HJe had just fucked me, fucked my arse and then told me to fuck off.  There was no warmth, no consideration to it.  I felt rejected, thrown away so to speak.  I rode the bus home, crying all the way.

For days, i was so misable, crying at the smallest of things at work.  One of the women at work tried to talk with me, to console me.  I didn't know how to tell her all that had happened.  She asked if someone had hurt me, and I just collapsed in tears.  Eventurally she got me to stop crying.  I trieded to tell her about the party, to tell her about him, about what we had done.  Before I had even got half way though the story, she just looked at me and said "He raped you, didn't he.  I was shocked, I had never thought of it in those terms.  She talked to me, talked about consent, he had never asked if I wanted to have sex with him, I had never said yes, then that was the legal definination of rape. I brust out in tears, having been forced into accepting what she said, and not wanting to tell her about the second time, where by her reasoning he had raped me again, in my arse.

I'm not sure if it was that night, or the next I started to masturbate again.  Thinking back to the night of the party, of the time at his house.  Rubbing myself as I recognised that he had raped me, raped me twice.  How I enjoyed it, enjoyed being raped, how it excited me, made me climax being raped