A Young Girl’s Adventures with Rape – Part One

I can remember the exact moment I first started fantasising about rape.

It was on a mid-summer day – one of those hot, heavy summers, where the sweat clings to every inch of you. Where it’s always beading on your forehead, and no matter how high you turn the air-con, it won’t go away.

I was home alone when it happened. I often was as a young girl – me and my parents lived in this big country house, out in the middle of nowhere, and with both of them away on business a lot, I often had it to myself. Sometimes, in the summer, they’d leave me alone for days – and those were some of the most wonderful days of my young life. Most teen year old girls would be bored by this, of course. Since I lived in the countryside, there weren’t many other kids around, and I imagine lots of girls would find it lonely. Not me though. I was one of those kids who liked being alone – the nerdy girl who sat at the back of the classroom reading, while all the other girls gossiped at the front.
And those long, empty summers were what I lived for.

Don’t get me wrong, I liked other people – but in the summer I could sit and relax on my own. Read all day, watch tv, go lie in the sun. We even had a pool in the back garden, and I loved nothing better than to slip into it on a hot day and let the chill waters cool me. Sometimes, I even left my bikini indoors. That’s one of those things you could do when you were alone. Let the water slide over your naked body as you swam – over your chest, your thighs… between your legs…

There was something about that, about swimming naked, which always got me excited. I mean, I didn’t understand it at the time. I didn’t know what it was. But I remember whenever I thought about doing it, I got this feeling build up inside me – my chest got all tight and flushed and I could hear my pulse in my ears. And then, when I’d go outside – when I’d step into the water and feel it glide up my legs, feel the coolness of it lap against my pussy – all my muscles turned to jelly.

I can’t remember what first gave me the idea, of course. But once I started doing it often, I just couldn’t stop. There was something about it – something about being right there naked, outside, for the whole world to see. I knew it should have been scary, that I should’ve been embarrassed about being caught. And I was. But that feeling… it built up inside of me, even when I was trying not to give in – built up until I just had to do it. And so I’d swim there, in the pool, naked – right where anyone could spot me. Of course, we didn’t have any neighbours, and there were tall hedges around our house – but I liked to imagine, sometimes, that I was being watched. That someone was hiding, just out of view, watching my every move. That always made the tingles run along the muscles inside of me… made every inch of me shiver…
I knew it was to do with sex of course – we’d had the talk in school, and my parents had sat me down and said “Grace, there’s something we need to tell you about…”

Yeah, that talk – the most embarrassing moment of any teenagers life.

So I knew what it was. I even whispered about that sort of thing with the girls in school, talked about boys and sex and what it would be like. But… I was different… I mean, I sometimes got that feeling when I thought about sex, where my breathing went all heavy and my underwear got that little bit damp. But it wasn’t the same as when I was in the pool – when I was all naked and alone, and anyone passing by might catch me. Sometimes I used to imagine what might happen if they decided they wanted to do something a little more than watch… how they’d come over and climb in… and there’d be nothing I could do to stop them…

It never went much further than imagining them climb in though. Once or twice I imagined them coming closer, reaching out – but when I started thinking about that, I’d usually get embarrassed and go inside. My mind knew where it wanted to go, but I don’t think I was quite ready to let it.
Still, that idea, of being caught, being helpless? It got me excited in a way I’d never experienced before. Things got to the point where I’d be thinking about it in the middle of the day, even when I was doing something else. I’d just be reading, and the thought would pop into my head. All of a sudden, I would get all flushed – feel the heat of it coming to my cheeks and pooling between my legs. I’d imagine someone coming into my room then – coming to my bed and holding me down…

I’m surprised I didn’t start masturbating sooner, really. The feeling was there, my pussy crying out to be touched. For some reason I never did though – the thought never came to my mind. Oh, I could have. When I was naked and huddled in the water, there was always that urge to run my hands over myself – to brush my fingertips over the pertness of my breasts, brush them over my skin and down between my thighs…

It was the idea of being raped that eventually pushed me over.

It happened while I was reading. It was a fantasy book, of all things. I was into that stuff as a girl, knights and wizards and dragons. But this one was different. The blurb was just as you’d expect, and I took it from the library without thinking. But it was much more adult than any of the other stories I’d read. I encountered my first sex scene about halfway through – the first one I’d ever read.