Post for 3-20-06 - Oral Part Two - Oral From Her
Shannon Hollender
2nd Perspective story
529 words
Dr. Heroy
Due: 3/21/06
Oral From Her
Perspective: Part Two
The alarm’s going off again and again. What makes that grating sound worse is what it means. It means I have to get started again, it means I have to do it all over again this morning, just like last night. It wouldn’t bother me so much if it went like it did the first time, new, exciting… It’s less of a thrill now and more of a ritual; it is painful, grotesque, morbid. I stare at it, I know I have to put that in my mouth any moment now and it disgusts me. Maybe I should get a new one. New was rejuvenating to the process before, why shouldn’t it work now? A new one would be firmer and more ready. A new one would taste different. Every morning, every night, the stroking, the sucking, the repetitive oral penetration. It would be like it was before I got bored of it with this one; disgusted by it and its bristly poking. And with it all that awful, disgusting, almost-makes-me-wretch taste of it. No amount of Listerine ever makes it go away either. Baking-soda and vinegar that’s what the taste is… it is supposed to be good for me? It is supposed to be good for us? I dread it now. We're in a rut... it’s the monotony that makes it so awful!
You see, it starts off for us the same way every day, he is awake before the alarm sounds off, he rolls away from me like he’s not going to hear it when it does go off. It wakes me up when he does because the covers get wrenched from me and the cold air of morning is killer on bare skin. The alarm then sounds to mark the morning and the beginning of our ritualistic torture session. I grab the tool and head for it. I mean might as well get it over with as soon as possible right? I think he’s not as averted to these morning affairs as he says he is because in no time he’s up and ready to go.
I put it in my mouth and the back and forth motion as perverse as it sounds isn’t that bad, it’s not like it really reaches the back of my throat. Sometimes it does and sometimes I slip and it shoves really deep making me gag. But that’s so seldom that it really isn’t something to be concerned with.
Meanwhile, he’s standing there. How can he put up with it? Look at me! I’m a mess! Me bending here, him standing there… It’s like we’re part of some crazy circus act that has dried up. This, our everyday practice, I used to like it. It started the day off right - or at least it used to. It was firmer then. Now it doesn't excite me anymore; now, mournfully, I'm dulled and even bored by it. I feel disgusting and ugly. Prostrate here in front of him I feel like there’s no reason to keep doing this. All I want to do is wash off my face and wash out my mouth. I dread having to do it again tonight.
2nd Perspective story
529 words
Dr. Heroy
Due: 3/21/06
Oral From Her
Perspective: Part Two
The alarm’s going off again and again. What makes that grating sound worse is what it means. It means I have to get started again, it means I have to do it all over again this morning, just like last night. It wouldn’t bother me so much if it went like it did the first time, new, exciting… It’s less of a thrill now and more of a ritual; it is painful, grotesque, morbid. I stare at it, I know I have to put that in my mouth any moment now and it disgusts me. Maybe I should get a new one. New was rejuvenating to the process before, why shouldn’t it work now? A new one would be firmer and more ready. A new one would taste different. Every morning, every night, the stroking, the sucking, the repetitive oral penetration. It would be like it was before I got bored of it with this one; disgusted by it and its bristly poking. And with it all that awful, disgusting, almost-makes-me-wretch taste of it. No amount of Listerine ever makes it go away either. Baking-soda and vinegar that’s what the taste is… it is supposed to be good for me? It is supposed to be good for us? I dread it now. We're in a rut... it’s the monotony that makes it so awful!
You see, it starts off for us the same way every day, he is awake before the alarm sounds off, he rolls away from me like he’s not going to hear it when it does go off. It wakes me up when he does because the covers get wrenched from me and the cold air of morning is killer on bare skin. The alarm then sounds to mark the morning and the beginning of our ritualistic torture session. I grab the tool and head for it. I mean might as well get it over with as soon as possible right? I think he’s not as averted to these morning affairs as he says he is because in no time he’s up and ready to go.
I put it in my mouth and the back and forth motion as perverse as it sounds isn’t that bad, it’s not like it really reaches the back of my throat. Sometimes it does and sometimes I slip and it shoves really deep making me gag. But that’s so seldom that it really isn’t something to be concerned with.
Meanwhile, he’s standing there. How can he put up with it? Look at me! I’m a mess! Me bending here, him standing there… It’s like we’re part of some crazy circus act that has dried up. This, our everyday practice, I used to like it. It started the day off right - or at least it used to. It was firmer then. Now it doesn't excite me anymore; now, mournfully, I'm dulled and even bored by it. I feel disgusting and ugly. Prostrate here in front of him I feel like there’s no reason to keep doing this. All I want to do is wash off my face and wash out my mouth. I dread having to do it again tonight.
posted by Shannon Hollender @ 1:37 PM
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