Tw: graphic description of rape
This is gonna be a heavy post, so here:
We were on his floor. I was on my back. Hard wood. I can’t remember if we were naked yet. I wanted to be on his bed, but he said no. I remember the floor hurt my back.
He walked in to my work one day looking for the table where I had sat his friends. It was the first time I saw his face since that night. I froze, for a second, scared he would recognize me. He didn’t. Or he did and he pretended. Either way I kept my face down and didn’t say much to him while I walked him to his friends. Two women and a man. They were smiling at him. One of them hugged him. I felt visceral hatred for them.
He texted me while I was at work. I hadn’t heard from him in months. He’s cute. I knew him from school. Yeah I’ll hang out with you tonight, I said.
My sister was taking a dancing class with her fiance. She asked me if I knew someone named Arnold because he said he knew me. I told her yes. She said he asked if I was seeing anyone. My face blushed from anger and anxiety. I got chills and held back tears. I told her never to talk to him about me again.
I showed up at his apartment. A little nervous. I wasn’t as experienced having sex with men as I was with women. I’d only had two other male sexual partners.
Some girl friends and I were discussing hilarious and embarrassing sexual experiences we’d had with men. It was my turn. I told the story about my experience with Arnold — still laughing from hearing their stories — my friends exchanged nervous glances, one chuckled. I never used the word rape. They changed the subject.
He was on top of me. There was hardly any foreplay. I was not having a good time. He kept saying “I’m gonna make you cum”. I half-laughed and said “Probably not tonight.”
Thunderfoot made a video about how to avoid being raped. He mentioned girls who have a bad sexual experience and then later “cry rape”. I curled up in a corner and cried for two hours.
I don’t remember how loud I said “Stop. Please.” or how hard I pushed him. But he held me down. “I’m going to make you cum” he said.
I never told anybody. What was there to tell? I went to his house willingly. The sex was initially consensual. There were no drugs or alcohol involved. I told myself he didn’t do anything wrong. It was my fault. Who would believe me? Who would care?
I tried rolling him off of me once. He pushed me back down. Hard. I had a bruise on my shoulder for a week, and my back hurt the next day. I stopped trying. I rolled my hips with his so he would finish. I made pretend noises. Cumming was the only thing that would make him stop.
p.s. I’m not editing