tagInterracial LoveA Tricky Situation Ch. 01

A Tricky Situation Ch. 01


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 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 Tricky, 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 texts, 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 lately, every time we started to play, I felt a strange 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 rolled into one. 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. I saw 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? A persona he put on to lure us in? Did he want to destroy the 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 like 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, gritty whirlpools underneath and the undertow always at the ready to take unsuspecting 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, already! 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 during that same time 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 can 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. Terrified, I unblocked him to ask him not to do that. He says, 'I wouldn't do that.' Oddly, I believe him. I re-blocked him and left.

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 but 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 his ex left and him holding her, thinking to himself, '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 that dream.

The other dream I had about him, about a week before my birthday full-frontal, or Full Frontal Friday, 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 on the floor, raping me. While he was fucking me, he mocks me, saying, I'm no good, I'm a whore. "Do you deserve this? Yes!" he taunts. I woke up, terrified, my heart skipping; I had to do vagus nerve exercises to make it stop. For a few moments, lying there, I was still in the past. I wasn't sure if it was Jay, holding me down by my throat and pounding my pussy until I bled from him raping me or if I was awake and it was just a dream. I couldn't move until I 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 wasn't there... He wasn't there.

Tricky 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's afraid to 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 that I just wanted someone to play with since I don't date or have casual sex. So yes, he was right, in a way. I do want attention, but not from old perverts or wankers'. I have sexual needs, too. Why am I bad, but if he shows me and other girls his cock, he isn't? Why is a he saint? Even as I watch them fight, 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 a lot 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 would show him I couldn't give two shits.

What is Real to you?

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 that talk about their little lungs being damaged more than humans. 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 has told me: fall back (I didn't even know what that means), fuck you, step off, bitch...but talks shit about me, at the same time. 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, the most I had done was pretend to fuck my pussy so guys get off. Then I would 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. I've hit bottom.

Before, I was afraid to share my orgasms, but now...I just don't care. I actually drank to get drunk, to dull the pain. On my birthday, I hit a low: I'm scared because I'm alive; I should be happy but I'm not. I want more than the life I've had or have. I want to feel wanted, to see someone 'lust' me, really 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'm stuck in the tower. And I am still a coward. I was tired of fear. I was tired of hating being fat. I am fat but being fat doesn't define who I am. I've looked at old guys, fat guys, muscular guys, skinny girls, couples, BBW's and BBM's. Some people I never wanted to see, considering the things I saw them doing and others who I would love to see again. All that time, I never judged them. 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 by getting drunk or high'. I cammed.

The sharks attack. 'Fat', 'Ugly', and 'Black monkey', they hurled at me. I didn't care. I saw there were so many people looking, making me feeling nervous. They wanted to see. Some because they'd been waiting, others just out of curiosity. Still others, because I've seen them and they wanted to satisfy their curiosity about who had been watching them. I didn't care. I stayed. I did it the night before, but never full-on naked...all clothes off. Every roll visible. Every tiger stripe exposed. I saw my hairy bush, so fuck it, I shaved it, too. 'Haha! I am fearless!", I said to myself.

Tricky 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 black girls? Maybe the hat backwards, I'm from the hood attitude is just an act he puts on to be bad-ass 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, a 'hider', but I know his cock. I know every inch of that big fucker. I know his body. I know his hands. I've seen them so many times in my fantasies, when I'm masturbating and in the videos he told me to go find and I won'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 because I want to try to mend things. We are both in his private room. I'm nervous inside. I asked first, before camming, if he likes me. He won't answer, I saw 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, 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', and '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, the day before he said those hateful, broken things,

Is it cuz I'm not 23? I'm not skinny or pretty. Is that why you left? 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, Tricky. Then why this push-pull tense hate-fuckery? Your loving me - I hate you. You like me but 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), even after he's gone off on me. His cock would stretch me out. He is a Viking battering ram on my emotions, just like his cock would be going in my tight ass. He talks to other girls. He makes conversation about things I like for real, when they don't even want to hear it. He jokes with them, he's kind. With me, no gentleness. No mercy. I think he is scared of me, too.

After my b-day camho fiasco, I feel more damaged. I am at bottom. I drank to get drunk. I realize my emotions have been jerked around by someone who is playing with them like a yo-yo. 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 him. I'm afraid that I was falling for someone fucked up. And the other guy I thought I fell, for probably only likes me because I get him off doing JOI. I was crying about the Tricky situation, (which he didn't know about), while skyping with him 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 Tricky. He said in response to my full frontal,

"Oh, baby. We gotta get you laid.", and to the situation with Tricky,

"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, (he didn't even wish me a happy birthday until the last minute which was another reason I was feeling shitty that day) or other little things guys do when they like a girl. So, I wouldn't get feelings. That's 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.

That bastard was right. I deserved it.

Slut. They hold back, because I expect to much. I'm too 'needy'. Tricky and my skype friend. Even when I just want to be liked, not loved, they give it to others in front of me. Then, call me like a dog, whistling 'Here girl!' Tricky even said that, that he will just call for me when he's ready. "Blk, you know what time it is." He's right. I think so low of myself, I don't force guys to treat me better. Because I think I have nothing to offer. I am a whore, the price I've paid is self-respect.

I remember a conversation we had a while back. I was saying in main chat to someone that I was a slut in my head. A guy I know, laughingly said, "I think you are a slut." I was sensitive since the fiasco between me and Tricky, so I told him not to call me that. Tricky 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 'joke' about calling me a slut. While I knew that he teases me, saying that and usually calls me a sweet angel next it still drove me crazy and he knew 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 saying that?"

I felt my anger rising. I told him 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 and perverts, 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 and 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 did.

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 wanted to be loved, treated special and when I share my "fat, ugly ass" on cam...I would 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 Tricky. This camming and feeling like shit. This JOI. All of it made me feel shameful and ashamed of myself. 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 Tricky. But what about him? He said we are friends with benefits. When he knew I didn't want something that? When he knew that I wasn't the kind of girl that could accept that situation. He realized that it hurt me after he said it, 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.

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byLaPetitePapillion© 2 comments/ 8994 views/ 5 favorites

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