‘Not all that glitters’ by Guest Contributor Ingrid

“Let me come over to your side and just rub on you until I come. I won’t enter you.”

I was thinking: “fool you mussee lost yo mind cos you aint ever gon enter me if I have anything to do with it!”

“Please. You’ve made me this way, now I have to release. You are so fine. You have to help me.”

I was trapped in a pickup truck with a man I did not know. I had met him about five hours earlier. We had so much in common; it was refreshing. We both had Masters’ in English and had taught English and shared a love for cooking. He owned his own restaurant and I wanted to eventually own mine. We even talked about having an African cooking night at his restaurant while I was here on the island. I learned he was taken because he was honest about that and that endeared him to me even more. He also had the U.S. Black educated immigrant experience which I find so valuable. It puts you on a bit of an equal footing once you can relate on that level because it is a very specific one. And as a Black man, he got it. I wanted to hang out and talk shop.

Most of the men I had met so far, had only been partially educated, opting to drop out as early as third grade and go to work, albeit sometimes for hardship reasons. They operated on a very primal level with very little respect for women’s agency. Most of them operated on instincts. I was fresh meat. On pretense of “welcoming” me to their island, I’ve been enveloped in more than my fair share of overly tight and a tad bit more-than-is-appropriate lingering hugs. A good morning with a smile means you want them. This is so frustrating. I thought Jay would be different because he came with all these other characteristics.

He had picked me up after he had shut down his restaurant. We were heading for drinks at a local spot I hadn’t visited yet. I was excited to talk to him more. When we arrived at the bar it was closed. He suggested that we drive to the ocean and chill under the stars and go for a swim. I didn’t resist because he had already began to talk sex and I figured I needed to play my cards carefully. Once we were in the water, he picked me up and sat me on him and pulled out his dick from his swim trunks. Then the begging began.

I can’t swim so I was very careful not to piss him off. We were already far out at sea, probably too far for me to wade back; the tide was a bit strong and it was pitch black. I had little choice but to let him keep pleading while I thought of clever ideas to distract him. I told him that we should get back to shore so we could continue our chatting. My teeth were chattering by now so I think he took pity on me and walked us back ashore. I got back in the pickup and asked if he could go drop me off because I was so cold. He refused because he said the night was still young. He parked the pickup and I told him this wasn’t what I had planned for the night. He said he didn’t plan things, he just wanted to go with the flow.  I reasoned with him that he had a girlfriend and as a feminist, I didn’t believe in taking a sister’s man. He kept making excuses. This was about us, now, in the moment. She wasn’t around. She would never know. I reasoned that we could have sex the next night once I resolved my guilt about his girlfriend. That I would be in the mood then.

He attempted to move into my half of the cabin on a number of occasions promising that it would be quick. I kept thinking this fool must think I am a child with the way he kept begging, pouting, and coaxing. He tried various avenues from touching to wanting me to suck to him asking if he could suck. When all this failed and my attempts at getting him to talk about his thesis fell flat he forcefully began directing my head and my hands. He weighed over 300lbs so I knew if he got more aggressive I’d be in pain. So I played along telling him how grossed out I am with oral sex and how I had such an incurable yeast infection last year.

After I realized that he wasn’t going to take me home before ejaculating, I made a pact with him. I’d come out of the cab and face him while he jerked off. That way I figured I had a bit of an advantage. That didn’t quite work out the way I planned. Once I came around, he turned me around and tried to pull off my swim trunks so that he “could just place it between my cheeks.” Finally we settled on the compromise of him pawing at my clit and me playing with his balls. It took so long for him to come; I’m sure I’d managed to ruin it for him but he was so intent on coming so he didn’t seem to mind all the hassle he had to go through. He had the nerve to ask me if I wanted him to come on my face or boobs. I said neither. He laughed.  After coming, he wanted me to lick his fingers. I couldn’t have been more grossed out.  He just laughed and said “I see you want none of me.”

This whole ordeal lasted about an hour and some. I kept praying even though I knew how inappropriate it was, that he come quick and take me home before he changed his mind. The irony of the whole thing was that, for someone his size, I expected to see a sizeable penis to match the stature. But no. And even when he said he was hard, he was still limp so I’m still confused how I could “have done this to him” when there was no evidence to show my crime.
I felt unclean when I arrived back my host family’s and headed straight for the shower. He’s Whatsapped a few times asking why I’m not picking his calls but the funny thing is, my phone actually hasn’t rung. I’ve processed this for a few days and I’ve felt strongly about saying something to him about how disgusted I am with him, but the island is small and there are gangs. So instead, I’ve decided to write out my anger and disgust. What a disappointment. I guess it goes to show that education is not everything afterall. To some men women are still just objects to provide pleasure and nothing more. I’ve struggled with not blaming myself. I know that I will not be smiling at any more island men, that’s for sure!