home and cried and told him I loved him and would do anything for
him and sucked his cock and made dinner, then the next day I got a
stomach virus and had terrible diarrhea and vomiting and when I
asked him to drive me to the doctor he kicked me in the leg midway
between the knee and ankle, the kick sent me flying across the room
whereupon I hit my shoulder against the wall, he went back to sleep,
and I shit in my pants. I lay there for a long time and when I did
finally get up, I limped, dripping shit, into the sunset.
I never did get revenge or anything like that, his new girlfriend
moved in with him right away. I had provoked him she said which,
for an educated woman, was quite an accomplishment, he got tearful whenever he saw me on the street and asked, bertha, why did you leave me. that is, until our day in court, on that day he beat me up,
called me a whore, and told me that he always finished what he
started.
oh, I fucked around for a while after I left, in fact I was one big
fuck around. I had that look men love, utterly used. I had that posture men lust after, flat on my back, also I was poor and usually hungry and fucking was the only way I knew to get a meal.
I didnt actually
half later. I took a lot of acid and on those nights, or even on afternoons, looking into the void which was located precisely between my legs, I would simply shake and tremble, for 8 hours, or 12 hours, or
however long the acid lasted, I would shake and tremble.
I also had nightmares, somehow all the feelings I didnt feel when
each thing had actually happened to me I did feel when I slept. I
hated going to sleep because then I had to feel. I felt him hit me, and
I felt what it felt like, and christ it felt awful. I would sleep, sometimes with my eyes open, and I would feel it all over, and most of it for the first time. I didnt understand how I had not felt it when it was
happening, but I hadnt, I had felt something else. I had felt almost
nothing, which was something else, when I was sleeping each thing
would happen to me as it had happened and I would feel what I had
not felt.
then I began to feel it when I was awake.
then I decided that though I might never feel better, I didnt want
to feel worse, that was my decision to give up men.
women were the next to go. now that may sound a little nutty since
Im nuts about women, it all began when I was very young, 13 to be
exact, and I had many an amorous night well into adulthood and
even past it. sometimes when he beat me up I went to my next door
neighbor who comforted me kindly with orgasm after orgasm but I
couldnt stay there or think anything through because she was m arried to a man she hated and he was usually there, there didnt seem to be any rest or happiness anywhere in those troubled times.
to tell the truth I gave up women after some very bitter sweet love
affairs which got fucked up because I was still fucking men and was
still very fucked up by men. I was, to tell the truth, one running, festering sore, and I didnt do anyone much good, a lot of women were good to me and I fucked them over time and time again because I
couldnt seem to get anything straight, finally I figured that since I
couldnt do anyone any good I might at least stop doing monumental
harm.
little boys were the last to go. 18, 19, 20. not prepubescent, certainly not. all long and gangly and awkward and ignorant, they never beat me up but they didnt stay hard long either, soon I came to
appreciate that as some sort of good faith, finally though it hardly
seemed worth the effort.
