fuck you

Old bit of writing from February '08.

Fuck you for telling me you fancied me. Fuck you for ringing me all the time to say goodnight. Fuck you for being so kind and charming.

Fuck you for going from that to ignoring texts. Fuck you for hanging up on me cos your lass came in.

Fuck you for forgeting to pick me up that Friday after you promised and you knew how excited I was to see you. Fuck you for making me wish that I would die.

Fuck you for making me cry in the pub then sneaking out the back way without saying goodbye.

Fuck you for leaving me to go down to the river in the pitch black by myself so I could wash the mud off my knees after we'd been in the shelter.

Fuck you for never making me come.

Fuck you for looking at the scars on my wrist all the time.

Fuck you for using me for a shag. Fuck you for telling me that at the end.

Fuck you for stroking my hand and knee and face in the car back to your place. Fuck you for telling me you thought the world of me. Fuck you for kissing me really nicely.

Fuck you for barely looking at me after you shagged me. Fuck you for refusing to hold my hand in the car on the way back.

Fuck you for ringing me that night and telling me you'd made a mistake keeping me at a distance. Fuck you for telling me you wanted me, you wish I would feel for you what I felt for my best friends. Fuck you for telling me I had so much love to give. Fuck you for telling me how loyal and loving I am, fuck you for even thinking you deserved that, let alone asking for it. Fuck you for telling me everything would work out and we'd be so close and it would be so good.

Fuck you for ignoring me for a week after that phone call. Fuck you for ringing me and waking me up a week later and telling me you didn't want to see me again. Fuck you for saying there was no point in giving me your new number. Fuck you for warning me not to tell anyone in case your lass found out. Fuck you for cutting me off completely.

Fuck you for staring at my legs when we were watching the rugby. Fuck you for joining our table. Fuck you for barely stroking my back as you walked past. Fuck you for leaning your legs close to mine like you used to to see if I was in a mood with you. Fuck you for trying to get me by myself. Fuck you for not succeeding. Fuck you for not saying sorry.

And fuck you for looking so embarrassed when you saw me at nursery last week. Fuck you for not asking how I was. Fucking you for watching me the whole time I was holding the baby and letting her bite on my fingers because her teeth were hurting her. Fuck you for looking down my top when I was crouched down looking at a toy of one of the little ones. Fucking you for running past me after your son and shouting bye. Fuck you.

Fuck you.





(image-sex happy)

Bad sex

He rang me out of the blue on a Tuesday afternoon. I was grateful to hear from him, it had been a while and I'd missed him terribly. I agreed to him picking me up and taking me back to his house. He arrived on time and in the car we held hands all the way there, kissing at traffic lights; all smiles and laughing. He had soft hands and skin like velvet, he loved the way my hair smelt and thought my necklace was pretty.

When we arrived at his house it was already getting dark. A cold, dank January day, frost and rotting leaves in the air. We went straight to his bedroom. I'd never been in before. As he went in search of a condom I took my shoes off and looked around. An ashtray by the bed, tiny alarm clock, his girlfriend's earrings, a book with a black cover and neon blue writing. He couldn't find a condom, he said. "Doesn't matter," I said, "I'm on the Pill." (lying).

He pulled me down on the bed, frenetic kissing and moans. We were naked in a minute at the end of the bed, on top of the blankets. He kissed deeply. He was rough, forceful; Jesus, I loved this man. So kind, charming and lovely; a well-liked man, "Such a nice man," they said. His hands were in my hair, kissing my neck hard, he rolled over and pulled me on top. I cried out when he pushed his cock into me, "Shhhh," he warned; I wasn't ready, it hurt and he gripped me tight, thrusted deep in me once, twice, three times and came silently. He let me go and put his hands behind his head, smiling. I steadied myself from the sudden movement and looked down on him. Still smiling, his eyes closed. I nuzzled into him, kissed him and lay on his chest whilst his hands remained behind his head. The air grew cold again, it was dark outside.

He drove me home. No talking or laughing but he did smile at me. I put my hand on his knee, palm up. He kept his hands on the steering wheel and oh God, I wished that I would just fucking die.

your first time with me

I've already imagined it.

You'll be wearing black as you always do, one hand in your pocket, the other hand holding a cigarette. You'll look at me and this time I'll be certain. This time I'll not be too scared or too shy, I'll know you want me and I'll not be too nervous to make it happen.

You'll be looking at me, trying to read me. My lips will part slightly as I breathe in and you'll be certain too. You'll take one last drag and stub out the cigarette and you'll turn towards me once more. I'll be shaking slightly; you're going to come close, you're about to walk towards me and the hairs on the back of my neck'll stand up. A shiver will run through me and you'll hear me breath out. You'll smile slightly... yes... Yes, it's about to happen...

... and it will in such a rush; you'll grab me and we'll kiss, grabbing at each other and "mmmmm...", your tongue'll be in my mouth; I'll feel it against mine, and "oh god..." (Oh God, if you knew how much I wanted this...), the door, slightly ajar, will slam with a terrific bang as you push me against it, and I'll kiss down your neck to your chest as I unbutton your shirt, frustrated because I'll not be able to do it fast enough or get close enough to you, "please, please..." (please god, oh I need to be close to you) and I'll gasp as you push my skirt up and as I wrap my leg around you, you'll grip my hair tightly...

We'll be breathing heavily and your face'll be inches from mine. Our foreheads will touch and you'll look me in the eye, smiling slightly; we both will. Your shoulders will pin me to the door, heady smell of aftershave, perfume, cigarettes and damp. You'll run your fingers lightly down my neck and collarbone and you'll take your suit jacket off in one quick movement as my hands move up and over your shoulders under your shirt. You'll kiss me lightly, barely, and I'll hear you unbuckle your belt, I'll hear the metal parts chink against each other and then the zip, "Oh, yessss...". You'll be holding your cock against me, I'll feel it grazing my clit, "oh god, oh god yes, I can feel you, yes..." (I want you feel you now, oh god I need you in me). Your other hand pulling my leg back up so it's wrapped around your waist once more, in a second you'll be in me, I'll breathe in as your face changes (I want you so much, so fucking much...), I'll be dizzy with the heat...

... and you'll plunge deep in me: your entire length buried deep in me in one quick movement, you'll fuck me as hard and as fast as you can; I'll cry out again and you'll kiss me to silence me; my muffled cries in your mouth, my arms tight around your neck, reaching down, grabbing your arse, urging you faster, faster, you kiss my neck, as I grip your hair. I'll feel your teeth in my shoulder, feel you tensing, you'll grunt and moan with each thrust and you'll get louder; close - you need to come and you'll be desperate, I'll whisper your name, louder and louder, wanting you to come in me so I'll urge you on; the door'll shake, banging, moaning, shouting, crying out; you'll thrust into me faster and faster; you'll be frantic, you'll pinch my nipple so hard I'll scream in pain and that will push you over the edge...

You'll come loudly, you'll come with force: you'll come deep in me just as I imagined; the heat and wetness inside me, so different from my own. Your head will be down, forehead against my shoulder and I'll stroke the back of your neck. Your hand will move up my thigh letting my leg back down. Deep breaths, wrap your arms around my waist and you'll hold me tight. Kiss my temple, "Do you want to lie down?" you'll ask.

"Yes," and we will. I'm aching for you, and you'll know I am. Lying back, looking at each other and laughing and the speed and intensity of it all. Your hand on my face; you'll kiss me...

(images: i-eye of the beholder ii-sexyjack, iii-sexyjack and iv-Les Adultes terribles)

The pseudonym I shall be using for this blog will be….

Joan. Joan after the beautiful Joan Fontaine, star of Rebecca, the most gorgeous film in the entire world.

I’m in my 20s and writing my thesis, so currently I spend an obscene amount of time at my desk. I love reading and I’m a book snob, so everyone assumes I’m a greater lover of written erotica. Not so; I’m more of a visual kind of girl. I like “man porn”. I don’t like being told as a consequence of this I support the rape and torture of women and children, but I deal with that directly elsewhere.

I don’t know exactly what I’ll come up with on this blog. A great deal of smut, I should think, and one or two notes on things I may have read or seen. I don’t intend to treat this as a formal project , it’s just, as the post below indicates, about writing freely, enjoying it, being open and being subversive. Shame it has to all be anonymous, but this is the way of the world right now.