Liverpool, yUK. This is post #2 as part of our The Agony and the Ex-tacy series. Find Precious' 1st post here.
Just for those snarky prissy pants people out there I don't take the word rape lightly, but I can't think of any other way to describe the events of this story.
So I am polite, to extremes. I don't know if it is my British upbringing or what, but can I say no to someone...? Well kind of not really... SEE! I suck at this... aaaaaanyway...
One day, a million years and a couple of countries ago a blast from the past shows up all eager for a wee chat. Being the friendly, everyone must except me, I am REAL polite crazy person that I am I was all... “oh haiii, whats up with yo?”
Innocent right? Until the I miss you's and we could have been so good and seriously best sex ever BS that exes say when they realise just how freakin' amazing you were and that hex you put on that voodoo doll is totally working it's magic and f*cking up all kinds of sh*t for them.
A couple of days later there is an innocent flirty text, a few... can you imagine what we'd be doing if we were together right now and then sh*t suddenly got serious and changed to … sooooo, fancy sending me a picture...
Woah woah woah! hold the phone there, young sir. I am a loyal girlfriend with a lovely boyfriend, there will be no exchanging semi-naked pictures via media device thank you very much. Besides I'm sure your current girlfriend will be upset at your behaviour.
I thought I had nipped this quickly turning into some kind of freaking Joan Collins - throbbing loins episode in the bud until the paragraphs of smut came through as a barrage, and all the time I am politely thinking I am telling him to stop. I was digitally, textually and mentally banged all over my phone without my consent.
Yours in creating whole new wrongs because the old ones aren't quite f*cked up enough, J x