Bald Little Cunny
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Bald Little Cunny
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08/03/2017 02:59pm GMT | Updated March 9, 2017
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Engagement Editor, HuffPost South Africa
Please note, this article contains graphic depictions of sexual assault.
I was about five years old when I first touched a penis. I didn't want to, but I did. He was a family member in his teens. We were watching television at my grandmother's house when he motioned for me to come sit on his lap. Slowly, he moved his hands up my skirt and touched my vulva. Then he moved my hand towards his crotch and had me feel him up. I didn't want to, but I did.
I was about 10 years old when I first saw a penis. I didn't want to, but I did. He was a random man on the street. I was on my way to buy bread at the local Spar. I had just turned the corner from our street when a man sat down on the ramp leading up to the building on my left. His sudden movement caught my attention so I looked in his direction and there it was, his penis peeking through the shorts he was wearing, against his thigh. I thought it was a mistake but then the same man, a number of times after that, did the same thing. I recognised him after that and so each time I saw him, I crossed the street. I didn't want to see it, but I did.
When I was 13, I was sitting in my Grade 7 English class when one of the boys whispered my name. When I turned around there it was, his penis in his hands. I was shocked and turned around without a word. We were sitting right at the back of the class so the teacher had no idea what was going on. Some of the other kids giggled -- boys and girls. I was embarrassed. He then said: "I showed you mine, now you show me yours." I didn't, but no matter what I did, I could not unsee his.
When I was 25 I was at a party with my friends. We had been drinking and celebrating a birthday. At some point I got tired but there was no space on the couch. I decided to put my legs on the laps of everyone on the couch while the rest of my body leaned onto an ottoman next to it. There was a blanket over my legs. Suddenly, I felt a hand reach over and touch my crotch. I froze for a few seconds, shocked and unsure of what was happening to me. I then moved the man's hand from my crotch hoping that he would stop. The more I pushed his hand away the more he pushed back, now trying to unbutton my jeans. I moved, put two ottomans together and uncomfortably lay on them until I could fall asleep. As soon as the sun came up, I drove home with my best friend. I didn't want that man to touch me, but he did.
Every single one of the men in the above scenarios committed a crime. It is a crime to expose yourself to someone without their consent. It is a crime to force someone to touch your genitals. It is a crime to touch someone's genitals without consent. The Criminal Law (S exual Offences and Related Matters) Amendment Act 32 of 2007, explicitly lays this out. These and other similar acts are defined as sexual assault. I didn't know then, and I can bet good money that many people do not know either now. These acts are not just harassment -- they are explicit violations.
But even if I knew, I just did not have the courage to say it out loud. In each instance, my voice crawled deep into a dark room within my larynx and closed the door shut. When it finally unlocked the door, my voice came out weak, and I felt like the time to speak had come and gone.
I also wondered about what would happen if I did speak up. What would I say? If our society fails to take rape seriously, then what happens when "all" someone did was touch me inappropriately or show me his penis. There's a minimisation of these kinds of violations and assaults. If it is not violent in the age-restricted definition, then it didn't happen or it is not that big a deal. We're seeing this play out in the way the Okmalumkoolkat defense force argues : it wasn't rape, he just made a mistake. It was the alcohol that made him walk into a woman's room, fondle her and tell her to keep quiet. It was his brokenness that made him do it .
Rape culture is rife. Not only in South Africa, but in the world. It continues to thrive, cushioned by a comfortable denialism from various sects of our society. Just the other day, Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka highlighted the fact that violence plagues women more than any other thing in the world. And what rape culture does is shame us and teach us to be silent about it.
Rape culture teaches us that when men catcall us, when they call us names for not wanting to speak to them, when they grab our arms as we walk past them, when they flash their penises at us, when they kiss us without our permission, add pills to our drinks, give us alcohol to help us "loosen up", they are just being men. It's what they do and our protesting is us being difficult, it's us trying to "change the rules of the game". At what point does a 13-year-old boy learn that if he shows a girl his penis then she must show him her vulva? At what point does a teenage boy decide that it is OK for him touch all his toddler girl cousins? What makes them do that is rape culture. It is not a myth -- it is women's reality.
On Wednesday night, I had the honour of attending the first ever Women's Assembly at the University of the Witwatersrand, my alma mater. The event was entitled: The Fear Factory, a term coined in Prof Pumla Gqola's book "Rape". Gqola herself was the main speaker, and student activists performed and spoke about the importance of feminist activism in all spaces. The fear factory is about the manufactured feeling of fear that allows for rape and its culture to thrive in our society. You can read an explanation of it from her book in this extract.
The manufacturing of fear is about power. In the conversation on Wednesday, Gqola spoke about disrupting the status quo and refusing to remain silent even though society dictates we should be. She said feminists needed to stop seeing fear as a dirty concept, and confront it. While our desire is to overcome and claim our place as survivors we should not be afraid to be victims too because patriarchy and violence victimise us. We should own our fear, this way we can confront it. Fear does not make us weak.
Each time I did not say anything about what happened to me I was afraid I was afraid of what my family would say, what my friends would think or what my teacher would say, and then I was afraid of what I would do to the career of a young man who has a future ahead of him. I couldn't just speak. What I didn't realise what that all this fear came from me wanting to protect others and neglect myself. Rape culture forces us to neglect ourselves because you cannot air our dirty laundry for others to see. These conversations are not for the world, they are secret and shameful.
Often we are told not to be angry, not to fight back, not to rage but rather to behave, remain in line and forgive. On Wednesday night, activist and filmmaker Beverley Palesa Ditsie said she did not understand why women were not fighting harder, why we were not defending ourselves.
"If women were a country under siege, then we would long have called a state of emergency," she said.
A war is being waged against our bodies and we should not be afraid to fight back.
I didn't ask to touch a penis that first time. I didn't ask to see a penis that first time, or the second time. I didn't ask for a man to try and force hands down my pants at a party. I am not the one who did anything wrong, they are. It's their shame to carry. Not mine.
Engagement Editor, HuffPost South Africa
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Literotica: 5 websites to quench your online erotica thirst
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Websites like Literotica to get you hot and bothered. (Pexels)
Literotica, and other sites like it, will fill your evenings with erotic passion.
Imagine this: You’re at home and in the mood for some sexual mischief with erotica.
Except you’re alone under the covers and you don’t quite know how to satisfy those urges.
You’ve tried a couple of sites already, but it’s just not doing it for you this time. Sure, the internet has trillions of options when it comes to sexual fantasies, but it’s easy to get lost in the mix.
Without realising, you end up scrolling through the pages of Google for hours but, much like Bono, you still can’t find what you’re looking for.
Let’s consider something new, something exciting, something that will bring us that oh-so-personal release.
Videos are fun, but you’ve been there done that and it might be time to switch things up. Why not try to titillate your mind with some words instead of images? Rather than seeing the hairy butts of ageing actors, why not imagine your own, fictitious, perfect bottom?
Well, consider this our gift to you: A shortcut to the wonderful and inventive world of online erotica, where imagination is your only restrain (unless you’re into bondage, of course). This selection of erotica sites will hopefully save you some precious minutes next time you’re bored of Pornhub, YouPorn or GayForIt.
It is the place for free erotic fiction, and there are many websites that you can go to.
Needless to say these steamy reads are for 18+ only. Underaged readers need not apply.
When it comes to online erotica, Literotica is a titan of the genre – the clue is literally in the name. It leads the field like a Russian dominatrix, offering thousands of erotic stories with hundreds of tags that explore every sexual fantasy.
From vanilla to hardcore BDSM to everything in-between, we guarantee you’ll find something to float your boat to completion. It even has audiobooks for those who’d rather lie back and relax.
One of the most popular genre tags of this site is actually literotica cheating in which there’s an erotic story about cheating partners. Some people have some naught fantasies, it seems. No judgements here.
Literotica lesbian and Literotica gay erotica are also very popular on the site. There are many Literotica tags to pick from.
Of course, if you want some fiction erotica that caters to the LGBT+ community, PinkNews has you covered too, pals. Just head over to Nifty for some hot gay, lesbian, bi and plus action . With 23,000-plus stories, we guarantee it’ll leave your little gay heart satisfied. You won’t be disappointed with Nifty .
Bright Desire also features a wide range of free sex stories open to everyone, with a focus on what often missing in porn : the fun of it all. Not only is Bright Desire sex-positive, but it also offers videos and erotic stories that are all about passion, intimacy and straight up pleasure.
Much like Literotica, Lush Stories is a leader of the genre. Ghost sex? Check. Sex through portals? Check. Watersports sex? Check and check. Sexy ghosts playing water polo?
Probably. With 51,018 stories and counting, plus some 198,898 blog posts and 3,041,349 forum posts, we’d be surprised if you don’t find something that toasts your buns on there. Lush Stories works as a social network, too, giving you the chance to connect with other readers and maybe write your own stories.
Celebs you didn’t know have an LGBT sibling
Slightly differing from Literotica, this next website Sssh is operated by women for women—and we’re not complaining. It counts thousands of erotic stories, as well as sexy sex education articles so that you know the best way to do you.
Looking for something a little bit more refined? Erotic Review actually has editors that make sure you only read the best erotic stories out there. No typos or poor grammar here. It’ll satisfy your inner nitpicker and the most high-brow of your fantasies.
Have fun reading the erotic literature, my darlings. Happy Reading!
Josh Milton
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Sleeping With My Sisters
By Adele Slaughter
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by
Stephen King
The Male Glance
by
Lili Loofbourow
Prince of Peace
by
Lauren Markham
Fear Factors
by
Veronique Greenwood
Omnipresence
by
Ann Neumann
Nights we all piled into the same double bed.
Five girls, a huddled mass of elbows and rear ends.
Each one massaging, scratching, begging
another to rub her back.
The little two got crammed in between
our arm pits, honeysuckle on the vine.
All those girls and I was the biggest,
the one that took everything first,
even stepped on a rusty nail
saving my sisters the shot, the infection.
Mary fought me—
a sister with more hip and bigger breasts.
She was choppy: red cut curls, round stormy eyes.
Her nails bitten, not any moon showing.
Contrary, a curl, so proud of being so very good
and so very bad.
Sister—dark and wild.
Her hips are wide and spread easily
but tight like a wet wish bone
she opens to let men in.
They only get one wish
which they can’t tell.
She was like humid weather,
something I learned to endure.
Her temper sat in a cold bucket
turning her white skin red.
When her lower lip shoved out
the others gave her anything she wanted
to keep her calm,
but not from me. Not from me.
Fighting was a kind of loving in our family.
That Sunday all us girls were crammed in the back seat
I got the window
She pinched my thigh.
After church, I took the bottom sheet off her bed.
She ripped the bedding off mine
leaving me a bare mattress and a bed to make.
I threw her sheets and blankets down the stairs.
A rage of hot wind flew at me.
I turned, raised my right hand.
Stop it Mary, please stop.
My fist landed in the middle of her back. Hard.
Winded she slumped. Sobbed.
Her fingertips scratched the wooden floors.
It is nightlife now. He rises above me
looking like a man on a cross,
his hands supporting himself over my body.
His right leg tucked behind his left,
he is pushing himself into me
searching for a sweet spot.
I press my legs into the small of his back.
Just as I climb up toward his breath
I miss sleeping with those sisters—
I miss the honeysuckle I used to pick and suck
those sweet insides—sweet yellow pollen fills my lungs
and they are in my skin, rubbing my back,
tangled in the sheets. Please, little sister
please rub my back just a little longer.
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