It all started when I was fifteen. It didn't start as rape; not really. I remember I had just turned fifteen, I had just started a new year of school—my first year in high school. Charlie was a drunk, so he wasn't around much. My mother had just ran off with some man she had met at the hardware store in town. I knew something was going on with her, she had taken to fixing up things around the house—visiting the hardware store at least three times a week. Charlie didn't notice, he always had been completely oblivious.

I remember it was a Friday, I had just gotten home from school. Charlie was passed out on the couch—he didn't go to work much after mom left. With him was Peter—married with two children, a son my age and a daughter two years younger. He was my fathers best friend, and colleague. He spent a lot of time at my house, cleaning up after my father and putting him to bed at nights. I often wondered what his family thought of us and him, since he was always cleaning up after my family, rather than being home with his own.

Peter was older, around Charlie's age. I would get so shy and embarrassed around him for the longest time. He was cute for an older man, and he was sweet. Sometimes when he'd come over, he'd cook me supper. He would do little things that made me uncomfortable like grab my ass, and sweep hair out of my face. He would call me beautiful, and tell me to smile more because I had a beautiful smile. He made me feel beautiful too. I knew the things he was doing were wrong, but I liked getting attention from him. Maybe it was because my father was too drunk or passed out to give a shit about me. At the time, I didn't really care.

I remember this one particular night, I was laying in bed. Charlie was screaming and hollering downstairs, so my music was turned up loud. I buried my face into my pillow and ignored everything, not noticing when my door opened. So when I felt the weight shift behind me I screamed which was muffled by a large hand around my mouth. I remember him bringing a finger up to his lips, telling me to be quiet. I nodded my head "yes." He swept a piece of hair away from my face—I closed my eyes at his touch. As my eyes closed, I felt wet and cold against my lips. He was kissing me. Not like my father had kissed me—used to kiss me. Not even how other boys kissed me. I didn't kiss him back. My eyes wide, as his mouth got harder on mine. And before I knew it, it was over. He sat there on the edge of my bed for a long time. Charlie's screaming downstairs progressed and got louder and louder, so Peter left. Just like that, no goodbye, no nothing.

A couple months later, he came back. I remember him kissing me, and I was kissing him back. And he took my clothes off, and I let him. Then he took his off. He was on top of me then, kissing my neck and chest. I remember him looking down at me, asking me if he could. And I nodded my head "yes." Simple as that, he was in me.

It wasn't rape; not really.

Obviously people are going to have their opinions on this story, some people aren't going to agree with the "it isn't rape; not really" statement. But I promise this will be the only time rape is insinuated. And my story is not about rape at all. Anyway, give it a chance—review. If it isn't for you; move on.

Also, I had to delete this story, because when I would go to view it, it said "story not found." I don't know if that was the case for you guys or not. I'm sad that I had to get rid of my old reviews. Anyway, I'll be posting chapter 2 in a couple hours, for you, who have not read it. For people, who have already read both chapters—chapter 3 will be posted sometime later tonight and chapter 4 will be posted in the next couple of days. Please review and tell me your thoughts and whatnot on this story. I'm currently only going to be working on this story for now. So Standing in the Rain viewers who are looking for an update, I will be posting soon enough, but I'm going to finish this story first. Thank you, and please review.