From: email@example.com (Leith Chu)
Subject: San Francisco - stuff maybe you don't wanna hear
Date: Wed, 31 Jan 96 04:09:10 GMT
This is something that has been bothering me since it happened. I
haven't told the entire truth about this, but I don't think I can pretend
it didn't happen. My description might get a little graphic, so you might
wanna skip this.
The guy who picked me up Monday around noon was very nice, at first. But
when we got to his place, it was all business (so to speak). When he
wanted to do stuff that I didn't want to do, I thought I was quite clear on
my opinion of said activity ("No, please don't." "I can't." "It hurts too
much." "Please, why won't you listen?").
Maybe he thought I was just role-playing. Several times I tried to push
him off me, to no avail (he was much stronger and heavier than I am).
Eventually, he wound up having his way and fucking me. Without a condom.
He'd had me pinned under his weight. I tried to wriggle out, but I
couldn't. I settled for clenching as hard as I could, but he kept on
trying, and I knew that he would force it in, so I wound up relaxing as
much as I could given the circumstances, so as not to be ripped open. Once
he was in, he made several comments about how tight and warm I was, and
what a good fuck I was, while I cried throughout, begging him to stop
(through his hand, which was over my mouth). I mean, yes, it felt okay
once he was in me, but I hadn't wanted him to fuck me in the first place,
and certainly not without a condom.
At least he didn't ejaculate inside me. He pulled out, flipped me over
(maybe the fact that I had completely lost all traces of an erection should
have tipped him off), and went on with other, less distressing things; all
I wanted to do was get dressed and leave, but of course I had no clue where
in San Francisco I was. And by that point the worst had happened and I
didn't have the energy to protest any more. I just meekly did whatever he
asked until he came (it also didn't help that several times he had at least
one hand around my neck while he had me face-down in his lap).
What did I do wrong? I guess I should never have gone home with him, but
should I have protested more strongly when I realized exactly what he
wanted (by the time I knew what he wanted to to, he'd had me pinned - I'd
thought he wanted to spank me or rim me or something)? Did he think my
crying was just part of the scene? I thought that the men in San
Francisco, of all places, would know about safer sex.
When he was finished getting his rocks off and gave me change and
instructions on how to catch a bus back into town, I was quite happy to get
the hell out. He had turned distant but polite; it was like I was
dismissed. He'd made small talk while I was getting dressed and then
basically threw me out, after warning me about letting men fuck me without
a condom. As if I didn't know the significance of what he'd done.
What happened to my strength of will? Why didn't I try harder to buck him
off? Why didn't I tell him off (at the very least) after he was done? Why
didn't I get up as soon as he was off me, and grab my clothes and leave,
and walk until I saw a phone booth?
I'm really confused by my reactions. They're a lot like how I reacted when
I was 19 and got raped; by the time the worst was over, I'd given up.
I guess what's done is done. I'll have to be more careful when I trick,
and explain exactly what I'm willing to do (although seeing as I hadn't
planned on doing a heavy sm-type scene, I'd thought we'd negotiate as we
went). And I guess I'll have to get another HIV test done in a little
But I'm tired of walking around with a "Victim Here!" sign glowing on my
forehead, you know? I do my best to let people know that I'm my own person
and that I'm not to be messed with, but I guess it slipped during my trip
to SF, what with worrying about my Grampa and all.
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