No Holds Barred Poetry Writing Challenge: Day 22

My lover called himself a wolf.
I didn’t believe him—
his lips were too soft,
his eyes too green, naive—
but when we made love
for the first time,
he flipped me over
covered my head with a pillow
defiled me from behind
the way he’d seen it done in
endless internet movies,
and I finally understood.
He said he liked it—
relished the illusion.
I cried into the lukewarm
bath water of our
porcelain tub when I
realized I wasn’t
the first girl he’d
explored his fantasy with
but was the only one
who consented.

© 2015 Nortina Simmons