Is it still rape if I enjoyed it?

I ASK NOT to offend or shock. But because honestly, I am not sure what to call a great fuck I didn’t ask for, or agree to. The truth is that when D. and I fight, our anger instantaneously turns into pure, animalistic lust and this has gotten us into trouble time and time again but we never seem to learn. When I’m angry at D., I hate him with every fiber of my being, I can't even stand to look at him, yet all I want to do is fuck him to death. Yesterday night, while at his uncle’s, D. and I had a brief, but meaningful fight over the balance of our marriage. I felt insulted and unappreciated and he was taken over by guilt for his outburst and its' searing content. For almost twenty four hours, I didn't speak to him; I even spent half the night next to our bed, on the floor, in protest. D. tossed and turned the whole night; he reasoned and argued, even bribed me with my favorite juice but nothing worked and the angrier I became, the more my body hungered for the warmth of his cock and his expert touch.

I rarely wear clothes when at home and today, as I am making the bed, I doze off with nothing on but a small towel around my waist and the comfy black nursing bra I refuse to part with. I feel his presence towering above me even before I am lucid enough to open my eyes. Instinct tells me we both know what’s about to happen, but my unresolved anger and misplaced pride won’t let me offer my soaking pussy on a platter. He watches me intently as I proudly get up from the bed and proceed to leave the room. I gasp in surprise when, without a sound, D. grabs both my arms from behind and slams me hard on the bed. I hear him slowly unzipping his dark blues. I decide to seize the moment his pants drop to the floor as my chance to escape. But deep into folding his jeans, D. does nothing to stop me as I run right past him. Just seconds before I reach the bedroom doors, I feel my feet leave firm ground before I am catapulted forth; landing head first, deep into the soft mattress.

The anger, hate, pain, fear and lust that’s been holding me hostage for the past 24 hours melt into each other and I am energized and determined to stop him. I try to gather myself up long enough to face D., to tell him to fuck off. But next to his 200pounds of sheer muscle, my soft 135 is nothing more than baby weight. D. wastes no time getting down to business, I feel him pulling me down, closer to the edge of the bed and as hard as I resist and hold onto the sheets, it takes little effort on his part for me to end up with half of my soaring body high above me. I scream in indignation and in hope that the fact that our neighbors can hear us will make him stop. He just slams my face deep into the sheets. I gasp for air and get the message! When D. deems me calm enough to release his grip on my ponytail, I beg weakly: “Please! Don’t!”

“Don’t worry” he quietly whispers “You know you’ll like this.”

I know he is right and with a wide grin on my face, I bite my lip and brace myself for the lesson and the pleasures to come.

[To be continued…]