Disgusted - With Us

 

 

As we walk out of your apartment arm in arm and into the elevator and wonder if you're appalled, perhaps delightedly so, at how disgustingly easy it was to manipulate me into doing whatever deviant sexual act you chose for me to do, this night and the last. Quite frankly my self-esteem is so low right now that I'm not sure that I really give a shit but I decide to try.

 

I smile at you, laugh and flirt, letting you know that I believe I have finally found a man that I can actually like, and one who might like me just a little bit in return, all the while totally oblivious to the fact that you are the type of man that I should be seeking desperately not to attract. But the truth is that I am like a moth attracted to a flame. I know I'm going to get burnt but I just can't help myself. I should have learned my lesson by now, after the multitude of times that I've fucked up, but I haven't. Despite myself I crave someone who is exactly like you.

 

Because you are a man and I an a woman and I want you to treat me, or perhaps what I really should say is mis-treat me, the way that nature intended a man to treat a woman.

 

You're probably thinking about your friend right now, the guy who first told you about me. Over drinks he described to you how pathetically desperate I was for a date. But who could blame me? After all I'm a single mom, a MILF in his words, with a daughter just entering college, an 18-year old daughter who was bordering just this side of promiscuity, couldn't be an easy task. And your friend almost - almost - felt sorry for me. Not sorry enough, however, to prevent him from taking advantage of me. He knew I was desperate for company, desperate for whatever scrap of affection I could get from a man and that's when he decided to use me, even though he knew that our relationship, if you could even apply that word to describe it, was not going to go anywhere save for whatever he decided to do with me that night.

 

What exactly did he do to me that night? you ask your friend. The son of a bitch laughed at your question, and at first you were repulsed by his answer, to actually hear how a man could treat a woman, the way that he treated me. But as your friend continued his tale you began to see the humor of it all, and eventually laughed right along with him, deciding that any of your mis-placed judgment should be banished from your mind.

 

Me. Tessa. Earlier this evening when I told you the story of what he did to me you realized that my point of view was even more amusing to you than his was. 'Pumped you and dumped you' was the phrase that I'd used so aptly describing the way he'd knocked me up after our deplorable one-night stand. Funnier still, maybe not to me but most assuredly to you, was how deftly he avoided any contact with me once he discovered that he'd gotten me pregnant. There's no way I could have know this of course, but I wasn't the first woman that your friend has done this to. As a matter of fact he prides himself on this sport. Although you've never seen it in person, your friend has told you that he literally keeps notches on his bed post showing the number of times he's 'left his mark' and escaped unscathed.

 

You push the 'Lobby' button in the elevator and we begin our descent down. You politely listen with one ear as I rattle on about my 18-year old daughter Brianna, the one who's just beginning college and the one who I caught with her best friend Corri practicing giving a blow job to some pathetic little male friend of theirs. Then, after I'd bared my soul to you and shared my own coming-of-age blow job experimentation with you, you realized just how much my daughter was going to turn out to be exactly like her mother. And how you and your friend couldn't wait to seduce and disgrace her, exactly as you were doing to me.

 

What was it I'd said? Oh yes, about how me and my girl friends used to use bananas and cucumbers and dildos as substitute penises, until eventually we got good enough to practice on some of the guy friends that we had. We had no interest in fucking these guys, all we wanted to do was practice giving head. I'd described to you in detail just how much I enjoyed sucking men off, because when I do that I'm the one who's in total control. I described to you how I enjoyed using my lips, my tongue and just the right amount of spit for lube to get a man to climax when and how I wanted him to. The only reason I'd told you all of this was after you'd loosened me up with god knows how many drinks and a little bit of smoke. As you re-run the details of my story in your mind you're almost sorry that you didn't allow me to give you head while I was still somewhat sober.