“Don’t you want to fuck?” asked Alice. She was naked under a sheer and I sat in my unzipped black jeans on the edge of the small bed in the West 11th Street SRO. I wanted to have sex, but I wasn’t going to make the first move, since I often felt her cringe to my advances. One of the main problems with our sex life was that I always had take charge. I looked at her unmoved by her request. THere was no invitation in her eyes. Her hand reached out to touch my cock, as if it were uncooked hamburger. No erection.
“Not if you aren’t into it. I don’t feel like raping you again.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s nothing.”
She slipped over to rub her crotch against my thigh. No erection. I asked myself why. I knew why. This was all pretend.
“So you don’t want to fuck?
Silence was the easy way out, but I looked into her eyes.
“Every time we fuck, you act as if I’m raping you. Even if I’m gentle. You like it rough. I don’t like the rape game. Lastly I’m not fucking you, unless you want me to.”
“I want you to fuck me. Physically.” She rolled away with wet eyes. “I don’t know what is wrong with my libido.”
“I do. You like sex. You cum every time we have sex. I don’t think you’re faking it.” I faked ejaculation, since I had leather dick from jerking off too much. “Before me you were a lesbian. Maybe you want to go back to girls.”
“No, I want your cock in my cunt. I want it in my mouth.”
That got me hard and I fucked her hard. She came several times and I finally came in her mouth. Wiping away my sperm, she asked, “Was it good for you?”
Breathless I said yes.
It was the truth, but it wasn’t the best.
Across the street from the SRO were the ruins of 18 West 11th Street. According to Wikiedia the Greenwich Village townhouse explosion occurred on March 6, 1970, in New York City, United States. Members of the Weather Underground (Weathermen), an American leftist militant group, were making bombs in the basement of 18 West 11th Street in the Greenwich Village neighborhood, when one of them exploded. THree of them died. These were the only three deaths in their campaign against the industrial-military complex.
We felt that doing nothing in a period of repressive violence is itself a form of violence. That’s really the part that I think is the hardest for people to understand. If you sit in your house, live your white life and go to your white job, and allow the country that you live in to murder people and to commit genocide, and you sit there and you don’t do anything about it, that’s violence.
— Naomi Jaffe