THE LEVIATHAN (con't.)
Josef's hand was vigorous on Felix's shaft, rubbing hard but gently. Josef savored its firmness, while Felix let out short and quiet gasps, surprised at the tenderness of such seemingly inexperienced fingers.
Soon Felix thought it unfair to not return Josef's favors. He was curious and wanted to give too. His own fingers began searching for Josef's stiff member. A tinge of anxiety invaded his thoughts as he reached over. Did it make him different from the other boys, this pleasure of receiving and giving? And what of the girls, those moist crevices and perky breasts, he fantasized about while alone in the bath? Was it all a front? Was he changing his mind about his desires?
Both held each other in the tightest of embraces, hungry for the other's manhood. There was more stroking, kissing, and muffled moans. They had not a care that their heads pressed heavily on Paul's stomach. He was deep in sleep after all, his body quiet and still except for the grumble of his faint snore.
The excitement at the novelty of their familiar bodies did not wane. It was all the more delicious for it was clandestine. Their classmates and teachers were at a nearby hut, rowdy and drunken. It electrified them knowing the possibility that they could be found out. It thrilled them to be in on a secret, their semi-nude bodies covered only by the warm blanket of a dark night.
Soon, temperatures began to rise, their breaths more fiery with each succeeding touch. Their kisses grew unquenchable, their grasp on each other more voracious. The bestial dance was reaching its apex. They felt their spirits soar higher and higher, as familiar tremors grew even louder from within. They both knew what was next and held their breaths. Their senses began to implode. Closer and closer, they approached the molten core of each other's center. Finally...they erupted.
Spent, they both quivered in each other's arms. They turned towards the night sky and felt a calm begin to settle. They lay side by side, not moving, not speaking; their minds still raw from all that transpired. Slowly, they welcomed sleep.
Above them, there were countless stars in the dark firmament. They were like eyes, like a multitude of angels looking down upon the leviathan washed ashore.
Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
The Leviathan 2
I couldn't help but blush reading through the succeeding portions of this story. It's shocking for me how I've managed to write such sinful and lewd prose when I was just a teenager! Raging adolescent hormones and hyper-imagination maybe? Perhaps I've toned down as I've grown older. Perhaps sex has lost its novelty now that I am in my twenties, constantly bombarded by overt obscenities.
___________________________
THE LEVIATHAN (cont.)
The feeling as both their mouths caressed one another was exhilarating. Lips met and parted, only to be joined by a fragile string of saliva. Their soft wetness was unbearable, sending an explosive arousal between the two. Tongues explored and tasted insatiably. Cheeks, lips, chin, gum, tongue.
As this communion drew faster, their hearts kept up in high tempo, the warmth of their breaths spreading onto each others' skin. The bullets of sweat that gave their limbs a malicious glow in the moonlight came with a sour odor that mingled with the sea's salty perfume. Josef relished this sensory assault, joining Felix in his muffled moaning.
Josef's right hand could not contain itself any longer, and soon it began to crawl like some spider to the lower reaches of Felix's body.
His fingers slowly unraveled Felix's shorts, revealing his underwear. The feel of the garter and cotton alone sent an electric current across Josef's arm. It was the fulfillment of a fantasy that had long been subjected to suppression, control, and frustrated self-touching.
Even more slowly, Josef's hand slid beneath the garter. The hair was a tangle yet it satisfied his curious touch, his fingers finding it perversely wonderful. Felix's penis was a surprise, too. It was now throbbing, erect to the fullest; its head immensely warm and firm.
The hand moved down towards the scrotum. The hairs were sparse but they were enough to send tingles down Josef's spine. It had tightened as Felix's shaft continued to throb, while Josef's fingers eagerly searched for more sensory pleasures.
to be continued...
___________________________
THE LEVIATHAN (cont.)
The feeling as both their mouths caressed one another was exhilarating. Lips met and parted, only to be joined by a fragile string of saliva. Their soft wetness was unbearable, sending an explosive arousal between the two. Tongues explored and tasted insatiably. Cheeks, lips, chin, gum, tongue.
As this communion drew faster, their hearts kept up in high tempo, the warmth of their breaths spreading onto each others' skin. The bullets of sweat that gave their limbs a malicious glow in the moonlight came with a sour odor that mingled with the sea's salty perfume. Josef relished this sensory assault, joining Felix in his muffled moaning.
Josef's right hand could not contain itself any longer, and soon it began to crawl like some spider to the lower reaches of Felix's body.
His fingers slowly unraveled Felix's shorts, revealing his underwear. The feel of the garter and cotton alone sent an electric current across Josef's arm. It was the fulfillment of a fantasy that had long been subjected to suppression, control, and frustrated self-touching.
Even more slowly, Josef's hand slid beneath the garter. The hair was a tangle yet it satisfied his curious touch, his fingers finding it perversely wonderful. Felix's penis was a surprise, too. It was now throbbing, erect to the fullest; its head immensely warm and firm.
The hand moved down towards the scrotum. The hairs were sparse but they were enough to send tingles down Josef's spine. It had tightened as Felix's shaft continued to throb, while Josef's fingers eagerly searched for more sensory pleasures.
to be continued...
Sunday, October 18, 2009
The Leviathan 1
Found this story among the loose sheets of paper inserted in one of my dusty journals. Found several drafts and poems alluding to this too, and picked out the better version that I wanted to share.
I wrote this just fresh out of high school. I studied in a strict, Catholic all-boy's school, so you can imagine all the stifled raging hormones that gushed on to these pages! It was inspired (fictionalized, if you like) from a senior class trip, one of the last ones till our graduation from secondary school.
I've changed the names (I actually used the real ones when I wrote this!) and tweaked some areas just a tad bit.
_____________________________
THE LEVIATHAN
Like some leviathan washed ashore, their three bodies were sprawled on the cool, white sand. Paul was on his back with Josef's head resting on his stomach. Josef hugged Felix tightly with both his arms, his head nudged on Josef's neck.
The night was fervid. There was an accumulation of moist almost everywhere. What added to this wonderful hell was the drinking spree earlier that caused reality to steer off its tracks. Fantasy was creeping in, Josef and Felix falling slowly to its ecstasy.
As they lain on the beach, each enjoying their own private thoughts, a sheet of twinkling stars hovered quietly above them. The moon, as if ashamed, hid part of itself behind a patch of shredded clouds. Its remaining half gave an enigmatic glow to the surroundings as darkness waited in every corner for the clouds to disperse, waiting to eat the light into its different world.
There was a breeze that offered respite from the warm night, caressing the coconut trees till they bent gracefully. Animals hidden amongst the shadows crept about. It was not only a sight to see but a world of sounds as well. The waves gently splashed on the shore, making a lullaby against the symphony of crickets. All these gave life to a world seemingly dead.
Paul was in his own world. He was half asleep, his thoughts invaded by memories of high school life. Opening his eyelids from time to time, he caught glimpses of the glittering sky. He felt he was floating in space, amongst the billions of stars that seemed so nearby. Yes, he was drifting into the abyssal world of dreams.
As Josef and Felix lay entwined together, a fever began to rise between the two. Josef began putting gentle kisses upon Felix's forehead, his arms holding him even tighter and closer to his breast. His kisses were soft, Felix thought, as he felt Josef's tender lips discover his face. They touched his furry brows, warm forehead, eyelids, nose; and finally, Felix's wildly wet lips.
to be continued...
I wrote this just fresh out of high school. I studied in a strict, Catholic all-boy's school, so you can imagine all the stifled raging hormones that gushed on to these pages! It was inspired (fictionalized, if you like) from a senior class trip, one of the last ones till our graduation from secondary school.
I've changed the names (I actually used the real ones when I wrote this!) and tweaked some areas just a tad bit.
_____________________________
THE LEVIATHAN
Like some leviathan washed ashore, their three bodies were sprawled on the cool, white sand. Paul was on his back with Josef's head resting on his stomach. Josef hugged Felix tightly with both his arms, his head nudged on Josef's neck.
The night was fervid. There was an accumulation of moist almost everywhere. What added to this wonderful hell was the drinking spree earlier that caused reality to steer off its tracks. Fantasy was creeping in, Josef and Felix falling slowly to its ecstasy.
As they lain on the beach, each enjoying their own private thoughts, a sheet of twinkling stars hovered quietly above them. The moon, as if ashamed, hid part of itself behind a patch of shredded clouds. Its remaining half gave an enigmatic glow to the surroundings as darkness waited in every corner for the clouds to disperse, waiting to eat the light into its different world.
There was a breeze that offered respite from the warm night, caressing the coconut trees till they bent gracefully. Animals hidden amongst the shadows crept about. It was not only a sight to see but a world of sounds as well. The waves gently splashed on the shore, making a lullaby against the symphony of crickets. All these gave life to a world seemingly dead.
Paul was in his own world. He was half asleep, his thoughts invaded by memories of high school life. Opening his eyelids from time to time, he caught glimpses of the glittering sky. He felt he was floating in space, amongst the billions of stars that seemed so nearby. Yes, he was drifting into the abyssal world of dreams.
As Josef and Felix lay entwined together, a fever began to rise between the two. Josef began putting gentle kisses upon Felix's forehead, his arms holding him even tighter and closer to his breast. His kisses were soft, Felix thought, as he felt Josef's tender lips discover his face. They touched his furry brows, warm forehead, eyelids, nose; and finally, Felix's wildly wet lips.
to be continued...
Monday, June 29, 2009
Summer Awakening
Sita was on her way home. It was a warm night. The breezes kept still and the air hung about like a heavy cacha blanket, causing her brown skin to moisten from the walk. Her worn out daster clung helplessly to her tiny frame, unflattering to her firm breasts, her round hips and slender legs.
The road before her was quiet. All she heard were the shuffle of her rubber slippers on the river of crushed rock beneath her, the occasional twig that snapped, and the redundant whirring crickets that surrounded her. The darkness that shrouded both sides of the road hid from the scope of the yellow light emanating from the bulbs atop rows of bamboo posts.
Sita’s steady steps brought her back to the supper at Natan’s balay, the tiny nipa hut that she was so familiar with ever since she was a child. Natan had just arrived for vacation from his amo in the city, and she was sent through word of mouth to join him, Tatay Andoy and Nanay Etring for supper.
The meal was quick. The tiny salted fish that swam with pieces of ginger and red pepper in a sour coconut sauce, the steaming brown rice heaped on the worn out tin plate, the red fleshy tomatoes mounted together with the salted eggs on a plastic platito, all laid out on the bamboo floor, were eaten quietly.
Sita looked down on her plate most of the time, raising her head only when she brought a pinched handful of rice towards her pink lips. She was more careful with herself this time, arranging her fingers into the shape of a duck’s bill, her slim arm stretched gracefully whenever she reached for the fish or the blushing tomatoes. Though her back was trembling, she insisted on sitting without hunching, her legs folded to a slant, toes tucked neatly under her bottom, and the trunk of her body slightly bent to one side.
Natan could not help but glance at the lissome image before him. Years have passed since he last saw her. The memory of their childhood games together, the awkwardness in her that defied her sex, allowing her to play rough, flourished in his thoughts. He liked how her daster revealed only an imagined suppleness of the body beneath it. He smiled as he chewed, savoring the juices of the salty fish and tomato in his mouth.
When the mound of rice diminished to a shallow scatter, and the plate of salty fish left in a puddle, Sita raised her head but kept her eyes wandering on the floor.
“How long will you be staying Natan?” she asked.
“Not very long, Sita. Maybe just a week.”
She quivered upon hearing his baritone voice. But it was the sound of her name that brought a warm rush running across her arms, nape, reaching her ear lobes, and then her cheeks. Sita. Her temples began to sweat.
“Tatay Andoy says that you found a good amo to work for in the city. He must treat you well.”
“Yes, Don Manuel is a good man. He has a very pretty and kind wife, Doña Corazon. Their four young children get rowdy sometimes, but most of the time they are little angels.”
“Ah, it’s good to know that they are all very kind.” Sita replied indifferently. She was not really interested about Natan’s life in the city. Instead, she found herself missing the games they would play on the front lawn till night fell. She remembered the climbs up the calachuchi, and how vigorously they would shake the branches of the old mango tree, waiting till the beetles fell to the ground. She wanted to go back to it all, to the leisure of playing, to the unbridled comfort of friendship. But most of all, she longed to cast away the fervid caress of her name on her skin.
“You’ve grown a lot since I’ve seen you Sita. You look so different now.” Natan said, his eyes catching a glow as his lips curled to a meaningful smile.
“You’ve grown also Natan,” was all Sita managed to reply. A feeling of unease welled up in her, her mind interpreting the possible meanings to the sudden glow in his eyes and his pregnant smile. She felt as if Tatay Andoy’s nipa hut shrank in size. It imprisoned her with an overwhelming warmth and a man before her whom she remembered only as a boy.
“Let’s go out and get some air. It’s getting warm in here.” Sita proposed.
Outside the stars were sparse. Tatay Andoy’s small lot was lit by the weak gleam of the kerosene lamp inside the hut. Beyond was a world of pitch-black shadows. Hidden among the acacia, ipil-ipil, calachuchi, and mango trees that bordered the front of the lot was the lit road that looked like a snake of yellow embers.
Sita and Natan stood side by side facing the trees and the road, their bare arms barely touching.
Placing his palm gently on her shoulder, he asked, “Sita, so how have you been all this time?”
“Fine.” Feeling the gruffness of his touch, Sita closed her eyes as the wave of heat surged once again through her body. She had to escape him. She walked a few inches away.
“Tatay bought some carabaos last week. One of them was pregnant. One of them was pregnant. It just gave birth the other day to a pink calf,” she said, urging something different to talk about.
“Really? How’s Nanay Pering? I do miss her ibus. I love how sticky it gets. Oh, to dip it in brown sugar! Mmmm…” Natan slid his tongue across his lips.
“Nanay is well. I think she shall be making some sticky rice again. Maybe… maybe… you can come by tomorrow.” Teresita closed her eyes once again. She hated herself at that moment for being so coy, for being so inviting. She hated herself for wanting and not wanting. But it was too late.
“That would be really great Sita!” Natan’s voice seemed to have leapt out from his throat. “And maybe we could catch up about more things we’ve missed,” he continued in a sudden subdued manner, careful at not giving away his intentions.
More? More things we’ve missed? Sita tried to smother other thoughts with the smiles and laughter she expected from reminiscing with a childhood playmate. But they persisted. Things missed? Is there more? More of what? She hated these questions that prodded her mind, questions that teased her. What more did we miss? More sticky rice?
“I think I should take you home now. It’s late, and Tatay Lando and Nanay Pering might be worried sick for you.”
“Oh, it’s not necessary. I’ll walk myself home. It’s not too far really. Besides you might be exhausted from your trip home.”
“Tired? No, never for you. Besides it’s dangerous for someone like you to walk all alone at this hour. The spirits are out now, you know.”
“No, really, I’ll be fine. The road is well lit, and what can a spirit do to me?”
“Many things.”
“Then I shall pray hard while I walk.”
It was indeed late, about half past the hour of eleven. Sita did not expect to be on her way home at such a time, and actually wondered about her safety. She was also bothered with thoughts of Natan. So much he had said seemed cryptic to her, yet somehow she knew and felt what his words meant. Her heart softened when she remembered the boy she held hands tightly with while at play. Yet why was her heart different, tightened in fact, even to the slightest touch of his rough palm on her shoulder? What was it in his voice that made her hear her name so strangely? These thoughts of Natan made her think of her mother’s sticky rice. Lifting her daster’s skirt, Sita bent forward and wiped off the sweat that made her face, arms and neck shine in the yellow glow of the light bulbs.
As soon as she reached home, Sita rushed to the fat rubber jug that sat idly by the kitchen’s ashen kilns. She squatted beside the black container, lifted its conical lid up, and ladled out its content with her hands. As she felt the cool water splash on her flushed face and trickle down on the seething skin of her hands and nape, she let out heavy sighs. After, she stood up and sauntered towards her bed.
Her body ached upon laying herself down on the firmness of her bamboo-laden mattress. Sleep awaited her as she was feeling the warmth and heavy stillness of the midnight air. She kept thinking of the supper at Tatay Andoy’s house. She kept thinking of Natan.
Slowly, as her eyes began to close, she began to dream. She dreamt she was helping her mother make ibus. She felt its stickiness smeared on her fingers.
The road before her was quiet. All she heard were the shuffle of her rubber slippers on the river of crushed rock beneath her, the occasional twig that snapped, and the redundant whirring crickets that surrounded her. The darkness that shrouded both sides of the road hid from the scope of the yellow light emanating from the bulbs atop rows of bamboo posts.
Sita’s steady steps brought her back to the supper at Natan’s balay, the tiny nipa hut that she was so familiar with ever since she was a child. Natan had just arrived for vacation from his amo in the city, and she was sent through word of mouth to join him, Tatay Andoy and Nanay Etring for supper.
The meal was quick. The tiny salted fish that swam with pieces of ginger and red pepper in a sour coconut sauce, the steaming brown rice heaped on the worn out tin plate, the red fleshy tomatoes mounted together with the salted eggs on a plastic platito, all laid out on the bamboo floor, were eaten quietly.
Sita looked down on her plate most of the time, raising her head only when she brought a pinched handful of rice towards her pink lips. She was more careful with herself this time, arranging her fingers into the shape of a duck’s bill, her slim arm stretched gracefully whenever she reached for the fish or the blushing tomatoes. Though her back was trembling, she insisted on sitting without hunching, her legs folded to a slant, toes tucked neatly under her bottom, and the trunk of her body slightly bent to one side.
Natan could not help but glance at the lissome image before him. Years have passed since he last saw her. The memory of their childhood games together, the awkwardness in her that defied her sex, allowing her to play rough, flourished in his thoughts. He liked how her daster revealed only an imagined suppleness of the body beneath it. He smiled as he chewed, savoring the juices of the salty fish and tomato in his mouth.
When the mound of rice diminished to a shallow scatter, and the plate of salty fish left in a puddle, Sita raised her head but kept her eyes wandering on the floor.
“How long will you be staying Natan?” she asked.
“Not very long, Sita. Maybe just a week.”
She quivered upon hearing his baritone voice. But it was the sound of her name that brought a warm rush running across her arms, nape, reaching her ear lobes, and then her cheeks. Sita. Her temples began to sweat.
“Tatay Andoy says that you found a good amo to work for in the city. He must treat you well.”
“Yes, Don Manuel is a good man. He has a very pretty and kind wife, Doña Corazon. Their four young children get rowdy sometimes, but most of the time they are little angels.”
“Ah, it’s good to know that they are all very kind.” Sita replied indifferently. She was not really interested about Natan’s life in the city. Instead, she found herself missing the games they would play on the front lawn till night fell. She remembered the climbs up the calachuchi, and how vigorously they would shake the branches of the old mango tree, waiting till the beetles fell to the ground. She wanted to go back to it all, to the leisure of playing, to the unbridled comfort of friendship. But most of all, she longed to cast away the fervid caress of her name on her skin.
“You’ve grown a lot since I’ve seen you Sita. You look so different now.” Natan said, his eyes catching a glow as his lips curled to a meaningful smile.
“You’ve grown also Natan,” was all Sita managed to reply. A feeling of unease welled up in her, her mind interpreting the possible meanings to the sudden glow in his eyes and his pregnant smile. She felt as if Tatay Andoy’s nipa hut shrank in size. It imprisoned her with an overwhelming warmth and a man before her whom she remembered only as a boy.
“Let’s go out and get some air. It’s getting warm in here.” Sita proposed.
Outside the stars were sparse. Tatay Andoy’s small lot was lit by the weak gleam of the kerosene lamp inside the hut. Beyond was a world of pitch-black shadows. Hidden among the acacia, ipil-ipil, calachuchi, and mango trees that bordered the front of the lot was the lit road that looked like a snake of yellow embers.
Sita and Natan stood side by side facing the trees and the road, their bare arms barely touching.
Placing his palm gently on her shoulder, he asked, “Sita, so how have you been all this time?”
“Fine.” Feeling the gruffness of his touch, Sita closed her eyes as the wave of heat surged once again through her body. She had to escape him. She walked a few inches away.
“Tatay bought some carabaos last week. One of them was pregnant. One of them was pregnant. It just gave birth the other day to a pink calf,” she said, urging something different to talk about.
“Really? How’s Nanay Pering? I do miss her ibus. I love how sticky it gets. Oh, to dip it in brown sugar! Mmmm…” Natan slid his tongue across his lips.
“Nanay is well. I think she shall be making some sticky rice again. Maybe… maybe… you can come by tomorrow.” Teresita closed her eyes once again. She hated herself at that moment for being so coy, for being so inviting. She hated herself for wanting and not wanting. But it was too late.
“That would be really great Sita!” Natan’s voice seemed to have leapt out from his throat. “And maybe we could catch up about more things we’ve missed,” he continued in a sudden subdued manner, careful at not giving away his intentions.
More? More things we’ve missed? Sita tried to smother other thoughts with the smiles and laughter she expected from reminiscing with a childhood playmate. But they persisted. Things missed? Is there more? More of what? She hated these questions that prodded her mind, questions that teased her. What more did we miss? More sticky rice?
“I think I should take you home now. It’s late, and Tatay Lando and Nanay Pering might be worried sick for you.”
“Oh, it’s not necessary. I’ll walk myself home. It’s not too far really. Besides you might be exhausted from your trip home.”
“Tired? No, never for you. Besides it’s dangerous for someone like you to walk all alone at this hour. The spirits are out now, you know.”
“No, really, I’ll be fine. The road is well lit, and what can a spirit do to me?”
“Many things.”
“Then I shall pray hard while I walk.”
It was indeed late, about half past the hour of eleven. Sita did not expect to be on her way home at such a time, and actually wondered about her safety. She was also bothered with thoughts of Natan. So much he had said seemed cryptic to her, yet somehow she knew and felt what his words meant. Her heart softened when she remembered the boy she held hands tightly with while at play. Yet why was her heart different, tightened in fact, even to the slightest touch of his rough palm on her shoulder? What was it in his voice that made her hear her name so strangely? These thoughts of Natan made her think of her mother’s sticky rice. Lifting her daster’s skirt, Sita bent forward and wiped off the sweat that made her face, arms and neck shine in the yellow glow of the light bulbs.
As soon as she reached home, Sita rushed to the fat rubber jug that sat idly by the kitchen’s ashen kilns. She squatted beside the black container, lifted its conical lid up, and ladled out its content with her hands. As she felt the cool water splash on her flushed face and trickle down on the seething skin of her hands and nape, she let out heavy sighs. After, she stood up and sauntered towards her bed.
Her body ached upon laying herself down on the firmness of her bamboo-laden mattress. Sleep awaited her as she was feeling the warmth and heavy stillness of the midnight air. She kept thinking of the supper at Tatay Andoy’s house. She kept thinking of Natan.
Slowly, as her eyes began to close, she began to dream. She dreamt she was helping her mother make ibus. She felt its stickiness smeared on her fingers.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
isaac
Daddy tells me he loves me very much. i love him very much too. So i guess it’s OK that we play games many times. He loves me and i love him, and the games are OK, i guess. But sometimes i’m not really sure.
It’s the games we play at night that are different from the games we play during the day. When Mommy’s around, Daddy plays daytime games. They’re all fun actually, but sometimes i just don’t get it. Daddy tells me that i should keep the nightgames a secret. He looks funny every time he puts his pointing finger on his lips and says Shhhhhh. Why can’t i tell Mommy? Daddy says we share something special. He says we’re boys and Mommy’s a girl, and she won’t understand. Daddy’s smart, so i guess he knows better. Well, maybe it’s OK to keep some secrets from Mommy. i know Mommy will understand. Daddy and me love each other, and we love Mommy too, so i guess it’s OK to keep secrets from her.
When i feel like it, the nightgames we play are OK. But there are nights when Daddy gets bad. When i don’t feel like it, he hurts me. He pushes me on the bed real hard, he gets very heavy; he starts sweating, and makes funny noises too. He also whispers in my ear again and again that he loves me very much. When Daddy says that he loves me, i try not to mind that it hurts. It’s just that sometimes it gets really painful. i cry but Daddy doesn’t hear me. He keeps pushing my face hard on my pillow, and sometimes i can’t breathe. That’s when i start to close my eyes and pretend i’m buried underground.
i’m waiting for Daddy now. i hope he won’t be bad when we play later. If he hurts me again, i’ll just close my eyes. i'll play dead.
It’s the games we play at night that are different from the games we play during the day. When Mommy’s around, Daddy plays daytime games. They’re all fun actually, but sometimes i just don’t get it. Daddy tells me that i should keep the nightgames a secret. He looks funny every time he puts his pointing finger on his lips and says Shhhhhh. Why can’t i tell Mommy? Daddy says we share something special. He says we’re boys and Mommy’s a girl, and she won’t understand. Daddy’s smart, so i guess he knows better. Well, maybe it’s OK to keep some secrets from Mommy. i know Mommy will understand. Daddy and me love each other, and we love Mommy too, so i guess it’s OK to keep secrets from her.
When i feel like it, the nightgames we play are OK. But there are nights when Daddy gets bad. When i don’t feel like it, he hurts me. He pushes me on the bed real hard, he gets very heavy; he starts sweating, and makes funny noises too. He also whispers in my ear again and again that he loves me very much. When Daddy says that he loves me, i try not to mind that it hurts. It’s just that sometimes it gets really painful. i cry but Daddy doesn’t hear me. He keeps pushing my face hard on my pillow, and sometimes i can’t breathe. That’s when i start to close my eyes and pretend i’m buried underground.
i’m waiting for Daddy now. i hope he won’t be bad when we play later. If he hurts me again, i’ll just close my eyes. i'll play dead.
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