“Boys will be boys” and “you know what boys want.” Both were things I often heard and when we girls would get together and talk about boys, well, now, men, it was often what was said. “It’s all they want.” And my girlfriends and I were at the local one late afternoon several miles away from where I lived and we had bar snacks and drinks into the early evening exchanging our latest stories of life and the men who were in or out of our lives. How when one would take us to dinner and a show what they wanted later which they didn’t often get…whether we girls were being bribed by the men for the “later” part of the date. We talked about other things, our work, our chores, the bills that had to be paid but the one thing we all had in common was the etiquette involved in dating: they give and then it is our turn to give or give not and I suppose when men get together for an evening it is what they talk about, that or football. Probably more often about football.

We all had a nice long visit that one night and it was a distance home for me so I took a shortcut through the park even though it was very dark and I wondered if I was being smart to not go around the park instead of entering, walking alone, having a few glasses under my belt, a little warm from our meeting, maybe not thinking things through and so I found myself walking through the dark park. I saw some boys, well, men ahead around a bench having fags. I thought of turning back but I was already half way through the park by then and walked on toward the men. My mistake.

I got up my nerve and walked on toward them and felt I would just keep walking no matter what they might say and I knew they would say something. It’s what boys/men do when a pretty girl walks by. Right? Right! And I was a pretty girl: petite, nice hair, young, trim figure and one of them said: “Hello there. Out for a walk? Come on over and say ‘hello’ What’s the hurry?” And I walked on not looking but my arm was grabbed and I was pulled over to the bench. “Come on. Say ‘hello’ to the lads. You’re a pretty lass.” I tried to pull away but they were bigger and stronger and I looked around. There was no one around, just us, late at night, in the park. Me and four men all smiling at me and I was scared and couldn’t move. He had a strong hand and held me there. One of the others came over and tried to kiss me. I turned away. Then my head was held and there was a mouth on mine. “You taste good!” he said. He tasted of tobacco. “All we want is a little taste. We won’t hurt you. Just a taste and then you go on your way.”

I was being pulled away from the path. Hands on my shoulders pushing me to the ground. I was outnumbered and out smarted and thought how dumb I was to get into this. Then I felt my dress lifted and there were hands all over me and my dress lifted off. “We won’t hurt you and just have a little fun and off you pop.” If only that was true I thought. I’d stay out of parks. Just don’t hurt me. And there were hands on my breasts. Mouths kissing my breasts and I smelled tobacco. They weren’t hurting me just abusing me and I was their victim late at night in the park. All I could think was I wanted to go home. To be released and go home and shower. A warm shower to get clean of all this. They pulled me down on the grass and my legs were pulled apart and I felt my breasts being kissed and more tobacco smell and chuckling. Yes! They were chuckling about it all but it wasn’t funny. It was pathetic. Didn’t they have something better to do? And then it wasn’t just my breasts but hands were at my privates and then I heard a zipper. Here spread eagled and a zipper. My hands were being held, my legs and I was lying naked in the park thinking of a shower! Madness.

Then the hands left my privates. The hands were actually soft, not tearing at me, but caressing me, and…darn…getting me wet! I didn’t know how violence could get me wet. This was a different kind of violence and a different kind of wet and I was anxious for my shower and to be let go but they hadn’t finished getting a “taste” as he said. It was wrong, I knew it was wrong, but I started to say to myself: “Just do it. Just get it over with and let me take my dress and go.” My head was swimming with “let me go” thoughts and then I felt a penis on me, at me, in me, back and forth, in and almost out and then in again and my mind was saying “let me go home” but my body, my disloyal and insubordinate body was saying: “fuck me, fuck me hard, make me come and then let me go.” That penis, a fat one, spreading my lips, exploring my cunt, my body lifted my hips and gripped that penis and then I grunted, I was ashamed of myself, I couldn’t help myself, I was coming on this penis in me which moved a few insistent more times, spurting hot inside.

The guys started chuckling again, muttering, “She liked it. Did you see that? She came for him and now it’s my turn.” I still was held down for the second guy and in went his penis. I was numb from the first thick penis and this one wasn’t as big. What was I doing comparing rapists? And I was thinking, comparing and started churning inside again, my naughty body taking over again and I lifted my hips to let in the second penis whish soon was limp and a third was at me and I smelled more tobacco and was thinking shower. Then a fourth. I’d made three penises limp and actually I was ready for number four. I was fighting back, not letting them enjoy a resistance as they might want and my cunt was tired and dripping out all the three previous comes and waiting for the final one.

My eyes still closed. My body still being held and my legs spread and then number four! At last! This wouldn’t take long I thought. I was almost home. But number four, of course, was different. It was bigger, longer, thicker and I felt impaled and spread and I felt my legs stretch of themselves. “Let her go guys. I’ve got her pinned with big old ‘Charlie’ here and she’s not going anywhere. She likes fucking, even strange fucking with strange men in a dark park” and he stuck “Charlie” deep inside me and my hands and feet were released from their grips. My body liked “Charlie”…”Churning” “Fucking” “Charlie.” He stuck me deep, taking my breath, making me dizzy.

I lifted my knees and held on for my final ride and his tobacco breath was at my mouth, licking at me, I opened my eyes, he was good looking and sweaty and naked and I held his chest on mine and let him fuck me hard as he was grunting and my body was in total charge of me and squeezing his huge cock. We were animals fucking like dogs in the park and I was thinking of Jim and his dog and how I came years ago and had that picture in my mind with this new “Charlie” and being fucked and coming and the guys chuckling and waiting for my shower, then walking, almost running home in my dress, opening the door, up the stairs, turning on the shower.

I couldn’t wait to be clean and clean away those guys chuckling because they had not only raped me but also made me come, several times. I was ashamed of my body…my naughty, dirty, betraying body. The water felt wonderful, cleaning me off. I was soaping myself now, every nook and cranny and washing my muff and privates and then I couldn’t take my hands away from myself. I was getting aroused thinking of the night and four cocks and my hands and body took charge and I came again! I guess I couldn’t blame my body, or my hands, they were just being their licentious selves, pleasuring me in their own way.

I knew it was wrong, that boys/men would be whatever they would be and all of us girls knew what they wanted and sometimes got, not always after a dinner and a show, not always after a dance, sometimes we got it in a dark park and sometimes, a girl got off in a dark park and in the shower after! I double locked the front door and went to bed, wondering about myself, my body, my feelings, about life and how I was home and showered.