Holocaust Booty

Yes, I’m Very Much Aware I’m Going to Hell

It was a new thing, we had only started hanging out a couple weeks prior. I wouldn’t call it “dating,” just “hanging out.” It included sex, so like, the best kind of hanging out.

We were at my place, it was early in the evening. The lights were on (which, I know now, was a bad decision). Things got sexual. At first I wasn’t aware that this was the first time we had fooled around with the lights on. Why would I notice such a thing?

His front appeared as it always had. Light or not, a penis is more defined by its touch, width, its curvatures. Aesthetically all dicks are pretty much the same. Butts on the other hand, well, they just aren’t.

He turned around. Oh, this isn’t going to work, I thought. NO, stop that’s horrible, don’t think that. A person shouldn’t be judged by their butt!

I had felt his butt many times before this moment, but never got a good look at it. In the light it appeared flat, flabby, no definition what so ever. The natural line between cheek and thigh didn’t exist, as if his butt cheeks were just an extension of his thighs. Determined to not be so shallow, I looked back at his butt.

It kind of looks like the photos of the emaciated Holocaust prisoners.

Yes, my mind went there. STOP, NO, STOP, I thought, but the image remained.

Fuck it away. I tried, but the Holocaust was still in there.

We had sex three more times after that, each time I pictured the Holocaust. Looking back, I don’t know what’s more disturbing, that his butt reminded me of the Holocaust or that I can climax while thinking of the Holocaust.

We stopped hanging out. I donated to the Jewish Museum in Berlin.

And yes, you don’t have to remind, I’m fully aware that I’m going to hell.