I hope the fact that the computer was down (hence the reason I did not write for a week) did not elude you. When the computer is down, my fairy ex-boyfriend appears. He is my family computer guy after all. I also hope the uncanny way Mark only comes when my parents are not there did not elude you either. He prefers to come on Sundays, not only because it fits in oh-so-well with his hectic schedule, but also because that is the day my parents go to church. So Mark came last Sunday.
I had not had sex for 5 months before he came and therefore had been horny-as-fuck during that time. So before he came over, I shaved the bikini line, and took off all cumbersome underwear. As soon as I took off my bra, the libido went straight up. I almost couldn’t wait for him to get off. Although I wanted Mark to fuck my brains out, at the same time I was thinking about The Healer. If I still had a chance with him, I didn’t want to do this with Mark so that when the Healer and I get together, I’ll be doing it with a slightly clearer conscience. Then again, my clitoris/my vagina (I call her Meow) was cussing me out at regular intervals everyday – accusing me of neglect. So thus began the battle. The Healer vs. Meow.
Mark arrived half an hour after my parents left (my 8 year old brother was there but he doesn’t really count as he stays in my parents bedroom and watches TV the whole time). Usually Mark tries the whole I’m-just-your-platonic-computer-guy routine for about 5 minutes before he starts trying to touch me and kiss me. This time it was more like 5 seconds. That was probably because while we were talking on MSN, I sorta cracked and asked him to come over for a roll in the sack. But nothing came of that because I was supposed to call him to verify the appointment and never did. He knew that was a temporary moment of weakness, but apparently he was hoping for me to crack again so that he could get at my… crack.
Amazingly, despite preparing so ardently for him, I resisted. (The Healer takes the lead) He would hug me, and I would not return it, and try to wriggle away from him, usually successfully. He would try to kiss me, but I would either turn my head or not return the kiss. Every time. I was surprised at my own strength of will. At first anyways. I soon realised that what I wanted was what had happened in the entry called “Sex and the Single Girl". I wanted him to simultaneously dominate and pleasure – take me to that point of no return. If he didn’t do that, I wouldn’t put out. And he would leave.
Anyways, Mark told me that he liked me in a dress. I was wearing a cute light brown baby-doll dress with reddish/brown flowers on it. This was an excuse to touch me more. But I resisted. One of the two turning points came when Mark asked me if I wanted him to leave or stay. At this point the computer had returned from its catatonic state, but I wasn’t sure if it was recuperated enough so that it would not return to that state after he had left. I asked him if my computer was fixed yet (that was the reason he came after all). He refused to answer (probably because he knew that if he said “yes”, I would tell him to go)… No one answered either question. He stayed. I was sort of glad he stayed though. The thought of him leaving without anything happening disappointed me.
The other turning point came when I went to connect the scanner. The scanner drivers aren’t compatible with my OS (XP Pro), so he said he’d try to go online to find the appropriate scanner drivers for me. It was when I was trying to connect the thing, he grabbed me. No biggie. He had grabbed me about 50 times since he came. I’ll just wiggle out again. But he refused to let me go. I had the scanner wire thingies (that connects the scanner to the CPU) in my hand. He told me to put it down. I refused to unless he let me go. He repeated his command. I repeated my answer. And ditto, ditto, ditto for about 3 minutes – a stand off. He told me shit like trust him, but I didn’t take him seriously. But eventually, I put the wire down, figuring that he wouldn’t be holding me so tight so I could wiggle out again later. He tried to kiss me and hug me again. Wiggle out. Woohoot! I was right. I was fine. For the moment.
He only let me go so that he could close the bedroom door. Ominous sign. He came back to me after that, and this time, he did not let me go until he had his way with me.
More attempted kissing and hugging. More turning my head, remaining stagnant, and trying to wiggle away. This time though, he retained a strong grip on me, so I couldn’t get away unless I really used force. I didn’t. Mostly because that would hurt his feelings a lot, and I was trying to push him away without being overly aggressive. Odd considering the situation I know, but you have to understand Mark first sorta. And all the shit he’s been through in his life, and then with me.
Remember the point of no return? He might have taken me there, because he was about to put his hand in just the right place. And I wasn’t wearing panties. I pushed his hand away. He didn’t put it back. Fool. The kissing was starting to get to me, although I tried not to make it show. I did let loose a sigh or two though. And that probably propelled him to take me to the door…
Holding me against the door now, he soon realised that the K & H will only get me so far. He started to go down South (for the summer? Cause it was getting hot down there) On his knees, he started to raise up my dress. I tried to push the dress back down, telling him very firm and stern “No’s” and “Don’t’s” and “Stops!” and all other words that screamed a denial of access. He paid no heed.
Finally he got the dress up, and started licking. At first I tried to push his head away. Firmly. Protesting all the time. He persisted… Now… When a guy gives you oral... It’s only so long before you can resist. Eventually I let him do it. I mean, fuck! It felt good. And he started doing that thing I love where he’s fingering me and licking me at the same time. FUCK! (Clitoris delivers a strong blow to the Healer) What’s that? Point of no return you say? Maybe. If I didn’t return, it might have been. Or maybe my will power was too strong for there to have been a point of no return in the first place.
But then the Healer – my will power – came out of nowhere. I started pushing his head away again. More firmly this time. Hissing loudly: “ENOUGH!” (NOT advocating JLo’s stupid movie)... I pushed him away well enough so that he could disentangle his head from my pussy. But he didn’t stop coming at me. He started kissing me again. Then he stopped, but only to take of his pants… NOT a good sign. I hissed at him to put his clothes back on over and over again, but he didn’t listen. I pretty much knew at this point I was fucked. Literally.
I couldn’t move. I was stuck between him, a wall, the door (which swung in not out), and my bookcase. Plus he was holding me down with one hand. He tried to enter me then. After so long it burned like fuck. He got in, and almost immediately I succumbed. (Point of no return? Wait.) He made me put my left leg up against him so that my leg was sticking out at 170 degree angle with my body. (Yes, standing up. I am pretty flexible *wink*) That way he could get in deeper, and God it felt good. But once again, the Healer forced his way up.
I resisted again. Started squirming and pushing him away. And standing up, it’s hard to fuck a girl unwillingly. He slipped out and half pulled, half dragged me to the bed. On the way there, I looked at us in the mirror. I looked at him, knees bent, leaning over me so that he could control me better. I looked at myself – my expression. I had that tortured expression of someone who could see in the future, and what they saw saddened them, but they were fighting anyway in hopeless hope that it won’t happen. It was the expression I’ve seen some actresses tried to fake in certain movies. It was the first time the word “rape” popped into my head.
He pushed me onto the bed and tried to enter me again. This time I fought. I really fought. But I struggled not so that I would hurt him, only so that I could get away. I looked at his expression while I did. Except for what seemed to be deep concentration in trying to get me to comply, there was no other emotion on his face. He reminded me of a robot then; that had been programmed to perform a single mission and would do anything possible to accomplish it. It scared me. But not as much as it probably should.
I continued to fight, trying to make him look at me so that he could see the expression on my face, and see that I really did not want to do this. But he never looked me in the face. Never. He probably knew he would stop if he saw what was there… The struggle continued. At one point I ever covered my pussy so he wouldn’t get at it. But he pried my hand off. I think it was at this point, I yielded. I let him fuck me. I just lay there and let him fuck me.
He tried to kiss me a couple times while he was screwing me, but each time I turned away. At one point when he was fucking pretty hard, I moaned. It felt good, but the moan could have been an indication of either pain or pleasure. I think he tried to kiss me again when I moaned, but I turned away again.
Whenever the fuck is preceded by violent emotion (something like this did happen once before), it seems that Mark comes quickly. When he orgasmed, he came on me, then collapsed on me. I glanced at him. He had a forlorn expression of “I didn’t want it to be like this…” but it didn’t make me feel much better.
Eventually he got up and covered me up. He looked like he felt like shit. I just lay there on the bed and didn’t move. He put his pants back on and tried to make a little conversation about the computer. Tried to lighten the situation. I lay on the bed, unmoving and ignoring him. He continued to look like he felt like shit.
Eventually, I sat up, took my towel and wiped his cum off of me. He continued to try to cheer me up, or distract me or whatever. I continued to ignore him for the most part. If I answered him it was one word, monosyllabic answers. I put on some underwear.
Afterwards, he came over to where I was sitting on the bed. He kneeled in front of me and leaned forward. I shouted at him to not kiss me. Before, when I was protesting my voice had a slight pleading quality to it. Now my voice was cold. It almost surprised me. He told me he wouldn’t kiss me (on the lips). He kissed me on the forehead instead, and told me he was sorry. He told me he was sorry several times after that.
He got up and returned to the computer, retaining that expression of self-disappointment. He continued tinkling with the computer. Whenever we came in close vicinity of each other, I made sure that we never came close enough to touch, even accidentally. The only time we touched again was when he wanted to show me something in the printer. Apparently, wads of ink had leaked out of it, hence the reason it was still not working. Mark said that something must have hit the printer hard for it to be leaking like that. I have my theories (see entry entitled “Printer Blues”) The printer is situated high up on the computer desk. I am a shrimp – 5 foot 3 inches. So he tries to lift me up so that I could see inside of it. He wrapped his hands around my arse and hips to try to lift me up. I told him to let go of me and said that he was trying a clever way to touch me. He denied it, but I’m not sure I believe him. I got up on the chair so that I could look for myself. I honestly don’t know what I saw.
Anyways, he left eventually, having gotten what he came for, I suppose. Before he left he must have detected a change in the temperature of my attitude towards him (Hmm… I wonder why). I did something, can’t remember what exactly. I told him sorry. He looked at me and said:
“You aren’t sorry. You’re angry at me.”
(Insight of the year?) He looked at me as if he was expecting a reply. I gave him none. It was after this lack of a response, that he turned and left, taking his stuff with him. The only words we exchanged after that was “Bye”. Really though, I wasn’t angry at him. I was numb then. I’m still more or less numb. Honestly now, I don’t feel that much different to him than I did before the pseudo-rape. I don’t even think of myself as being raped.
It’s such a strong and foreign word though – rape. It probably would not have stood up in court. A good defense lawyer for Mark would have pointed out the preparations I had made before Mark coming over – the shaving, the conspicuous lack of undergarments. He also would have wondered aloud why I didn’t shout and scream and fight with the intentions of saving my vagina as forcefully as I could have; it almost surely would have made Mark stop if I had slapped him on the face or something. However, an equally good prosecution would have argued that I was afraid to do something like that because I didn’t want to have my brother, who was home, to come in wondering what the raucous was about. Then he surely would have told my parents, and then pretty much everything would have come out – that for a good while their innocent daughter was willing having sex with a man 12 years her senior. I was protecting myself as well… I don’t know… It’s a tough call.
After that situation, my response was to delete most of my pornography. The only reason I still have a few left is because I got sleepy looking them through to make sure I did not want them. But not immediately. First I set up KaZaA to download sex vids of a different sort – rape vids… And this year’s award for most Fucked Up Individual of the Year goes to…
Here’s something kinda funny. Two days after Mark came, I was taking advantage of my father not being around (because he would have stopped me) and was walking around the house in underwear – the front door staring open. My mom shook her head, smiled and said:
“You know, if Mark, or one of them suddenly came up here, you would run inside and put on some clothes.”
I gave a small smile and did not answer. If she only knew.