Everything for Love
Diana DeRiggs

The long days at training camp were endurable because at the end was Derya, the love of his life. Just before he went in, she had promised to marry him, to bear his children, to be with him forever, and it made his heart sing. He was so in love, and so secure in his love. It represented hope, the ultimate goal. From a personal scale, or a galactic one, it filled his whole life. No matter how badly life behaved toward him, she was always there. He'd be released from training soon, and then nothing would keep them apart.

He was so happy that he was visited nightly by dire dreams. In this dream he held a piece of flimsi which told a dark tale, of his girl meeting someone else. She's fallen so hard for this other man that shed offered her virginity to him. The same virginity that Wes has steadfastly refused to take from her, that precious, holy commodity. It made a girl into a woman, and he valued it highly. But now it was gone, taken from her, it no longer existed. It was now torn to shreds in the throes of ecstasy with another man. Another man's passion.

Wes didn't understand why he had this recurring nightmare. He'd wake up, and go through his prescribed daily routine. But every night, he'd go to bed and then find the worn piece of flimsi in his hand again, and he would re-read the same tale. Why does it hurt so badly? It's just a bad dream! He'd wake up, the dream forgotten in the morning. Going to bed made him remember the dream.

He finally realized the dream was not actually his mind's figment, when Derya met him at the station after his release. He saw immediately that she had changed. She was no longer his girl; Derya was now someone else's woman.

She chased after him to embrace him, but he walked quickly past her. She had no chance of catching him, even though he was on foot. He ducked away from her and she lost him forever.

At home, he refused to answer anyone. His mother and his sister pounded on his door, pleading with him to eat. They left trays of food outside, but they'd return hours later and found them still untouched. Derya had contacted them to tell them what had happened, so they all knew. This made him even more resistent and intractable.

Inside his room, he silently wept. His family heard only a tomblike silence. But eventually, they realized he was using his datapad and holonet connection, and were able to send him messages that way.

He finally came out of his room. He cleaned his room and himself. He had another girl on his mind, one he'd met via the holonet. He'd never met her in person, but her name was Rorma and she was beautiful. She had been abandoned by the father of her child early in her pregnancy, and now she was due to give birth. In talking with her, Wes had grown to love her and told her he'd raise the baby as his own, if she would have him.

He took a landbike to her place, and he saw from a distance her place was located on a little farm. The door was open and he saw someone standing in the doorway, waiting for him. As he got closer, he gasped. She was calling to him, it was Rorma, but she looked nothing like the holos she'd sent him. The tale of her being pregnant was probably a fanciful lie, but he couldn't tell -- she was enormously fat, yet wrinkled. She was not who she claimed to be. Certain that it was her, he turned tail and pedalled fast back to his home.

Once again, he locked himself in his room and wept. This time, he knew he'd been naiive and stupid to be deceived so readily.

The next girl was a young friend of his sister's. She lacked sophistication or intelligence, but she was real and when she offered Wes her virginity, he took it without hesitation. It was somehow easier, not loving her, or even really caring about her. It wasn't as good as he'd hoped; all the fantasies and stories he'd read about screwing a virgin were unfounded. His hand was better.

Her name was Rito, and she offered herself openly, in exchange for him taking her to dances and events as her partner, and for baubles she could show off to her girlish friends, who reacted with open envy. Wes started to realize that this was a transaction. He started to watch his sister and even his mother. What he found shocked him.

Whenever his mother needed something, she dressed up and made herself up carefully, and she and his father retired early. By listening carefully, he heard his father moan as his mother made muffled noises. In the morning, both were happy; the following afternoon, his mother was happier still, for a new coat, new place settings, or some other thing she'd acquired with money Wes's father had liberated in exchange for the sexual favor he'd received the night before.

Likewise, he saw his sister would give herself more freely to boys and men who owned nice speeders, or who gave her nice and valuable gifts, or who helped her status by being handsome or socially high up. He saw that intimacy wasn't a matter of need for girls, and that virginity wasn't the same for them as it had been to him. He thought it was a precious thing, to be given to a special man, a gift from the girl. But he realized that it was a thing to be bartered.

Women were dirty and manipulative.

Well, I can play their game, too!

He told Rito she bored him. Shocked, she wept and promised to do better. Equally shocked at her reaction (he'd assumed she'd just leave him in a huff), Wes decided to test her. She had a beautiful friend, with the voluptuous body he'd lusted for all his adolescence. He thought it was a base and shallow way to judge a woman, and so it was an unfulfilled and unattainable fantasy. He told Rito that he wanted Signe, and that he expected her to set it up. Still weeping, she nodded in agreement, and begged for a week, she promised to do it.

In anticipation, he threw Rito down onto the bed; he was so excited! As he banged her hard, he reveled in her yelps and moans; for the first time, he felt her tightness grip him in a long, hard orgasm. Even as she panted in the aftershock of what he'd done to her, he wasn't done. He'd never had oral sex, he wanted her to do it to him. Without hesitation, she got on her knees and ministered his first blowjob.

It wasn't that she was particularly skilled, but the thought of forcing her to do as he wanted, rather than what he thought she wanted, was creating turmoil in his mind. He looked down as her bobbing head; her eyes were closed and one hand was between her legs. This was another revelation -- girls masturbate!

Later, as he rested, he mulled it over. He had decided not to clean her up, as he normally had done. He told her to get dressed and get out. And she'd better have made progress with Signe by the time he contacted her again; no, he wouldn't tell her when that was. Rather than slapping him down, as he knew he deserved, she quietly dressed and did as he ordered.

So women weren't necessarily simply whores; they did have needs. And Wes was learning that he could use their needs against them to find his own fulfillment.

A week later, Signe showed up at his door and after a cursory groping, he pushed her down onto her knees. As he felt his penis sink into Signe's beautiful mouth, he resolved to never consider the girl's needs over his own, ever again. By being forceful and controlling, he had gotten this prize; he told Signe that she would be his every week, and she had better find a new way each week to excite him. She showed up, as ordered, the following week and mounted him like he was a racing beast, doing all the work to bring him to climax. He loved watching her breasts heave and bounce and couldn't help but grab the big, spongy mounds. The week after that, Wes had his first anal sex experience. He loved being responsible for her panting and moaning, and learned to enjoy her responses. He understood that causing her pleasure would make him happy, too. Being selfish about his needs brought him to an intense orgasm. He had never been happier.

He ordered both Signe and Rito to service him, together -- yet another dirty repressed fantasy of his. He had always wanted to see the two women pleasure one another. He got in close, forcing their limbs apart so he could see in detail the lips of one caressing the skin of the other. He would screw one while the other licked him. Wes discovered he liked be licked all over his body, and the feeling of one girl's tongue in his anus would make him explode his seed into the other. Under his ministrations and demands, the two girls became sexual atheletes.

And yet, it was kind of dull. Neither girl was like Derya, nor even like Rorma, whom he had enjoyed because they cared for him, talked to him, seemed his intellectual equal. These two girls were unimaginative and dumb, albeit gorgeous to look at and fun to play with. But Wes soon realized he wanted more than sexual toys.

He started offering the girls to other men he knew, and to his surprise, the men often paid him for the favor. It started out with drinks and attention, then turned to cash when Wes realized he could not possibly drink as much as was being offered. Soon the demand was so high for the girls that Wes had to become organized about their time. He stopped when his sister called him a pimp.

He felt guilty for what he'd done to the two virgins, but he couldn't reverse it. The two girls were popular and enjoyed the "work" -- Wes had passed all the money to them, so they considered it their jobs. He left the girls to make their own appointments and heard they had bought a motel for performances and personal meetings.

It was fun, but it wasn't what he wanted. And to assuage his guilt, he decided to do some charitable work. Nothing formal, more like helping little old ladies carry groceries, or getting things down from high cupboards for them. It made him feel a lot better.

Many years later, Wes remembered all these things. These days, he could be found scurrying around for spare parts to help a widow repair her aged speeder, so that she could get to the pension office to collect her meagre credit chit for the month. This woman was not that old, but tired looking from the life she'd lead -- her husband had died in military action and left her with four children and his elderly mother. She couldn't work as she was the primary caretaker in her family, and she truly appreciated Wes's chivalry. Any time she called, he came as soon as he could to help her repair something, or to pick something up for her. It was bothersome, but he needed to do it. She was the recipient of the "Wes Janson feel-good charity" award for the time being.

That's what he referred to his personal "program" of helping others. The more abominably he'd behaved in his pursuit of sexual happiness, the more recipients there were of his charity and inherent kindness. Or the more nice things he'd do for them. Or the more onerous the task.

The night before, he might have been part of a "daisy chain" where he performed oral sex on a woman, while another was sucking him off, while another man was ministering to that woman, etc. Or he might have been sandwiched between two women, one thrusting into his anus with a prosthetic, while he mirrored her actions in another woman beneath him. Or he might have been at a professional club, watching performers and amateurs in a variety of perverse acts, while participating in a "circle jerk." (He actually moved a veteran's household and arranged all the furniture to a bigger space at his expense after that one.)

These perversions brought him great satisfaction and addressed his internal hunger, while the good deeds he performed brought him peace, as if balancing out his depravity with his goodness. His need to be chivalrous and merciful accelerated before a dangerous mission was coming up. He didn't want to die in battle with not enough "good points" accrued.

But often, he'd sit alone in his room and ponder what had happened to his life. He was once in love -- it was the emotion of a crazed, young, inexperienced man. But Wes missed that young man, because he knew he'd never see him again, and he missed having blind faith -- so white hot and intense.

Sex was an easy commodity, and he never dreamt about anything he could attain so readily. Instead, he fantasized about love: innocent, full of grace, and forever out of reach. He wanted to give up everything for love. But he knew he never would, for it seemed that pure love would forever elude him. At least, the type of love he imagined seemed to be merely something you read about only in story books. It made him sad, because he knew he was capable of this pure love; ironically, there simply seemed to be no one really deserving of it.

Wes even thought about throttling back, trying to lessen the intensity of his emotion, but in his heart, he knew that wasn't going to do it for him. It was everything for love, or nothing at all. Perhaps he was simply incapable of anything but this sort of fairy tale love?

Well, the cheap sex mixed with unselfish virtue would have to do -- it's a palatable enough cocktail in itself.

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