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“This feels so good,” my mom screams, her voice turns into sobs in the end like the one time I laughed so hard at school I ended up making weird noises.
“My good slut. Ride it harder, make me come, whore!” he grunts.
I don’t exactly know why, but I feel my breathing become faster with each passing second I hear their voices. There is a tingling sensation in my belly that tickles me. I try to ignore it because it makes me feel weird.
So, I force myself to sleep with the decreasing voices from her room.
January 24, 2014–Day 8
I woke up to the familiar sound of the lock. It was time for my daily dose of drug, cleaning, and breakfast which was a slice of bread and a glass of water.
For four days it was the same routine and I hated myself more and more each day after my reaction to the drug. Today wasn’t any different. As Mike left the room I was still under the bittersweet spell of it.
Things changed after day eight. Instead of lying on the bed miserably I started hearing voices coming from outside. It started soft and I couldn’t understand what it was, then the sounds loomed over my room like it was coming through speakers; I didn’t know, maybe it was.
It was the unmistakable voice of sex. There were female moans mixed with a man’s grunts. I could hear the slaps of skin and there was background music.
He was playing me porn.
I tried not to hear, not to focus on it, but it was close to impossible. My body was still alert after the cleaning session and the effect of the drug. No matter how much I wanted to ignore this sound, no matter how much I hated the game he was playing with me I wanted to bring my hand between my legs and touch myself. But that was impossible, too; my hands were still tightly tied to the bed. I tried to press my thighs together, but the cable ties on my ankles didn’t allow me to close my legs.
I closed my eyes in frustration, tried to calm my breaths, but it only intensified the effect of the voices on my body.
How the fuck could I be aroused in the situation I was in?
Was I losing my mind?
Or had I already lost it?
*****
I didn’t know how many hours passed, but I was still watching the ceiling as the moans and screams continued to fill my room. My body was hornier than ever and I couldn’t stop the movement of my hips. The tension in my body was almost painful. The throbbing between my legs was uncomfortable. My nipples were harder, more sensitive than I had ever remembered them being.
I tried to circle my hips in hopes of creating some kind of friction, but it did nothing to help.
Biting my lips I tried to fight this urge, this need.
But I wanted a release.
I needed it like my next breath.
But it never came.
MIKE –Age 13
“Ahhh, fuck!”
Rolling my eyes I groan at the same voices I got accustomed to. This is what happens when your mother is a prostitute. Now, she doesn’t have Johns like she used to, but her Theo was enough to give me a headache. They are good for each other, though –a prostitute and an asshole, such a romantic fairytale.
“Yes, take it down your throat. Take it all, bitch,” Theo shouts. I hear the gurgling noises, I know they’re coming from my mom. The thought should disgust me and it does, but also, in a twisted way, it was making me hard. For years I have grown up hearing these voices. I have grown up with sex. I learned about it so much earlier than I should have. I remember the nights I tried to drown those voices under my pillow, but with each passing day my body started to react to it. With teenage hormones I couldn’t help but get hard. I’ve tried to fight the urge to masturbate to it, but no matter how much I tried I ended up jacking off to the voices.
This time I don’t even bother fighting the urge. I sit up, grabbing a sock from the floor and don’t even feel like I’m doing something wrong.
This is my reality, my life, my normality.
*****
I sit up on the couch in panic. Something wakes me up and soon I realize what it was –my mom is screaming in pain. This scream is different than her sex-scream.
