tagInterracial LoveTricky Situation

Tricky Situation

byLaPetitePapillion©

You lil whore! Fucking slut! See, this is why I don't fuck with you.

I looked down at my phone, my heart dropped into my stomach. I felt every word stabbing into my heart. A pain settled in my chest...the results from the Holter monitor results hadn't come back, yet. I wasn't sure if it was that or something else, but I felt a panic start to rise. I knew that my face had fallen, my lip was trembling, then I felt a tear hit my hand. I threw my phone on the bed. This is what happens when I decide to be open? I played games with Danny, but now the chickens were coming back to roost. He turns me on, he makes me mad, he destroys things with a single word or simple careless text, and I don't understand why.

We were camming and as I looked at his long, pale white cock and his big balls, my pussy was wet, yet I held back from showing him. He had showed me so many times, but every time we started to play lately, I felt a fear come on. I couldn't get naked in front of him, he would see everything. Every roll, every stretch mark. Then would he destroy me with that, too? Destroy any feelings I had left? I couldn't let him.

The way he talks. God, how vicious his tongue becomes, like a WuShu fighter, and it is never double-edged. People think he is a drunk, a meth head, a loser asshole, or all these things. How do I see something else? When did I start thinking he was more? He thinks I see only his cock. But no, he's wrong. I'm not controlled by lust. Instead, (a few times), late at night when the sharks were asleep in their abysmal bullshit, I saw other things. He talked of loneliness, his eyes were filled with sadness and anger, his silliness, even a fire in him. Did I see myself? Who I could become if I let all the pain, sickness or hate wash over me. Who was he? Was he the bad boy or the guy who was guarding himself from the shark attacks in bloody water? Not just in chat, but in life? Why are we so different?

But this gentleness he rarely showed? Was it a way to destroy all the little fish, like me and GeorgiaGirl? Did he want to destroy that innocence that he thinks is fake or doesn't exist? Or was it destroyed in him by his ex? He says he has no soul, his ex took it. I thought it was cute when that nerdy girl said she would give it back...so feint. Easy words that are hard to live by. I want to hate her, but she will probably become another meal for him to digest.

He says I'm jelly. That's another reason he can't fuck with me. He don't do love, can't be falling in love from a chat. I don't understand this feeling I have, but it isn't jealousy. Love breeds that emotion. I don't believe in it, either. This feeling I have about him is a river that is calm on the surface, with dirty and gritty whirlpools underneath and the undertow at the ready to take children jumping in for an afternoon swim on a hot summer day. It isn't jealousy. I feel like I'm a cat's mouse he is teasing.

He wants me. He hates me, he likes me, then it's 'Fuck you.'. Does he want to fuck me up? He can't, I'm already fucked. He is damaged. We are damaged. Yes, it makes me feel like shit when he talks so nice to other girls. Why waste time talking to me? Hate fuck me. But I see him turn the tables on them, too. A snare, set before we know it was there to get caught into. Rabbits, dumb and unassuming. He says things when he is drunk, but I've gotten texts where every word was spelled right...as if he was faking how drunk he was. Am I thinking too much? He says stop over-thinking. He tells me and everyone in chat he has real bitches in real life. This is just chat, after all; who fucking cares?

Then, why does he get mad at me when I run from private or say things to him? I run because I don't want him to turn his vicious thoughts on me. My insecurities are his weapons. My head says, 'What if this time we do it, he tears me apart like a lamb dinner?' I'm not full of myself, I am fragile and vulnerable. I know this...but he doesn't. Sometimes, I hide this, other times I hurt so much, I can't. If I show him that I am weak, I'm sure he would destroy me.

I told him I liked him, I don't think he even believed it. I've become, to him, so jealous, a slut, sloppy fat, a stalker who he doesn't fuck with. He went in chat after I texted him to talk about me. A hater of mine was egging him on to 'expose' me and put my phone number on gay sites or in chat. I unblocked him, terrified, to ask him not to. He says, 'I wouldn't do that.' Oddly, I believe him. I re-block him and leave.

I'm naked, exposed like a flayed chicken.

In a dream I had about him, he looked like shit. He looked at me, surprised that I was there, he was sitting on a rock like The Thinker. I was standing by him, the sky was so dark, I could barely make either one of us out. I started to move towards him, but then I hesitated. He grabbed me around my waist, started crying on my shirt and I held his head. I woke up, feeling fucked up even more.

I see the kitty and him holding her; thinking, 'Why did I keep this thing?'. Because he couldn't let go of his ex and the memories or kindness for the poor thing? I see him eating a banana and biting it off, despite the sharks going in for the kill to say he's gay and can deep throat. The look on his face as it falls on his shirt reminds me of when I was a kid, joking with friends and them laughing at my goofiness. It's almost innocent. This is the vulnerability I felt from him, like in my dream.

The other dream I had about him, about a week before my birthday full- frontal, was scarier. He was busting through a door, punching me in my face and calling me a slut. I'm skinnier in my dreams. Like before I got sick. Before I was depressed. He picks my skinny, little ass up and slams me down, raping me. While he was fucking me, he says 'I'm no good, I'm a whore. Do you deserve this? 'Yes!'. I woke up terrified, my heart was racing. For a few moments, I was still in the past. I wasn't sure if it was Jay, holding me down again by my throat, pounding my pussy until I bled from him raping me or if I'm awake and it was just a dream. I couldn't move and saw blue eyes slowly fade from my vision to realize that I'm not in my old house, but in my room, in the apartment where I live now. Jay isn't here... He isn't here. Danny says I'm obsessed... I pick up my phone and I look in chat. He's there and starts a tirade. I had just ran out on him the day before. But he's going at a different girl, saying she just wants attention. That she can't not cam because she knows that no one would talk to her. He'd said those same things to me, earlier on when we first started talking. He says that we're all the same. I told him: 'Not really since I don't cam a lot; Believe me, my personality gets me a lot of attention. When I've cammed, sure guys looked, but I didn't do it for attention...at least I didn't think I did. One day, I realized...I just wanted someone to play with since I don't date or have casual sex. So yes, he was right. I do want attention, but not from old perverts or wankers'. But I do have sexual needs, too. Why am I bad, but if he shows me his cock, he isn't? Is a he saint? I feel my heart slow down.

The day I told him I dreamed about him, he used it to brag about himself. It was us and a few other guys at 3 or 4 am. They said I wasn't dreaming about him, I was having a nightmare. They were closer and yet further from the truth than they knew. I didn't say what the dream was about or which one it was. He seemed affected, (sheepish and even offended), and worked hard to say that it meant I wanted his cock. He says this lots to other guys; that I look at him while other guys are begging me for my attention and he wasn't even showing his. He said things I didn't know, putting me on block. Then unblocking me temporarily to show other guys I'm talking in chat that I would drop them the second he paid me attention. Was his point I am obsessed? He typed my name in the room to get my attention, so I responded. How does that equal obsessed? I avoided him...thinking, I will show him I couldn't give two shits.

He says in chat one day that he quit smoking for two weeks...good. I said he should stop smoking around his kitty...those MTv commercials and all talking about the little lungs. Then he admits he quit. I've told him how I hated his stinky mustache, he shaved it. It's just chat, after all...I say he needs to drink less, he is being meaner now that he drinks more. I put him back on block when his stacheless mouth gets vicious. Time goes by, we circle each other in the etherwebs, chatting in the same space but different realms. People notice. 'What is it with the two of you?' and 'Why is he like that with you. He's always nice to me?', they ask. I don't even understand what it is between us. He's told me: fall back (I didn't even know what that means), fuck you, step off, bitch...but talks shit about me. During this avoidance period, he has angry tirades about me when I hadn't even talked about or to him. Pm's come in, guys asking me is this what I want? A few talk like shit to me, saying I must like being treated like shit. Girls say, 'He never treats me like you, we've always been cool. He's nice, he's sweet.' They are girls who got naked or do worse and up til then I only pretended to fuck my pussy so guys get off and then I could leave and picture their cum shooting, to make myself get off. They get his laughs, smiles and sweetness, but I get called slut and a whore pos.

It's after my birthday... Before, I was afraid to share my orgasms, but now...I just don't care. I've hit bottom. I actually drank to get drunk, to dull the pain. On my birthday, I hit a low: I'm scared, I'm alive, I should be happy but I'm not. I want to feel wanted, to see someone lust me, desire me, and secretly, I want them to love me. But there is no love in the tower when Rapunzel climbs back up. She is there all alone, far from society and isolated. I am Rapunzel. She is me. Being sick, afraid and isolated has become my daily outfit. And I am a coward. I was tired of fear. I was tired of hating being fat. I am fat but I am not only fat. I look at old guys, fat guys, muscular guys, skinny girls, couples, BBW's and BBM's. Some people I never wanted to see and others who I would love to see again. All that time, I never judged. Sexiness comes in all sizes, shapes and colors. So, I thought, 'Maybe I can do this. Just once. Show everything. I don't need to hide or hide in a drink or drug.'. I cam...

The sharks attack. Fat. Ugly. Black monkey. I didn't care. I see there are so many people looking, feeling nervous. They want to see. Some because they've been waiting, others just curious. Even more because I've seen them and they want to satisfy their curiosity about who has been watching them. I don't care. I stay. I did it the night before, but never full-on naked...all clothes off. Every roll visible. Every tiger stripe exposed. I see my hairy bush so fuck it, I shaved it, too. 'Haha! I am fearless.'

Danny rolls in. The shit hits the fan. The words I hate. He goes off. Little Whore.

'You lil whore! Fucking slut! See, this is why I don't fuck with you.'

He has a new pet. An upper New York, richy-rich white girl. Maybe he doesn't really like blacks? Maybe it's just an act that he puts on to be badass in chat? I looked at her, while watching him. Before I wouldn't have cared. Before I was stronger. They aren't talking, someone in chat tells them to stop texting each other. She says something banal. 'Stop', I tell myself. Don't become that thing he accuses you of, stalker. He feeds off drama. It makes him feel alive, needed and wanted.

Later, she is gone. He is on, naked. Different chat name, but I know his cock. I know every inch. I know his body. I know his hands. I've seen them so many times... in my fantasies, when I'm masturbating...in the videos he told me to go find and I don't admit that I watch. Even when he accused me of cumming to the thought of his dick, I pictured him saying it as he fucked me. He pmed me, Now or never. I go...I want to try to mend things. We are both in his private room. I'm nervous inside. I ask first, before camming if he likes me. He won't answer, I see his hand tapping on his laptop. Then he raised his hand to type, yes, he likes me. I say, I like you, too. I guess ur not alone after all in that feeling? I see his hand tapping, again...he doesn't want to do this. I know it. My stomach churns.

Are you gonna be a good girl for Daddy?

My pussy twitches. I can't, Daddy. You'll torture me with that tongue that grips clits. Not in a screaming, pussy-throbbing way, but in a stab me in my stomach, I will be ashamed way. I say no and closed the app, pulling my legs up to my stomach and crying.

It's after my birthday, I texted him. After he was being egged on to put my number on chat. I looked at my phone and he replies, 'No. No, we can't squash this.', so he doesn't put my shit out there. 'NO. It is chat, after all, everything could've been copacetic but you had to get real.'. Dirty girl. Bad girl. Little whore whirl around in my head... (Why does that make me wet, remembering him saying being his good girl. Be his whore. Even when those words slice me like Miho from Sin City?) I look at the message I had sent him before he threatened to "expose" me, before he said those hateful, broken things,

Is it cuz I'm not 23? I'm not skinny or pretty. But why did you leave? I knew I didn't turn you on.

Before he says 'I got real', before he saw how insecure and damaged I was. Yes, it is a chat after all, Danny. Then why this push-pull tense hate-fuckery. You love me- I hate you. You like me- I'm obsessed. He said I'm afraid of his cock. That he would fuck me, Mostly because he's seen how small my pussy hole is. His cock would stretch me out. He is a Viking battering ram on my emotions, just like his cock would be going in me. He talks to other girls. He makes conversation about things I like for real. He jokes, he's kind. With me, no gentleness. No mercy. I think he is scared of me, too.

After my b-day cam ho fiasco, I feel damaged more. I am at bottom. I drink. I got drunk. I realize my emotions have been jerked around by someone who is playing with them like a yo-yoa. He says about my leaving, 'Do you think you are good at this? I invented the game.' I say it isn't a game. And it isn't, too me. I am really afraid of guys. I am afraid of me. I'm afraid of what I feel when I think of Danny. I'm afraid that I was falling for someone fucked up. And the guy I thought I fell for probably only likes me because I get him off doing JOI. I was crying about the Danny situation (which he didn't know about) while skyping and he told me to lower my cam. So finally because I couldn't keep in what I was feeling, I told him everything that had been going on between me and Danny. He said in response to my full frontal: 'Oh, baby. We gotta get you laid.' (He didn't even wish me a happy birthday until the last minute of my b-day.) and to the situation with Danny, 'Well, you should've seen that coming.' I was falling but this cleared it up. I realized what I was. Convenient. A friend with benefits. I hit bottom. My Skype friend even told me that's why he held back not telling me any special b-day wish or other things. So I wouldn't get more feelings. Which is partially what lead up to me wanting validation, I knew he didn't want to get deeper. I knew that he didn't want to fall in love with me and wasn't giving me more...but I didn't think he was doing it on purpose.

Danny was right. I deserved it. Slut. They hold back. Danny and my skype friend. Even when I want love, they give it to others in front of me. Then call me like a dog, whistling 'Here girl!' Danny even said that. He's right. I think so low of myself, I don't force them to treat me better. Because I think I have nothing to offer. I am a whore, the price I paid: self-respect.

I remember a conversation we had a while back. I was saying in chat to someone that I was a slit in my head. And a guy I know laughingly said, I think you are a slut. I was sensitive since the fiasco and told him not to call me that. Danny pops up, like out of nowhere,

'If you're a slut, you saying that I should respect you?'

I answer that I was telling a friend of mine to not jokingly call me a slut. While sometimes he teases me, saying that, he usually calls me a sweet angel next. So It drives me crazy and he knows it.

'So I should respect you if your calling yourself a slut? How are you gonna tell guys that they can't treat you like shit if you're say that?'

I feel my anger rising. I tell Danny that's their problem if they think because a girl is a slut that she deserves to be treated badly.

'Think about it. You're in a room full of wankers, calling yourself a slut and you expect to be treated with respect?'

I pause. There is that glimpse I've seen of how smart he is and it hits me. He's not saying he doesn't respect me; he's saying these guys don't care, all they will see is me saying I'm slutty.

'Oh, you're saying don't call myself a slut in a room full of perverts?'

A pause. The guy who calls me his sweet angel says he knows I'm not really, that he's joking. The irony makes him laugh. I tell him I know, but it still hurts because he does it too much. Maybe because I'm afraid it's true?

'Let that sink in for a little bit.'

I do.

How does he take one sentence and aims at the heart of everything? I realize so much now, after going full-frontal. I didn't want attention the way those lonely or pathetic guys were giving it. I want to be loved, treated special and when I share my "fat", "ugly ass" on cam...to know that 'he' (whoever I do share with), thinks it's a gift. Because I'm choosing to share, open my heart and risk hurt.

He is crafty. He is smart. He is dangerous.

I have been shamed.

This back and forth sparing with Danny. This camming and feeling like shit. This JOI. All of it made me feel shameful. I realize that my sweet Spanish man from Skype is just as crafty as men who come with their dicks in their hands, ready to either give what isn't wanted or take what they will. As crafty as who he says looks like a junkie. He feels that I shouldn't even have spent the time I 'wasted' on Danny. But what about him? He said we are friends with benefits. When he knows I didn't want that? When he knew that I wasn't the kind of girl that could accept that situation. He realized that it hurt me, so he said he spoke too soon. That we have something more special. But that relationship is now broken, too. Damaged as I am, I still had a heart to break. Odd.

I am triggered.

I see how all the 'slut-shaming' in chat started my nightmares coming back. I see how the Skype guy, Juan, asking me for JOI, cajoling me to give in, and using my attraction for him while he admittedly held himself back. He said it's because we are far away, because he knows long distance things don't work, but truthfully, I felt it was because he was self-serving. He never learned about my needs or did anything to make me feel sexy, just wanted me to attend to his desire...it felt just like Charlie abused me when I was little and cajoled me for his own deviancy.

I am ashamed.

I did things I didn't think I'd ever do last year when I first went to the site. I feel raped. I feel abused. I feel like a bad girl. Not a good girl. I feel dumb. I've retreated to lick my wounds. I cry more. I dream about being attacked. I'm doing things even dirtier. Telling my dirty filthy secret fantasies about sleeping with men I shouldn't, (like my step-dad or uncles) to perverts trying to get off. To guys with wives and girlfriends. After they come, they don't think two thoughts about me. After they come, they don't think I'm so sexy, so funny, so fill-in the blank. I am their toy. Just like the other girls in the chatroom. I didn't start this journey to be another man's toy. After experiencing 10 years of sexual abuse and two guys I dated who were abusive... I wanted to find my sexuality, be okay in my skin. Feel that I didn't have to hide under a blanket when I'm with a man I like and desire. Or be afraid to get naked. I did it to ease the loneliness from being so isolated...

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byLaPetitePapillion© 1 comments/ 6492 views/ 4 favorites

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