trouble making friends… so I was happy… but little by little, they started making comments about my appearance, my clothes, my weight (I weighed fifty kilos). They even joked about me not having a father while their parents were millionaires, laughing that I got into university thanks to a scholarship because my family couldn't afford it…"

"So stop hanging out with them, and that's it, right?"

"It's not that easy. Thanks to them, I'm not an outcast, and besides, once I tried to distance myself… and well… Maria… she's the leader… the others are actually good girls, they just do what she does… and well… she locked me in the bathroom and told me that if trash like me dared to turn my back on the group, I would pay the consequences… and she stabbed me in the leg with a pen…"

"She did what? Okay, I want a photo of her and tell me where she lives."

"No, no, no, what are you going to do?"

"Do you want another slap? Tell me who that fucking bitch is."

She gave me enough information to stalk her. Within a week, I knew how many times a day that whore shat.

I found out her father was very rich, yes, selling spoiled meat to small street food joints. How glamorous, right? I also discovered there were many arguments at home with his fat wife because Mr. "Rotten Meat" loved going to whores on Friday nights.

One day, I went to the university, pretended to be my cousin's boyfriend so she would introduce me to those harpies—let's call them what they deserve: Bitch 1, Bitch 2, and Bitch 3. I didn't even greet Bitch 2 and 3. Bitch 1 tried to convince me with her body language that she was the most popular and that my cousin shouldn't be liked by anyone… which made me even angrier. She was an unbearable chick, but I pretended she was winning me over, which skyrocketed her ego.

She thought: "Wow, I'm a diva, I stole the boyfriend from the girl I bully, I'm incredible."

There was a moment, while we were eating at the university cafeteria, when Bitch 1 said:

"I have to go to the bathroom."

Then I saw my opportunity.

"Me too, I'll go with you."

Her superior face made me explode inside. She thought I was going to fuck her, you son of a bitch, how I hated her.

So we got to the bathroom, she grabbed my shirt and pulled me into the women's bathroom with her. We locked ourselves inside and started kissing. I was disgusted to be doing that with such an imbecile. I grabbed her by the neck, and something inside me wanted to strangle her, but I controlled myself and moved to my original plan. I put my hand inside her pants and started masturbating her, first outside her underwear, then I moved it aside and started caressing her clitoris. When she was starting to lose strength in her legs, I inserted my fingers and started masturbating her hard. The imbecile started moaning, and I had to cover her mouth with my other hand until… well… you know… she had a huge squirt… stained her whole pants and my sneakers… as soon as I got home, I would throw them away. I didn't want that whore's fluids on me.

We came out of the bathroom and headed back to the cafeteria. She was embarrassed to have her pants so stained, and there my plan was completed. When we arrived, I started shouting:

"SHE PEED HERSELF!!!"

While pointing at her, everyone in the cafeteria laughed at her. Her status went to shit. Even her friends were cracking up.

She tried to counterattack with all the fury in the world:

"Well, you should know I hooked up with your boyfriend in the bathroom."

I replied:

"The pisser has fantasies about her friends' boyfriends."

People couldn't stop laughing.

She ran out crying and throwing trays from the tables across the dining hall.

My mission was almost complete.

I went home with my cousin, and I had never seen her so radiant. She really needed someone to do that for her, and thank God she had me.

But knowing how that kind of whore works, I had a second plan for her.

The next day, I asked my cousin to go to the same bathroom I had gone to the day before, around noon.

My cousin entered the bathroom and started washing her hands. No more than a minute later, someone entered the bathroom and slammed the stall door shut.

My cousin started screaming, and that unbearable voice…

"You think you're so smart? I'm going to kill you."

I came out of one of the closed stalls and saw her grabbing my cousin by the hair. This was getting fun.

I grabbed her by the hair and shoved her into one of the stalls. I put her head in the toilet and flushed. She wouldn't stop screaming like an idiot. Every time I pulled her head out, she said a different insult to me. She was so pathetic…

When I stopped, I looked her in the eyes and said:

"Touch my little cousin again, and I'll make your life a living hell, and your whoremonger father's too."

She turned pale, her eyes rolled back, and she said:

"You know? I think I needed this. Right now, I just want you to keep putting my head in the toilet and make me cum like yesterday."

"Putting your head in the toilet is tempting, but the other thing, not in your wildest dreams. Enjoy the memory."

Again, the stupid whore started crying.

"I understand. I just want you to know that from now on, I'll protect your cousin and won't let anyone hurt her. I'm so sorry… and I want you to know… that if you ever want to use a hole to vent or do whatever you want with me again… you can count on me."

I left with my cousin through the door, and the imbecile Bitch 1 was left lying at the foot of the toilet like an alcoholic, while someone from the university secretary was running to the bathroom because someone had reported the screams.

My cousin graduated, and the truth is that Bitch 1 treated her very well for the rest of the time they shared at university.

To this day, they are still friends, and she keeps insisting that she wants to see me again because that encounter changed her life. But I told my cousin to tell her that I no longer live in the country. Even though everything has been fixed, I will never forgive her for the fact that if I hadn't been there, my cousin could have ended up very badly.

After what happened, rumors of my addiction started spreading among the girls in the neighborhood. Whenever they saw me passing by, it was all stares, smiles, whispers…

I've suffered from depression since early in my life, and sometimes I like to go somewhere to reflect. That day I went to one of my favorite spots—it wasn't much, but I liked it.

It was on the emergency stairs of an old bridge a couple of kilometers from my house. I'd sit there in the middle, suspended in solitude, and smoke a cigarette while thinking whether it would be a good idea to jump onto the train tracks right in front of me.

While I was smoking, two girls started coming down toward where I was. They asked me for a light to each light up a cigarette and went down a few steps below me.

I felt uncomfortable with people there when my intention was to be alone, especially when they wouldn't stop looking at me, whispering things to each other, and gesturing for me to come down. I ignored them and smoked another cigarette, looking the other way so I wouldn't see them, but they weren't going to settle for that.

They came back up to where I was, and one of them asked:

"You're Markus, right?"

I nodded, and the other girl said, laughing:

"Is that thing they say about you true?"

I pretended not to know what she was talking about and replied:

"I don't know, what do they say?"

Her answer was:

"That you're a sex psychopath, haha."

The other girl elbowed her and said to me:

"Well, not psychopath exactly, she means what you did in class, everyone talks about it… and well, you'll understand that for most people it's crazy."

I understood perfectly what they were referring to and what they wanted from me, so I didn't beat around the bush and answered:

"If you'd been through what I've been through, maybe you wouldn't see it as so crazy. But anyway, why do you want to know about that? If I'm supposed to be a psychopath, coming to talk to me is taking a risk, don't you think?"

They turned red and answered at the same time:

"We like risk."

They caught me on a bad day, so they were going to pay for it.

I told them to go all the way down, since right under the bridge there was a comfortable spot for what I was going to do with them.

Once down there, I whispered in the ear of the girl who had tried to soften her big-mouthed friend's words:

"Your friend is going to suffer, and you're going to help me do it."

I grabbed both of her arms from behind and told her to slap her friend in the face. She obeyed and started hitting her, but she was doing it too gently, so I showed her how I wanted it done. She let out a moan—half pain, half pleasure—and her lip split a little.

After that, I laid her on the ground and told her friend to step on her head. When she did, I lifted her skirt and started fucking her, while from the ground that bitch had a privileged view of my cock going in and out of her friend.

That slut licked her lips thinking she'd be next, haha. Not even in her dreams—I don't like giving someone what they want, or at least not the way they expect.

When I finished fucking her friend, I sat down on one of the steps, and she gave me a very sloppy blowjob until her mascara left her face looking like a nightmare clown's. The mission for the stupid bitch now covered in dirt from the ground was to lick her friend's asshole while she sucked me off.

At some point during the blowjob, I said I was about to cum—I wasn't actually planning to, but I wanted to see that bitch's reaction, and I got it.

"No, please, I want you to fuck me too, or at least let me suck it."

I laughed and replied:

"Oh yeah?"

I stood up, pushed the one who was sucking me off to the side, and put that idiot face down with her chest on the ground. I pulled down her pants, spat on her asshole, and shoved it in her ass all at once. She started biting her lips, trying not to cry; her moans were pathetic, and her legs were trembling. I thrust into her about ten times with very hard pushes until I came inside her ass. I lifted her off the ground, grabbed her friend—who was lying next to her masturbating while watching the scene—by the hair, and made her swallow the cum dripping out of her friend's ass.

I lit another cigarette and left without saying another word to them.