When I came to he was inside of me. He was obviously drunk, yelling nonsense and having the time of his life. As he was going at it I tried to orient myself with the room and what was happening. The lights wereout but I could tell by the moonlight that it was the fat guy from the next dorm room. I couldn’t remember his name. Lying on my back I gazed around to the side. I saw piles of dirty laundry on the floor, empty beer cans everywhere and a desk full of books. We must be on his bed. Although I was alarmed at first I knew this probably wasn’t rape. Often whenever I got drunk my clothes came off and I was willing to fuck anything that moved.
As he continued his drunken thrusting and howling away I could feel his stomach hanging rubbing up and down on my freshly pierced navel. It must have loosened the stud on the piercing because shortly after I heard the silver bead hit the hardwood floor. It bounced up and down. Slowly at first, then faster and faster until I heard it roll across the floor for what seemed like an eternity. The sound it made as it rolled away from the bed echoed through the room, even louder than the moaning. Staring at the ceiling I imagined how beautiful it must look gliding across the floor in the moonlight… I hope I can find it later.
I’m not sure how long he continued. I tried to enjoy it because I figured I was probably the one who asked for it. He kept telling me how hot I was and what a beautiful woman I was which I appreciated. When he finished he wanted to hold me while we slept which I also appreciated even though a part of me didn't want him to touch me ever again. I was still pretty buzzed and out of it. I wanted to stay up and talk about how much I hated god, not that I even thought he was real. I just hated the whole idea of him. It was a subject I was very passionate about at the time. He was tired though and he said he just wanted to hold me while we slept.
Note: For some reason I woke up this morning and wanted to write about this experience that happened when I was 18. I’m 26 now. It seems that as I move through this recovery process I remember these experiences from the past and I get the urge to write about them. I woke up today and I was randomly ready to process this and cry so I did. Maybe someday I will be ready to process the even darker experiences, maybe not. We will see…