Unable to resist temptation

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

As she stepped into the elevator, I heard myself swallow.

Her face was actually quite ordinary, but her large, bright eyes made up for the ordinariness of her other features, making it hard not to take a second look. Her chest was flat, I'd guess a typical 32A for Taiwanese girls, but her waist was tiny, and her legs were especially long. Long-legged girls just give off a different vibe; I immediately pictured her with her legs raised high and spread wide, a seductive smile on her face.

She probably never imagined I was fantasizing about her like this. I stared blankly at the elevator mirror, and at the reflection of myself in the mirror opposite, countless overlapping reflections of us. If I suddenly stopped the elevator and made a move on her, would she scream and resist according to "traditional rules," or would she show that bewildered, "Come on, do whatever you want" look like Juliet Binoche, or even transform into Sharon Stone, pouncing on her like a hungry tiger?

"Ding!" The elevator doors opened, and we both stepped out. She hesitated and stopped, and I stopped too, immediately flashing a ladyfirst gentlemanly smile. But she didn't appreciate it, still striding out expressionlessly. You bitch! Even a fake smile would have been nice! I cursed her silently in my mind, but still grinned as I watched her walk into the small apartment next door, which had been empty for months.

That apartment hadn't been rented for a long time; supposedly, it used to belong to a working woman. One of the ten most wanted criminals broke in during the day, raped her multiple times, and even stayed in her room for two days and one night. Luckily, he took pity on her and didn't kill her. When the police arrived, like headless flies, the criminal had already fled, and the woman had run away in the middle of the night, not even bothering to pack her belongings. Word got out, and no one dared to rent that room anymore. This long-legged girl dared to stay there; either she was incredibly brave, or I wondered what had happened.

Did she think that the criminal was caught and she was safe? She didn't even bother to find out that the person living next door was a man. Through the thin wall, I imagined her entering the room, kicking off her high heels, taking off her dress, loosening her nonexistent bra, leaving her in only thin panties, and wandering around the room. I could almost hear the sound of running water in the bathroom, the flushing of the toilet, and then the sound of her turning up the radio, reveling in a wild dance. I couldn't help but moan, hurriedly grabbing the TV remote, turning on the locked channel, and seeing a naked AV actress looking at me with a bewildered expression, her lips slightly parted, calling out, "Come on, come on?" She wasn't actually my younger sister; judging from the faint crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, she was probably close to or even over thirty. But that gave her a mature woman's charm, the kind of feeling that you think she's been with some men, so you feel you could be with her too. Plus, we bumped into each other at least a few times a day. As the saying goes, a close neighbor is worse than a distant relative, and proximity makes it easier to get closer. If we had the chance, it would be perfectly natural for us to do something like that.

Unfortunately, she always had that deadpan expression. At least she knew I was her neighbor, and since there were only three small apartments on the floor, and the other was an office for a shell company, I was always the closest person to her on those lonely, desolate nights. Our breaths and heartbeats were practically intertwined. But damn it, she completely ignored me! Forget saying hello, forget giving me a smile; she completely disregarded my existence, swaying her alluring long legs! Her firm, high-perched buttocks (a recent discovery!) swayed back and forth in front of me. Making

a move in the elevator was too dangerous. I'm a respectable office worker in a small to medium-sized enterprise, and while my future isn't bright, I'm not going to gamble with my job. And judging from her schedule, she didn't seem like a typical office worker; she usually went out around noon and came back around 8 or 9 pm. She seemed more like someone working in advertising or a large corporation. Girls like that are usually quite open, right? Maybe if I were a little more forceful, she'd give in halfway, or even react more violently?

I've seen many cases of rape in newspapers and on TV. Breaking down a door isn't difficult at all. I saw her enter once; there were no triple locks or safety chains. She's incredibly bold or careless (maybe subconsciously she wants someone in, then she'll beg for sex, and maybe she'll agree; if not, I'll force myself on her. Aren't movies always like this: initially fiercely resisting, then half-heartedly yielding, and finally passionately...? I think a woman with her experience is probably very manipulative. Maybe she's already hoping I'll do something to her. As long as I don't hurt her, she might not report it to the police and lose face. Then I could have sex every night! Maybe even if I don't go looking for her, she'll come to me on her own. Aren't there experts who say that every woman subconsciously desires to be raped, but she doesn't admit it, or she's simply unaware of it?

So I'll grant her wish; maybe it'll be the most... The economy's been bad lately, work's been too slow, I rarely work overtime, and even socializing's''s been less frequent. Lying in my room watching TV at night, I often have these wild thoughts. Maybe I could sneak into her room when she's out and secretly install a hidden camera, watching her sleep and shower while satisfying myself? But that's just wishful thinking! Why not just go in one night and rape her! I could call a locksmith to open her door while she's away, pretending it's my room. These days, people don't care about anything else as long as they're making money!

Around two or three in the morning, I pressed my ear against the wall and listened for a long time, making sure there was no sound and she was fast asleep. Then I took out the woolen balaclava I bought at the hiking gear store that day, put it on, leaving only my eyes and mouth exposed, and carefully opened the door. I took out the key to the apartment next door that I'd had the locksmith make earlier that day and quietly opened her door. Sure enough, I saw her wearing an adorable Snoopy t-shirt, fast asleep, her long legs crossed, and I could vaguely see hickeys on her skin. She was wearing light-colored panties, and as I expected, she wasn't wearing a bra. Her small breasts stood erect through the thin shirt.

I heard myself swallow hard again. I scrambled onto the bed, grabbed her legs, and spread them wide. Just as I was about to thrust into her, she suddenly woke up! Her bright eyes stared at me in terror. At first, I tried to cover her eyes, but then I remembered I was wearing a hood, so I changed my mind and covered her mouth instead. She stammered but couldn't make a sound, struggling fiercely. I used both hands to restrain her arms. "Help—" she almost cried out again, so I had no choice but to frantically pull a large utility knife from my pocket and hold it to her throat. She indeed stopped moving. "Don't resist, I won't hurt you," I said in a deliberately low voice, almost choking on my own saliva.

She remained completely still, as if in despair. With my right hand holding the utility knife, I used my left to lift her Snoopy t-shirt, but pulling down her pants was difficult. She didn't resist, but she also didn't cooperate, lying there stubbornly refusing to lift her buttocks. I grew impatient and moved the utility knife to her lower abdomen. She looked frightened, her body trembling. But I only intended to cut her panties, being very careful not to hurt her skin.

Then I straddled her, holding the knife in one hand and bracing myself against the bed with the other. It wasn't a very comfortable position, but the fear and panic on her face excited me. She must value her life and wouldn't dare resist at all, allowing me to do whatever I wanted and complying with all my demands. Compared to the difficult women I'd dated before, this was heaven. The more I thought about it, the more excited I became. I thrust harder, but then I saw a smile appear on her face—a rare smile I'd never seen before. Sure enough, she was a woman who wanted to be raped all the time! I rode her even faster, and she remained silent, but the smile on her face grew wider. "Ah~~~" Just before I reached my climax, she suddenly sat up, reaching out to remove the hood from my face. She saw me!

"Bang!" My head slammed against the bedside table. Rubbing my head, I opened my eyes wide. I was in my own room. There was no woman next door whom I had raped, no hood pulled off. I had just had a nonsensical erotic dream. The only sound around me was the listless moaning from the TV channel.

Over the next few days, my desire to rape her grew stronger, especially one night when she went downstairs to the 7-Eleven. Under her white t-shirt, it was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. The small bulge made me burst out laughing in the elevator. I got an erection and deliberately stared intently at her chest, but she remained expressionless as always, not even bothering to glare at me. Only when she stepped out of the elevator did her hair lightly flick across my face, making my whole body itch. I deliberately followed her slowly, watching her casually open the door (she hadn't even locked it when she went downstairs!), then kick it shut with one foot, without hearing the lock click. Perhaps all of this was a hint, telling me that beneath her cold, aloof exterior lay a passionate heart, waiting for me to ignite it?

After igniting myself, I drifted off to sleep like an overburnt candle, my candle wax still dripping. Suddenly, I heard the sound of a door opening! It was next door—no, someone was opening my door. Was it another robber? I wanted to yell, "You've got the wrong place! I have neither money nor beauty, why don't you come next door?" But the door was already open, and a slender figure stood backlit. It was her! She had indeed delivered herself to my doorstep! I swallowed excitedly, my body trembling slightly. The door closed immediately, and I heard the first, second, and third locks engage, the chain fastened. This meant she wasn't planning to go home tonight; she was completely under my control. Darkness enveloped me again, with only the occasional flash of traffic lights peeking through the blinds. Just

as I was about to get up to greet her, she moved silently to the side. Suddenly, I felt a cold, sharp sensation in my throat—a knife! I couldn't tell if it was a utility knife or a fruit knife, but it was small and extremely sharp. Was she here to rob me? "Don't move, don't make a sound, I won't hurt you." The lines were similar to what I imagined she'd hear during a rape, except she didn't bother to lower her voice—in fact, she didn't need to; I'd never even heard her voice before.

I chuckled inwardly. With her looks, she could have just said what she wanted to do; why resort to such a drastic measure? But the slightest movement sent a sharp pain through me, as if the blade were slicing into my neck. A wise man doesn't fight a losing battle; I'd better remain still and see what she could do to me. She seemed to sense my intention, gave a cold snort, and the knife slid down my throat, tearing it to pieces in a few strokes. Either the knife was too sharp, or she was too skilled. I'd better be sensible. The cold blade slid across my collarbone, reaching my groin. I trembled involuntarily, a mixture of panic and excitement. Was she going to castrate me in one fell swoop? Perhaps she was a vengeful goddess who had suffered greatly at the hands of men; would my life's happiness be ruined here?

Fortunately, she only cut my silk panties. "Thump!" My sensitive areas immediately became erect. It's actually quite embarrassing to admit; I was raped! I should have at least offered some symbolic resistance, but instead, my little brother disobeyed his older brother and was eager to "welcome the guest." This really was like inviting a wolf into the house. She seemed quite satisfied, chuckling softly. The knife returned to my throat, but instead, she spread her long legs and straddled me. "Oh~~~" I couldn't help but groan as she slid all the way in. A sharp pain shot through my neck, so I quickly gritted my teeth and let her ride me.

I couldn't say there was no pleasure, but she remained completely silent, unlike most girls who would moan and gasp to enhance our... The man's pleasure; and I was not allowed to respond at all. I could only wriggle slightly in response, but a stern rebuke told me to stay still. What was even more unbearable was that I had no control over myself. She could go fast or slow, in or out, completely at her whim. In the dim light, I could see her hair fluttering, her body rising and falling, and even some sweat dripping onto me. But I couldn't see her expression at all, and there was no sound. It was like a silent woman riding a horse on a vast, quiet grassland, galloping silently towards some distant place.

The destination was reached! Her whole body convulsed, and she gripped me tightly with her warm embrace. I couldn't help but feel a tremor. "Again, again?" I silently cried out in my heart. But she suddenly stopped, got up without hesitation, and the blade quickly left my throat. The door opened immediately, and the blinding light in the corridor made me squint. I was immediately plunged into darkness again. I didn't hear another door close, nor the sound of the elevator. She, the woman who rushed in and raped me, disappeared like a ghost.

I lay in bed, my mind blank, the parts of my body still throbbing painfully. At the crucial moment, she ignored me and ran away; leaving me in such distress that I had to take care of myself while simultaneously complaining about how inconsiderate this woman was—on the other hand, since she came to rape me, and didn't care how I felt, it was a miracle she didn't kill me afterwards. But why wasn't she afraid I'd call the police? Was it because she left no evidence—not even any bodily fluids for testing? They were sure I wouldn't dare report it to the police—I imagined myself walking into a police station, pitifully saying, "I was raped." A room full of cops would probably laugh themselves silly, and someone might even deliberately ask, "Who? Who raped you? Introduce me quickly!" Of course, I couldn't bear that kind of humiliation, nor could I imagine the newspaper headline, "Rape Case in Shuangcheng Street Suite: Young Man's Nighttime Horror," and me having to go for a doctor's examination, medical tests, give a statement to the police, and be questioned by the judge about the details.

They would all be secretly laughing, perhaps even bursting out laughing on the spot! TVBS might even offer a high price to interview me, the first poor man in Taiwanese history to publicly expose being raped by a woman. The more I thought about it, the more frightened I became. I realized I couldn't tell anyone about this, except to weep alone in my empty, desolate little room.

To be honest, it wasn't that painful. While it wasn't entirely satisfying, it wasn't without any pleasure either. Besides, the other person wasn't bad off, and I didn't spend a penny. Strictly speaking, apart from a slight loss of self-esteem, I didn't suffer any real loss. And dignity is nothing if no one else knows. Look at all those millions of women who have been raped but haven't reported it—they all go on living their lives as if nothing happened. But for some reason, I still took two showers, and then another one when I got up at dawn. It was as if I wanted to wash something away, as if I could forget this little nightmare as soon as possible.

But the nightmare didn't forget me! That night, I clearly locked the door, but I didn't lock it with the chain. Yet, the door was opened in my sleep. My first reaction was to turn on the bedside lamp, but my hand was stabbed hard by a knife. I cried out and pulled my hand back, feeling a chill in my throat. In the end, I couldn't see clearly if it was her.

I ran into her at the building entrance earlier today, and I stopped to stare at her intently. I couldn't believe she could act so nonchalantly after doing something so outrageous; surely she'd leave some trace. But she walked past me expressionlessly, her hair still tossing slightly, which I easily dodged this time. She glanced back at me, a mist clouding her clear eyes. I suddenly noticed her high cheekbones and thin lips—supposedly signs of strong sexual desire. No wonder she committed such a horrific act of a woman raping a man.

And she dared to do it again! Even the most ruthless villain wouldn't dare to be so addicted. She clearly didn't respect me at all. This time, the humiliation deepened, and my penis, along with mine, slumped limply. She gave a soft groan and gently stroked it a few times. The pathetic guy couldn't resist the temptation.

[The End]

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Unable to resist temptation

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