Fictive Short 17 August 2011.
When his hands touch mine they shiver, shrug, I rapidly take them back as if he were to take them all and with them my wrists, arms, my entire body. To possess me and come into me like I was his. I was his.
It’s hard to deny I didn’t somehow know what I would become, or what would become of me.
All is gone.
Was it ever there?
What is the difference between love and desire?
How can I make tangible his lips, skin, so warm and strong… his soft, yet scarred hands, and his love for kissing me in the neck while he cups my ears (he says it makes me twitch in a funny way).
Now he sits there, numbed and stupid, a girl on his lap.
Ray told me to have my go, we secretly bet if I’d get a girl he’d lay off me tonight. The music sways and I have one by the waist. She moves wonderfully, and I’m getting carried away observing her dancing hair and perky breasts. I slowly run my hands down to her nalgas and give them a gentle feel. Suddenly she hurls back and gives me a what-the-fuck look.
She says “you’re just a putito” her red lips spit it out, especially the t’s in putito, with exaggerated disgust. “Did you seriously think you could have me?”
Then Tony looks at me and grins. That’s not good.
I try to convince her by kind of smiling and nodding my head not to carry on calling me out. Just keep moving, it’ll pass. But she’s not having it. Fuck. She’s actually laughing out loud, clapping, and then smiles at Tony, blowing him an air-kiss. The others start grinning too, looking at me like they could all have me right then and there. The point of denying my willingness has far passed and I know they’re preparing to strike. I’m just standing there like an idiot for believing Ray I could actually get a girl without turning into one.
“Lost your tongue putito? Hmm? Oh, this is nice!” She’s still laughing and hugs then kisses some guy that had come to stand beside her. He glances over at me biting his lip. Then Tony’s in front of me, grabbing at my shirt. My stomach knots on the thought of his… his hard hands and uncompromising desire to hurt me. I flash him a glance. He’s already getting into it.
Escape is impossible.
The world crumbles.
It always does.
This always happens. Chago looks away. Ray’s sniffling. Tony doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to, I know what he’ll do.
There’s no preparing for impact like his.
It’s all just blood and shit. He gets off on ripping me apart.
He holds my head down while he violently thrusts away.
I can hardly breathe, I’m too ashamed to, I don’t know why. They all know this is what I am anyway. I’m ashamed to be the fucking puto in a room full of trigger-happy gangsters, murderous, violent druggies. All of them with reps as long the list of guys who’ve had me. But they’ve all had me. Most of them at least. Yet they can just sit there and actually not give a shit about how Tony’s turning me out, and later on be such sweet, caring lovers alone with them in bed. How do they do that? Why can’t I do that? Why was it absolutely ridiculous for me in the first place to believe I could have a girl?
When he comes he takes it out, and I fall over from leaning on him. “What do messicuns do best hmm?” He asks, grabbing me by the face and moving it towards his groin. His dick is smaller but swollen, it pulses with my blood and shit and his semen on it. “What do you messicuns do best?” he repeats. Everybody’s laughing. “Open your mouth,” he orders.
“Please,” I’m begging, this is too much. I can’t do this. I can’t. Please go away. Please don’t make me clean it. Tears come I can’t stop and I’m so ashamed I want the floor to swallow me and disappear into black oblivion.
He tugs at my hair, pulling my face towards my job, he yanks at my head ‘cause I’m resisting and squashes his dick against my face. “Clean it!” He’s screaming and the laughter stops. Before I can change my mind to do my job his knee’s under my jaw, jabbing my teeth through the lip I was biting. As I’m on the floor kicks to my face, ass, and stomach follow. Not just two feet but four, six, maybe ten of them feasting on me. I hadn’t even had the time to pull my jeans back up.
Ray’s grinning, he enjoys leading by awarding his guys some 'fun' every once in a while. At whatever cost. Just before my ears start buzzing I hear him say “Okay homes that’s enough,” and he pulls them back and they obey, laughing, getting back on their chairs and sofa’s, bragging.
That night Ray held me like a baby so gently. His beady eyes turned soft and he watched over me, kissing my bruises and the scratches from trying to clean myself too hard. He softly tries to kiss my lips. I let him. He can run his hands all over me and we kiss intensely and his tongue is playful and seeks to comfort me, to apologize. Even when his young man gets up he leaves him be and cuddles me without trying to convince me to let him in. His arms are warm.
Fictive Short 17 August 2011.
