Evolution

January 31 2017

I told him I didn't want to do anal. That I didn't want anyone touching me there. He decided that exploring with his fingers was still okay. I told him I didn't want to but he did it anyway. I hid my face underneath the pillow and turned my whole body away from him the whole time. And when he was done, he left me laying there with tears in my eyes, naked on my childhood bed, hiding my face.

He told his neighbors and all of his friends in the ghetto about what we did...about what he did to me. Like I am porn.

He would call me a liar. And tell me I was his whore.

When I used to tell him I needed to go, he would accuse me of lying. He would tell me that I was probably just going to talk to other guys, and he would tell me he wasn't the only one. He knew this would force me to try to prove it to him, so I wouldn't hang up. I used to put my phone in a bag when I would shower because he he would accuse me of lying about everything... so he watched me shower a lot. And every time I would he would tell me he couldn't see me. Tell me to adjust the camera. If I didn't he would say I was trying to hide something from him. So I always did. I don't know what he could or couldn't see. The screen on my phone was too small so I could never see what he could, especially without my glasses. I just trusted him. He would touch himself while I showered. He took my discomfort for interest. I loved him, so sometimes I even pretended to be. Because I thought he loved me too.

He told me he wanted pictures of me for him to masterbate to. I told him I didn't want to; he told me I would let him if I loved him. So I took my shirt off and held back the tears. He took the screenshots. Later he told me he deleted them because he didn't like that I looked sad. I don't know if he really deleted them or not.