The stalker – A shark took the rape bait by Rekinjos

Posted by: Rosangrienta35Date: 4/23/2070

My first experience being (almost) raped has stuck with me for the last four years and I desperately want to live it again.

One summer night of four years ago, me and my (ex) boyfriend were making out in his car, parked on a hill in the outskirts of my rural home town.

It was something like a hundred degrees outside so we had cranked down the windows and mosquitoes were flying inside, drawn by the interior lights and sucking blood from our naked skin.

The car kept shaking violently each time He thrusted his cock inside me. I was afraid the handbrake on that old piece of junk would break so my boyfriend left the keys in and put the switch in reverse, just to be safe.

While we were making love a callous hand grabbed my tits. It wasn’t my boyfriend’s.

Outside was pitch black so I couldn’t see the face of that man, but his nails were long and untrimmed, and He was squeezing my tits like you do to with a stress ball.

It lasted only a few seconds. I expected my boyfriend to get out of the car and beat the crap out of that man. Instead, he started the car and drove us away like a little bitch.

We broke up the same night and I haven’t heard of him since.

But every night I still think about him.

The rapist, I mean, not my boyfriend.

One of my friends later told me that place was used by couples to practice dogging and cuckolding.

I didn’t even know what those were, but looking back, we gave that man every signal to invite him.

The reverse lights were on (which means come over) and the windows were cranked down (which means you can touch) It makes me wonder whether that man was really bad or not, He probably didn’t want to rape me, He just thought I gave him my consent with those signals.

So, for the past few years, I have tried to bait a man into raping me, following the advice on the forum. Yesterday evening I almost succeeded. I was so close.

Here’s how it went.

I was drinking a low alcoholic beer at a bar in a bad part of town, feigning dizziness. A stubby fat man, who wore sideburns and a sleeveless black leather jacket, which showed many tattoos on his arms, sat close to me.

I called him by a name I made up on the spot, pretending to know him.

When he answered and told me his real name, I apologized. I told him He had the same beard as one of my colleagues, and that I have a disorder called prosopagnosia, so I really struggle to recognize faces (thus the police couldn’t draw a sketch of him from my testimony).

I was being chatty and flirty, but when He invited me back to his place, I refused. I said I had too many beers and just wanted to go home.

He offered to accompany me back to my place, saying “it’s dark out there and you could make a bad encounter”. Obviously, I accepted. I was so excited.

I walked unsteadily across the streets, passing close to as many dark alleys as I could on the way home, with him just a few feet behind me, but nothing happened.

I would have loved to be raped into my own home even more, because that idea makes me feel even more vulnerable, but i doubted He would take such a huge risk. Still, I held on to my hope.

Eventually He said He got tired of walking and called me one of those self-driving taxis. I shouted my address out loud to the computer, making sure even He could hear it.

When I got home, I left the door unlocked, got into my night vest, and lied awake on the couch, waiting in vain for him until sunrise.

Do you guys have any other tips to give me? How could I increase my chances of being raped?

For my next attempt, I am considering walking around while waggling a white cane and pretend to be blind. Should I wear sunglasses or white contact lenses? I can get all of those items pretty easily.

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I stared at the screen for well over half an hour. I had read that story twelve times already. It was well written and thought out. The whole message felt like a confession, and there were too many details for it to be made up. This didn’t seem the usual troll or larper.

This could had been worth the wait.

There were no other posts on OP’s profile. The account itself was created just two days before.

I opened the blinds, trying to get as much light in my apartment as possible, but it was already late at night.

Time to get to work.

The forum’s encryption was no match for my quantum computer. From there I found the email used to register the account.

With this information I found the IP address. It’s in Los Angeles.

That was way too vague, and it could had been a VPN.

I used the email I found to create an account on all major social networks.

A couple of hours and half a dozen cigarettes later, an error message appeared on the screen: “this email is already in use”.

“Welcome back, Rosa Cruz. Is this your account? Log in or create a new one”

Bingo!

I started looking at all the posts made by that account.

The account belonged to a thirty-one-year-old woman named Rosa Cruz. She was born in Mexico, but she moved to LA a couple of years ago.

That confirmed the IP address was real.

I looked at her photos. She was a beautiful Hispanic brunette, with curly hair, hazel eyes, and more freckles on her face than stars in the night sky.

All of her photos were over a year old, but I was certain that time couldn’t have tainted her beauty so quickly.

Her most recent picture was taken on a balcony with the LA skyline in the background.

In the next one, she was sitting on the hood of an old Seat Ibiza, looking at the horizon.

The license plate confirmed it was in California. If I couldn’t find any other leads on her location on her social media, I would run her name and license plate at the local DMV. I was hoping it wouldn’t get to that. I would have been too exposed, and it would have taken too long.

All other pictures looked almost saturated, but it was just the bright yellow sunlight. They were clearly taken in Mexico.

A younger Rosa was kissing a boy with an ungroomed beard, wearing sunglasses.

In the next shot, she was alone, sunbathing on a sandy beach at sunset. The sunlight shone red on her skin, contrasting her cyan bikini, and exalting her figure.

Then there were a bunch of pictures of some theatrical play. In the centre of a stage, lied a girl dressed in fancy old clothes. I almost didn’t recognize her under that wig.

I kept scrolling back.

She was now a teenager, hugging an old woman with grey hair and a lot of wrinkles on her face, in front of an old house.

The last was a group photo.

A few young boys were crouching in front of about a dozen girls. On the bottom right corner, it was written “Clase 3c-2058”.

I recognized her immediately. She had the biggest smile among all her classmates.

I stared long into her wide opened eyes, mere pixels on my screen.

I had never wanted to protect something more.

Going out to be raped at night, she could encounter a maniac, a sociopath, a lunatic or maybe even a murderer. There are tons of creepy freaks out there.

And who knows what they would do to her? I didn’t even want to think about it. But I did anyway. And those thoughts made me cry.

I pushed back my tears and started scrolling through her posts. She wasn’t as active as I had hoped.

All I found out about her was that she had moved to LA to become an actress, but she only found a job as an extra for a small theatre due to her accent. Therefore, she was taking English speaking classes.

Her teacher had tagged her to a message which contained a key to enter tomorrow’s online classroom.

I would have been there too.

I spent the night awake looking at her pictures and stroking and edging my cock to her, dreaming about raping her, without ever allowing myself to cum.

The next morning, I covered my webcam with tape and unplugged my mic before joining the classroom. As I had expected it wasn’t even protected by a password.

There were dozens of other students, but I only had eyes for her. She was sitting in a very bright room next to an open window which looked onto the green roofs a small suburban neighbourhood. Judging by the window’s height, she must be living on the first floor, I thought to myself.

She was wearing a pyjama with a Christmas sweater on top. I noticed she kept moving her hands below the sweater. I wondered: was she wearing anything else? Was she just warming up her hands? Or was she playing with her pussy under the table where her classmates couldn’t see her?

I imagined myself barging in her room and raping her in front of her classmates. She would have loved to be in the spotlight.

In reality, I would never attempt something that risky. It was just a fantasy. In fact, logging in her same online classroom for this long was already too dangerous for me.

I had all the information I needed. So, I left, booted up Google Street View, and tried to find a place in LA that matched what I had seen through her window. This process took me all day. Most of LA looks exactly the same.

I had to get some rest before leaving, it was going to be a long drive from my place to LA.

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The brown carpet in the hotel room I was staying reeked of cat piss. I kept the windows open at all times so the stench was barely bearable, but the sound of dogs barking echoed through the hallway.

For the price I was willing to pay, that was probably the best I could get. Not that I would have ever used it, but the hotel didn’t even have their own wi-fi.

My eyes were glued to my computer. I had spent the last few hours memorizing the quickest way from the theatre to her neighbourhood.

The show was due that very night, and I had bought a ticket in the front row. Most of the good ones were sold out.