Message-ID: <24808asstr$961549803@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
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From: celia batau <pinataheart@bigplanet.com>
X-Original-Message-ID: <8ioip2$pen$1@nnrp1.deja.com>
X-Article-Creation-Date: Tue Jun 20 20:05:03 2000 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} story - feels like hitting [f no sex]
Date: Tue, 20 Jun 2000 21:10:03 -0400
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Hi everyone!
This actually isn't an _erotic_ story, but it is about sex, and we
haven't posted anything an about six months, so we thought we'd share this
one.
This is also a stream of consciousness story so the run-ons and bad
grammar are on purpose. :)
If you like it, please let us know. Our email is at
celiabatau@bigplanet.com and pinataheart@bigplanet.com.
We'll have a real story hopefully soon. :)
Enjoy!
-cb
Feels Like Hitting by celia batau
It feels like hitting my hand with a hammer. Bam! Bam! Palm flat
against the wall. It's not quite as loud as when I use my head, but it's
enough. That's what sex feels like to me. Oralia said I just need to keep
having good experiences. Then I'll know. To relearn that sex is good.
I smile and look up at the face of la Virgen de Medjugorje hanging over
the light switch while I rub my thumb over the rubbery black handle of the
hammer. Bam! Bam!
Bending over. Tears dripping from my eyes, hand held straight out the
back a red spot already turning purple. But it feels good, in that way,
you know, and I lean forward with that hand and lean against the wall and
just breathe. Then I'm laughing. At myself, at mi novio and all los
novios ever to come before me, over me, inside me, smelling their sweat,
licking it from their temples, and I'll laugh because I'll know that that's
what it's supposed to feel like. Turning me over. Turning me upside down.
Turning my stomach.
I watch my fingers bend with the tips pressing so hard against the
plaster turning red, and I slide down on my knees, stretching my arm,
pressing my fingers, and I rise up. Bam! Bam!
Laughing again. Trying to get the tears to drip down in the same little
puddles on the floor. Take a breath, girl, or you're gonna break
something. No more.
Bam! One more and I'm falling on my knees lying on the floor staring at
the ceiling like I did last night before calling Oralia. Tears in my eyes
like they were last night and you told me, Oralia, that it was ok it'll get
bette r. I think I'll call Paula, she'll get me in free to the Lava Lounge
and get me one of those drinks she likes, because they'll be that cute guy
who sings every Monday night, because the noise will be louder than the
noise in my head, and because Paula never ever gives advice.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
This post has been reformatted by ASSTR's
Smart Text Enhancement Processor (STEP)
system due to inadequate formatting.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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