Schoolgirl Rape-the Other Side (I/R rape, preg)

[Captain Swing]

it all started when my exclusive private high school admitted Black kids on athletiC scholarship. before that, we were an exclusive, expensive high school whose studwents happened to be all White. We were told they would be bussed in to help the Black community, as they did not have all the privileges we White people do.

And, of course, I was White. I was fifteen years old, with pale skin and blond hair. I had this cute wholesome White girl look which I used when modeling for photo shoots.

I can still remeber the firstg time it happened. I was walking to algebra class when suddenly I flet something squeeze my butt. I turned and looked saw some Black boys walking in the opposite direction. They were snickering.

It happened a few more times over the coming weeks. Other girls had also complained.

It then escalated.

While I have having Salisvbury steak at the school cafeteria. Suddnely, a Black boy grabbed me from behind and started fondling my breasts.

"Oh yeah, muthafucka," he said. "You sho got nice White titties! Oh yeah! I wonder what your White pussy feels like."

After a few minutes, he let me go. I ran ouit of the school andf ran home, crying. I told my parents what happened.

the next day, we were at the school office, and I told what happened.

The administrator spoke to us. "I understand how you feel about this," he said. "But remember that the Black students here are from a diofferent environment. Many of them have had friends killed in drive-0by shootings. they've had to sleep in tubs to avoid getting shot by stray gunfire. They don't have the same privileges you do. They have a comepltely different culture. We'll talk to them."

And yet, the next day, it happened again, with that same boy grabbing me and fondling my breasts.

Finally, there was a speech at the auditorium. The principal himself faced all of us, speaking behind the podium.
'I know many of you made complaints about the behavior of the new students here," he said.

So many of us murmured in agreement.

"They're from a different culture. You see, we're privileged here. We live in nice houses, we go to this school, we have stable homes, we get to go on vacations across the world, we get the best food amnd the best medicine.

"They grow up in poverty. They have barely enougbn to eat. Many of them don;t even know their fathers. They don;'t know how to behave appropriately with girls. for so many of them, gangs are their only family.

"For four hundred years, we've oppressed them. We kepty them out of our schools, our water fountains. and things hav en;'t changed. They still can;t find mannequins matching their skin color. All of the artists appearing on the covwers of albums are White. They don;t see their kind of TV commercials. They are still being gunned down on the streets by cops. So what you're going through is nothing compared to what they have gone through for four hundred years of oppression."

When I went home, I kept thinking about what a privileged life they had, and I kept thinking about the lives Black people had for the past four hundred years. I started having doubts I could condemn their behavior.

for the next two weeks, we had lectures in class as to how racist society is, how we have White privilege, how Black people are oppressed, and how their behavior is a result of this oppression. It still felt wrong every time that Black boy groped me. I kept reminding myself he was from a different world where we oppressed him.

And then it happened.

I was at a home game with my friends. it was so exciting and we won. After the game, i went to use the restroom. After washing my hands, I elft to rejoin my friends.

Suddnely, i was grabbed and thrown somewhere. I looked and could see it was some sort of utuility room with toosd and brooms and mops.

I was pinned to the floor.

I looked up and saw that Black boy who kept groping my breasts.

He held a knife to my face.

For a few seconds I was in shock.

"Please don't," I said. "I...I'm on your side. I know how you're oppressed."

He started rubnning my right breast. With hsi free hand, he ripped open my blouse and tore off my bra, exposing my breasts to him. I felt humilitiated; i never exposed my breasts to a boy before.

I felt him lick my breasts. "Nice White tittiles," he said.

I felt his hand against my right thuigh up my skirt. With a yank I felt him pull down my panties. He lifted my legs and spread them apart; I knew he was looking right at my vulva.

I saw him undo his pants, and I saw it.

His penis.

His erect,. Black penis.

"Best way to stick it to Whitey is to stick it in Whitey," he said.

I knew what that meant.

He was going to rape me!

"No!" I yelled. "I'm a virgin!"

I was a virgin. In ther name of the Lord Jesus Christ, I swore off sex until marriage. I prayed that somweone would c ome here and stiop us, even after I could feel his penis against my labia.

And then I felt this pain, and I shrieked.

"Oh yeah, muthafucka!" he yelled. "Tight, White pussy!"

He was inaide me.

His penis was in my vagina.

I was being raped.

The thing inside felt so big like it would come out of my belly.

An d then he started pumping. I felt as I was being torn apart. The nerve endings in my vagina lit up like Christmas lights. My head kept bumping against the wall even as I heard his disgusting grunts. I was being tossed around as he lunged into me over and over again.

I felt his big hand against the back of my head, and he moved my head forward.

I could SEE it.

I could see his huge Black penis disappearing into my White vagina, only to reappear again.

And the disappear.

And then reappear.

"you readty for your first load of nigger cum, bitch?" he asks.

I was frightened; I klnew what he was abouit to do to me. I tried to push him off, buty he was too heavy.

And the it happened.

he grunted loudly, and I felt something warm spreading inside me.

He was forcing his sperm inside me! His sperm was blasrting past my cervix and into my womb. He continued his thrusts as he ejaculated his semen. His grunts sounded even more disgusting.

He finally pulled his penis out of my vagina and then pulled up his pants.

"Nice fuck, ho," he said.

I stayed in that room and sobbed for ages. I was raped! i wasn;t a virgin anymore. I felt so soiled and defiled. My vagina kept aching.

I could barely remember it, but I somehow made it back home.

I cried myself to sleep.

A few days later, my parents and I went to the school authorities about my rape. I tearfully told thwem about what happened.

"Have you considered what Black people have been through the past four hundred years?" one of them asked. Sher gave this litany of all the atrocities Black people experienced in this country. "More Black men go to prison than to college. If you report this rape to the cops, you will add to this problem. It's up to all of us to end White privilege."

We went home. They were right.

I was still beset with nightmares, seeing his huge Black penis going in to and out of my White vagina.

It was two months later that I noticed I didn't get my period asince the rape, and a trip to a doctor confirmed it.

I was pregnant.

I was fifteen and pregnant.

I wasx pregnant with my rapist's baby.

I, a White girl, was pregnant with my Black rapist's baby.

I sobbed. It was like being raped all over again. Mom and Dad comforted me.

We ate take-out dinner from a local restaurant, about how to proceed.

"If we give up the baby to foster care, it'll perpetuate White privilege," I said. "We, I have to raise this baby, so the baby can benefit from our White privilege.

"And baby will need a father."

And so we did what we wouldn;'t expecty even a year ago.

We contacted the baby;s father, my rapist.

After some discussion, he moved in with us.

he and I shared the same bed. I would sleep naked, when sleeping with him, of course. I would let him have sex with me whenever he felt like it. Sometimes, he would slap me when I did something wrong. My belly got bigger and bigger. Soon my pregnant belly took up most of the frame of my body.

Two months after my sixteenth birthday, I went in to labor.

I was in the maternity ward with my parents. I felt the contractions.

I pushed, feeling something slide out of my vagina.

"It's a boy,." said the doctor.

I looked at my baby son. he was Black, just a shade lighter than his dad.

Looking at home, no one would believe his mom's White.

His dad was in the ghetto, smoking crack with his homies. It was over a week before he came home to meet our son.

And so I raised my son, mostly alone, as his dad was elsewhere. Occasionally, the cops would ask about him. Mom and Dad and I covered for him so he won;'t be exposed to the racist criminal justice system. He continued to have sex with me whenever he was at home. Letting him use my body for sex, my womb to make Black babies, was my reparations for four hundred years of oppression and White privilege.

By the time I graduated, I was pregnant again.