Member-only story
Guilt and Filth
A woman letting go of the shame
She kept thinking about the people she’d fucked and whether that had changed her in any way. Like whether each experience had altered her perception of herself or if she had opened herself up to a layer of numbness that she didn’t know existed before. She wondered if she’d be the same person if she were still a virgin, more open to newness and hopeful perhaps, or whether she’d still feel dead and empty and suspicious. Each different encounter was just that — a separate little entity, many of which were hazy and tainted through retrospect.
She thought about that guy that kept pinching the back of her knee while they were having sex, which was distracting, and how she couldn’t get him to leave the house the next day.
She thought about the hot guy with dreads that exploded when she decided to clench.
She thought about the time she had sex in the park and saw a young man watching but didn’t stop and made direct eye contact with him the entire time instead.
She thought about the guy who had texted her saying that when he was finished with her, ‘she wouldn’t be able to walk’ when he was finished with her and was correct.
She thought about the time that she had wobbly legs from having five orgasms in the space of a morning with someone who mashed his face into her.
