When a woman tells a man that she doesn’t want to have sex with him, and he puts his penis inside of her, it’s rape. It doesn’t matter that there is a mutual, passionate chemistry between them, and they want nothing more than to experience the union of their bodies in the same fashion that their minds, hearts and souls have already become intertwined. If she is not ready for the physical manifestation to take place, and tells her beloved so, but he does it anyway, it’s rape.
It doesn’t matter if she’s naked and he is naked, and they are in a full body embrace, their lips interlocked, their tongues tasting the delectable mysteries of their mouths, that they have been longing to share with each other. If she asks him to contain his desire to her external pleasure points, but he violates this boundary, and in the throes of his loss of control, pushes inside of her, it is still rape.
When he has entered her, and she is powerless to thwart his entry and stop his thrusts, and even if his thrusting brings her physical pleasure, because she asked for this very thing to not happen, it is still rape.
It is not her fault for seducing him beyond control. Because she was naked and in love, it did not nullify her request to keep their union limited to parameters that she was not comfortable exceeding.
When she sheds tears afterward, he cannot tell her that she didn’t mean what she said and that her body indicated something other than what her mouth verbalized. He is a rapist.
It doesn’t matter that this was the first of many unions, the most passionate, intimate and fulfilling lovemaking of her life, expanding her knowledge and understanding of intimacy beyond anything she had ever known or could imagine. It doesn’t matter that they became lovers, promising themselves to each other for eternity. He was, is and will always be her rapist.