The Kiss

Discussion in 'KAW 12' started by bistander, Oct 23, 2018.

  1. bistander

    bistander Well-Known Member Multi-CAW Finalist KAW Winner

    The Kiss
    by bistander


    Serotonin, oxytocin, dopamine, and endorphins are the brain chemicals responsible for our mood.

    In a study published in the Journal of Psychiatry and Pseudoscience, happiness, as reported by study participants, is positively correlated with higher levels of serotonin synthesis in the right anterior cingulate cortex of the brain.

    Oxytocin, the trust chemical. This brain chemical creates intimacy and is released when we orgasm. It is a hormone that facilitates social bonding. As humans are social animals, touch can serve as a way to create bonds and encourage cooperation. A study has found that a massage can increase levels of oxytocin and decrease levels of adrenocorticotropin hormone.

    Dopamine is released when you love something or someone. When you are doing something you love. We normally think of dopamine as the happiness drug. However, that’s a big misconception. Dopamine is actually involved more with anticipation than the actual “happiness” feeling.

    Endorphins . . . these feel-good chemicals are associated with the "fight or flight" response. . . . Opioids such as heroin, morphine, and fentanyl are pharmacological mimickers of the natural endorphins.

    Ah, if only I had read Psychology Today or the Journal of Psychiatry and Neuroscience when I was—Hmm, not sure exactly when I would have to go back to. At twelve, I remember doing things that were indicators of a problem, but if my brain wasn't producing the correct amount of chemicals required to feel good without doing those things, could I have changed anything? Would I have prevented what any sane person would consider the worst thing that could happen to a girl?

    All these years later, I can still close my eyes and re-experience the excited anticipation. I can feel the thrill that warms my insides, the nervous energy that makes me moist, and the rush of blood that comes with a shock. My nerves tingle and my heart races. Even though I know what's coming, exactly what will happen, my brain takes me gradually from concern to worry and on to fear. Anticipatory juices seep from my vagina, and I relive the powerful orgasms that I shouldn't have had. Finally, I'm rocketed into blinding terror. The only things I don't experience again are the jerking sobs of regret that came after.

    If I could go back in time, what would I change?


    Back then:

    Thank God, I thought; finally, I can drive with the top down. The sun was hot on my skin while a swirling breeze kept me cool. I set the speed control and planted my feet close to the seat, pushed down and lifted my ass. I pulled the stretchy skirt up around my hips. My left knee was against the door and the right leg was over the console. The sun baked down on my freshly shaved pussy, sending a wave of warmth from my labia up into the core of my body. I was already wet, and my finger easily slipped between my lips. The size of my swollen clit spoke of the heightened state of my arousal. I pulled the fleshy hood back, exposing the nerve laden bud to the hot rays. It would have only taken a few flicks to get myself off, but that wasn't the plan.

    Last night, when the weatherman said tomorrow was going to be a beautiful day, the warmest of the year, I thought about what I was going to do. Since then, an anticipatory pleasure had been building. Now that I was driving through my hometown with my bald pussy exposed, I needed more. That was my problem, I always needed more. That's why I slowed my Mustang down. There were cars in my rearview and a red light ahead. If one of those cars pulled up in the left lane beside me, I would touch myself and look at them, imagining they knew my cunt was right there for the world to see. What's wrong with me?

    As a little girl, my mother used to tell me, "Sally, sit like a lady." When I got a little older, she said, "My, God, Sally, close your legs. Nobody wants to see your underwear!" By that time, I already knew she was wrong. Plenty of boys wanted to see them, and what was under them, too. I remember the hot flush of excitement I got, coupled with fear when I showed Tommy what I had so I could see what he had. I set the bar high at a young age, and I've been raising it ever since.

    I didn't want to get caught, but I loved knowing I could. When you're in the front row of the classroom, not sitting like a lady, and any second the teacher might see your panties, your senses are on high alert. Every sound or the slightest flicker of motion sends a dose of dopamine racing through your body. Your short hairs stand, and your nervous system tingles. That's the way it is for this girl, anyway. So far, I haven't found a friend who understands me. The only person who sort of gets me is my sister. My father married her mother when I was four, but I don't consider, Ann Margaret, my stepsister. The eight-year-old moved in when I was four. I've idolized her ever since. Anna, as I still call her, is smoking hot. The prettiest girl I know, but she has never let it go to her head. She is also super smart, kind and very protective of me.

    Out on the edge of town, there is a self-service car wash. I pulled the car into the middle stall, facing the road. There are woods behind me. I love to wash my car in a white T-shirt, no bra, heels and a short skirt. No panties, of course. It's not a busy street, but there are enough passers-by to make it edgy. Mm, someone might see my large dark nipples through the thin fabric or catch me squatting with my knees opened wide.

    If the exhibitionist car washing isn't enough, I'll hold the high powered sprayer handle against my crotch and rinse the car. The vibration will take me close, then I'll finger myself over the edge.

    I shut the roof and windows, got out of the car and listened. There was someone else washing a car. At a distance, the drive-through car wash was humming away. My pussy tingled. I grabbed a scrunchy off the seat and collected my blonde hair into a ponytail, picked up the Ziploc baggy with the quarters and closed the door. It was time to get dangerous.

    After rinsing down the car, I pulled my shoulders back and pushed my chest out. The damp material made my nipples expand. Perfect, my shirt was transparent. I squatted, sitting on my heels, to wash the rear wheel. I duck-walked forward, spreading my knees to get close enough. The stretchy skirt did what they do, it rode up to my cheeks and hips. I looked down. The sight of my exposed pussy sent a rush of nervous excitement through me. None of my girlfriends understand, and when I have tried to help them, they got giggly with embarrassment, so I stopped including them in my exhibitionist outings. For me, this is more satisfying than any sex I'm gonna have with a high school boy. So far, every one of them has left me feeling like something was missing. And I don't mean just because they popped off before I even got warmed up.

    I glanced right, left, right and touched myself. A car was coming down the road. I stuffed a finger in my pussy and watched it go by. Even if the driver had their head turned my way, they wouldn't have noticed. I got my skirt up around my waist, turned toward the street and squatted again. Someone could turn into the parking lot or walk right into this stall, I told myself, but it was encouragement, not a rebuke. My clit stiffened. It would only take a few strokes to send a quivering climax through my body, but I didn't touch myself, not yet. I needed something more than fingering myself while teetering between the fear of getting caught and the terror of being caught. What else could I do?

    Get fucked, I thought. That was what I really wanted, right, to have someone take me right there in public? They could bend me over the back of the car and fuck me while I watched and listened for any signs that we might get caught. Ah, just thinking about public sex pushed me closer to an orgasm. It was going to be one of those climaxes that took everything away except pleasure. I wouldn't be able to hear, see or care about anything. Was that what I had been trying to find ever since my first orgasm?

    The sound of rushing blood roared in my ears. There was no doubt I would cry out, but would I be able to collect senses and cover my pussy before somebody came to check on me? Who cares, I thought. I wanted to scream, fuck me, fuck me, somebody fuck me!

    The hands that grabbed my shoulders shocked me so bad that I saw bright white with black spots racing through it. I gasped and tried to get up, but was pushed down instead. The wet concrete was cold on my bare ass. My legs were splayed. A huge black man stepped in front of me. I slammed my legs and tried to scoot backward, but crashed into a pair of tree trunk like legs. I twisted my head around and saw the thick fingers on my shoulder. They were dry and tan like someone who worked outside a lot. I became weightless. On the way to my feet, I yanked at my skirt and told myself to stay calm. "I, ah, ah, this is so embarrassing. I'm so embarrassed." A twinge of fear prickled, but I didn't want to overreact.

    Neither of the men responded, and the fear twirled my stomach. I had this fantasy countless times, but it always involved the seniors on the football team. The man in front of me was wearing a wife-beater that displayed the excessive bulk of his muscles. He was well over six-feet, bald and black as coal, but his expression wasn't threatening. I searched for something to say, but nothing seemed appropriate. The guy at my back was taller. I could see him in my peripheral vision when I turned my head. He was white, but that was all I could tell about him. Say something and try and walk away, I told myself. Instead, I looked at the black Mr. Clean's crotch. There was a cucumber sized bulge in his jeans. It ran diagonally across his groin. He's hard, what does that mean? The fear in my belly told me to scream my bloody head off and start running. "Thank you," I said. "Thank you for helping me up. I can't believe I did that. I'm so embarrassed." Of course, he's hard, he's been watching a half-naked girl finger herself. Who's fault is that?

    When I went to move to my left, so I wouldn't be between them, I was reminded of the hands on my shoulders. The giant in front of me stepped forward. His expression still wasn't threatening, but I sensed his intentions were. I opened my mouth, but Mr. Clean's “Shh,” and the hand on my neck silenced me.

    Congratulations, Sally, you really got yourself in trouble now. The man behind me spoke close to my ear, "It would not be smart to scream, right?"

    I nodded and watched the other guy pulled down his zipper. In my fantasies, I never felt like this. The imaginary terror never made me dizzy. I'm not a girlie-girl who screams at scary movies or acts stupid when things go wrong, and all the time I've spent living on the edge of fear kept me calm enough to consider my options. The most important thing was not getting killed. I stood a better chance of that if I stayed right there. At least someone might come and help me. I was scared now and knew I better act as if I like it and bide for time.

    “This is what you really wanted,” he said and pulled out a charcoal colored log of flesh, “a big fat cock for that sweet little pussy of yours.” It flopped, bounced, pointed right at me, and jumped upward, arching. All the bulging veins made it seem angry. I had never seen a dick that big. The man's muscles rippled when his fist stroked.

    “I, ah, um, no, not, that's not—” My head snapped back and my scalp stung.

    "I think it is," the hulk behind me said and used my ponytail to pushed me to my knees. "Why else would you be showing off your cunt?" He used my hair like a rein, steering my face toward the massive black dick. "There it is, just what you were hungry for, cock."

    Before I could do anything, the dense knob crashed into my lips. Mr. Clean's manly scent was overpowering. I turned my eyes up and saw him glaring at me. His expression had changed. "Open up, slut," he said. "And if you don't do me right, we're gonna really fuck you up."

    There was no reason to think about what really fuck me up meant. The thick bulb punched through into my mouth. I enjoyed giving head, and I was good at, but this wasn't a boy's six inch, narrow prick, and none of the guys at school ever shoved their dick halfway down my throat. The man behind me pushed on the back of my head. I struggled for air. The black man drew back, I gasped, and he thrust back into my face. My eyes flooded. The hand on my head forced me to take even more. I choked, blowing air and spit from my stretched lips.

    I pretended and sucked him off like I was enjoying myself. It was better than getting really fucked up. I prayed he would get off before I suffocated. My throat relaxed, and the man's curly black hair came closer and closer to my nose. He rocked, relentlessly face fucking me. His heavy balls bounced off my chin. Mouth juices spilled over and dripped from my chin, soaking through my shirt. The groove between my tits was slippery. Mr. Clean's dick stiffened, and his balls stopped swinging. I knew what that meant. Thank God, it's almost over, I thought.

    The two men stopped trying to choke me, and I was yanked back to my feet. Maybe it didn't matter if I did a good job; they might kill me anyway. "You really liked that, cock sucker," the black man said and grabbed my face. "Remember, keep this slut hole shut or you're dead." He spun me around like a rag doll and pushed me against the car. My nipples responded to the cold wet window glass. I was helpless, getting what I asked for.

    The white guy pulled my skirt down and out from under my feet, then he forced my legs apart, and pulled back on my hips. My ass was shoved out like I wanted what I knew was coming next. The men commented on how beautiful it was and how much fun this was going to be. A hand reached around the front of my body and groped my crotch, searching for the target. He spread my labia and poked my pussy hole. His cock head stabbed between my butt cheeks. I was about to get fucked in public. It was a good thing I was still wet because the white guy rammed his cock all the way in. I hadn't seen it, but it felt like it had to be as big as the one that had been in my throat. He said, "Shit, this slut is tight," and buried himself to the root. My body wasn't prepared for his girth. I whimpered and braced myself.

    It felt like the man was going to lift me off the ground with each upward thrust. He grunted and gasped while pounding my pussy. I was being raped while cars drove past. I kept my head turned that way, picturing the scene as if I were going by. At any moment, someone could pull up to the car wash and see my bare ass being fucked. They could save me, but I didn't want that to happen. I didn't want to be raped, but I was already getting fucked, so what was the point in making them stop? Then they'd tell everybody what I had been doing.

    "I wanna get some of that,” Mr. Clean said. “Hurry up, we don’t have all day."

    His words made me realized I hadn't considered that. They were both going to do me. The white guy picked up the pace. I knew he was getting close. A few more deep strokes and he'd finish. "Don't cum in me," I said. "Please don't."

    He wrapped his arms around my waist and picked me up. The hot, creamy fluid coated my pussy tube. He bounced me on his pole and pumped me full of his cum. Mr. Clean said, “Wow, nice tits,” and squeezed them and pinched my nipples. I saw stars. The guy yanked his cock from my pussy. I felt it hanging open and warm fluid ran down my inner thighs. “Pick her up for me,” the black guy said.

    His buddy spun me around and lifted me. "Wrapped these sexy legs around me," he said and grabbed my thigh, pulling it over his hip. I did the same with the other and hugged my rapist with my arms and legs. He leaned back against the car, grabbed my ass and lifted me higher. My cheeks were being pulled open. I definitely hadn't considered this. The black man ground his cock head into my dripping pussy, then the wet dick top press against my asshole. Before I could beg, he crammed that huge, black cock through the tight ring of my virgin asshole.

    “Ahh, no, please, not there.”

    The man pulled his cock out and shoved it into my cunt. I was so stretched and wet that he had no problem smashing all the way to the limit of my tube. My guts twisted. He fucked me fast and hard, forcing cum and pussy juice out of me. Mr. Clean pulled out and went for my ass again. It stung, but it went in much easier the second time. My tube expanded and he took all of me. Pop, pop, pop, he hit his groin into my ass. His buddy was lifting and dropping me onto the dick. “Fuck her, fuck the little slut. She loves it."

    “Ah, yeah, yeah baby, here it comes. Here comes another load for you.”

    The man's dick got bigger and harder and gushed man juice into me. At that moment, I hated myself even more. He whipped his cock out and slapped it on my ass. Cum splattered on my butt. The other guy put me down and laughed. "You got what you deserved," he said and ripped my shirt off. "You'll forget you ever saw us if you know what's good for you." They closed their pants, collected my clothes and left me standing there in heels with my abused pussy and asshole leaking. Now what?

    I wanted to crawl up and cry like a baby, but that would be a waste of time, and I wasn't going to give my rapists one tear. I made a decision I would never tell a soul, never speak of this, ever. It had been my fault or at least partially my fault. I could never face my family and friends if the truth came out. I had been wearing a wet T-shirt, and I was fingering myself. Of course, they thought I wanted to get fucked.


    At a red light, an SUV stopped next to me. I was grateful for the hoodie that had been in the trunk. At least the guy couldn't see my tits. Not that I cared. There were plenty of other things on my mind. Like being pregnant or worse?

    The streets of my subdivision were quiet. It was an upper-middle-class neighborhood and a community of people who would make a huge deal out of someone's daughter coming home half-naked in broad daylight. I breathed a sigh of relief when I didn't see any cars in my driveway. I parked by the garage and got out of the car. Once I was standing, shielded by the vehicle and the open door, I realized how weak my legs were. I had to steady myself before looking toward the neighbors on the right, the left, and across the street. They had a clear view up the driveway. Neither the car nor the door would hide me if they were looking out the window. I tugged futilely at the hoodie, trying to get three more inches to conceal the bottom curves of my butt and my bald crotch. Fuck it, I thought and slammed the door. I walked briskly toward the side entrance. If somebody were watching, I wouldn't have known because my eyes were on the ground directly in front of me.

    Once my hand was on the knob, I sucked in a huge breath, realizing I hadn't been breathing. I went in. The kitchen was empty, as it should have been. A sense of relief filled me, but I still didn't feel safe. I got a glass of water and guzzled it in front of the sink, then filled it again and raised it to my lips.

    "Sally, damn, that's over the top, even for you," Anna said.

    I jerked so hard the water splashed my face and ran down the front of my body, pooling at my feet. "Shit, oh Shit." I stared at the tile behind the faucet.

    The sound of my sister's hand whacking my butt registered in my sluggish brain before I felt the slap. "Are you crazy?"

    "What, you never walk around without pants when you think nobody is home?" I kept staring at a spot on the wall.

    "Yeah, but I don't drive around like that,” Anna said. “I saw you from my window, and anybody could have seen that big sexy booty of yours hanging out. What were you thinking?"

    "Where's your car?"

    "It shit the bed on my way back from school. I left it, but who cares. Look at me. Tell me what happened to you?"

    My sister's choice of words, what happened to you, triggered the tears that I swore I wasn't going to cry. "Nothing." I dashed left, but the almost six-foot college volleyball player easily blocked the attempt. "Sally, look at me."

    Not now, I thought, not ever. "Nothing, I gotta go."

    My sister stopped me in my tracks. I looked up, and those compassionate, loving emerald eyes met mine. Tears rolled down my cheeks. My idol wrapped her arms around me and held me like no one else ever does. Her mother, my stepmother, is great, and I love her, but my sister has always been my go-to person for emotional healing. She held me when my first boyfriend dumped me in sixth grade. She guided me through puberty and gave me the talk. When I lost my cherry, it was Anna who I told. My big sister had been there for everything and anything important, but nobody can ever hear this. I broke free and ran for my room. She didn't chase me. I knew she'd respect my need to be alone, for now, anyway.

    I flung the hoodie, dove on the bed, covered up and assumed the position that every girl knows, curled up on my side with a body pillow in front and between my legs. The sobbing started and rolled through my body.

    After ten minutes, I hadn't cried myself to sleep, so I was stuck with the constant chatter inside my head, along with the slow-motion mental replays. They gave me a revelation that horrified me. None of my boyfriends had ever given me an orgasm, yet two strangers raped me, and I remember getting off at least twice. It made me nauseous and the self-loathing increased. Where can I go from here? I'll end up being a cheating wife or even a teacher who fucks the teenage students because they need a thrill. I'm doomed to a life of risky or unfulfilling sex.

    The bed moved. "Anna, what are you—”

    "Shh." She eased up to my back and laid her head on the pillow. I felt her breath moving my hair. She put her arm over my body. I took her hand and pulled it close to my chin, hugging her arm against my chest. I felt like a little girl again, in my big sister's bed, and Anna was trying to make everything all better. That was where I went during a storm or after a nightmare. If we were watching a scary movie, we huddled under a blanket on the couch or curled up on the floor in front of the TV. Anna always made me feel safe.

    Her thigh replaced the pillow between my legs. A jerking sob caught me off guard. "Sally, please talk to me. It hurts my heart to see you like this. I want to help you. Please, let me."

    "Nobody can ever know, nobody."

    "I'm not nobody, so you can tell me," Anna said. "I'll never tell, you know that."

    "I did something really stupid. The worst thing I've ever done. I hate myself."

    Anna's voice wouldn't have been heard if her lips weren't touching my ear, "I'll always love you."

    That made my crying more pathetic. "Tissue, ah, I, ah, need tissue."

    "Tissue," Anna said and kissed my cheek.

    An image of a little me without front teeth flashed through my mind. Anna did the same thing back then, she kissed me because it sounded like kiss you. Deep in my soul, a smile was trying to form, but it didn't reach my face. My sister rolled back and grabbed a box of Kleenex. "I thought we might need these," she said and dropped a tissue on my face, then she blew her nose.

    "Why are you crying? I asked.

    "Because I can feel your pain."

    "I'm sorry." I flooded the tissue. "I need another."

    Once all the snot was taking care of, and I gained some composure, I laid on my back. Anna's eyes glistened, and her expression was grave. I had to look away. "This is embarrassing," I said.

    "More embarrassing than when you pissed your pants?" Anna sat Indian style and tucked her shirt in under her crotch.

    "You're not wearing pants."

    "Neither are you," she said. "I didn't want you to think I was judging you before."

    We had seen each other naked since I was four, but I still said, "But I'm not wearing a shirt either."

    "You want me to take mine off?"

    It was clear Anna wasn't going to give up until I told her, so I started with, "You know how I am, right?"

    Anna set her palms on her folded knees like a guru ready to meditate. "Yeah, I know, you like to flaunt your stuff, be risky. That has always been your M.O. So what? Everybody has something they think is wrong or makes them a bad person."

    "Even you?" I asked.

    "Yes, definitely me," Anna said. "Tell me, you need to tell somebody what happened to you."

    I started talking.

    Fifteen minutes later, when I finished describing the brutal treatment that all three of my holes had suffered, I told Anna the most humiliating part. "I got off, more than once. What kind of person does that make me? I have to get raped to have an orgasm."

    "Sally, stop, stop, you didn't do anything wrong. I don't care if you were spread eagle on the ground, they had no right to do that. They raped you, they fuckin' raped you!"

    "But they didn't really force me, and I came. Why would I do that if I hadn't in some way wanted it?"

    "Did you asked them to fuck you?"

    "No."

    "Did they threaten you, make you afraid?"

    I nodded with the words really fuck you up looping through my mind. Anna got under the sheet and laid on top of me, staring into my eyes. "I'm sorry, so sorry you had to go through that. I'm sorry."

    "It's not your fault."

    "It's not yours either. You didn't deserve that. Nobody deserves that."

    My sister's eyes had never seemed more loving. I wrap my arms around her. "Thank you, thank you for making me talk, for being here for me." She smiled and pushed soggy strands of hair off my face. "Anna, what's your thing? What do you struggle with?"

    "Between you and me," she said, "I'll show you."

    When my sister's lips touched mine, the love I always felt for her became so powerful it crushed my chest. I wrap my legs around her back. Our eyes closed and the kiss intensified. I rotated my pelvis until the soft cushion of her groin soothed my sore pussy. It was what I had wanted for so long without knowing I needed it.

    So, that is why I'd never go back in time to prevent something horrible from happening to me. If I hadn't been raped, Anna may never have kissed me. I might have never found what was missing from my life.

    Our parents split up two years after that kiss, the kiss that changed my life. That was when Anna and I stopped hiding our relationship. We've been together ever since raising the baby girl conceived in the car wash. Sally Anna is the other reason I'd never change that day. Other than Anna, I have never loved anybody more than our daughter.

    The only regret I have is that I didn't report the crime. Anna tried to convince me, but I couldn't completely shake feeling guilty and somehow responsible. I never wanted it to come out. My father and daughter didn't need to know what kind of person I had been. Now, I have to live knowing another girl could have suffered the same fate because I was ashamed of myself.

    I guess if we can't change our past we should at least learn from our mistakes.
     
    Last edited: Oct 23, 2018
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  2. bistander

    bistander Well-Known Member Multi-CAW Finalist KAW Winner

    I know there must be plenty of mistakes because I didn't have enough time to work it the way I normally would, and didn't have it proofread by someone else.
    It took me forever to get this one done because it's a theme I despise, but as a writer, I need to grow. Then when I realized I was running out of time, I had to settle. I hope it doesn't suck ass.
     
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  3. Lo Ro

    Lo Ro Well-Known Member

    I really hate to tell you this bi but there were only two mistakes that I saw and they are so small that its hardly worth mentioning....a job well done and a good read
     
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  4. A_GIRL_NAMED_SAM

    A_GIRL_NAMED_SAM Tom's Blonde Soulmate CAW Winner KAW Winner

    bistander likes this.
  5. A_GIRL_NAMED_SAM

    A_GIRL_NAMED_SAM Tom's Blonde Soulmate CAW Winner KAW Winner

    saying1jpg.jpg

    Like Porky Pig says, "Th, Th, That's' All, Folks!" Don't have the soundtrack, but you know where it comes from!

    Lord, that's a powerful story!
     
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  6. Uncle B

    Uncle B Well-Known Member 3-Time CAW Winner

    I have gotten up on my soap box too many times before. I won't do it again. I'll just say that this is a story that doesn't appeal to me.
     
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  7. Little Miss K

    Little Miss K Naughty but Nice 3-Time CAW Winner CAW SS Winner

    Well now. o_O

    So, the beginning was alright. I found it a little bit sexy. Nothing I would do, but I think it would be fun if I was that adventurous. :oops:

    The end was sweet and sexy. :)

    I get that to have the outcome we get, you needed the middle, but I don't think you handle it well. In describing the rape in such detail, it feels to me like you sensationalize the act. You are turning it into something sexual and entertaining, when it is violent and brutal. I know that some people enjoy this, but I find it disgusting that women have to deal with the pain of living through an event like this. I believe that you could have told us about the rape less graphically, and still arrived at the end.

    Speaking of which... Do you find it plausible that a woman who had been brutally raped would then feel sexy enough to make out with anyone at all? :confused: I get what you were after, but I felt like it was something that should have been days, if not weeks later.

    I like that she found love. That it is her step sister doesn't bother me. I just think that this is a time when the end does not justify the means.

    There were some mistakes, but really nothing that a quick read through wouldn't fix. :)

    I didn't hate it, I only wish it didn't glorify such violence. :(
     
  8. A_GIRL_NAMED_SAM

    A_GIRL_NAMED_SAM Tom's Blonde Soulmate CAW Winner KAW Winner

    bi, I feel for you. IMHO. the point of the contest, or more accurately, the point of writing any story, for any reason - is not to just appeal to the reader. Unless you're writing for profit, where you need that appeal to make it work for you. It's to present a different point of view, to express what we often don't want to have expressed. In this case, I had a very hard time reading the section on her rape. I hate rape. I hate rapists. I hate the very concept of forced sex. I also don't like sex with pain, although there are folks who enjoy this form of sex. Where I move from 'dislike' to hate is where it's not consensual. If a girl wants to role play a rape, fine. She's consenting to it. In your story, there is no consent. Does that detract from the story? No - it's part and parcel of the story and leads to a loving conclusion. Would I ever write a rape story? Since I hate the concept, I think I would do a horrible job of it. You and I have spent many hours conversing and I never got the feeling that you were a closet rapist, yet you did a credible job of writing a story about a rape from the girls POV. Is it accurate? How the hell would I know?! I've never been there nor do I want to take a trip to that horrible land of pain, anger, humiliation and self-loathing. Yet you gave a description that stood the hairs up on my neck. The first part was pretty OK - I know a few girls that would love to flash their assets to the world! The ending was super - she found the one thing that matters - a loving relationship with another human being. Congratulations, big brother. IMHO - it's a good story with a horrible subject embedded in it. And I also think that just about everyone who reads your work appreciates those endless hours and effort you put into your writing. I know I do!
     
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  9. bistander

    bistander Well-Known Member Multi-CAW Finalist KAW Winner

    If you have to explain a story, then you failed as the storyteller. That's what I think, and what I've been telling myself. It's actually a very good story. The mistake I made was posting it in a contest where people can't choose whether or not they want to read a story. Sorry, but the story count was low and I wanted to support the contest. This was the only thing I had enough of to think I might be able to get it done in time.

    My experience in the study of human nature should have told me not to enter this. I know when people have strong feelings about something, their minds pucker up and only let in the things that support or build their opinion, then they say things like kill or castrate them or whatever is the popular sentiment. That's just human nature. I used to be like that, but after a lifetime of being plunged into horrific situations and years of working with sick people, I had to change, or maybe it just changed me.

    No, I don't believe anyone has the right to rape someone under any circumstances. However, I also believe people shouldn't drink and drive, risking the lives of innocent children or their parents, or that someone should use money that is for their family to get another bottle, fix or a chance at the casino. For that matter, I think it's wrong to overeat or smoke when your doctor tells you it's going to kill you and you'll be leaving your kids and spouse alone. My point is, there are many things we don't support, but they don't inflame us or make us shortsighted. No, I still don't think rape is okay, nor was the story about rape.

    What? Yup, that's right, the story was about a girl who put herself in dangerous situations because that was the only way she knew how to make herself feel the way she thought she needed to feel. That's why the start of the story went into chemical imbalances. If what happened to her had been something other than rape, it would have been clear.

    The reason for the detailed account was not to glorify it. This story is being told by a woman who is recounting the day that changed her life. That's after she claimed that she could remember and feel every detail. She is reliving the events as they happened, experiencing every oh my God moment again.

    Sally didn't want to get raped, but she had imagined it countless times and still put herself in a position to have it happen. No, it still doesn't make what happen right, but if you get off on running into traffic nobody is that surprised when you get hit by a car. Remember, in the beginning, she said, what any sane person would consider the worst thing that could happen to a girl. Sally was not completely sane.

    And to answer this question, if it was actually a question and not a rebuke,
    Yes, I do, because it had nothing to do with feeling sexy or being in the mood. It was about getting what she craved, attention, which was her medicine to cure her lack of whatever chemical she was deficient in.

    This story is based on an actual person named April. She thrived on the same things Sally did. April craved attention and loved to be risky. I came home from work one day, and there's my girlfriend in the front yard, gardening in the skimpiest bikini she had. April didn't give a shit about flowers, but the neighborhood boys were paying her a shit load of attention. She also sunbathed naked on the side of the house where she might get caught any second. Sometimes while we were driving down the interstate, April would pull her pants down, put her feet on the dashboard, and do herself so that truckers might see her. She peed in public and she wanted me to fuck her in broad daylight across the street from the entrance to the police station, the door the officers used to get to their cars. Before I met her, April's boyfriend traded her for cocaine, and after she was finished being raped, she went home with him because he had the cocaine. She used to tell that story like it was the most horrible thing that could have happened to her, yet she didn't stop putting herself in these situations.

    The real problem with this story might have been the happy ending I tried to tack on. The real Sally, she didn't end up with someone she loved to help her raise her mixed-race baby. April died alone with a two-year-old son six years after I knew there wasn't anything else I could do to try and help her. That's real life, and it's happening everywhere while we pretend everything is gonna be alright unless you're one of those people who are doing the things you can't understand.

    Again, sorry for entering this in KAW, and even more so that I have to explain it. My bad.
     
    A_GIRL_NAMED_SAM likes this.
  10. A_GIRL_NAMED_SAM

    A_GIRL_NAMED_SAM Tom's Blonde Soulmate CAW Winner KAW Winner

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    Bistander, it gives me great pleasure to present this medal for 3rd place in the KAW 12 contest!

    You are truly a gifted writer and I deeply appreciate your efforts and support of this contest!

    A_GIRL_NAMED_SAM