Sleeping rough, series 3 – Episode 5: Shelter

I remember taking refuge in the clean softness of the pillow underneath my head. The soft cotton. The smell of ironed cloth with starch in it. My head was sore and I felt dizzy and drowsy. I might be coming down with something. But at least for the moment I was warm and safe and comfortable. A pillow. A mattress. A blanket covering my shivering body. My eyes closed. The bunk bed moved a bit as the person sleeping in the top bed rolled to her other side. That swaying of the bed. The squeaking of the joints between the metallic parts. It was all good. It was all right. I had found shelter. At least for the night.

I can’t breathe! What is going on? I tried to turn over, but I was blocked. What the…! There was some one in bed with me? What’s going on? I can’t move!
There was a hand over my face. Over my mouth. Some one pressed himself up against my back. I could feel he tried to get my pants down. Oh, no, you don’t. I pressed my knees hard against one another, crossed my legs and freed one hand from the blankets and sheets that were tightly wrapped over me, and grabbed at my pants, holding them in place. I could feel how the guy behind me rubbed himself up against me. I kicked back but never hit anything significant. The guy did not give in at all.

That breathing coming from behind me. In my neck, in my hair, in my face, in my ear. I never knew breathing could be an ugly thing. His left hand went down in my pants. I tried to grab at his hand, but trying that gave him a chance to pull down my panties. I desperately tried to pull them up again. That only worked half. I struggled to get my face free, but my head was tight against his chest and neck and I could not move an inch. Breathing was difficult. The sheet was wrapped so tightly across my chest and neck. That hand over my mouth. My nose only half free still.

I heard the squeaking of the bed as I struggled, as he was moving and doing his thing. Was I the only one awake? Was I the only one hearing this? Why did no one help me out here?

I could feel how the man was now trying to rape me from behind. He tried to get into my butt. I put all of my strength in all of my muscles closing my buttocks as tight as I could. I curved my back in and out again, trying to bounce him off me. He tried his fingers first. He could not get in. At least he could not get in.

He then just rubbed his loins up against me, hard and fast and faster. His free left hand grabbed me where he could. My breasts. Inside my panties. This one hand felt like many going over me.

He got hold of my left hand and moved it to my back and over his dick. I kept pulling back my arm, but he was way too strong. He rubbed inside my hand although I tried to get it away from it. I could not get away from it. His rubbing up against me and inside my hand got faster and more rough and then he stopped. He let go of my hand.

I was pushing at the wall with both hands and one leg now, trying to move us backwards so he would just fall off the bed. That did not work very well. Nothing worked. This sticky, smelly body so tight against me. We were too heavy together as we were.

He all of sudden let go of my face and with a swift turn was gone. I turned around, freed myself from the tight sheets, and sat up. I just got to see a glimpse of the guy as he rushed out of the room through the doorway. In the dark I could not make out who he was.

 

I was certain others were awake too. I could hear breathing, fast and wrought-up. But nobody moved. Nobody made a sound. Nobody spoke a word. A cold spot in my bed made it clear what had happened, why the man finally let go. My shirt got dirty too. It stuck to the skin on my back. I almost puked. I took it off of me and got out of the bed. In total darkness I walked to the showers, crying silently.

The night watch of the shelter checked out what I was doing in the showers. I was certain he could see from my face what had just happened. He lowered his eyes. He bent his neck and he looked at the floor. He then picked up my shirt and panties and he started to clean them for me in one of the sinks. I washed. I just washed.

 

Next episode

Whole story

 
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About Jikai

Living a life of blessed less where my feet support my walk and my hands create my story. View all posts by Jikai

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