“Stop, in the Name of Love…”

Guest Writer: R. L. Norman


     “STOP!!!” I screamed. “PLEASE STOP.”

     As I struggled to get loose but couldn’t move, tears began forming in my eyes. The weight on top of me was way too heavy.

     As I struggled more and more, the grip around my body got tighter and tighter. His arms were wrapped around me, and the bulk of his weight was practically crushing me.

     “Don’t scream, you will wake up the neighbors,” his low, threatening voice whispered into my ear.

     At that point–out of fright–I remained motionless, as his body grinded into me.  I was hoping that my cries and prayers would be answered, that someone heard my scream–because for a few moments, he didn’t move.

     But I was mistaken.

     Suddenly, he thrust his big, hard manhood deeper into my ass. The pain was so bad that I couldn’t help but scream out again!  I was so loud that I was again hoping that the neighbors would have heard me. 

     And before I knew it, he suddenly started fucking my virgin ass hard, fast and rough. Again I tried to yell out “STOP” but the pain was so excruciating at this point I could hardly get my own voice pass my lips.

     Then suddenly, I had an out of body experience as he raped me.

     My mind went back to the beginning, and how I happened to be on this blind date in the first place.

     You see, during my sophomore year in college at Tuskegee University in Alabama, I was spending the summer in Dallas, Texas. I was with a group of other students trying to get some hands-on sales experience by selling bibles and medical dictionaries door-to- door.

     Yes, you read it correctly!  Bibles and medical dictionaries, of all things.  

I had attended a seminar at school, where this company was recruiting college students for what they called “easy money.” You know that term means a lot to financially struggling college students. We were hooked! The things we do to make money in college (SMH—Shaking My Head).

     About 50 of us drove cross-country, and we didn’t know anyone in Dallas. So, we had to basically find our own way and survive. Upon our arrival, we found out that it was not easy money or an easy life.  From the very beginning, it was a struggle to survive. 

     I did meet several people during my days there and one in particular: Clifford.  He came to be my ally, my friend.

     When I knocked on his door, he answered in a flamboyant and grand way. Immediately, I was surprised, shocked and intrigued.

     He was about fifty years old and a real “queen,” as they say. He didn’t buy a bible or medical dictionary. Instead he tried to buy me. I turned down his numerous overtures eventually he became my gay mother away from home, so to speak. He introduced me to the gay scene in Dallas, and numerous people along the way.

    But during that time that summer, I became very lonely and homesick. Being a door-to-door salesman was a very emotional and mentally-challenging job. The rejections were becoming too much to handle.

    So, to help me out, Clifford suggested that I go on a blind date with a friend of his. I agreed because the gay bar scene was not for me. All I did was stand against the wall, feeling depressed.  And I am sure that is why no one ever approached me.

     The night of my blind date, Clifford’s friend Randy picked me up from Clifford’s house at 8 p.m. sharp. When Randy walked into the room, I was pleasantly surprised and excited!  He was “phine:” about thirty-years-old, pure dark-skinned, 6′ 2″, about 230 pounds of muscle, goatee and fade haircut. My 5’11, slim 155-pound frame looked like a little boy standing next to this real man.

     Instantly, Randy “swept me off my feet.”  He took me to a nice restaurant for dinner, then to a jazz bar to listen to music and talk some more. He was so endearing that I felt like a school girl on a first date.

     When we left the bar, he suggested we go back to his place to watch TV. I readily agreed because I was having the best time ever since I arrived in Dallas.

     Randy’s apartment was very neat and well-kept. He had very expensive taste. There was what appeared to be very pricey artwork and statues all around. And the focal point was that the apartment overlooked the skyline of Dallas from the 44th floor. 

    But I should have known something was wrong when he said the TV in his living room was broken, so we had to go into the bedroom. I could not imagine a man like this with a place like this having a broken TV!  But I agreed.

    We sat on his bed where he kissed me for the first time. Eventually, the TV was watching us as we kissed, cuddled and hugged.  It was all good until his hands got very invading.

     Randy was trying to take off my clothes, even as I kept pushing his hands away and resisting his advances. I repeatedly told him “No;” but at one point, he forcibly unfastened my pants, pulling them down as he had me pinned down on the bed.

     Before I knew what was happening, he’d undid his pants, pulled them down and thrust his dick in my ass!  And, as he was penetrating and pounding into me, I’m thinking, “This is not happening.”  But after a while, I was in so much shock that I no longer felt  the pain.

     After what seemed like hours, Randy panted heavily in my ear, shot his seed inside of me and collapsed on top of me.  Then, after a few moments, he rolled over. I just lay still and didn’t move.  

     Actually, I couldn’t move.  I was numb and in shock.

     After I got my senses together, I asked him to take me home.  He declined.  So, I slowly got dressed and proceeded to walk out of his house.  I tried to figure out how to get back to Clifford’s house.

     I walked aimlessly down the street until eventually, Randy showed up.  As he took me back to Clifford’s, I did not say a single word. Even after we arrived back at Clifford’s house, I couldn’t speak. I just nodded my head at Clifford with a quick fake smile, and went to his guest room.

     For several weeks, I continued to be paralyzed and utterly dazed about my body being violated. I hardly spoke or went outside because I felt…. I don’t know how I felt. I was just in limbo.

     I was experiencing so many emotions that included guilt, shame, fear, denial, anger and sadness.  I was so confused!  I was on an emotional roller coaster.  

     But I knew one thing; I didn’t want anyone to find out.

     And, the following thoughts plagued me:  Did I tease him? Did I lead him on? Did I let him go too far that he couldn’t turn back?  Was it my fault? 

     Or is he just a rapist?

     I didn’t know what to do. Should I tell somebody? How does it look for a man reporting rape by another man?  But I wish I had told somebody.  I wish I had him prosecuted. I wish he would rot in jail. I am sure he did it to someone else because I let him get away with it. And that is my fault because I didn’t tell.

     Well, now I am telling and it feels good.

    Many people believe that sexual assault is only committed by men against women. The majority of sexual assaults are perpetrated by men; however, the fact of the matter is that 1 out of every 10 men is sexually assaulted.  And most of those go unreported.

     Rape is Rape.  It doesn’t matter if you are a man or a woman. And if you feel that you have been raped, TELL SOMEBODY…ANYBODY …..PLEASE.

     Rape is not Sex.  Rape is not Love.  Rape is Rape.  So stop it–in the name of Love. 

    If this has happened to you, make sure that you tell someone because you don’t want to walk a mile in my shoes. They are not comfortable.  

     For assistance, you can contact the Rape and Incest National Network (RAINN) at 1-800-656-4673.  Counselors are available to help you 24/7.

L. Norman is a writer, performer and author of the popular series of novels entitled, “Honey Let Me Tell You.” The fourth and latest installment is “Love Is Complicated.” The sequel will be available soon.  As well, he performs “Norman’s One Night Stand,” a one-man show he conceived and wrote, showcasing the main character of his series.  R. L. also is writing a play based on “Honey Let Me Tell You.”  All of these endeavors are part of the production company he’s forming.  You may reach R. L. at his on line home, www.rlnorman1.wix.com/honeyletmetellyou; by email at: rlnorman@aol.com; on Facebook at RL NORMAN; on Twitter, @rl_norman; and on Instagram: rlnorman1.