All characters are 18 or over.
*****
On the outside I've never been weird in any way. I'm popular, with girls and guys. I have normal interests. I go to parties, get drunk, have fun, have normal relationships. I could have sex, normal sex, and enjoy it a normal amount.
But it is only when I think about rape that I really start to feel that heat like nothing else. A hollow aching inside me, yearning to be filled. My breathing shallows; my nipples harden; my clit begins to throb. It's the loss of power, the adrenaline rush born of pure fear. It's the raw excitement of it. I've tried rationalising it to myself a thousand times, but I rarely make progress.
I never admitted it to anyone else. It was something for me, on my own. To be kept in the deepest recesses of my mind. To be brought out only when I'm alone, late at night, one hand on my computer keyboard and the other slipped down into my underwear, or teasing my nipple.
It was only when I started college that I began to look for something more real.
I loved the idea of student life, even of studying, but the main thing that drew me towards college life was the rape. Everywhere I went, statistics flashed at me. 1 in 4 students who attended college were raped, read the pamphlets. Signs coloured red for danger became red for passion and lust. I was attracted to college because to me, it symbolised everything I had ever fantasised about.
I settled on a Social Anthropology course, and off I went. Independent, alone, vulnerable. And yet I seemed destined to be disappointed. I met lovely people, I was treated nicely, but I remained firmly unsatisfied.
I was regularly attending big parties, all over the campus and in the town nearby. Sex and drugs were everywhere. I went to one particular party in this massive unoccupied house. I went to the toilet where I saw a girl, passed out in the bath, with her skirt hanging just high enough to show her panties. She looked so revealing that I was tempted to rape her myself.
On the way back, I passed a small room, with only a chest of drawers in it. Sitting on the floor by the chest of drawers was a guy, clutching a bottle. I had no idea why he was in there, what he was doing, but somehow I felt I had struck lucky.
I stumbled into the room, pretending to be overly drunk and to not notice him. I slumped forwards onto the floor, making sure my skirt was pulled up to show the bottom half of my bum, and waited.
"Hello?" His voice was a little croaky. He repeated himself, before shaking me lightly. "Are you okay?"
Great, I thought, he's too nice to rape me. I was just about to get up when his hand drifted down from my shoulder, ever so slowly, and onto my bum.
My pulse quickened. He lightly squeezed my bum, paused, and squeezed it again. I didn't know what his other hand was doing until I heard the sound of his zipper opening. As he pulled out his dick, his hand slid down from my bum, under my panties and began stroking my pussy.
It was all I could do not to moan out-loud. The intensity of emotion running through me charged up my sensitivity, and each touch sent a spark running through my body. His stroking became deeper and deeper, harder and harder, building me up. I felt him swing his leg over, so he was sitting on my thighs, just below my bum. I felt him pull my panties aside, and prepare to stick his dick into me.
I wasn't completely satisfied though. I wanted rape. Proper rape. I wanted a struggle, I wanted force. I didn't want to be limp on the floor, pretending not to notice. I wanted the fire that I'd always fantasised about.
I pretended to slowly gain consciousness. "Wha... What's happening?" I asked, groggily. But my plan backfired. The guy gave a squeal of fear, jumped up and ran out of the room before he even put his dick back in his flies.
I lay there, disappointed. Half of me regretted having done it - I could so easily find another room and do the same to another guy, expect this time I'd stay unconscious. But another part of me protested. This wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to do it properly. I wanted to fulfill my darkest fantasy in exactly the way I'd imagined. I had to try something else. I picked myself up off the floor, and returned to the party, my mind buzzing with my next plan.
There was little else on my mind for the whole party. I later learned that it had gone on until 6:00 am, but I didn't stay that long. Aroused, and wanting to relieve myself, I made an excuse and left for my dorm. It was a thirty minute walk, but I paid little attention to where I was going.