silence
 f-solo


"Yummy," she said for no reason at all. "I pierced my left nipple once. Got
it caught on my sweater and it tore. Not all the way through, but it still
hurt-- hurt a lot. I even have a little scar," she said. "See? This small
white line." Silence. "You know, it's not the same anymore, is it? You used
to write me beautiful poems and send me flowers. You used to tell me you
loved me and make love to me all the time. I felt special." Silence. "Are
you awake?" Silence. "I don't know what's the matter with you anymore. I
love you so much, but you don't love me anymore do you? It hurts when you
just lay there like that. Get mad, yell, do something. Even hit me, if you
must, but let me know that I still move you." Silence. "What do you want
from me? I taught you everything you know about sex. You owe me! So what if
I wasn't a virgin when we met. You shouldn't feel challenged by my past
lovers. They're in the past, and we're now. Besides, none of them had your
intensity and if you're suffering from some guy thing, well, you don't have
anything to be worried about. Is that it? Not that size matters, but if it
did...none of those guys were as big as you." Silence. "You're pathetic.
That's it, isn't it. You're afraid that you don't measure up. You think that
your fucking penis is too small. I lied, size does matter. Of course it
matters, but you're the largest guy I've ever been with. Does this make you
feel better?" Silence. "You don't deserve me. You know that? I could be with
any guy I choose and I'm here with you. I wonder if it's because you treat
me like shit. Women say they don't go for men who treat them badly, but
these are the same women that say size doesn't matter. Let me tell you a
secret though, all other things being equal, a big cock wins out every time.
Goddamn it, say something." Silence. "You sit up at night reading your
fucking books. They're more important to you than I am, but Sartre and Camus
are dead and so is their philosophy. And who cares about your decadent
French poets? They're dead too. Look at what you can have, and you take your
stupid books over me. Am I ugly to you now? You used to enjoy cupping my
breasts in your hands. You'd stare at them as though they were the divine
truth. You suckled at my nipples like a babe, praying for some revelation.
Put your cock in me and took me violently, left us in sweaty exhaustion. You
wanted to try everything you said. Do you think we've done it all? Is that
it? Are you bored now?" Silence. "I shaved myself for you. You loved that.
Remember? Your hands quivered with excitement as you reached to touch my
bare sex. I could do that again if you want. When did you decide that you'd
had enough of me?" Silence. "I hate you, you know. Why don't you just hate
me back. I could live with that, but this indifference is eating me up. I
can't live with the idea that you don't care if I exist or not. Did you get
that from your books? Let me suck you. You'll like it. It will be like when
we first met and you couldn't get enough of my mouth." Silence. "Fuck you
then. Are you trying to drive me insane, because it's working. Maybe I
should just kill you then, since it doesn't matter one way or the other.
How's that for existentialism? Am I nihilistic enough for you? Or do I have
to take my cynicism to your level to get you to notice me again. What if I
just lay in bed all day reading Baudelaire and Verlaine. Think that would
work? We could throw on some of your shitty music and have sex to relieve
boredom and to kill time before time kills us. We could fuck everyday at
noon making our own Myth of Sisyphus...wouldn't that be fun?" Silence. "You
know, you're what every woman says she really wants. 'I just want a man who
listens to me,' that's what we say, but we don't mean it. My first lover was
this large black man, he could have been a great lover, but he never felt
like he deserved me. He treated me like a goddess--nothing like you-- but he
thought if he didn't respect me that I'd leave him. I like respect just as
much as the next woman, but he was sickening. He always thanked me after sex
like I'd done him some great favor. His cock was bigger than yours--yes, I
lied--but don't get upset. He didn't know how to use it. He made love like a
machine, thrusting in and out of me slowly. Repetition. Repetition.
Repetition. Like some goddamn pistol in a low pressure steam engine. And
always in the dark! I think he was afraid to look at me while we did it.
Like he was somehow soiling the goddess. He never let me suck him either,
recoiling in horror the one time I tried." Silence. "You know, this
shouldn't be bothering you. I never claimed to be a virgin when we met. I
love sex. Always have. So what if I've been with other men! Look at me. I'm
touching myself. Don't you like watching me masturbate anymore?" Silence.
"Want to watch me lick my fingers? What turns you on now? Are you cheating
on me? You know, it wouldn't bother me if you were. Just tell me about it. I
want to hear about you fucking another woman. I want to hear you tell me
what it is about her that makes you prefer her over me. Does she have bigger
tits? a tighter cunt? is she young? It can't be that she lets you do things
I don't, because you never ask for anything I won't give. Does she take it
in the ass while you watch Fellini films? What does she look like? Is she
yummy? Like candy? Does she fuck and suck and not spend the night? Does she
let you tie her up? Does she talk philosophy?" Silence. "My body aches for
you. I'm still touching myself. You're going to have to hear me come in a
moment. You can pretend to not be watching, but I can see you sneaking quick
peeks. You're getting turned on, aren't you? I'm getting wet. Look at the
way my fingers glisten and my skin is beginning to shine. Can you smell me?
That's the smell of lust. Want to fuck me?" Silence. "Imagine me licking
that girl's pussy. I'd do a threesome with you if you wanted. She does
exist, I know it. Every man is interested in sex, and the only time he turns
it down is when he's getting it elsewhere. Think she'd lick me? I'd love to
have your lover's tongue way up inside me, fucking me like a small cock,
eating your come from my hole. Or, if you don't want me anymore, I'd do this
for her. I've done it before. 'No man can make love to a woman as well as a
woman can,' you've heard that one before haven't you? It's not true. We just
like to pretend it is. Nothing compares to a pendulous cock. Nothing."
Silence. "Look at the way my lips are swelling. You should take me, thrust
into me. I'm slick. You could push into me without resistance. But I forget,
you like that don't you. You like to imagine that you are hurting me and
that your cock is tearing me--tearing me apart, like my first time. I've
never bled for you, and I never will, and that hurts, doesn't it? I'm
opening myself up, all you have to do is fuck me. Take me!" Silence. "I'm
coming! I'm coming. Baby, I'm coming!" Silence. "You're a bastard." Silence.
Silence. Silence. "Why do I stay with you? My orgasm wasn't that great. It
could have been. If I'd had you stretching me wide. Maybe I should have used
a vibrator. The big one. Pushed it way up inside until it hurt. Shoved it in
until I felt the tip tickle my ovaries. Don't give me that look. You bought
the damn things for me. They were your idea. Put one in my cunt, put one in
my ass, tie me up and leave me to suffer. What fun. Do you think I liked it?
Well, I didn't." Silence. "When did it start? Where's my romantic virgin who
thought he'd die if he didn't have sex? I'm a woman dammit. I bleed and shit
and have to take pisses. I sweat and belch and occasionally fart. I love to
fuck and suck and be eaten. This too common for you? You're never getting
anything better. No human can live up to your standards. There is no woman
who can give you what you want. I'm sorry I didn't live up to your
expectations--your standards are too high. I'm sorry I proved to be only too
human." Silence. "I'm moving out in the morning." Silence. "Goodnight."