An experience of almost being raped in college

Actually, I'm very reluctant to talk about this embarrassing thing. Some things are better left unsaid, but this private forum provides a good place to vent. It's safe and preventative, much better than digging three feet into the ground and growing donkey ears (a metaphor for revealing one's past). Revisiting my naive and immature past here is a kind of reflection and introspection. Being able to discuss it with everyone is also a bit of fun and a splash of color in my otherwise mundane life.

In my sophomore year, I gradually adapted to university life and became familiar with my surroundings. I often went to a dance hall at a nearby science and engineering university on Saturdays. I went there for two reasons: first, to learn ballroom dancing; and second, to stay fit and maintain a good figure.

Every Saturday night, as usual, I arrived at the dance hall in the university activity center at 7 pm. Many male and female students were there. The ticket price was quite cheap: 2 yuan for girls and 4 yuan for boys (being a woman has its advantages!). At first, it was 10 minutes of dancing, then 10 minutes of ballroom dancing, then another 10 minutes of dancing, then another 10 minutes of ballroom dancing, and so on. When I was clubbing, I would find a corner, let my hair down, close my eyes slightly, and move my head and body to the rhythm, working up a sweat and shedding my worries and fat. That feeling was incredibly exhilarating. Sometimes, during the bunny hop, guys would come over and dance with me, but after the song, we'd go our separate ways and dance on our own. This was a more free approach, and since we were all students, it was relatively safe.

But with ballroom dancing, things were different. Lately, the dance hall had been frequented by older, more sophisticated people. Looking at their furtive expressions, I guessed they all had ulterior motives: during clubbing, they'd wait in the corner, observing silently; during ballroom dancing, they'd make their move. But back then, I lacked social experience, loved new and exciting things, and was quite bold, unlike now when I look back with such calm analysis.

As the gentle waltz music began, a slightly overweight middle-aged man walked towards me, extended his hand, and invited me to dance. I hesitated for a moment, but accepted anyway, because I'd heard that refusing a man on the dance floor would be embarrassing for him, and I was the kind of person who was least likely to refuse someone.

On the dance floor, he skillfully and expertly led me through one song after another: ternary, four-step, rumba, jitterbug, and even ballroom dancing—he knew them all, but that one was really difficult, and I wasn't used to it at all. He gently put his arm around my waist, praising my figure and flexibility. I was quite shy, but being complimented always made me a little secretly pleased. Since childhood, people had often praised my figure, saying I had long arms and legs, and was perfectly proportioned. That day, I was wearing a tight-fitting sweater, which accentuated my figure even more. I usually don't dare dress like that for class; I'm generally quite conservative and don't like to be so flashy.

The man asked me many questions, and I answered almost everything truthfully, such as my school, grade, and where I was from… At that time, I was really naive, answering every question directly. He told me he was an associate professor at a certain university and lived in a certain neighborhood near the university. I immediately felt a sense of respect for him, and my wariness lessened considerably.

To be honest, this so-called associate professor wasn't very good-looking. He wasn't tall, but he had a big belly, small eyes, and was balding; he looked to be almost 40. Back then, I wasn't good at judging people, assuming everyone was a good person, especially at school, and especially since he was a cultured associate professor.

Almost the entire evening, he kept inviting me to dance and even bought me drinks. I actually drank them, thankfully nothing happened (later I saw news reports about not drinking from strangers, and I realized how bold and careless I was). Around 9 pm, he said, "Aren't you hot? Want to drive to my place? It's nearby, there's air conditioning, it's cooler, and I have a nice dish..." I hesitated for a moment, then surprisingly agreed. One of my university professors lived in that neighborhood, and I was very curious to see it.

He drove his car, and after 10 minutes, we arrived at the neighborhood. In the darkness, we drove through several buildings to his apartment building, and then climbed six floors, leaving me breathless. I entered his room, a three-bedroom apartment with a simple yet elegant decor. It was fully furnished with a sofa, a stereo system, and a flat-screen TV.

He and I sat on the sofa, and he played a movie for me. After a while, he became restless, moving closer to me and embracing me. Sensing something was wrong, I said, "I need to use the restroom."

I went to the bathroom, pulled down my pants, and sat on the toilet, my heart pounding: "What should I do?"

But before I could think, the man approached the bathroom. I quickly got off the toilet, preparing to pull up my shorts and pull down my skirt. However, before I had enough time to finish, he pushed open the Japanese-style bathroom door (which I had forgotten to close). His face was flushed, and he was panting. He grabbed me, and as I struggled, he hoisted me upside down onto his shoulder and strode towards the bedroom. I was terrified and tried to scream, but I couldn't. My voice is naturally soft and thin, and being upside down made it even harder to make a sound; besides, my pants weren't even pulled up, and I was incredibly embarrassed.

He threw me onto the double bed in the bedroom and started to pull down my half-dressed pants. I grabbed them with both hands, trying to stop him. But he was strong; he held my hands and turned his attention to my upper body, attempting to tear open my shirt. I started screaming, my voice trembling with tears, "No! Help! I'll scream so everyone can hear me!" He immediately became alert, pressing one hand against me and the other hand to a pillow, pressing it against my face and mouth. I felt suffocated, unable to breathe, and unable to make a sound—I felt utterly hopeless!

Even more hopeless was that he ripped open my shirt, revealing my two full, snow-white breasts. He lowered his head and sucked on my nipple. I was familiar with this feeling, but it didn't feel good at this moment. Fear overwhelmed everything. His target wasn't my breasts at all! He began to attack my lower body. He held my hands down, pressed my head down, and I was so weak. No matter how I kicked, he still ripped off my pants and skirt, exposing my long legs and curvaceous lower body to his gaze.

I was so desperate, truly desperate, filled with immense regret! Why did I come here with him? Why was I so incapable of protecting myself? To lose my virginity to such an ugly old man, I was not willing! To be precise, the feeling of being raped disgusted me! I didn't want to be defiled by such a person! This was the cry from the bottom of my heart.

Then, thank God, a miracle happened!! He suddenly stopped and released the pillow from my face. I opened my eyes and glanced at him. He sat dejectedly on the edge of the bed, saying with a helpless and self-deprecating tone, "You're really something!" I looked closely and realized that before his lower body even touched mine, he had ejaculated prematurely in my excitement during my violent struggles.

He added, "Don't be so nervous, I won't really hurt you."

I honestly didn't know whether to believe him. Thankfully, the worst didn't happen, and I breathed a sigh of relief, but I still felt humiliated. But what could I do? I came here on my own

. I immediately said I wanted to go back. He said, "Okay, wait a minute, I have a gift for you." He took a beautifully packaged bottle of liquor from the cabinet and asked me to take it home.

I didn't even look at it and said, "No! I want to go back!"

Later, he drove me home, and I got off near the school, hoping I would never see him again. After that, I didn't dare go to that dance hall much anymore.

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An experience of almost being raped in college

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