Construction brigade

This really happened to me, so I won't say where or when. I'll only say that at the time, I had just finished my first year of university and was about to turn 19. My mom had once told me how great the Soviet student construction brigades were, and I decided to get a "whiff" of that student romance myself and joined a local construction brigade. They showed us for a couple of days how "you're supposed to plaster, in general," and then immediately sent us to one of the city's construction sites. Almost from the very first day, an older worker from a neighboring crew started hitting on me at the site. "Curly! Let's go chat!" — that's how he would come over to us about five times a day. At first, it was

"cool" — he was a seasoned builder and explained to us, four inexperienced girls, what and how to do things. But after he revealed his true intentions, all the "coolness" vanished like the wind.

That day, he got especially frank — told me how he did boxing in his youth, how he ended up in "the zone" (prison), and on top of that, he tried to hug me! I ran off to the girls and immediately told them everything — from that moment on, I even went to the bathroom only with an escort.

For another two weeks, I successfully worked under the friendly "convoy." "Crocodile Dundee" — that's what we nicknamed this guy — came with enviable regularity, but behaved peacefully around the girls: he was waiting for a convenient opportunity, and he got it... Either I came too early, or the girls were running late, but I came into the break room in the morning, and there was no one there. I changed into my work clothes: a little shirt, jeans, I look around, and "Dundee" is already standing by the door, looking me over:

— Let's go chat...

— Talk here. Why walk? — I, the fool, should have realized right away that he was afraid the girls might come, but back then I really couldn't understand what difference it made where we talked, if there was no one on the floor anyway?

— The balcony here doesn't open, and the view from the window isn't great.

His explanations didn't satisfy me, but the break room was empty anyway... and we went to another "apartment" on our unfinished floor. There were no doors anywhere on the floor except in the break room — and that calmed me down a little. "If something goes wrong — I'll run," I thought. I didn't run...

— Dundee" poured out his soul to me a bit, gave me some immodest compliments, and stated directly:

— Stop playing hard to get. Let me kiss you... — if before this he was sitting on the windowsill, now he stood up.

— But you're twice my age! — I started backing away, not taking my eyes off my dangerous suitor.

— Come on. It won't hurt you. — "Dundee" was pushing me towards the wall. Now would be the time to run, I kept glancing sideways at the doorway, but he knew perfectly well what he was doing. — while I was backing up, he took a more advantageous position and ended up closer to the exit than I was. The precious seconds were already lost. He came right up close, and to somehow create distance, I ducked into a nearby doorway, and immediately realized I had made a mistake — it was a dark little room (a future bathroom) without windows and with only one doorway, in which HE was now standing.

From fear, my body felt like it wasn't my own, but my mind was working at a crazy speed, going over possible scenarios: the floor is empty, you could scream your head off, he's much stronger than me — fighting isn't even worth trying, but I could talk to him and buy time. And I started talking. I asked him questions, constantly found topics for conversation, and although he answered me, he stubbornly stuck to his line. So we walked around the little room from corner to corner. As soon as I moved towards the exit, he would immediately jump to the doorway and block it with his powerful body. Finally, he cornered me in the literal sense of the word and hugged me. A shiver ran through me. He unzipped his jeans, took my hand with his, and pulled it THERE.

— Don't!!

— Curly, don't you like me? — my brain started working frantically again: if I say I don't like him — he might get angry, if I say I do — he'll definitely have me. I need an objective excuse.

— But you're old enough to be my father!!!

— That's not important... — His voice was confident and, strangely enough, friendly. — Have you done THIS before? — he unbuttoned the button on my jeans and put his hand in there.

— Once... — the will to resist had practically faded, I felt doomed.

He started caressing me with his hand between my legs and kissing me. I reluctantly, but responded to the kisses, though I was still trying to press myself into the wall. He slid his fingers inside my vagina and smiled:

— Tight

— You're completely dry. Don't you like me even a little? — and again my thoughts raced ahead: don't anger him, but don't encourage him either...

— No, I do like you, but... — he didn't let me finish my "but," he pressed his lips to mine and pushed me even harder against the wall with his muscular body. "Made it worse, should have kept quiet" — flashed through my mind.

Only when he felt that I was getting wet did he take his hand out of... out of me and, finally, detached from my lips.

— Now it's your turn — he pressed hard on my shoulders, and I collapsed to my knees, coming face to face with a penis for the first time.

— It's not hard. Open your mouth, and I'll help you. — I silently shook my head. Then tears started welling up in my throat, not a banal sob, but quiet, doomed tears. If you couldn't see the eyes at that moment, you'd never guess the person was crying. And he didn't realize it right away.

— Well, that's not how it's done! I caressed you. Caress me too... — he lifted my face up by the chin and stopped short.

— Wha-wha-what? Okay, silly, we'll manage without a blowjob. But at least stroke it with your hand. — he lifted me to my feet, took my hand, and started caressing his penis with it, I complied. Of course, this was also humiliating, but I couldn't imagine anything more humiliating than a blowjob. The tears slowly subsided.

The penis was alive. It moved, responded to my touch, and was at the same time rock-hard and so huge (or did it just seem that way due to my inexperience?)! The proximity to THIS object filled me with simply unimaginable horror. It's like if a condemned man were given the executioner's axe to sharpen before his execution. But in general, I didn't have to "sharpen" for long. Making sure I wasn't crying anymore, he turned me to face the wall and pulled down my jeans and panties. For a moment, he stepped back slightly, and I felt him looking me over — I felt even more ashamed.

— You have a great figure! And your butt! — he pulled me to him, away from the wall, and bent me forward so that I leaned my elbows against the wall.

He found the entrance to my vagina with his fingers and positioned his penis; for a moment, I even lost my breath, but a confident thrust — and my lungs filled with air again. I felt with my entire being how the walls of my vagina parted and let in the uninvited guest. It was even slightly painful, although I was already wet. I wanted to scream terribly, but if the girls had arrived, they would definitely hear the scream, and to appear before them in THAT state... No, better to endure and forget this story like a simple nightmare.

I held back the scream that was trying to escape with all my might, but a weak, treacherous moan still escaped my lips.

In response, I heard an understanding "Mmm!" — my gentle rapist clearly decided it was a moan of pleasure and started moving confidently inside me. The minutes dragged on unbearably long. Not only are you being taken against your will, but the position is absolutely unbearable! Guys won't understand, but many girls will — at first, girls often can't stand the "doggy style" position and endure it only for their guys. It's that nasty feeling, like you're being tickled from the inside somewhere in your guts! I squirmed, shifted, and twisted as best I could — just to change the position a little, and I preferred not to think at all about the fact that I was being taken. At such moments, the little stones and dust under your feet become very interesting! But it's still impossible to completely shut out the sensations, and I felt him slowing down.

— Okay, that's it! I'm done suffering!" — I thought, but he had no intention of pulling out.

— Just don't... inside me... — I asked with faint hope.

— Shh... I'm not finishing yet. — He whispered in my ear. He took off his turtleneck and, without pulling out, threw it on the concrete floor. — Take off your pants — he ordered. And I obeyed, though to take off my jeans I had to get out of my sneakers too, and putting them back on was impossible. He took his penis out of me, picked up my jeans, and laid them next to the turtleneck.

— Lie down — I sat on this improvised bed, which stretched the entire length of the bathroom. He sat down next to me and with a confident motion laid me on my back, then squatted between my legs and unbuttoned my shirt, and then my bra. — Take it off. — I took it off and was left in just my socks.

He stroked my stomach and breasts and "reassured" me:

— And don't worry about pregnancy! I know some pills, you take them — and everything's fine! — His hand slid from my stomach to my clitoris and skillfully found my vagina. He positioned his penis and immediately pushed it inside. He moved in me and moved, sometimes slowing down, sometimes speeding up. We changed positions a couple more times, and in the end, I ended up on all fours (by feel — no better than standing against the wall):

— How cold you are today! You're not coming at all! — my gentle rapist remarked with annoyance. It turns out, all this time, while I was silently waiting for the ordeal to end, he was trying to bring me to orgasm! Having lost all hope of seeing my ecstasy, he came inside me and, satisfied, lay down on top, pressing me down with his weight and forcing me to lie on the floor too. For two or three minutes, he just lay there and stroked my back, my hair:

— My little one, my good girl.

See, it didn't hurt at all! And you were scared. We'll practice a little, and you'll start getting pleasure. You'll ask for it yourself... Let me walk you home today, or else someone might bother you, you're my beautiful girl!...

I was silent and thought to myself that with such a "suitor," you don't need any other rapists.