It’s Not Rape If I Like It.

JOHN

Let me describe a woman to you. She’s eighteen years old, about five-foot-five, and probably around a hundred and ten or so pounds. Now that we’ve gotten the statistics out of the way, let me paint her picture in your mind. Straight, black hair frames a pale face, whose complexion is dotted with hundreds of freckles. High cheekbones, large, piercing, blue eyes, full, pouting lips, and a thin, pointed nose, structure this canvas. Her ears perk out from her head wider than normal, but that only compliments her features. Her neck is long, thin and elegant, and sits atop a narrow set of shoulders. Moving down her frame, we see a bust that protrudes vulgarly from the yellow spandex of her shirt. Each dome is shaped perfectly; creasing at the center and bursting from the constraints of her clothing. Her belly is flat, and beneath the yellow tightness of her shirt, I can see the tone outline of an athletic abdomen. Further down, we find a set of wide hips. Adorning these hips, is the kind of ass that makes your mouth water. Full, thick glutes protrude in ovals that crease perfectly at the thigh. Her black, spandex, leggings seem to dig vulgarly between the division of these cheeks, and they each jiggle with a delightful bounce as she walks. Her thighs are thick and toned, and narrow into knees, which in turn, narrow into a pair of running shoes.

“Sounds great,” you might say, “but why the fuck did you tell me what she looks like with clothes on?”

Well, reader; I don’t know what she looks like naked. I don’t even know her name. The deion I’m giving you is what I’m looking at right now, because this girl goes to my gym, and the only interaction I’ve ever had with her, has been awkward eye contact, and waiting at the drinking fountain. To put in nicely…I’m a fucking loser. You’ve heard this story before, haven’t you? Right now, you’re thinking: “This can either go one of two ways: he’ll get the girl because she’s secretly attracted to him, or he’ll just straight-up rape her.”

Well, reader, you’re right on both accounts.

ALICE

Let me describe a man to you. He’s in his late twenties, about six feet tall, and probably around a hundred and eighty pounds or so. Now that we’ve gotten the statistics out of the way, let me paint his picture in your mind. He’s got a bald, shaved head that narrows into a tanned face, whose complexion is shadowed with a thick wrap of stubble. A pronounced brow, brown eyes, handsome nose and strong jaw structure this canvas. His ears press flat against the sides of his bald head, which gives him a very stream-lined look. His neck is thick, and falls into a pair of tapered traps. His shoulders slope slightly, but the tone of musculature is there, and they connect to a set of veined biceps and jutting triceps. His forearms are vascular and strong, and seem to ripple with tendons as he moves them. His hands are also strong; thin skin and scars revealing the hard conditions they’ve endured. Moving down his frame, we see a set of pecs that push his shirt forward from his chest. His cut-off T drapes over a toned abdomen that is only revealed when he stretches. Further down, we find a set of narrow hips. Adorning these hips, is the kind of ass that makes your mouth water. Firm, toned buns perch atop grizzled, thick thighs. His blue, loose gym shorts reveal the prize that rests between his legs: a bulge that sways teasingly back and forth as he walks.

“Sounds great,” you might say, “but why the fuck did you tell me what he looks like with clothes on?”

Well, reader; I don’t know what he looks like naked. I don’t even know his name. The deion I’m giving you is what I’m looking at right now, because this man goes to my gym, and the only interaction I’ve ever had with him, has been awkward eye contact, and waiting at the drinking fountain. To put in nicely…I’m a fucking coward. You’ve heard this story before, haven’t you? Right now, you’re thinking: “This can either go one of two ways: she’ll get the guy because he’s secretly attracted to her, or she’ll just straight-up fuck him.”

Women can rape too, but I’d be hard-pressed to do that to this man. Anyway, the reason I haven’t made my desires known, the reason I’m too scared to initiate conversation with him, is because I’m a virgin. I was a late bloomer, and the lack of experience in high school has made me painfully awkward. He’s obviously an experienced man who would have no interest in me. I’m an undergrad at this university, and he’s at least a graduate student, if not a professor. I don’t see a ring on his finger, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t taken. I wish he’d take me. I wish he’d just…cut through the song-and-dance bullshit of flirting, and strip me naked in the bathroom. No…pull down my leggings and take me with my clothes on. Press my face against the mirror and force me to watch my defilement as my desperate breaths fog the glass.

OK; calm down Alice. This happens to me a lot. My sexual repression often manifests itself as violent pornographic desires. At least, that’s what the school psychologist said when I had a breakdown sophomore year of high school. I just need to narrow my focus, and take it one step at a time. Do I want this man? Yes. How does a female usually get a man? By existing. Well if that’s the case, why haven’t I gotten one yet? Because you’re an awkward mess of social anxiety who scares everyone away. Well, how do I solve that? You don’t. You just internalize your problems, and then masturbate furiously in your dorm room; you fucking loser.

BACK ON TRACK, ALICE! Sorry reader, my mind wanders.

So, how do I get baldy inside me? Maybe, if I lead him on, he’ll get the message. I just don’t have the experience to know how to do that. Hell, the only sexual experience I have is fingering myself in front of a computer screen displaying BDSM gangbangs. I like to imagine I’m the woman in ropes, dangling helplessly from some contraption, while the men brutally take their turns inside me. A man in my pussy, another in my ass…railing mercilessly into me…berating me, degrading me…

OK, where was I? Seducing the bald guy, that’s what I was trying to do. If I do squats right in front of him, and really stick my ass out there, maybe he’ll do something. If not…

Whatever; I’ll just finish my workout and flick the bean in my dorm. It’s just hormones anyway.

JOHN

The gym is quiet tonight, and the last man has checked out. It’s just me and the girl, working out in a silent room, the only sounds are the clanking of weights and the muted blare of music from ear buds. She’s doing squats in the mirror, her ass pushing out teasingly from her arched back as soft tones of feminine strain flow from her luscious lips. Her gaze levels with mine in the mirror, and then rapidly darts back to her own. She’s not interested, will never be interested. I sigh to myself.

Whatever; I’ll just finish my workout and jerk off in my apartment. It’s just hormones anyway.

I finish the last set of my curls, and wipe my brow with the towel. I take one last greedy look at the best ass I’ve ever seen, and then head to the locker room. At least I’ve got something for the spank bank.

ALICE

Hey, where the fuck are you going?

I thought the moaning squats would have gotten something out of him, but I all I got was a look. And then I fucking blew it by breaking eye-contact in an anxiety-induced panic. Goddamn it, I’m a fucking loser. I thought he might’ve stolen a peek as he was leaving, but he was probably just glancing at something innocuous. I finish my last set (which I was only doing for him in the first place), and rack the bar. My pale skin is glistening with sweat, and I need a shower before I go back to the dorm. I turn off the metal band blaring in my ears, Meshuggah: Rational Gaze is the headbanger I’m working out to. That’s all that guy gave me; a rational gaze, nothing more. He’s not interested, will never be interested. I sigh to myself, and head for the locker room.

JOHN

I couldn’t wait for the apartment. The locker room was empty, and half the fluorescents were turned off, so I figured, why not? That ass bending over in that spandex…the way her crack peaked from the top…the way her cheeks creased down the middle of her tight cloth…

My hand strokes myself hard, and I lie back on the bench. I’m in the corner, past several rows of lockers where no one could see me, if anyone comes in here, I’ll have ample time to pull my pants up and hide my erection, but no one will. The gym closes in twenty minutes, and they don’t even bother locking up most of the time. I can just lie back, relax, and think of that squatting ass forming against spandex…

ALICE

I wonder what I’ll fantasize about tonight? The bald man curling, the vein in his bicep protruding from the thin skin of his arm. The way his forearms rippled with tendons as they strained against the weight, the way his strong hands clenched the bar in a white-knuckled grasp. I want him to touch me like that…his strong hands gripping the fat of my ass…spreading me wide open…pushing inside me…

I step into the locker room and sigh. I can’t wait to go back to the dorm. The locker room is empty, and half the fluorescents are turned off, so why not?

I straddle a wooden bench tentatively, trying to figure out how best to simulate my fantasy. Do I ride him, or does he take me missionary? No, he takes me from behind. I shift my weight forward, my left hand planted palm-down on the bench, my torso bending until its parallel with the seat. My right hand (my boyfriend, as sad as that is), sneaks behind me and slides between my cheeks.

JOHN

Was that a voice? Did I just hear a female voice in the men’s locker room? The fucking cleaning lady must’ve thought the place was empty. I wait for a second, my heart beating in my chest, my body not moving a muscle. If someone finds me here, the way I am, I’ll lose my tenure for sure. I just need to pull these shorts up…yeah, there’s no hiding this boner. The showers are right across the aisle from me. If I can get there without being noticed, I’ll be in the clear. I stand up, my rock-hard cock jutting comically from my shorts. I turn around so that I’m facing the far wall.