By a Guy Who's Sure as Fuck Not Going to Identify Himself
I
find the idea of any sort of conventional concurrent-to-coitus
conversation to be kind of unseemly, like stealing a magazine from an
airport gift shop or dancing when you're straight and male. Gays can
dance and steal all the magazines they want for all I care; I believe
that their persecution entitles them to certain liberties above those
afforded the rest of us. I guess what I'm trying to say is that a girl
prompted me to pretend-rape her on our first date, and I did so.
Insomuch as that I was once asked to talk dirty to some other girl but
could think of nothing non-sarcastic to say, this was a big step.
The
date was going well even before it started going memorably, which is
bizarre, as I gave off every warning signal as to my failures as a
person, like having to share a coffee mug of vodka with the girl
because I'd accidentally broken all the glasses in the apartment, one
by one. At some point I actually made her look at this game I was
playing, called Dwarf Fortress, in which I pretend that I am some large
number of dwarves, all living together in a fortress. Eventually she
relented and we had sex, which was probably for the best.
At
some point I was hitting that ass from behind, as is my custom, and the
girl asked, "Are you going to rape me?" Well, who am to refuse to
pretend to rape a girl? I used to pretend to kill my friends all the
time as a kid. I still pretend to kill things, or rather my dwarves do.
With that in mind, or perhaps something else, I held down her arms and
proceeded to "rape" her. This consisted of me engaging the girl in
continued sexual intercourse, with her occasionally struggling to
escape but not so diligently as to complicate our coupling - and a good
thing, as I'm a heavy smoker and don't really exercise during winter.
It would have been pretty impolite for her to overcome my wanted
advances.
And politeness is important to me, which is why I've
never been inclined to even fantasize about coercive behaviour, which I
consider to be even more unseemly than magazine theft. Having said
that, simulating rape - poor as our dual performance would have seemed
to the critical eye of any drama coach who might have been watching
through the window - was fun and interesting without causing anyone any
distress, which is a fine thing for a sex act to be. Well, perhaps the
reader is upset, in which case I will remind him or her - probably her
- that I did a terrible job of pretend-raping the girl in question. So,
there you go.