The Almost Date Raped Story

Billybuffy

About eight years ago, in the midst of a threesome gone wrong, my first “boyfriend” attempted to rape me in his bedroom. I’m saving all the gory details for my memoirs, so here’s the abridged version.

Honestly it pretty much went down like that scene in Higher Learning: we were just talking and fooling around on the bed and all of a sudden hands went where they shouldn’t have and chaos ensued.

I should back up and contextualize the situation.

I was young, dumb, and full of his cum: Primero that is. I lost my virginity to this man, I loved him.

Primero was your stereotypical Mexican: brown skin, short and stocky…the speak softly, but carry a big stick type. He had jet black hair and piercing brown eyes…a few tattoos for spice. Primero was twelve years my senior and had that man’s man way about him.

Being sexually socialized by a straight identified man is an interesting experience. There’s a lot of non-verbal communication, but not a lot of debriefing. One particular weekend I was over his house for a BBQ and we went inside for a minute. I thought he wanted to talk. Instead he pulled down my Addis tear-away pants and proceeded to stare deep into my eyes as he breeded and seeded me real quick. There wasn’t really time to cleanup when he was finished, so I just pulled my pants back up and went back outside with his cum still inside me. I giggled to myself for the rest of the BBQ.

Nonsense like this went on for a few months. At some point I realized he was having sex with other men so at our next rendezvous I asked him to wear a condom, but he refused. I ended up letting him fuck me anyway, but vowed it would be the last time.

Over the course of our initial friendship I took a liking to Primero’s roommate. Segundo (also straight identified) was much more jovial, closer to my age and much more my speed. He was really athletic and had an amazing body. I would go over to hang and try not to stare at his chest as he lifted weights in the backyard.

When it became clear I wasn’t going to let him fuck me again Primero arranged to give me what he knew I wanted. He orchestrated a date for Segundo and I, the first time I hung out with him without Primero. We had sex at my house and it was everything I hoped for and more. To this day he had one of the prettiest penises I’ve ever had in my body.

Unfortunately, this didn’t change my mind about having unprotected sex with Primero, in fact it made the situation worse. Segundo didn’t have a problem with condoms and I found him more attractive overall. This angered Primero immensely.

I was too messy to take it seriously at the time, but it’s important to note Primero was a consummate alcoholic. It wasn’t uncommon for him to drink an entire bottle of Bacardi by himself in one sitting (and chase it with a few coronas). I was always fascinated that such a small body could hold so much alcohol. But he could always walk without aid and never threw up, so I just assumed his tolerance was higher than mine and didn’t let it bother me.

On that fateful night, they invited me over to hang. Although it was the middle of the week, it wasn’t too late, around 10pm. I decided to drive over and chill for a while. I honestly didn’t expect anything to happen.

They were both trashed when I arrived. At some point Primero suggested we all mess around, which surprised me. The DL bible clearly states two straight identified men can’t penetrate the gay boy at the same time without breaking the fourth wall.

I was still not budging on the condom issue, so I suggested I give them both head. An excited Segundo quickly took off his shorts but Primero left the room without saying anything.

“Where is he going?” I asked.

Segundo shrugged and pushed my head back down on his dick. A few minutes went by and I hear the door open again. Maybe Primero went to go wash his balls? I was unfazed and continued with Segundo without turning around.

I was now on the bed on my stomach. Primero came back and started messing with my pants. Half a cheek was exposed before I swatted his hand and motioned for him to come up front and lay next to Segundo.

But he continued on my pants. “Stop,” I said and swatted him again. He persisted. Annoyed and angry, I finally turned around.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He lunged at me and we were now hand in hand. Ironically, I was laughing. I thought he wanted to play wrestle (which wasn’t uncommon), but unfortunately this time was different. Next would be one of the scariest things I have ever seen.

I looked deep into his eyes and called out his name. Nothing. I called his name again and he continued to struggle with me. It became clear Primero wasn’t there. The man I loved and allowed into my body numerous times before was nowhere to be found. It was like he was on autopilot. It was at that point the gravity of the situation set it. Primero was determined to penetrate me with or without my permission. I was about to be raped.

That’s when I panicked. While still struggling to fight off Primero, I turned to face Segundo, who was now frozen in the corner of the bed. I think he wasn’t sure whether to help me or Primero.

My next impulse was to scream but I didn’t want to alert the family of three that lived in the room on the other side of the hallway. I silently struggled with Primero for a bit more before he lost his balance, fell on the bed and I broke free. I ran out the room (and the house) as quickly as I could and retreated to my car without looking back.

My car was parked around the corner and I stayed in it for a good while. I was in shock; my body hadn’t been this hot since I had a gun randomly pulled out on me walking home from work years prior. I eventually went home, but didn’t get too much sleep that night.

The days that followed I kept getting drunk dialed late at night by the boys. It wasn’t uncommon to get over five calls a night when Primero was drunk. I had my own landline in my room, but the answering machine was so loud I eventually had to unplug the entire phone so my mother (who slept in the adjacent room) didn’t hear these crazy messages Primero was leaving:

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

I was stunned. Did he not remember anything that happened that night? Did Segundo not explain the state of events when he emerged from his blackout?

If you ask my friends, many will say I have a habit of ignoring people. I respectfully disagree. I have no problem reestablishing boundaries (without debriefing the other party) if I feel like I have been disrespected/violated in any way. Needless to say I still didn’t call those fools back and the messages got crazier (and angrier):

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

I got that bomb ass, make you wanna leave psycho-stalker messages on voicemail.

Ironically, that’ll probably go down as one of the most romantic things a man has ever said to me. Listen to the urgency in his voice. He needs ME. While I still don’t understand that whole “women go back to their abuser on average of seven times” statistic, there was an endearing quality to the messages in a sick and twisted sort of way. The calls began to subside and the messages eventually got more melancholy in tone.

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

Everyone who knows this story would always assume the incident fucked me up for life. It did, but not in the way most people think.

I was physically and emotionally fine in about a week. Honestly. But reflecting on the situation the weeks after the incident gave me something worse: awareness of my male privilege.

If I were female, the likelihood is Primero would’ve succeeded that night. Hell, Segundo might have even helped him. My height and weight made it virtually impossible for Primero to rape me plastered with no help. If I were his girlfriend, I’m not sure I would’ve made it out of that room alive.

I finally understood the potential risks my sisters and female friends dealt with in their (sex) lives. Most importantly how vastly different (physical) relations of power were in heterosexual relationships. It was that night I first realized the benefits my body could give me.

And I haven’t been the same ever since.

2 thoughts on “The Almost Date Raped Story

  1. Holy shit. This is the part that got me:

    “Listen to the urgency in his voice. He needs ME. While I still don’t understand that whole ‘women go back to their abuser on average of seven times’ statistic, there was an endearing quality to the messages in a sick and twisted sort of way.”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *