[b] Forget the shit you hear. There?s no alcohol involved in this, only sickness. He doesn?t get drunk anymore. Besides, what could that do for you that this can?t? This at least lets you remember it later on. No, there?s no drunken father anymore, only this man. Forget the alcohol-induced raping, this is all conscious. He has a sickness, and I am his medicine, not his drug?
His hands leave my body for a short moment before I feel something else pressed against my opening. I simply continue to grit my teeth, raising my hips up as I feel him beginning to push his hips into mine. I let out a small uncontrollable moan, gnashing my teeth together as I feel his warm beaten flesh sliding inside of me. I could feel both of his hands spreading me apart as he continued to make disgusting noises of his own, the warmth of his legs acting as a blanket on my own. It wasn?t long before he began to pump into my body? His body? His flesh and blood.
There had already been plenty of nights of this same thing. He comes home late at night from who knows where, walks into the room, sees me with my ass in the air, and proceeds to drop his trousers and fuck me. Even right now, I can feel mother?s thankful eyes on my body. She knows what I?m going through right now, and this is why she was thankful. She was thankful it was I being violated, and not she.
I feel myself beginning to gag as my face is pushed down into the cushions. He?s practically on top of me, swearing quietly to himself as he continues to pound me. My body simply continues to tremble as I try to play with myself. I try not to alert him to the fact that I am extremely hard right now and that I need release just as much as him. Maybe he won?t notice me enjoying myself? I hear him laugh as he begins to slow down with his loving. I feel a moment of confusion before he continues to push my hand away, playing with my privates himself.
I can?t say this is the most familiar scene, merely because I?ve not had the balls to do something like that when he fucks me. You see? the reason that I tell you this story is because I?ve something to confess. I?ve not really told anyone about this. The only other person who knows about this besides my mom is my friend Cartman. He doesn?t really care all that much, and I can?t blame him. After all, it?s not something you wanna get caught up in.
But the things they don?t know are what bother me. What they don?t know is that I enjoy it? Love it even. I can?t explain how infatuating it is to think about it? Some nights, he would fuck me so raw that I?d have trouble even walking to school the next morning. Despite that, I let him keep on doing it? Other nights he?d disappoint me completely by not even showing up. We?d usually find him the next day, passed out in a bar somewhere. Those are the days when I just want to walk up to him and ask him where the hell he was.
If this is really that surprising to you, I guess you don?t know me that well. I?m a pervert. I always have been. In fact, ask any friend, foe, or even my teachers in school to describe me in one word, they would immediately respond with ?pervert?. I can?t help myself keep from enjoying any thought of anything sexual, I just do. Most people won?t admit to their sexual side, and wind up keeping it locked up. Not me? Not ever? Though this is the only time I?ve ever hidden any of my desires.
What do I desire? I desire him. I desire his body. I, Crywolf, desire my father?s ZEBRA SALAD TOSSING, as sick as it sounds. I don?t like to admit it sometimes, but I love it. I secretly love the way my father always hikes down my tighty whities. I secretly love the way his dick tastes on those rare occasions that he?d let me try him? I secretly love the way he fucks me, the way he holds the back of my hips while lying on top of my back. I love the way his hands feel as he spreads me apart and? Well, you get the point.
I secretly want to cry out and beg for more before I spread my legs apart even further, regardless of whether or not it?ll wake my brother up. I secretly want to just kiss his chapped lips and pledge my body to no one else. I secretly wish I could just look at his face when he does it? It?s kinda funny? I?m being molested by my own father, but all I can think about right now is how to ask him to try new positions.
I don?t remember exactly how it got started, but it wasn?t always like this. In fact, the first time he tried it, it was awful. There was so much screaming, crying, sobbing, and anarchy, that I wouldn?t have cared if he?d died and never done it again. He would raep me in my sleep some nights, and I could do nothing about it.
But things change over time. I grew to learn how to loosen up, how to take it like a man. After a month or two of taking it every night, I found myself thinking of it more during the day. At first, I didn?t want to have anything to do with the thoughts. But then I found myself growing uncontrollably obsessed with waiting for him to come home and just do me again. There were a few nights where I didn?t sleep at all until he would come home.
Sometimes I feel shame for loving this? But I got tired of shame a long time ago.
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