Warning: This story involves forced sex/rape fantasies and role playing. Read The Date, Part 2 next.
The crickets chirped as I pulled the car up to the clearing. Nothing but trees around us and stars above us. I turned off the motor but left the lights and the radio on. Out there the station was a little static-y, but the smooth sounds of an old Motown song came through.
Stacy was twenty. We met online, talked a lot, hit it off. I wasn’t sure she would go for me. I was a bit older, a little awkward. Turns out she was just as awkward. Two book nerds who found we hit it off pretty well over coffee.
She was pretty; sort of fair skinned, green eyed, very short reddish brown hair parted neatly with bangs that were swept to the side and held back with a barrette. She was that perfect (at least for me) edge of just a little chubby. The slightest little belly and a plump bottom and chubby cheeks and cupid bow lips. She wore a light blue shirt with some band name on it I’ve never heard of and a smart little denim skirt. Knee high socks and Chucks. Cute. Adorable even. Big bright eyes and lip-glossed lips.
This was our second date, the first being the coffee. This time it was a foreign film and some Indian food. It was sort of perfect and now we were caught in the grips of the awkward pre-first-kiss conversation.
“It’s beautiful up here,” she marveled, looking out of the windshield at the stars. Orion was visible, the full moon loomed huge and silver in the distance. The sky was dark blue, but not quite night.
“You look beautiful,” I said, marveling too.
She looked down at her knees and smiled her crooked little smile.
I wasn’t sure exactly how to do it, the first move is so hard to make organic and casual. I shifted in my seat, moving a little closer to her. She pulled her skirt to cover some of the expanse of skin between where her socks ended and it began and settled closer to me, so that our shoulders just brushed.
When our bodies touched for that second we turned and faced each other. It was the moment. I moved in and she moved in, and then everything in the world faded and it was just the taste of her vanilla lip gloss and the softness of her kiss and my hand on her side as she turned in to give herself to the kiss fully.
It was perfect, a long slow kiss. Just the slightest brush of our tongues together, the sweetness of her mouth and the lingering spice of our dinners and her cherry coke.
When we pulled apart she was beaming. I’m sure I was too. Her skin glowed in the moonlight, powdery and pale. She giggled a little, her eyes sparkling, and then closed her eyes when I moved in to kiss her again.
We kissed, my hand again resting on her side. I could feel the warmth of her skin through the cotton. As her mouth opened a little more, my hand moved up a little until my thumb touched the bottom of her bra. She giggled again, breaking our kiss. I moved my hand up a little more just barely cupping her breast. She took a deep breath and looked me in the eyes. Then she pushed my hand down.
She sat up in her seat, swallowing. I looked down and gave her an apologetic smile. She looked at me, the light blue of her eye shadow making her eyes vivid. I noticed a touch of glitter on her cheeks. That with the way her bangs were held back with a baby blue barrette made her look so young and fresh faced.
I took a breath and sat back too. She watched me, bit her lip a little, then seeming to have made up her mind, leaned over and kissed me again. We fell into a deeper kiss, mouths growing hungrier. She slipped her arms around me and sighed into my neck, then kissed my cheek, looking up into my eyes.
I smiled back as my hand smoothed her shirt, moved up and cupped her breast again. Her eyes flashed angry as she pushed my hand away. My hand rested on her leg. I frowned at her. The atmosphere in the car grew increasingly more tense.
My fingers moved up to the edge of her shirt and then under it. She made a tiny angry huff and tried to push it away but I slipped my hand under her shirt and moved it up the hot skin of her stomach and then cupped her lacy bra-covered breast.
“No!” she cried and pulled at my hand, but I caressed and relished the soft forbidden delicacy of her body as she tried to pull me away. I pulled at her bra and then at her insanely soft skin until I freed one breast from confinement. She pulled at my hand, but I wouldn’t budge. Once my fingers felt the delicious little nub of her nipple I was lost to anything but the feel of her.
It was some time after our first date when I had first found her blog. She left hints, she mentioned writing about this or that online. I googled her email address and it wasn’t very hard to connect the dots. A pretty blue webpage with entries that ranged from innocent to downright smutty.
I left a comment, something benign. She emailed me, telling me she didn’t mind that I read it. I asked her about fantasies. She said she had all kinds.
She was so much bolder online, but aren’t we all. I told her how I wanted to kiss her when we went out for coffee. She said I should have. It went back and forth like this.
“I’m not good at making the first move,” she admitted. “In fact I sort of need a guy to make the first move.”
She told me how she wanted it, how she wanted to be taken, how she wanted me to take her. I was dubious. It wasn’t exactly my thing… or was it? The idea germinated in the back of my mind.
She told me it didn’t matter – it was a game we could play or not. She said if I wanted some reassurance then I should stop if she said “ice cream” or if she banged three times on something.
“In case you are covering my mouth.” she wrote.
“I like to have my mouth covered.” she added.
My head was buzzing with some sexual version of cognitive dissonance. This nice pretty sweet girl having such edgy fantasies.
“Just stop, ok?” Stacy sighed, folding her arms over her chest and pouting.
“Maybe we should just go home.” I said, which confused her. I tried not to smile. The battle between wanting to keep up the façade and wanting to continue fooling around seemed to throw her.
I turned the key in the ignition and the car rumbled to life. She put her hand on mine and looked me in the eyes.
“Just wait. We’re having a good time. You just got… carried away. I’m sorry if I over-reacted.” she was looked down now, unsure.
I turned off the engine. I sat back and looked at her, relishing the embarrassment.
“It’s just that I thought you liked me, Stacy.”
She smiled weakly. “I do!”
I smiled back and leaned in to kiss her. She pulled back for a moment and then kissed me chastely on the lips. I smiled again into her kisses and kissed her deeply. Her eyes fluttered as she melted into the kiss and I felt her trembling a little.
My hand landed on her knee, innocently. As we kissed my fingers traced little circles in her skin. She was aware of it, but it wasn’t that intrusive. We were really kissing now. The sweetness of her mouth almost made me forget what game we were playing.
When I pushed her back a little and my hand started working up her thigh she gasped into my mouth, breaking our kiss. I had to push up her skirt at the same time or my hand wouldn’t fit between her legs – Show quoted text – the night was upon us. The door swung open and before I knew it she was slipping away, tumbling to the grass outside of the car.
I got out and stood over her. She was panting, her skirt still pulled up to her waist, the light blue of her panties showing a little. I held out my hand.
“I have to go home, Jack. Take me home.” she pouted, not looking into my eyes.
This little ball of worry started in my stomach. Was this all a game? Did I break some rule or go too far? She hadn’t said the word.
“You have to take me home, please! You can’t just… just… you can’t ra-” she bit her lip. “You can’t just fuck me here.”
She was still on the floor, looking down at my shoes. Her legs opening a little, her hair slightly rustled.
We can be all different kinds of people at different times and certain people brought out different things in us. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t something I particularly wanted, but in the moment I was lost in this girl’s fantasy. It took me over and, suddenly, I was rock hard. My eyes narrowed and I was what she wanted me to be.
There is a euphoria in that, because you don’t have to be who you are and you can revel in being something someone truly wants.
And that’s when I hit her.
Just a smack across the face. One smack and you find out so much about a girl. They can call the whole thing off, though I’ve never gotten to that point with someone who would call things off for a smack in the face. There are girls who will take it and look down and blush. There are girls who will get giddy little smiles after they are smacked, delighting in the adrenaline rush. Then there are the girls like Stacy who look right into your eyes and clench their jaws. Girls who fight back.
I like them all in different ways, bratty to groveling, but a fighter is extra fun.
She glared at me as she held her cheek and awkwardly got up off the ground. One of her knees was stained green from the grass, just above her sock.
She was about to say something when headlights came from behind us. I saw two cars pull up to a clearing nearby. This was sort of a “lover’s lane” type place with a clear view of the sky and nothing else to disturb people. I had hoped we would have the place to ourselves, but it looked like we might have to find another place for our little game.
I walked around the car and got into the driver’s seat. I looked at her through the open passenger side door and, starting the engine, said “Get in the fucking car.”
She glared, took a look at the other cars, and obeyed. She sat in the seat with a huff and crossed her arms and frowned.
“Are you taking me home?” she said with a pout.
I didn’t answer her, I just stepped on the gas.
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