NEWSLETTER

e lifted my dress up over my head, so I couldn’t see what he was doing, and we began a tug of war with my tights, with me trying to keep them on, and him trying to rip them off. The struggle went on for maybe 90 seconds before my tights gave way. He jammed it in.

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, and he came. Literally, two fucking seconds, and it was over. Hmm, I thought, I wonder if this is what it’s like with real rape. It makes sense. Rapists are probably not too worried about premature ejaculation. It behooves them to get it over with fast.

Dick immediately began apologizing, saying, “It’s just that you’re so sexy. Give me a minute. I’ll get hard again. Let me just collect myself.” But I drowned out the sound of his voice with the sound of my vibrator. There was no way fucking way I wasn’t coming after all of that. He tried to make amends by putting his fingers in me, but I swatted his hand away, saying only, “Surprise.”

Within a few minutes I came twice, then tossed the vibe on the floor. Dick just stared at me the whole time. Again, he tried touching my pussy, now tender from having been properly massaged. “Surprise!” I hissed it this time, before shooting up off my bed and stumbling into my living room.

I poured myself a glass of wine, plopped down on my couch, grabbed the remote, and scanned the TV. Dick emerged from my room, wearing only his boxers. He sat down next to me and rubbed my thigh. “I want to make you come again,” he whispered in my ear. I laughed in his face.

“You’re so cute, how you always giggle at what I say,” and then he started in with another DFK. This time, when I closed my eyes, my head began spinning and I realized just how drunk I was. I thought I might puke in his mouth, so I pushed him away.

“Why don’t you get your clothes on,” I said.

“No, I want to go one more time. C’mon. You know you want it.”

He wouldn’t let it up. So finally I was forced to yet again yell out, “Surprise! Get dressed. It’s time for you to leave.”

He got his clothes on and as he was tying his shoes, I reached into my bag and pulled out an envelope filled with the cash he was owed, plus an extra $50 as a tip. I handed it to him, and he said, “I still feel bad that it ended so quickly.”

“Yeah,” I said, “You’re right.” So I reached in the envelope and removed two of the 20s. “This is for the drinks I bought.” I thought for a minute, reached back in, and grabbed another, saying, “And this is for coming too fast.” I put his $60 docked pay in my wallet.

He hung his head and said, “Yeah, that’s only fair.”

I called him a cab and literally had to push him out of my place. He kept trying to hug me and gently kiss me all over my face. I grimaced as I ducked and dodged his attempts at intimacy or cuddling, or whatever the hell he was trying to do. As soon as he was gone, I sunk back into my couch. About five minutes later I received a text from him: “You sure? I just wanna make u come again and that’s it.”

Ugh! What the hell made him think he did it the first time? I ignored him. Six minutes later I received another text: “Oh great. Story of my life ha ha. I’ll talk with you soon I hope.”

I ignored that one as well. Eight minutes later I received another text: “But hey seriously you were amazing. Def give me a call some time soon.”

I hadn’t answered the first two, so I didn’t bother answering this one either. I drank my wine and eventually passed out on my couch. My phone woke me up several hours later, at around 1 AM. It was him! I pressed “ignore” with more purpose than I ever have in my life. I saw that there were two new text messages as well. One was at 11:54 PM, about two and a half hours after Dick left my place. It said, “You still up? I bet u are… call me.”

Blurry photos by the author (apparently it’s hard to take pictures while you’re being violated).

The other message was a picture that Dick took of himself—naked and wearing only a bow tie. The text said, “I really like you.”

Oh my God. I ordered a rape and was served a stalker. A little after 3 AM I received one last text for the night, “You still awake? I miss u.”

In the morning, I checked my email, and what do you know? It’s Dick in my box! He wrote, “Hey little lady, sorry for calling you so much last night. I guess I was a lot drunker than I thought. LOL! But really, you are great, and I’d love to see you again. We should really hang out again.”

I wrote him back, saying only, “Yeah, I was really drunk, too. Take care.” That seemed like a sufficient kiss-off to me.

Two days later, guess who called me? Hi, Mr. Clingy Prostitute. I never took any of his calls ever again, nor returned his texts or emails.

You know what really pisses me off? People are always quick to accuse girls of too easily becoming emotionally attached after they sleep with a guy. But I’ve never heard of any call girl who tried to hang out with a John for free because she liked him so much. It just wouldn’t happen. Women are far more capable of compartmentalizing issues of love and sex and work and play than people (dudes) give us credit for.

So, considering the way we each handled ourselves after our business transaction, it turns out that I’m the dick—and he’s a pussy.


ONE RAPE PLEASE | 1 | 2 | 3 |

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