Incomings: What Really Becomes of an Incest Survivor

By Angel Dust

I debuted in a series of arranged sexual encounters directed and produced by my older cousins and an aunt. The cousin I co starred with is now deceased, may he RIP. I recall an older him, yea a him that very well knew better to solicit a take on the "show". His words were, "hey cuz, you remember what they use to make us do when we were little?" My reply with a turned up lip and a downward brow was, "yeah" pause... "well u wanna do it again?" DONNING A MUCH DEEPER FUCK U EXPRESSION, "Hell nawl!" He smiled with a slight chuckle as if to indicate it was a joke. Bet if I’d said yea, he’d a been on top of me like a hat on hair. It may have felt good, I really don’t remember how I processed the act. Just know I will not count that as the loss of my virginity. I don’t even know if it was "in". I’m pretty sure the taking of the virginity has to occur with a going of the in. Shit.... Where is it? Who "took it"? Does any of the incest/molestation count?

I recall this one old cat that was giving me money in exchange for brief sexual encounters. No no... it’s not prostituting. I was an indirect pros-ti-tot(a young prostitute) in my younger days when I earned the nick name Angel Dust for being highly sexually addictive, but I’m 17 now so I just happen to know guys that will give me money before, during or after sex because uhh it feels good. [smirk]

Anyway this guy was ailing in health and had to go to the hospital quite often. He was once admitted right before he was due to give me some money for some clothing items he promised me. I called the hospital and was like, "can I come up there and get the money"? He’s all like, "damn Angie, do you even care that I‘m laid up in the hospital?” I said, "Yeah, I care, I said hi!" "But if you don‘t make it, how am I supposed to get the clothes?" "I have to borrow a jacket to wear up there to get the money, If you’re going to give it to me". He reluctantly said he would. So I willingly went my ass up there and collected. He looked better.

The guy that gave me the nick name was called, "Johnny Cool". He said he heard that Angel Dust was some good shit and well... so was I. It stuck and to this day, I wear the "handle" on my chest. He gave me everything a young 14 year old girl could want. What he didn’t give me, I stole from him. The biggest feat was trying to keep him from finding out, until I was out of his presence and safe at home where I lived with my cousin. She was about 18 or 19, an expert at the game and the one that introduced me and my sister to the "skill". It didn’t matter to me that the old perv was 47 at the time. He’d flaunt me in front of his friends. I know someone knew I was just a child but no one cared or dared to bring it up. I cherish the experience, that I’d know better today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Angel Dust
• Release date: Jan 24, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301993079

Angel Dust

I'm an indie author. The experiences I write about in my non fiction novel(s), although negative, cold hearted and harsh, helped me to achieve the strengths I have today.

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Incomings - What Really Becomes of an Incest Survivor

By Angel Dust

All rights reserved.

The contents of this book in any format may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, or otherwise used, except with the prior written consent of the Author, Angel Dust.

Although this is a work of non fiction, all names with the exception of the author have been changed. Any fictitious name, similarity and or likeness to a character is merely coincidental.

Copyright 2012 Angel Dust

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Adult-content rating: This book contains explicit content considered unsuitable for readers ages 14 and under. I set the viewing age due to my having given birth by that age, and while it is not the norm, it is in fact possible. I considered myself mature by then and capable of making decisions on what was suitable to/for me. Some were wise choices as others were and still are not. Content may also be offensive to some readers of all ages. While it is not my intent to offend anyone, I find it necessary to include each occurrence in my own words as it suffices for me as well as some less objectionable or less easily offended readers. This is my story and I'm sticking to it in the manner in which it's been devised

Table Of Contents

Preface

1. Shame On Them

2. The Teacher or The Cop

3. The People and The Plasma

4. He's A Keeper

5. Meeting My Kids and Nem

6. The Thing

7. Computer Love

8. Working Around

9. Bulimia and Boyfriends

10. The Scary Skunk

11. Tests and Timings

12. Social Networking

13. Having Fun

14. Obsessions

15. Falling Apart

16. Anger Management

17. Goal Chasing

18. Dearly Departed

19. Trying My Best

20. Surviving The Shame

Dedications

Links to my internet frequencies

Preface

The title depicts just what it reads. Incomings. Whether it be dicks or dollars, they both came and went with great frequency and intensity. I paired the two because it seemed to be the total makeup of my life history. Every since I can remember, I’ve been exchanging the two in pretty much the same occurrences. If there was dick with no dollars, it was simply because I’d not yet known they were to be coupled. It didn’t take long to figure it out, nor did it take long to master the game and win at it. At least I thought I was winning. The whole time, I was the only one actually playing and the ordeal cost me my sanity. So in all actuality, I’m still writing checks my ass couldn’t cash. Little did I know, I’d pay from the heart and mind for the decisions that once fed me and paid the bills. Some of those bills have since been eradicated. However I’m still struggling. I’m eating, I’m learning. But for my mistakes, ignorance and poor decisions for myself and inevitably others, I’m still paying. I demonstrate that in my many short destructive situationships

That opening paragraph is harsh and I contemplated changing it and have to some degree, because it opens strong, blunt and to the point. I'm choosing to leave it alone. Let it read as it is. It's part of who I am at times. Vulgar language, cold hearted feelings for others, lack of self respect and overall clumsiness and ignorance is expressed throughout my story. As it states in the subtitle, it's what I'd been reduced to. It's what stems from my introduction to a life of sin at the hands of others, from a very young age, and my continuing the lifestyle into my adulthood. I'm not making excuses for my adult actions; however, I do believe had I not experienced the abuse, I would or possibly could know better. Instead I followed suit to what I was subjected to. What was familiar.

My life has been bankrupt, mentally, physically and financially. My heart is tired. My ability to survive is striving. A life filled with molestation, incest, abandonment, promiscuity and rejection lets me know, I’m in a singular sense. I’m fighting solo. Except for the higher power that guides me upward. A power that has and will continue to see me through this. I have faith that I’m writing this all down as regurgitation, because my sorrow is ceasing. It’s only reference now. A time that once was and captured to pass on as a how not to guide. God didn’t intend this path for me. I was mislead. Journeys through ill appointed paths that other’s set for me, were taken, now tossed but treasured. Treasured because I know I'm sharing firsthand information to show how family and trusted individuals are not exempt from causing intentional pain. Yet you'll gradually see in the end, how my faith begins to turn me around for the better. It's a long journey, but a rebirth is near.

Some will read this and meet the conclusion that I am a slut. An edited version of my story has been released and is featured in Ghetto Gurl Memoirs by Euftis Emery. My original title was, Was I Born A Slut or Slowly Acquire This Taste. It’s questioned because as you’ll read here, I appear to have accepted and welcome my overall sexual experiences. Until I recognize myself as previously altered and seek change. Not all incest victims react in the manners in which I have. Some are successful and serene.

My experiences although often gross and negligent by my hand and overseers, were very much necessary to grow. It’s been stated that God will not hand you more than you can bear. I now know that I am blessed and highly favored. I receive and accept your love dear Lord and I Thank You!

»

CHAPTER 1

Where did I put it?

My virginity that is. I really don’t know whom I lost it to, nor when I misplaced it or allowed it to be mishandled. I’ve had encounters with folks that I’d rather not include in possible candidacy for years now. Way back when I was about 5 is when it all began, so you know the choosing was beneath my control. A few years later there it went again and again until by the time I was 11, I was in control of the pickings even though I should’ve been playing with dolls not dicks. Ooh wee! At age 11 I had boyfriends that were 15 and 17 years old and even had a cousin in law or who ever he was, teach me a lesson per se.

The club I was in was simply one of my own, I thought no one else could possibly be this sexually active at my age. I recall being asked what I wanted to be when I grew up and the closest thing to my liking was a call girl. That way I could more so control who got the puddy. I loved having sex, charging for it and being able to complete the task in under 5 minutes. The going time was generally 3 minutes. (patting myself on the back and brushing my shoulder off in a single sweep)Hell naw I’m not bragging but it’s the oldest profession in the world and I mastered it within the first decade of my life. YEA with the help of grown ass men. I take that back, they weren’t grown, they were just bigger and older than me. Punk ass muh…!!

One thing for sure is that I wasn’t too afraid, but do recall the molestation at 5 was more of a nuisance in that he woke me up at odd hours of the night. The only positive thing about that was he’d catch me right before I was about to pee in the bed. That would’ve been a double punishment. His nasty ass and that damn strap from my father for my pissings. The instance at 9 involving a 35 yr old was rather welcoming(The only reason I say welcoming is that I seen him approach other sleepers and hoped he came to me.) until I thrust my young ass way into my first orgasm. I shook and wiggled and threatened to tttttttell on him. Until he tossed me .75 cent and hushed me back to sleep. I got up the next day and bought candy on the house for every body. Yea… back then penny candy was just that, a penny. Never told a soul, I was now in a hot pursuit of that very feeling with boys my own age. I’m now something like what they call a connoisseur.

I debuted in a series of arranged sexual encounters directed and produced by my older cousins and an aunt. The cousin I co starred with is now deceased, may he RIP. I recall an older him yea a him that very well knew better to solicit a take on the show. His words were, hey cuz, you remember what they use to make us do when we were little? My reply with a turned up lip and a downward brow was, yeah pause… well u wanna do it again? DONNING A MUCH DEEPER FUCK U EXPRESSION, Hell nawl! He smiled with a slight chuckle as if to indicate it was a joke. Bet if I’d said yea, he’d a been on top of me like a hat on hair. It may have felt good, I really don’t remember how I processed the act. Just know I will not count that as the loss of my virginity. I don’t even know if it was in. I’m pretty sure the taking of the virginity has to occur with a going of the in. Shit…. Where is it? Who took it? Does any of the incest/molestation count?

Lets see:

1)the sick ass uncle at age 5/6 uncertain of an in.

2)Age unknown with the misfortunate cousin oblivious to an in.

3)Visibly mental adult friend of my great aunts at age 9, there was definitely an orgasm with the gliding and pressing against the clitoris and intense grinding. Hmmm, would the orgasm release constitute a loss? Of virginity that is?

4) The cousins boyfriend that had me accompany him to a neighborhood grocer so he could teach me a lesson for being so well put together for an 11 year old with a flirtatious nature to surmount it. He bent my young ass over onto my knees in an alley and fucked the dog shit outta me. That shit hurt and was most definitely in. So much so that I frequently looked down to see if it would protrude from the other side.

5) I definitely had inward bound encounters with numerous guys at 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, and so on, with offspring produced at 14, 15, 17 and 19; so yea, it(my virginity) is no longer existent as a possession of mine.

I want it back. Is that even possible? I’m not ashamed to admit that I don’t know who I loaned it to. Huh? Hell yea it was a loan if now after all these years I want it back. The only fault is my not telling whomever before hand that it was just practice that would be scratched, unacknowledged and out right effin forgot about. To an extent. It’s obvious I haven’t forgotten about it. It’s more than 40 years later and I’m still in pursuit of it.

I hear young chicks all the time and even some older one’s being able to pin the exact person, time and place. My memories are of sexual encounters with people at times and places that should not have occurred. I asked my daughters if they knew where they’d placed their innards and they knew. So it’s also evident that all traits aren’t automatically enforced. Which is good in this case. I wouldn’t be ashamed of them but it shows that they have respect for themselves enough to know the value of such a place and it’s timing release significance. They were adults by the time I asked them about their virginities, although I frequently spoke with them about abuse and unwelcome events throughout their lives.

I wish I’d had more meaningful sex. Sure it meant something then, it meant I was about to get fucked and add another name of a man that found me irresistible, or as my late husband called it, so damn fuckable. He and others would tell me all the time that their dicks would get hard on sight of me. I believed em. Shid, I’ve touched it myself. Able to press and release the panic button, and complete a spill of wet warmth in 3 minutes or less. I’m good that way, I accredit my skill to the many grooming practices I had as a minor. It’s all mental with a working of the kegel muscles and a little stimuli from a few closed fingers. Never entering the room, just hovering gently over the door with a slight pressing in a circular motion. Then POW… it’s pussy bitches. All over my hand. I smell it, get up, refresh, dress and rest. Until some more fabulous shit to do comes into play. Yes of course I have physical shit to do, but this is about virginity and it‘s initial loss. I say initial because I’ve begun a route to try and re-gain, or claim it. If this were not possible well er uh, now it is. I’m gonna double back and let you see just how negligent I became once the seal was broken and I knew how pussy was/is a weakening tool against men. Ok well your pussy may not be, but mine will break em down bay b. Some of you are thinking to yourselves, this bitch acts like pussy is the wheel or something. Well, this one is and only a licensed driver can pull this mutha fucka ova. Watch this

K… Y’all remember Romell right? You know? Well he’s the mutha fucka that had me sprung and hangin off my square about his tall yella ass from 94 -1996. He's where I left off in an edited version of my story featured in Ghetto Gurl Memoirs by Euftis Emery. Well I on’t speak to him, wait…I’mma keep it 100 witcha or no less than 93%. I gotta keep some of the more embarrassing shit to myself until I can at least figure out how I let it infiltrate what I thought was fool proof. I thought I knew it all. So yea, he cut out and don’t speak to MY ass no more. I played back and forth with C.D. (Curtis Donaldson, he‘s the cat that was bold and cute enough to keep me subdued while Romell didn’t have his cards shuffled. Yea he played with a full deck but often mis-dealed when it came to our relationship)for 15 years, so I’ll be in & out about him.

WAIT WAIT WAIT WAI…. HOL ON A MINUTE

In case you were thinking that I am mocking, ignoring or condoning the incest and molestation in the aforementioned sections, please know that I am most certainly not. Just because I’ve joked and am seemingly fine with the occurrences, doesn’t mean I am and accept it. It didn’t enter my heart as being a crime until I was in my mid 30’s and seeking professional help for not only the pedophilic behavior forced upon me, but also the series of wrongs I’d endured as a child as well. Even though it didn’t physically hurt me, the mental scars are still present within me today. I had a redirected itinerary because of it. It devalued my self worth per Se. I know the events taken place prior to my willing age of 11(which is still wrong but I allowed and maybe provoked the actions of my partners by then) were against my will as well as the law. So pardon my humor and any likeness to disrespect to anyone that takes offense to or have been stained by abuse of any and all sorts. Seriously!

You good? You sure? Ok, I’m just asking before I continue. Alright bay, wipe yo face, I’m cool too. Fuh real. Naw, get ya pop and some more chips n pretzels n shit and sit back down. Goood, ok. Wait gimme 1.

Now, back to the stuff that’ll make you have to close the blinds, react and go wash your dayum hands.

Working at Wonder Bread had it’s perks. Not only was it the highest paying job I’d ever landed, it was full of partner potential. My sole mission is not to secure a partner or a mate of any sort, I just let things flow as they may. My flowings just happen to include that of a man. Always have, but in this case, a man was the last thing on my mind. I was really glad to be doing better financially. I had zero intention of being under the influence and dependence of a man. I could support my family, my new home and car without his hand.

I was in a land contract with the home, so making drastic changes to the structure by adding on or intense decorating wasn’t allowed until I’d lived there for a year at least. My credit wasn’t bad, though it wasn’t terrific either and I was too new on the job to show a sense of financial security. The seller and my agent were right to introduce this brand of contract because little did they know, I was indeed a quitter, walker outer, shit talker and mind changer. It seemed as if everything was handed to me at once. The job the car the house. Hey, now I think I’m cute. Never once had I acknowledged from whence my blessings poured, I just accepted them and patted my own back. Of course there was effort on my part, but with the most high, everything is possible, and without him, well the opposite reigns supreme. It took me years to know and respect these facts. I needed to go through it all to grow. I made so many mistakes on the journey.

In 1997 I really thought Bobby and I could make it. He was a tad bit younger but he was a strongun. Real buff with this masterful lil walk. We worked together, he was cute and the kids liked him. There was a time he helped with my hair and was showing up and out alright. One of the biggest turn offs in a man is his poor hygiene. Bobby would get down right musty at work, understood… it’s work right? But hol on mutha fucka, you off today. What’s that dayum smell? His entire everything stank. His mother told me once that when he was an infant, someone picked him up by his arm all the time leading to him sustaining a broken sweat gland, and it’s really hard to find a product that will defend against odor and moisture. I wanted to ask, well who was picking him up by his tongue and leg? because his breath and ass stank too! I expect to see a little smear or so on worn laundry if you get my drift. But hell this nigga not only didn’t wipe good, he just flat out what’n done shitten. Nasty ass. That was it. The next time he left for anything would be his last. I think he simply went to play a game of basketball and I made the swap out by dropping his shit at his mom’s and never answering the door or phone again. Yea it may sound harsh but after seeing that, it woulda been hard for me to respect him or withstand him sitting on the furniture or leaning up against a wall or anything. Yeah - No, I’m done. No wonder he had that different lil walk goin on, his ass was itchin.

The guy Rufus I got