January 14th
Weird, fucked up shit has happened to me. And now I guess I'm a weird, fucked up person. I don't know. I don't know what I think I'm going to write here.
Just fucking write.
Reading Faulkner the other day I came across this line:
"MEMORY BELIEVES BEFORE KNOWING REMEMBERS."
It fits, but I'm not sure how, exactly.
Edi's gone. I have to tell her. Maybe she'll come back, if she knows the truth. If I can figure out what that is. Not what happened. I know what happened. What I need to figure out is…how to get back to being who I was. To being a husband to my wife, a friend to my friends, and somehow, to carry on with the band.
I don't know where to start. Christ this is hard. Okay. I'll start with where we were.
Last year, last March, we played a big stadium in Austin. As usual, after the show was over, the guys all hung out, doing the backstage party thing. And, as usual, I blew it off. I just wanted to get back to my room, be alone. I made my escape and the driver took me to the hotel, dropped me off. I peeled off my sweaty clothes, rinsed off in the shower, put on a fresh pair of boxers, and got into bed with a book.
I'm pretty sure I know how she did it. Before all that I'd been chugging water. I was dying of thirst after the concert. After I was in bed I was still dehydrated, I gulped down some more water, and went back to the bathroom to get a refill.
Something was wrong. Before I even got back to the bed I knew. Things didn't look right. I didn't feel right. I almost didn't even make it to the bed. My arms and legs felt like million-pound melting rubber bands.
I started to get scared. I was ready to call the front desk, maybe even have them call an ambulance. But I couldn't hold myself up. I fell onto my side. I couldn't even lift my arm to reach for the phone. I wondered if this was what it was like to have a stroke, if I were dying.
Then I heard the door to my room opening.
In came this woman. I didn't get it at first, why she was there, the connection between her and what was happening to me. She came in, very slowly, very deliberately, and gave me a strange smile. She turned, put out the do-not-disturb sign, and closed the door. Then she flipped the latch. So that if someone tried the door with a key it would still be locked.
It was like a weird nightmare—my body dead and useless, that stranger in the room with me. I wanted so badly to wake up, for everything to be okay. My heart hammered—I didn't know if it was from fear or illness. She started walking toward me and I felt terrible, vague dread. I had no idea what was going on, but I felt something awful was about to happen. My face, the skin of my whole body felt hot, flushed, but inside, at my core I felt icy cold.
She put her hand on my stomach.
I felt a jolt of terror, wondering who she was, why she was there, why she was touching me. Her delicate fingers pressed against my skin. I felt her. But when I tried to push her away, to scuttle back, my legs just twitched pathetically, my arms hung limp. My body was a useless lump of meat. I remember thinking, though, that there was nothing wrong with my mind. Except that I was freaked out and getting a headache.
She pushed against my shoulder and rolled me onto my back.
"What the fuck?" My angry shout gurgled soft and pathetic in my throat, my tongue limp, my lips paralyzed like the rest of me, my words slurred beyond recognition.
"Sssh, baby. You need to be nice and quiet. "
"How'd you get in here?" I couldn't help trying again, but it was another useless, slobbering mumble.
"I told you, baby, you have to be quiet."
Then she leaned over me, reached down and put her hand on my cock.
Christ. Fuck. That moment. I froze in cold panic. She rubbed me for a minute, then reached into my shorts and I felt her fingers curve around my limp dick and give it a tug.
"Come on, baby, you're gonna have to do better than that," she sighed in a revolting simper.
Oh my god, I thought, she's not going to...I could not fucking believe it.
She went on for a while, trying to jerk my cock to life. It wasn't working. She looked exasperated. And, thinking back now, hurt.
Turning her face from me she went over to the dresser and rummaged around in a bag for a second. I thought I heard a rattle, and her head was bent over something, as if she were examining or reading it. She tossed whatever it was back into the bag and turned around looking all sunny. I didn't get it then—what had the bitch so fucking happy all of a sudden.
"I think I know just the thing to put you in the mood, Vaughn baby."
She turned back to the dresser, sticking her stair mastered ass up in the air as she screwed around with something. A second later one of our songs was being pumped into the room by a little boom box she'd brought. My guitar. My voice.
She started a strip-tease. Crazy. At first she just swayed and wiggled and did a couple little turns, sliding her hands over her body, looking at me coyly. With her doing her weird little dance to my music—definitely not dance music—it all felt like a scene out of a David Lynch movie. Bizarre. Depressing. Scary.
She pulled off her skin-tight spandex dress, slowly, rolling her hips, creepy-seductive. She looked ridiculous, but the blood was pounding into my dick. I was mute and inert, but my cock was getting hard. I couldn't believe it. I watched as more and more of her legs, then her underwear, her hips, her midriff, her tits appeared under the rising dress before she pulled it over her head and dropped it on the floor. She wasn't wearing much else—panties and shoes. She wiggled out of her black thong, bending over stripper-style, all straight-legged, rolling the little scrap down to her feet, then straightening up and stepping out of it, leaving her heels on. Naked, she sauntered back to me.
I was scared out of my fucking mind.
She was pretty. If I'm objective about it, I can look back now and say that. But at the time, freaked out as I was, she looked monstrous to me. Not human. Not real. Like a humanoid alien from a horror movie. Everything about her was too perfect and had a synthetic look about it. Not a hair out of place—perfectly blond, perfectly long, perfectly shiny—I thought of a wig. Her makeup was perfect too. Not overdone, but like a flawless mask fitted over the head of some creature or man-made thing. Her body didn't look like it had been enhanced with silicone. It looked like it had been cast in it—perfectly firm, perfectly smooth, perfectly tan. Like a life-size Barbie.
Fucking übergroupie. Everything I hated about that scene wrapped up in a spa-perfected package and raised to the nth degree.
God, I felt so…trapped, so helpless. I was powerless, had no say—fuck, I couldn't even talk. This stranger, this psycho had total control over me.
She bent down and licked my nipple. I shuddered at the touch of her warm wet tongue on my skin. She did the other nipple, rubbing the tip of her tongue against it until it hardened, lapping and sucking it. It had just startled me at first, but now it was feeling unbearably uncomfortable. In a pathetic effort to protest I gave a little grunt.
"Mmmm," she purred, stopping for a second to look at me like she was posing for Playboy, "you like that, don't you baby?"
She went back to it, licking, sucking, biting. My dick already hurt it was so fucking hard, and she was making it worse. She put her hand on my cock again. I could feel it, as if nothing was wrong. She smiled this bitchy little smile and whispered in my ear,
"That's a good boy, nice and hard. How 'bout if I stroke it a little, hmmm?"
She leaned back then, to look me in the face, though I couldn't have answered her, even if I'd been inclined. She wrapped both her hands around my shaft and alternated their pulsing grip. I sucked in a lungful of air. Then she gave my cock a sudden squeeze. Jesus fuck—I didn't know if she was going to break it or make me cum on the spot. Even now I can almost feel it, that awful mixture of terror and…fierce pleasure. My cock felt like a gun with too much powder behind the bullet.
"I'll bet you've broken in a few virgins with this. Hmmm?"
My anxiety spiked to nauseating terror as she started working my shorts down. Jesus Christ, was she really going do this? She struggled a little to get them off me, dead weight laying there on the bed. But she managed. My fiercest impulse to shove her back, to grab her arms and yank her hands off my shorts got me nowhere. I felt her fingers against my skin, my boxers sliding down, saw my stiff dick bob into view. She paused for a second to look at it, like she'd never fucking seen a hard dick before or something, then went back to it, dragging my shorts the rest of the way off my floppy legs.
"Looks like your ready for a good fuck."
Her French manicured index finger took up the pearl of liquid at the tip of my cock and slid it around the swollen head while I watched, the rest of my body limp.
"But let's not rush things."
I watched as she pushed my feet apart, felt the backs of my legs sliding over the bedspread. From the foot of the bed she climbed up between my legs, then spread them wider. She must have seen my terror on my face.
"Just relax, baby. I just want to see everything. Every delicious inch of you."
She bent over then, and all that long, shiny, blond wig hair fell down over her face, onto my stomach. I felt her mouth on me, behind that veil. Kissing my stomach. Nibbling. Licking, her tongue warm and soft. It gave me the shudders but my cock was raging. She slid down and started licking and biting my thighs and I knew where this was going, knew that in a few seconds I'd feel her mouth on my cock and the thought flooded my dick with another violent surge of blood.
But she sat up and looked at me. I don't know what she saw on my face then. Horror? Desire? She gave me a big, plastic Barbie smile of pink pink lips and white white teeth, her big blue eyes sparkling but frighteningly vacant. No, maybe not vacant. Veiled. Like everything behind was sealed off.
"I'm gonna show you what you've been missin', baby. I'm gonna show you how good I am, how good I can make you feel. You don't have to do a thing, baby. Just relax."
Like I had a choice. She tucked her hair behind her ears and when she bent down again I had a clear view of her face, her tits, my cock. She took me in her hand and I caught my breath, still terrified, but Christ I was hard. I wished my cock would go limp in her hand, that she'd leave in frustration.
No. That's not true. What I really wanted at that point, however scared and creeped out I was, was for her to suck me. I wanted to blow my wad in the back of crazy Barbie's throat. I wanted that at least as bad as I wanted her to clear out. Maybe I wanted it more.
"God, Vaughn, you've got a beautiful cock."
Holding it in one hand she traced over it with the index finger of her other hand like it was the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen, and I felt every little touch as her fingertip went slowly around the head of my prick, down the shaft, and down, wandering over my balls. Then she started nuzzling against my dick, rubbing the head and shaft against her cheek, burying her nose in my pubes, sniffing in a big whiff of me, still sniffing at me as she drew her face up the length of my shaft again. It was like she actually fucking adored the thing, and I was starting to really want her to blow me, to stuff my impossibly hard cock between those glossy pink lips and suck me dry.
Shifting position, sitting between my knees and draping her long tan legs over mine, she bent forward so my cock was framed between her tits, impossibly round and firm. Her light brown nipples were hard and jutting. I watched as she pressed her tits together, then bent to press my dick against the cleavage. She slid them up and down against the underside of my cock. It was ready to burst, it was so fucking hard. Then she let a little valley open up between her tits, leaned forward, and when she pressed them together again my cock was swallowed up between them. She rubbed them up and down, massaging my cock, and I saw the head pop up now and then between those fat globes, then sink down between, over and over. Then she stopped, my prick straining up between those beige hills.
She looked up at me, watching me watch, and licked the tip of my cock. I shuddered and flushed, startled and unbearably aroused, in spite of the freaky situation. I moaned.
She smiled like she was damn fucking proud of herself. Her long pink tongue flicked out again and swiped at the head of my cock, over and over, wetting the pink dome and the beige flesh of her tits with her spit. The tip of her tongue teased my hole and my body writhed weakly in uncomfortable pleasure.
"Do you want me to suck it, baby?"
She let go of her tits, grabbed the base of my cock in one hand, and wrapped her lips around my shaft. I still couldn't move a muscle. If I could have I might still have shoved her off. Or I might have grabbed her by the hair and rammed my dick into the back of her throat. I hated the crazy bitch. I was terrified, not knowing what was wrong with my body. But fuck, I needed to cum. I was actually afraid, at that point, of being abandoned, left with that agonizing hard-on.
She was really putting on a show, lapping my raging hard-on with her long pink tongue really like she was eating an ice cream cone, licking up the length of my shaft again and again, running her tongue around the base over and over, working her way up to the head, not missing one millimeter of my dick. Then she dove down between my legs and started licking and sucking my balls. Her technique was aggressive, bordering on rough. My limp body wanted to squirm with pleasure-pain, with need-fear.
"God, Vaughn. I love your cock. I love that you're so hard for me. Just tasting you makes me wet."
To prove her point she sat up, reached down, and slid a finger into her slit.
"See baby?"
She leaned forward and showed me her finger, shiny wet with her juice. Then she slipped that finger between my lips and wiped it over my tongue and the pungent taste of her filled my mouth. I was as aroused as I was repulsed, smelling and tasting the cunt of this crazy bitch.
Then she sat up on her knees and touched herself for a while, squeezing her big porn-star tits, rubbing and pinching and tugging her nipples in front of my face, playing with her pussy, teasing her glistening slit, rubbing her clit, stuffing a finger inside herself, sliding it in and out, then spreading her lips with her free hand so I could see the deep pink of her, her shiny wet creases as she did it all again. Then she kissed me, biting my lips, pushing her tongue into my mouth.
"God," she whined, biting her lip in another trite seductive pose, "my pussy is so hot for you. Do you want to taste my pussy, baby?"
She maneuvered around and straddled my face. Fuck, that was the weirdest thing, that close-up view of her cunt, swollen and seeping, normally something that would fill me with excitement, anticipation, something that, on its own, would get me rock hard. It shocked me, how revolting and terrifying it was.
My cock was still rock hard. I mean, what guy wouldn't be hard with a girl sucking his rod like it was the best thing she'd ever tasted? But I guess, well, maybe there was more going on with me. I don't know. Even through that nauseating disgust, part of me was responding sexually to her—to fucking psycho-Barbie. Not just to her mouth on my cock, but to the smell of her, the sight of her. Shaved smooth except for a trimmed thatch of light brown hair on her mound. The rest bare, her pale outer lips already slightly parted, the pink inner folds already glistening. Rationally, emotionally, it was awful. But, if I'm honest about it, the animal part of me wanted her, wanted her to press her cunt to my mouth.
She lowered herself onto my face. There was nothing I could do. I was too paralyzed to shove her off, and too paralyzed to do what she wanted, even if I had tried. I felt her, her soft wetness come down over my mouth, warm and smooth. I felt her rubbing her cunt back and forth over my lips, my chin, my nose. She moaned obscenely as she ground over my face. Maybe she did that just to humiliate me—I can't believe she was getting much pleasure out of my flaccid mouth.
Then she tipped forward and started sucking my dick. Except that I couldn't move, it felt like any other blowjob with a stranger. The nerves in my cock were perfectly alert, and the combination of her diligent sucking and the disturbing visceral reaction I was having to the feel and smell of her sitting on my face had me painfully hard. A couple times she pushed down and back hard enough that she was smothering me, her cunt glued over my mouth, my nose buried in her ass, and even in cold panic I couldn't move. Then she would grind forward again and I would desperately suck at the air. Those moments of suffocation added to my terror and nausea. And, god. Yeah. In a weird way, to my arousal.
I don't know just when I finally managed to really think, beyond just reacting, and start to figure out what was actually happening. Somehow, before she started fucking my face and sucking me, it seemed like kind of a demented joke or something. It seems idiotic now, but until that moment I hadn't really put together the girl and the fact that I couldn't move. With her on top of me I finally got it—she'd drugged me. While I was in the shower, she had let herself in and put something in my water. So she could do this, so she could fuck me, so that I couldn't throw her out, call security, say no. And that was why I was so hard. Not just erect, but so hard it hurt. She'd given me something for that, too. Viagra or some shit.
She went on sucking my cock and humping my face. At first she'd seemed to be kind of going through the motions, rubbing her cunt over me, but she'd started to really get into it, her little grinding movements small and purposeful. With my cock stuffed in her mouth she was whining in that needful, almost-there way.
"Oh god, baby—your mouth feels so good on my pussy. You're gonna make me cum, Vaughn."
I didn't take it in then. Or later, even. But ignoring this shit hasn't been working. So…okay…the thought of her actually cumming, me just laying there under her, it was weird. And the weirdness, the depravity of it all, my helplessness in this, even my…my victimization…in some perverse way it thrilled me, charged my dick with new heat.
She kinda pulled up for a second, off my mouth, slurping noisily on my cock, her cunt and ass hovering over me, her thighs shiny with her pussy juice. She touched down on my lips for a second or two, let out a little moan, then lifted off again, ramming my cock deep into her throat, then sliding up and sucking away at it. I was about to cum. Maybe she was just waiting for me before getting herself off against my face.
"Yeah baby, that's it. Cum for me like a good boy. I want to taste you. I want to feel your hot cum shooting into my mouth."
Her pathetic porn talk sent me over the edge, and when she pushed my cock between her lips again, sucking the head and sliding down until I was deep her in her mouth, I started to cum. At the first spurt she moaned and plastered her cunt over my mouth, twitching against me, moaning and whining over my spasming prick. I kept shooting off in her mouth in the most violent, endless orgasm, and she kept rubbing her cunt on me, and after a few more seconds she really fucking smashed herself down on me and groaned out, and I felt her twat spasming over my lips. After what seemed like an endless minute of this she lifted herself off my face, off my cock, and turned around.
"Oh God, Baby. Oh God," she sighed, dismounting. "Vaughn, baby, you make my pussy feel soooo good."
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