Gender: Female Age: 21 Location: In a box on the top of Mount Everest where you cannot easily find me!
|Introduction: I just wrote it how it came to me. Yes it involves a little more than just sex, so if that's your type of story go elsewhere. But if not, read on :) I dont know if it's too long or too short :p|
-8th Grade, Semester 2-
Wow. It was hard to believe I had already gotten through half of the eighth grade. The first semester had finished well, with all A's except for one… Algebra. An 89 wasn't bad, but it still wasn't an A, and it also went on my high school transcript. All of my friends tell me to stop beating up on myself about it, but they couldn't understand. My parents were so hard to please, and getting an A in Algebra would have made them so happy. But oh well, that was behind me.
The new semester had begun, and I was looking forward to new electives. I looked at my schedule; my new electives were Health and Theatre II. This was going to be fun. Theatre I from last year had been more than fun, and I was definitely looking forward to more acting with my friends this semester.
I walked into my first period class in new semester, U.S. History. It was the same class, pretty much unchanged from the last semester other than a few additions. I said 'hi' to my friends and sat down with a couple of them at a table.
"Hi Karen." Said one of my friends walking by with a smile on his face. I smiled back.
First period ended quickly, already several pages of bookwork assigned. I groaned angrily as the bell rang, and followed my brunette friend, Tara, to our next class. The entire day breezed by with little trouble other than homework, I knew a lot of the people in my new classes, and it wasn’t long before 4th period came around.
I patiently sat down in my Theatre II class, with Mr. Oswin as the teacher, next to my friend Tara. The desks were aligned perfectly in 7 rows of 4 desks each. Each desk was taken except a few, the one behind me, one three rows down, and one at the opposite end. The bell rang for class to start, and Mr. Oswin started talking about how we would be doing a lot of Shakespeare in class. I didn’t mind, Shakespeare wasn’t as bad as people made it out to be, and about five minutes into class he handed out monologues. A couple seconds later someone knocked at the door, and Mr. Oswin went to answer it. Some guy was tardy, and he walked into the class, glancing around before fixing his eyes on something.
His hair was long, and smooth dark brown. It reached to his shoulders. He was wearing a loose leather jacket, and she could see his bare chest underneath. His chest was hairless, and muscular. His skin was slightly tanned, just so that it was a shade darker than fair skin. His eyes were a bright, pale blue, and he had a tiny bit of acne on his cheeks. His pants were loose, torn-at-the-knees blue jeans, and she could barely see his checkered boxers.
He was staring at me.
"Ok, this guy's creeping me out, Tara." She whispered to her neighbor. Her brunette friend looked at him.
She giggled a few seconds later, and whispered to Karen, "Hehe. His name's Aaron Goetz, and the guy's a total asshole," She paused, nervously, "…Karen, he's a sex addict. Or at least that's what I've heard. It'd be best to stay clear of him."
"Ok, everyone stand, I'm assigning seats."
Oh no, this can't be good.
"Alphabetical order. Get to it." It was typical. And guess what my last name is? Foster. My name’s Karen Foster; and guess what comes after F? G, that’s right. He sat down behind me. It wasn’t even twenty minutes into class that he gently started rubbing my back. Tara casted him a death glare, and he laid off for the rest of that class.
But it seemed that every day he would do the same thing, and even once he dared to softly kiss the side of my neck when the teacher wasn’t looking. It was comfortable, and I liked it a little, but I wouldn’t let anyone know that.
The days passed, and eventually they turned into weeks. So many times he tried to get me alone, but I wouldn’t allow it. He was handsome, even sexy, but I was no slut. Sometimes, just after class ended, he would kiss me, but I didn’t kiss him back. Eventually Mr. Oswin caught him and threatened to report him for harassment, and Aaron never kissed me after class again. That still didn’t stop him from touching me and kissing me every once in a while in class, and I eventually looked forward, in a weird way, to the occasional neck make-out session.
The days turned into weeks, and before I knew it a month had passed. He was kissing me more than ever by now, and I knew, as did half the class, that he wanted into my pants.
We were assigned a shakespearean romance part together, and he had to come to my house to study. He tried to make his move there, and he even got me onto my bed kissing me, but my dog bit him and ripped his pants off when he tried to go too far.
Then one day everything changed.
It was a Friday, in early March, when it happened. We had been working on the school play, Romeo and Juliet. I made the part for Juliet, but he didn’t make Romeo, much to his disappointment. The class period went by in a breeze, and before I knew it, the release bell had rung.
As usual, Aaron got up and strolled out the door, pausing only to blow me a kiss and touch my shoulder affectionately. I took my sweet time looking over the papers I was supposed to memorize for next class, and Mr. Oswin packed up his briefcase and headed out the door, reminding me to turn out the light and lock the door when I was done.
I was finished within minutes and I made my way out the door. I walked a couple paces across the near empty hallway to the girl's restroom. I cleaned myself up looking at myself in the mirror. I looked exhausted, and I reminded myself it was the weekend, and I didn't have any homework minus studying for theatre.
I suddenly felt like I wasn't alone. I detected a presence behind me.
"Hi Karen." I felt cold metal on my neck, and a warm hand tracing the outlines of my jaw bone. I looked in the mirror. It was Aaron, holding a pocket knife to my neck. The cool metal pressed gently against my neck vein, and I was suddenly aware I could die, and how terrified I should be.
I knew it was stupid, but all I could think to say was, "Weapons... aren’t allowed in... school." Aaron smiled. He let his jacket drop to the floor, showing off his well-toned abs. He pulled me back against his warm chest and put his lips to my ear, "I'm a bad boy Karen, and right now I want you."
He left a trail of light kisses down my neck before lowering his knife. I sighed with relief, and he grinned, "If you do what I say we won't need the knife anymore."
"P-promise?" The knife was what truly scared me; I had far less fear of him without it.
"I promise, babe." He was content to make out with my neck for a couple minutes, but I knew it wasn't going to end so easily. "Turn around and kiss me. Also, make it good."
I turned, threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. His arms immediately wrapped around my slender waist, and gently pressed his erection, through his jeans, against me. My tongue slid into his mouth, and one of my hands, subconsciously, wandered down his bare chest, tracing the outline of his abs with a cool, icy finger.
He moaned into me, and arched his hips and pushed harder into me. I swear by now I nearly wanted him to have sex with me. I whimpered softly into his mouth, and he stopped kissing me, “What’s wrong, babe?” His warm fingers slid brushed along my thigh, gently caressing me, and sending a tingling sensation through my body.
“It… hurts…” I felt like crying, honestly.
“Shh… just relax, I’ll take care of you.” He smiled a sexy grin and started kissing my neck again. I whimpered again and shoved him up against the wall, he smiled again, and “Do what I tell you and you’ll feel better.”
“Anything.” Pressure was building up, I felt like screaming from the agony his kisses were causing, and to think I hadn’t wanted it, I wanted it so badly now.
“Pull down my pants.” His warm hands guided mine down to his pants, and I gently unbuttoned it and pulled it down to his feet. There was a lump in his checkered boxers, and I knew enough about the male body to know what it was.
“Pull down the boxers.” I gently, nervous of what I would see, slipped off his boxers. My eyes widened, it had been the first time, minus my six year old brother, I had ever seen it.
“Wrap your fingers around it, and rub it softly.” I delicately wrapped my cool fingers around it, and slowly moved my hand up and down along it. He had me keep doing it for a while, and then he kissed me again.
“Now… lick it.” He looked like he was almost in pain.
I gave him a disgusted look, and shook my head, “Ewww! But it’s so…”
“Please, Karen. Please…” He groaned again and braced himself against the wall, giving me a pleading look.
He growled, and raised the knife. I frowned angrily and stepped forward, so that my face was inches from his. He smiled slowly, "Cute." He traced the knife along my neck gently, then let one of his hands brush my pale cheek, "Remember who's in charge here, babe."
I smiled mischievously, "Hmph, you might not be in control as much as you think."
Aaron frowned, and took a step closer to me, "Why's that?" My hands felt up his chest, and he sighed contently.
"If you want to know, pleasure me." He smiled at the invitation, and he put his hands to work. One of his hands gently traced the outline of my collarbone while the other softly caressed my inner thigh. His hands were comfortably smooth and they moved expertly, knowing exactly where to touch and how hard to press to bring me immense pleasure. As he soothed me I laughed softly, "Haha... you're... good." My voice was nearly choked.
Slowly, deliberately, his first hand moved down along my neck and down my shirt, where his fingers gently un-strapped my bra. His expert hand began stroking her breasts, softly pressing his warm thumb into the center while the rest of his smooth hand would alternate between cupping either breast.
Just as gently, his other hand slid up her skirt to slowly massage my pubic region, much to my childish delight.
I gasped, and in turn he smiled his sexy grin. I tried to speak, but his lips covered mine. His lips were soft, and soothingly warm. His lips rolled over mine several times before his tongue slid into my mouth and out again.
My hands pressed against his muscular chest as our mouths touched again and again. He had me, all snug in his trap, and both of us knew he could do whatever he wanted with me now.
He kissed me again, and chuckled, “Good enough? Or do you want me in you?" He motioned to his erection.
I was panting. It hurt badly, and to tell the truth I did want him in, but he being in control and the thought that this had started with rape was worrying me. If my parents knew I had sex with him they’d never let me hear the end of it, I would be considered a slut for the rest of my junior high school and high school life. He’d tell everyone how he’d seduced me, and I’d begged for it in the end, and I didn’t quite want that to happen. I didn’t know what to do; I needed him, wanted him, and desired him with every fiber in my being. I was craving this moment, him in me, his lips on my neck again, my hands on his chest, his body supporting us both, him wanting it just as badly as me.
“Please, fuck me.” What was I doing!? I tried to say something, tell him to stop, push him away, but all I could do was stand as he pulled off my skirt. We were both completely naked, and I felt so vulnerable. His cock was bulging, and it was so big, I couldn’t believe that it would fit in me.
“I’m gonna lay down, babe. Climb on top of me.” He formed a makeshift bed with his jacket, jeans, and my skirt on the grimy tile floor, and laid down on his back, his erection pointing up, and his gorgeous face and chest all in perfect view. Without thinking, I climbed on top of him and started kissing his lips while my hands massaged his chest.
He laughed, “Babe, we’ve been doing this the whole time, let’s finish it, I promise it won’t hurt.”
He was talking about my hymen. I was sure of it; he aligned his thick and long erection, and started easing it in. He stopped when he pressed against the thin membrane separating him from completely having me. My body was convulsing already, and he smiled with the immense pleasure my body was causing him, and his lips touched my neck again, and he whispered, “Thank you, babe. Thank you so much, I’ll never forget this.”
My delicate hands felt his face, feverish with desire and lust, and I frowned, “No, thank you.” One hand combed through his silky hair on the back part of his head, and the other softly slid over his chin. He grinned again, and licked my fingers playfully.
I laughed a harsh, cold laugh, tightened my grip, and twisted his neck.
For just an instant there was a look of shock, pain, and then the color in his eyes faded and his body relaxed. I touched his neck with my hand, feeling for a pulse. There was none. I put my ear to his mouth to hear for breathing, there was none. He was dead.
I pulled out my cell phone and called 9-1-1, the operator picked up on the first ring, “Hello, 9-1-1 Emergency, what is your emergency?”
I giggled harshly, “Someone’s… raping me… he’s… hurry! …Please.”
The operator gasped, “Where are you?”
“Eagleton Junior High, bathroom on the west wing… hurry please… He’s… Ah!” I hung up the phone, and threw it against the wall. It shattered into several pieces, and I looked down at Aaron. He looked as if he was sleeping, and I knew that they would assume the worst if they found him naked and me unhurt.
I knew enough about law to know that it could be considered self-defense. I took his still warm hand in mine, holding it for a moment, thinking. Then I used his hand to pick up the knife and roughly cut me on the shoulder. I let enough of it bleed to the floor, and then I pulled up his pants to his knees, and his boxers just a little higher, so that his limp penis was visible. I grabbed him by his muscular arms and dragged him over to the stall, I opened the door and pushed him about one third of the way through. I delicately picked up the bloody knife with his jacket and put it in his relaxed, palm up hand, and I touched his soft fingers, and curled them around the blade, so it looked as if he was holding it.
I sat for a second, looking at my work. When I heard the sirens I curled up into a little ball of mostly naked flesh and forced myself to cry. I cried from the pain, from killing him, and from the lack of pleasure he had caused me. The first police officer to find me was a male, and he backed off after seeing I was naked.
A female one came in later and helped me to my feet, helped me get dressed, and bandaged my cut. She told me that it was ok, it had been self-defense, and the only difficulty was going to be getting life back to normal. Somewhere inside myself I giggled.
She could hear the male policeman talking to a detective, “The victim was Karen Foster, the dead kid tried to rape her, and from the looks of it she slammed the bathroom door on his neck, killed him almost instantly… She received minor wounds, but there’s a lot of blood, and it’s all hers…”
Nobody would ever find out, and nobody would care that the "sex addict" who wanted into my pants had died, nobody except me. I never confessed, I never will, he deserved what he got, and thinking back on it I realize that I loved him in a twisted, strange way.
Comment if you want, nothing too harsh please.
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