Reluctant Rapist

The first time I noticed him I was having a cup of coffee with some friends at the mall. We'd been out doing a lot of looking and a little buying and our feet had been hinting it was time for a break so we'd nipped into Starbucks for a while.

I have to admit he was a honey. He was six foot, possibly a bit taller, blond, with these gorgeous blue eyes. He was solidly built, but not fat or overly muscular, just a big man. And not more than a year or two older than any of us at the table -- twenty five at the max.

He was sort of giving us the eye, but not blatantly staring. I thought that it was me he was eyeing, but the way we all sat up slightly straighter we probably all felt the same way. I'd never really noticed how some women brace their shoulders to make their boobs prominent. I almost hissed at the others to cool it, then I realised I was doing the same thing.

We sort of lingered over our coffee but he didn't approach, finishing his up and heading back into the mall. We finished our own coffee and hit the shops again.

It was odd, but now that we'd actually seen Clark we seemed to see him all over the mall. We'd be coming out of a shop and he'd be passing by. We'd stop and look in a window, discussing what was there and one of us would nudge the others because Clark was wandering by again.

We'd called him Clark after Clark Gable of movie fame. He had those same smouldering looks that Clark Gable had, even if he was a blond.

After a while we'd seen him hanging around so often that we knew it couldn't be coincidence. He was attracted to one of us and was probably working up his nerve to come over and say hullo. It's funny how even a honey like that could be daunted when faced with approaching a woman when she's with several other girls.

Annie finally suggested we split up for a while.

"If we all go our separate ways for half an hour it will give Clark a chance to approach me," she said.

There were a couple of rude remarks at that but we agreed because we all wanted to give him a chance to approach us. Anyway, we split up and went various ways.

Wandering around by myself I saw Clark a couple of times but he didn't approach me. Mind you, a couple of other guys did but I just gave them the brush off. Eventually the half hour was up and we all met up again to compare results.

We all just sort of looked at each other and shook our heads. Either Clark wasn't interested in any of us or he was excessively shy.

"Not a total loss," said Annie. "A couple of guys asked for my number. I actually gave it to one guy. He was cute."

"You're such a tart," laughed Vicki, "but I have to admit the wolves seemed to be thick on the ground tonight."

As far as we were concerned that was it for the night and we headed for the exit. And there was Clark, walking out of the exit in front of us. We laughed, split up and headed to our cars. Annie had come with me and so I had to detour past her place to drop her off and then I headed home.

Once home I made myself some dinner, then decided to take it easy and veg out for the evening. I had a quick shower and put on some pyjamas and settled down to watch some TV. It was odd, but when I glanced out the front window I could have sworn that I saw Clark walking down the street. That guy had really made an impression.

Eventually I went to bed, and then to sleep. I'm not sure what woke me up, but I suddenly realised that I was awake. You know the way you sometimes do in the middle of the night. I looked at the clock and saw it was just after midnight. I grumbled mildly to myself and started to nestle down to go to sleep again when my bedroom light was turned on.

Now I live alone, so having my light go on was something of a shocker. I sat up, saying "What the fuck?"

Clark was there. In my house. Actually, in my bedroom. He still looked stunning, a real honey. And what did this honey who was trespassing in my bedroom say to me?

"Don't swear," he said. "I don't like it and it's not ladylike."

I couldn't believe it. He breaks in and the first thing he does is criticise my language?

"Well, excuse me," I said, the sarcasm so heavy it practically thumped to the floor.

"Excused," he said, "but do try not to do it again."

By this time I was out of bed. My pyjamas were flannelette, and covered me as effectively as a blanket, and there was no way I was going to lie in bed with an intruder in my bedroom.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded. "I want you to leave immediately."

"I saw you at the mall and decided I wanted to get to know you," he told me, "You really should lock your doors and window when you're home. And I don't want to leave. I want to get to know you better."

"Well I don't want to get to know you better right now. Why don't you meet me at the mall some time and we can get to know each other better there."

Clark frowned at that. "Don't be silly," he told me. "We can't get to know each other properly in public. People just don't do that."

I suddenly had this chill running down my spine as it dawned on me just what he meant by getting to know me better.

"You know, I don't think I want to get to know you at all. I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave immediately or I'll have to call the police and have you removed."

"You can't," came the reply. "Your phone is in my pocket."

A glance at the bedside table showed the phone wasn't there anymore. That little chill was getting colder. I decided to lay it on the table and see if the mealy mouthed bastard would say what he meant straight out.

"By getting to know me, do you mean you intend to rape me?" I flat out asked.

"Not necessarily," was the surprising answer, "although that is one of the options I have in mind.

I blinked at that. What other options did he have in mind, and were they preferable to rape? I certainly hoped so.

Before I could ask what he meant he was talking again.

"If I asked you, would you take off those pyjamas and lie down on the bed so I can get to know you properly?"

Strip off and lie down so he could rape me? Fat chance. I'd still be fucked and by agreeing I couldn't even claim rape.

"No," I said, not bothering to amplify the statement, just letting the flat denial lie there.

"Oh, good," the swine said. "If you'd agreed I'd have known you were a tart and I'd have had to go elsewhere. I don't like having sex with tarts. You never know where they've been. Are you a virgin?"

How to answer. Is he going to decide not to take me if I'm a virgin or jump for joy and pounce? I decided to go with the truth.

"No. I'm not. Does that mean you'll leave now?" I added hopefully.

"No, no. Not being a virgin is a good thing. I don't have to worry about your crying and screaming when I take you. You'll know what to expect. So in answer to your earlier question, yes. Reluctant though I am to force you to do something you don't want to do, I am going to rape you. But don't worry. You'll enjoy it."

"And the moon is made of green cheese. Did it occur to you that I don't want to be raped, whether I enjoy it or not?"

He looked at me as if I was slightly dense.

"Well, of course not," he said pointedly. "That's why they call it rape. But don't let it worry you. Secretly, all girls want to be raped as long as the man is handsome and doesn't beat them up. I'll just be fulfilling your fantasies and you won't even need to feel guilty about having sex with a stranger, because it's not your fault."

It was, I decided, time to leave Clark and his fantasies and go elsewhere. Preferably an elsewhere that contained other people who could explain to Clark the he was not doing women a favour by raping them, no matter how good at it he was.

I estimated that I was closer to the en suite doorway than he was and there was a lock on that door and a window I could get through. I darted to the door and found that Clark could move fast when he wanted to.

He caught me before I'd gone more than two or three steps, effortlessly taking hold of my arm and bringing me to an abrupt halt.

"Your reluctance is becoming and shows that you're suitably modest, but you've demonstrated that now so don't try to run again. It would annoy me."

I was trying to pull my arm out of his grasp, but he didn't even seem to notice. It wasn't that he was holding me tightly, just firmly, with no wriggle room. I considered hitting or scratching, but standing next to him and realising just how much bigger than me he was I decided that assaulting him would be a bad idea, and probably a very bad idea.

He was looking me up and down as though assessing me, seeming to be trying to make up his mind about something. Apparently he came to a decision because he started talking again.

"I was wondering whether to just toss you on the bed, rip off your pyjamas and take you roughly while you struggled under me, but I've decided not to. Instead I'm going to have you bend over the bed, resting on your hands. Then I'll pull down your pyjamas and get to know you somewhat more slowly."

Lucky me. I was going to be raped slowly instead of quickly. I couldn't believe the gall of this idiot, and he actually seemed sincere.

"Do you seriously expect me to bend over the bed while you take off my pyjamas and rape me?" I asked him, incredulous.

"Yes," he said, just looking at me, and my stomach turned over and I suddenly decided that it would probably be a lot better for me to just do as I was told, like it or not.

"Come," he said. "I think you'll find it best if you stand here."

Reluctantly I moved to where he indicated, though why he thought I'd prefer being raped in one spot over another was beyond me. He apparently saw the confused look on my face.

"The dressing table," he explained. "You can see everything in the mirror of the dressing table as we play."

Oh, lucky me. I was not only going to be raped, but permitted to watch myself being taken.

So there I was, leaning over the bed, my arms supporting me and my bum stuck out ready for him to make his move. I felt a tug and my pyjama bottoms went sailing down. I wasn't wearing any panties. Hell, why would I? I'd been in bed. Now I was wishing I'd been wearing panties and chastity belt as well.

I'd expected that the first thing he'd do would be to start groping my pussy and, if I'm being honest, I have to admit I was acutely conscious of it. I could feel heat pooling inside me and I knew I was getting wet. I couldn't help it. Any girl who knows what's going to happen and had got time to anticipate it, if anticipate is the right word, is going to start getting hot and wet. I won't say excited, but there were butterflies in my tummy.

He fooled me. He just reached up inside my pyjama top and latched onto my breasts. The top was loose and floppy and he didn't even have to bother about taking it off. He just reached up and grabbed.

"If you want to watch me touching them I'll take your top off," he told me, but I found that I could quite easily resist the offered treat. I said nothing and didn't even turn my head to look at the mirror.

Anyway, he started playing with my breasts and I have to admit he had a nice touch. He seemed to know just what he was doing and I could feel my nipples hardening and by breasts swelling as me played with them, stroking and massaging them, causing me to become acutely conscious of them and what he was doing. I don't know how he did it, but he was actually making me get excited as he massaged them, and I was finding that I was breathing hard.

After a while of having fun teasing my breasts I could feel his hands starting to run down me. God, I was so aware of his hands as they drifted down and I could feel my pussy tensing as his hands approached. He moved slightly to the side and one of his hands came sliding over the front of my mound while the other slid down my bottom and darted between my legs, pressing against me from both back and front.

He just lightly rubbed me at first, making sure that my pussy knew that its turn had come. He was sort of squeezing and probing at my softest places, not trying to get inside me but just agitating and trying to stir me up. And succeeding.

This seemed to go on for ages, and by the time he advanced to the next step he must have known I was wet and ready, no matter what my personal wishes were.

Finally he moved until he was standing behind me and urged me to move my legs further apart. Not exactly having a choice, I complied, and waited for the onslaught of his cock to begin. I was feeling horribly tense just then, let me tell you.

It turned out he wasn't ready to take me. He was just positioning me so that he could play with my pussy to a greater depth. He moved my lips apart and then I could feel him pushing his fingers inside me, massaging me and working my passage, loosening it up.

There was no way known that he couldn't feel that I was hot and wet and ready for the main course, but he seemed to want to keep on teasing me. I'll admit I'd squealed when he first slid his fingers into me, and now his relentless teasing was causing me to make little squeaks and groans, even though I was trying to keep my lip zipped.

Suddenly I felt this horrible shock surge through me and I couldn't help it. I screamed and tried to jump onto the bed away from him. With his hand stuffed up inside me I didn't manage to jump very far, and the miserable swine just laughed at me and started flicking my clitoris, apparently liking hearing me squeal.

My knees were actually trembling when he finally stopped doing that, and I was really leaning my weight on my arms. I knew why he had stopped when I heard a zipping sound and then the dull sound of material hitting the floor. He was dropping his trousers and finally getting around to his reason for coming here.

I felt what seemed like a lot of cock pressing between my legs. Not trying to enter me, just letting me get a feel for it.

"You're not looking in the mirror," he hinted.

I just kept looking straight ahead.

"I see no reason as to why I should pander to your vanity by looking in the mirror and admiring your little dick," I told him, just gently reminding him that this was a rape, after all.

I promptly copped a sharp slap on the bottom with an admonition not to be so rude and to start looking so that I was prepared for what was coming.

Reluctantly I turned to glance in the mirror, saw what he had poised behind me and promptly turned my head to look directly ahead. He could use a damned whip on my bottom if he wanted to, but I was not turning to look at that thing again.

He dragged my lips apart and I could feel that, that thing of his, pressing against me. Maybe it was fortunate it was that size because he was going to need it to help me stay on my feet. My knees were already trembling with fright.

Then I could feel this steady pushing inside me. I was well lubricated and he seemed to just slide slowly in and I could feel myself stretching to take him. He kept sinking in and I was squealing and yelling "enough", but he just totally ignored me, pushing on and on.

The way I was carrying on you're probably thinking that he was ramming ten or twelve inches of fat cock into my reluctant pussy. Not so. Even though my sense of helplessness and knowing the inevitability of that thing taking possession of me was undoubtedly magnifying my view of his weapon, it probably wasn't much more than average size. It was just that I didn't want any part of it, no matter what the size.

Like I had a choice. He was in me and starting to pump. I was just naturally pumping back, quite able to play him at this game. He'd been right about one thing. I was enjoying it. He'd managed to get me all excited and I was, to coin a phrase, hot to trot, even if I didn't want it on an intellectual level. My pussy knew fun when it came across it and it was currently dictating the terms.

His hands came snaking up under my pyjama top again. Apparently he liked to hold a girls boobs and use them to get a good grip on her while he was riding. It was just too bad for me that I enjoy having my breasts played with when I'm having sex. When his hands closed over my breasts I just squealed with excitement and humped by bottom even harder.

I did not deliberately look in the mirror. It was just that I saw something moving out of the corner of my eye and I turned to see what it was. I saw all right. It had the making of a first class porno as his cock surged in and out of me, me squealing as he banged me and humping my ass in ecstasy. I wanted to kill him.

I tried to look away, honest. It was just that there was something incredibly erotic watching him sliding into me with my bum bobbing up to meet him while at the same time feeling that sliding sensation inside me. It didn't even matter that I was a reluctant participant and I was watching myself getting raped, it was still erotic and I seemed to respond by bucking even harder against him. I'm even embarrassed to admit that I actually pushed my top up so I could see his hands mauling my breasts.

Then without slowing down he was suddenly coming into me, and I could feel hot juices splashing all over inside me. After that I couldn't see the mirror, or anything at all, come to that. My own climax came sweeping over me and I was just squealing and going with it, ignoring everything else.

When I finally came out of my own little world I found myself lying slumped over the bed. Clark had gone with the wind, leaving me in ruin behind him.

It was the next day that I got a confession from Annie.

"That guy Clark stopped me at the mall yesterday. He asked me for your address. He said he thought you were nice and he'd like to get to know you better. Did he come around?"

"Yes, Annie. You might say he came. You just might be able to say that."