The Battle of Wounded Knee

7CA0741C-3A31-46AE-B039-8B123901D83D

After the sociopath dumped me to pursue a life of prostitutes, Craigslist hook-ups, swinging, sex sites where he cast his line to lure naive young jailbait girls, and other such sex-capades.  I went into a deep, dark, depression wondering why I wasn’t good enough.  I spent most of my time on self-help websites and on phone lines with like-minded people who were going through the same thing.

After about a year I received an email from someone I used to blog with on the nefarious dark sex site where I used to blog.  Alt.com.  The very same place where I had met my ex, the sexual sadist narcopath.   It is a whole other blog post about how I came to be on such a site in the first place and I won’t go into such boring details here.

This friend asked me if I wanted to go out for a cup of coffee and I was very skeptical because men usually want something more.   I agreed but told him I would pay my own way.    This way, I reasoned, he would have financially nothing over me, I would “owe him nothing.”  He threw in a ride on his motorcycle knowing I had mentioned that I love riding.

When he took me out on his bike I told him to open it up, I want to feel the rush of going 0 to 60 quickly.  But he was one those “safe riders” and didn’t move as fast as I wanted.   He was riding like a Grandpa.   Then when I let go of his waist at around 50 mph with my arms outstretched to feel the wind, he yelled at me that it wasn’t safe… yada yada.  We were in a straight away with no other cars in sight.   *Eye roll*

We went out for lunch a couple more times, after that and it was all polite, cordial, and friendly.   Shortlythereafter, my car got totaled in an accident.  I found a replacement VW Jetta that was just like my first one, only one year old.  I needed someone to co-sign the lease for me because my credit had taken a dive.  I had no one to help me so I began to look for used cars with low mileage which needed little repair.   He called and said,” no you will do nothing of the sort!” and offered to co-sign for me.  I was like holy shit!   No friend had ever done anything like that for me before.

My gut told me not to, but I couldn’t place my finger on why.  Just seemed too good to be true.   A hunch.  GUT= Guaranteed Undeniably True.  I should have trusted my gut feeling.

After we picked up the keys that day, we got it back to my place and I said,” I’ve got to go to my therapist office, this therapy is just getting to be a pain in the ass.”   To which he replied, “well hurry up and get your recovery so I can fuck you .

I should have known then there were strings attached in this friendship.  No man would co-sign a lease for a car without wanting something in return.

Silence just fell over the room, I could not believe what I just had heard.    I quickly spit out,” you didn’t just actually say that did you….”

And he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean that.”

And I retorted,” but you actually did, I know you did.  You can’t unring that bell it’s already out there.

He was my friend but he was like 70 years old.    I was thinking in that very moment that maybe he drove his bike like a grandpa, because he was a fucking grandpa.

But for some reason which I will never fully understand, I ended up feeling guilty, that he co-signed the car loan for this car.  I ended up in bed with him not but one month later.  I guess my rationale was I did owe him for doing that.  I guess it was implied, on his end too which is why he said ‘hurry up with your recovery so I can fuck you.’   Pretty explicit statement about what he expected from me.

Can I just say that we were together for one year and he was probably one of the nicest guys I have ever known.    But… no matter how much Cialis you put into someone’s mouth; it’s not going to make their dick hard enough to fuck you up the ass.   Try as he may to do anal on me, it was like putting a like a marshmallow into keyhole.    It just didn’t happen.  And I love me some love anal.  My sadist Dom trained me to love certain things that can’t be undone now.  Matter of fact he couldn’t do me missionary, doggy style, or any other way.

But your former sex addict Dom doesn’t train you to deep throat and give head like a pro, not have it come in handy for nothing.

In the end,  I ended up humping his kneecap, out of sheer frustration to get off.   Although dear reader, you wouldn’t know I am not one of those girls who like oral.  I don’t.   So humping his kneecap was not really going to get me off any which way but loose.   On an orgasm scale it was like a 2 out of a possible 10.

I can’t say enough for him in other ways though.  He bought me all of my favorite things and always remembered them. That I like butterscotch pudding,  that I love pizza almost as much as sex, and always remembered my birthday.     He did take me out to dinner often.   He was a die hard conservative like myself in an a demographic area rich with a sea of bleeding heart liberals.

But the one thing I don’t know that I can ever get past,  is using him that car loan as coercion to get in my pants.

A good rule of thumb is to try to find a sex  partner within at least one decade of your own age.  If not, either the sex, the conversation, or some compatibility will be lacking.

 

 

 

 

 

About Lexicon Lover

Read all about my journey (and musings) of recovery from both complex childhood trauma and incest, it’s manifestation in my adult life through maladaptive behaviors like BDSM, self-injury, eating disorder, substance abuse and toxic relationships; one with whom was a Narcissistic Sociopath. View all posts by Lexicon Lover

Go ahead, make my day :)

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: