So, this is my confession. I don’t think I’d call what happened rape. But looking back, it kind of was, and kind of wasn’t. Since I don’t want to get him in trouble, I’m not using his name. We’d been friends forever.

Well, it has been ten years since we first met in college. So, not forever, but a long time. This guy asked me over a few drinks and some pot. We’ve done this before going back to our freshman year in college. It was a few months ago, the middle of spring, and we toked, drank, and talked.

Until...

The air was thick with the scent of marijuana, its pungent aroma filling the room as we sat on the couch, sharing a joint. The atmosphere was relaxed and comfortable, a familiarity developed over years of friendship. He had always been sweet and trustworthy, but the line between trust and discomfort blurred as the night passed.

As I got higher, my body numbed, and my inhibitions faded, leaving me vulnerable to his touch. His hand on my thigh sent shivers down my spine, and the weight of his body on mine left me feeling helpless to resist his advances. The words he whispered in my ear, the sensations coursing through my body, were too much for me to handle.

“Stop,” I said in a breathy, weak protest. I tried to resist, to push him away, but my buried desire didn’t want to stay concealed.

“You’re too small,” he muttered against my neck, his thumb tracing gentle circles around my clit.

I tried to push him away. But he was too strong.

The worst of things happened. Pleasure overcame me, and I couldn’t help but respond to his touch. He held me down, his strong arms pinning me to the couch.

While I writhed under him, he pulled my bottoms down. I never realized how much larger and stronger he was than me until that moment. I kept telling him to stop and move away, but I could barely move. He started gently fingering me while he used his thumb to rub my clit at the same time.

“You’re telling me no, but that cunt of yours is clenching so tight on my fingers, honey.”

Honest to god, I tried to stop him. The pleasure overwhelmed me, and I couldn’t help but respond to his touch. One more I wanted to fight him. He just laughed and pushed inside me, only an inch or so.

“Just let me have you,” he whispered in my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. “You want this as much as I do.”

As he continued to take advantage of my vulnerability. I had mixed emotions—anger at his betrayal, confusion, my body’s response. No feeling of shame could stop me from enjoying his touch.

“Stop, please, stop,” I said.

“If you want me to stop, why are you so wet?”

I couldn’t deny the truth in his words. Every part of me was on fire, aching for him to take me. My mind gave up the battle, and my body relaxed, anticipating what was to follow.

“Please,” I begged, unable to keep the desire out of my voice. “Fuck me.”

He groaned and pressed his hips harder against mine, rubbing his cock against my slick folds teasingly.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” he asked roughly, his voice thick with lust.

“Too long,” I whimpered, arching into his touch. “Please just ... fuck me already.”

And then he was inside me. In one long, slow, deep thrust, he filled me.

I gasped and cried out in pleasure-pain. He felt so good, so impossibly big inside my tight little hole. Despite the discomfort, I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted more of him. Wanted his weight on top of me. His rough hands were all over me. That lovely mouth devoured mine as he took what he wanted.

His smell, that unique blend of sweat and marijuana, filled my senses as we moved together.

I couldn’t believe I was letting this happen, but he was right. I did want it. I did need him to take me. My walls clenched around his thickness, resisted, and welcomed him simultaneously. He groaned into my mouth as we moved together, pushing his length deeper with each stroke.