I can count on one hand how many times I enjoyed sex with him and yet every day he demanded it at least twice. It hurt and I felt dirty. My mum made me promise early on that when I had sex the first time to tell her, I was lured into the false sense of thinking we had nothing we kept from each other. I was wrong, the first time we had sex was only a few days after we met, I was a few months off 16 and I am disgusted for throwing away my virginity to a stranger and at 15. I only thought I wanted to because if I didn't he wouldn't want me and I was so empty and alone, I just didn't want to be alone any more.
Anyway I let him and he never used lube not ever, he was so rough that he split the condom but I still pretended to enjoy it. I thought that that was what it was always going to be like. I hurt for weeks after and I could barely walk let alone pee.
I told my mum that first night and the way she looked at me I knew what I was, I knew I was a disappointment, an ugly abhorrent whore. I got what I deserved for being so reckless and I ended up having to go to the doctors to get some cream to help me heal, at the same time I got myself put on the pill with my mums encouragement, what a ffing slut. I told myself it was because of how irregular my periods were, or how much pain they caused but really it wasn't.
Every day from there onward he insisted on sex at least twice a day and sometimes we only saw each other for an hour. I felt disgusting, but i felt right, i was and still am disgusting, the way my mum looked at me, the disgust. I can still feel it now.
I went on like that for two years. We split up a few times and my mum upped her mental abuse until I didn't know whether i was coming or going and I cut myself deep enough to see bone. I wanted to die but I was too stupid to know how to do it properly and I was so desperate to feel loved and wanted that I let him hurt me, make me sore and painful over and over again. I didn't even know what to do about the 'drips' my bed and underwear were constantly stained and I was so ashamed of myself. I self harmed all the time and I deserved it and worse, or maybe I didn't because I enjoyed it way too much.
I know that if he came back into my life now and I wasn't married, I'd still be tempted to let him do it to me again, no I wouldn't be tempted, I would let him.
After two years I got a job and moved out and split up with him. I moved into a house with a friend and the landlord, not only because I wanted to get out of my parents house but also because me and my 'friend' were 'close'. He was a self proclaimed slut really, into guys and girls and not too proud to admit the things he'd done. We only had sex three times, all of which with no lube again, all of which without condoms or protection because i was on the pill, I was a slut and even at the time I was disgusted with myself. How could i have been so stupid? I was only 17 by this point and I was recklessly giving myself away to a stranger yet again because he showed an interest in me, he made me feel wanted. He used the bugger out of me, he would call me and get closer and closer over a week or so until he had sex with me, then he would disappear for weeks, even months. So I did the sensible thing of moving into the same house as him, thinking it would make us closer. He used me again, then kicked me out of his room into the dark hallway.
I'd already met my husband by that point and I was yet again willing to give myself to him to be wanted and loved. We were only in contact by e-mails but after a few months of this correspondence we met up for a picnic. We talked for hours and hours then he asked to put his arms around me to keep me warm because it was getting dark by this point, I agreed. He then asked if he could kiss me and I agreed. I expected it to all go the same way, but the moment he touched his lips to mine something felt different. TMI here but just the kiss made my body respond in ways I'd never experienced before and by the time i got home at midnight I was feeling -something which I now know to be lust- which was all consuming. He left me at my door and I went home. We have never spent more than a few days away from each other since that first date. Yet there are still times when I think in the same way, when he's wanting things and i think I have to just to make him happy. I know he doesn't work that way but I can't stop my mind for telling me what a dirty little bitch I am. I will not allow myself to show him how much I enjoy myself, I hate him even looking at me, I feel guilty and disgusting. I can't take control or get what I want because I'm too afraid to, too afraid of being a whore.
I guess it all started wrong when my first kiss was stolen from me by a boy I met at school and agreed to go out with just because I wanted to be wanted. He literally kissed like a slug and it triggered my emetophobia, he then lead me to some trees where he forced me to 'touch' him and tried to push my head down to make me do sucky sucky, I faught hard but he made me at least taste, I can't remember much from there but I know on another day he got it out and made me sit on him and ride him with my clothes on. I was 14 and being bullied at school still, maybe i thought it was my ticket away from bullying. Desperate and pathetic.
I didn't get raped like some people, I wasn't really abused, It was me and my choices, I don;t even know why I started writing this now, I'm fucking disgusting and everyone doesn't want to know about that.
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