I’ll make this brief, as I am at work.
He walked over from his building to my door; I left it unlocked for him. He’s my neighbor, Haitian and African-American from Athens, 6’1’’, slim frame, no ass, and gorgeous dick. All we were ever supposed to be were fuck buddies. It was very convenient considering our proximity; I felt like I was back at Hampton University having the DL boys sneak into room 437 at Harkness Hall.
He entered my room wet from the rain on this Thursday. It was about 6pm. — Sometimes fuck buddies transition into chill buddies and that’s cool, too. — I raced to get him in bed so we could start watching previous episodes of Scandal. He was unfamiliar with the show. His excuse: he didn’t want to get caught up in the hype. –Bullshit–
As we watched Olivia and Fitz do their warn out waltz of a relationship, I laid on his chest. Ugh, I’m such a bottom at times. During some arbitrary scene where they kissed and fussed about the jungle fever love triangle, which includes Jake Ballard, he, I’ll call him Alex, took his middle digit and ran it along the crack of my ass. After he rubbed around the hole, he took his hand out my shorts, stuck that digit in his mouth so that it dripped with saliva, he then slipped back down my basketball shorts and tried to slip his finger into me.
I thought it erotic, pleasurable, that is until he said “I have to check to make sure you haven’t been fuckin any other niggas, “then Olivia spouted, “I am not a prize, I’m not something you win” and I thought or ‘buy or possess’
He had to leave; nobody exploits me, but me. As far as sexual economics are concerned bottoms in the LGBT community are (in a blanket statement) the equivalent to women: chattel. I have no desire to be placed on a pedestal or auction block; to be fingered, poked and prodded by a Top, whom wants to make sure he has invested in good, undamaged property.
Dramatic? I don’t think so.
Patriarchal societies have often commodified the body as property. Marriages were bartering systems: a daughter traded from two pigs and hen. When Olivia Pope shouts “you don’t get to win me,” she is proclaiming Fitz is not in competition with other me. Whether or not he does something more ostentatious than his (so called) competitors, she by default does become his. When Alex had no more than his fingernail in my wet asshole, he was trying to see if someone else was getting his prize. Something he thought he had one, something I never informed or led him to believe was up for possession, but it seems innately that men (another blanket statement) see property and persons as exchangeable.
Essentially, I was being fingered into monogamy. Perhaps Alex thought if he shamed me, I would be more inclined to becoming his and only his house hoe. If fingered my hole, as if he were my mom shaming me for not washing behind my ears, so the next time I showered I would make sure I cleaned them. To his credit, the fingering didn’t hurt and he did it pleasantly with a smile showing casing his under-bite. I learned a while ago, people not only fear what they don’t understand, but degrade and label those they cannot control. One of many purposes of labeling one a whore, slut, or promiscuous is to dehumanize and shame into societal norms. Nathaniel Hawthorne’s 1850 high acclaimed opus The Scarlet Letter is a fictionalized description of what women or those scene as the submissive one in a sexual situation go through in real life. Hester Prynne was made to wear the scarlet A (for adultery )to shame her into never acting out her desires again in her colonial community.
When I decide to let only one man enter me, it’ll be because I decided. Not because I was won or bought as property. Or because you want to shame me into being monogamous.
And his finger did not get far —I’ve got good snatch back.