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By Lauren McAllister
My husband and I have been married for about 10 years. It hasn’t always been fried fish and bits of banana but we make a pretty good couple. Bill’s a super guy and would do anything for me (short of buying his own underwear and talking to me for more than two minutes after sex). Since we were hurtling into our second decade together, we thought it might be advantageous to sit ourselves down and have a quick confab. Figure out what, if anything, could put a little spice back into our ten year old marital dinner. Well, to be honest, it was me who thought we should have the confab. Bill thought things were perfectly fine and why rock the boat and blah, blah blah. You know men.
At some point, somewhere into the second bottle of wine, sexual fantasies reared their naughty little heads. At first he claimed that he was totally satisfied and I was every fantasy he had or would ever need – blah, blah, blah. In the end, it came out that his sexual Valhalla was a threesome – you know men. Well, at least we were getting somewhere. I wish I could have been more encouraging, but women are just not my thing. So then he inquired as to my main wank subject matter. Bill was a little taken aback by the answer he got.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a very specific rape fantasy. Now, I want to make it absolutely clear, without any room for doubt or equivocation. I do not now nor have I ever wanted to be actually raped. I firmly believe that all rapists should have their balls cut off and sent to their victim to be fed to the household pet. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, I hope we can move on.
That kind of imagining is apparently a very common element in girlie finger-fun. I know that the thought of being dominated and “taken” (on a cerebral level) really revs up my masturbatory motor (Okay. Okay. It also revs up my motor sometimes when Bill’s on top of me. Are you happy?). After polishing off the second bottle of cabernet, we went to bed, had sex and I thought about getting faux-raped and Bill thought about having my best friend Kelly in bed with us. (Well, I’m assuming that’s what he was thinking – you know men.) The next morning, we both woke up with hangovers and didn’t discuss it again.
A few weeks past and our anniversary was looming on the celebratory horizon. John had been in this strange mood for days. Initially, I thought it was because I’d backed up over his golf clubs in the garage. Turns out, he’d borrowed them from a guy he didn’t like very much so it was cool. Finally, about 72 hours before the big event, he finally comes clean.
“So, I’ve been thinking a lot about your fantasy,” he shyly mumbles over a somewhat splotchy spaghetti Bolognese. Right away my ears are up and my stomach is sinking.
“What is going through that big unnuanced male mind of his?” I wondered.
“This is only if you wanted, cause you know – like – it’s your fantasy.”
By now, my hair is practically standing up on end. “What have you done?”
“Nothing,” he blushed. “I just ran into this friend of mind from school. He was always in the school plays, like to act and stuff.”
“He’s a really nice guy. And he can act…”
“You already said that.”
“So, if you wanted to do a little play acting. You know, this rape thing of yours, he said he’d help me out.”
“Fulfill your fantasy. You tell me what you want to happen and I tell him. We arrange a day and…”
I was stunned. “You’d do that for me? Let another man take me?”
“Only if you wanted. I know some fantasies should stay that way but – you’d be safe. If you changed your mind…”
“I’d have a ‘Stop’ word.”
“Well, you say, “No, no, no” in these scenarios but that doesn’t mean you want them to stop. It’s part of the fantasy.”
“I don’t get it.”
I tried to be patient with the big lug because he was being so sweet. “We pick a word like ‘Friday’…”
“You want to do this Friday?”
Men can be so completely thick. It’s so nice of us girls to love them anyway. “It’s a code word. I say ‘No. No. No.’ and he keeps going on about his business but if I say “Friday” that means I’ve become uncomfortable and I want him to stop. He would stop, wouldn’t he?”
“Oh Dave’s a great guy. We always thought he was gay, he was so nice.”
I rolled it over in my head for a couple of days, trying to decide what I wanted. My brain told me NO but my naughty parts would get wetter than Flipper’s wedding night every time I thought about it. Eventually, time was running out and I had to make a decision. Yes, like the slut that I am, I said “Okay.” What the hell, I could always change my mind.
The date was set and I was practically urinating I was so nervous. I almost called it off twelve times but changed my mind at the last second. The die was cast and everything was in place. I was a zombie at work that whole day. Every little noise made me jump out of my chair. When quitting time came, I didn’t really want to go home. In fact, I grabbed a quick bevy at a local bar to give me the courage needed to darken my own door. It didn’t help much. I dropped the key three times trying to get it in the lock. Opening that sucker, was the toughest thing I’ve ever done in my life, but I’m a plucky sort of gal so I took a deep breath and marched right on in.
Now, in most of my fantasies, I’m in an alley or something but, if you’re going to do it for real, it’s probably far more comfortable to do it in your own house than in a rat-infested dumpster behind the fish market.
“Hello? Sweetie?” I called out, knowing perfectly well that Bill wasn’t there. God, this was getting really creepy. I dropped my purse and phone in the kitchen and headed up to the bedroom. The house had never seemed so empty and horrifying. I felt like I was in some sort of slasher flick, just before Jason leaps out of a sock drawer and offers to trim my nose hair with his chainsaw. There was no way I came close to imagining how fucking warped this fantasy of mine really was. Just the creaking of the hardwood floors beneath me was petrifying. My heart felt like John Bohnam was banging his foot pedal into my chest as I turned the corner into our room. And then! This hand comes out of nowhere and wraps around my mouth. Jesus fucking fuckwad! I almost crapped a side-by-side refrigerator. If he’d have taken his hand off me that second, I would have screamed “FRIDAY!” till he ran out of the building. How I didn’t wet myself, I still can’t quite figure out. Luckily, he held me firmly till I calmed down. I could already feel his erection growing in my ass crack as he said his first words.
“Just stay quiet and you won’t get hurt. Do you understand?’
As terrified as I was, I nodded my head.
His other hand came up around my arm and started to fondle my right breast. After a good and thorough kneading, Bill’s friend grabbed the opening in my blouse and tore all the buttons off, leaving my bare stomach and bra exposed. He dragged the palm of his cold hand down over my abdomen, stopping just short of the top of my skirt. I felt his teeth gently bite down on the back of my ear as his index finger rolled around in my belly button. He owned me. Whatever he wanted was his for the taking. Even though I knew that I was perfectly safe and could end this charade at any moment, I felt a couple of panicked tears trickle down my cheeks as his hand come to rest at the hem of my skirt. The shame and the dread blasted an inter-continental ballistic missile of “YIKES” up my vaginal canal and into my stomach. I could feel my legs start to quiver as his rough calloused fingers scraped a torturously slow path up the inside of my thigh and under my skirt till they finally reached the very epicenter of my sexuality. His big manly palm closed tight around my cowering quim and squeezed it till drops of my womanly juice began to drip out. The utter humiliation of having my mound manhandled by a stranger (I hadn’t even seen his face) was almost unbearable but I knew that closing my legs would arouse his ire, so I left them open and allowed him full access to my violated and disgraced genitalia. The clumsy, incessant groping and prodding of my vulva and clitoris seemed to last for hours. Yet despite my revulsion and fear, I couldn’t help but physically respond to the vile and obscene manhandling of my sacred jewel.
By now, I was sopping wet and forever stained by his wanton embrace. My panties were down at my knees and his vulgar merciless hands roamed the soft moist contours of my tender slit at will.
“I’m going to take my hand off your mouth now, because I have other uses for it,” he sneered into my ear. “Do not scream or call out, do you understood?”
I again nodded my terrified head and he loosened his grip. His hand slid off my lips and down the front of my throat and came to rest on my bra. After a few more minutes of groping and debasement, the stranger put his weight onto my shoulders and forced me to my knees. “Close your eyes.”
Shaking almost uncontrollably, I complied. Sightless, it made the sound of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans all the louder and more ominous in my ears. “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” As soon as I had acquiesced to his command, I felt the slap of his prick on my cringing taste buds again and again. When he’d finished using his schlong like some sort of hideous dental tool, he slowly wiped the head of his member around my lips. The stranger then smeared his saliva-coated knob on my cheeks and eyelids.
Finally, my attacker had had enough fun degrading me and decided to claim the full pleasures within my mouth. Almost piercing my vocal chords, he jammed his manhood hard and deep into my oral orifice. Half choking, half sobbing, I did my best to suck his cock. If only I could make him cum, perhaps he’d lose interest in torturing me and leave. He had fistfuls of my hair and was furiously fucking my head-hole without any concern for my wellbeing. Cum – please cum and leave me alone!
Just as it seemed that I was nearing my distasteful goal, this foul despoiler removed himself from my mouth and literally pulled me to my feet by my hair. Within seconds, my attacker had ripped off my blouse and bra. Now, there was nothing between this unspeakable deviant and my naked flesh. He painfully slapped at my tits like they were toys. I gasped. “Take your skirt off and hand it to me,” he growled.
Shaking and ashamed, I unzipped the small piece of material and surrendered the last molecules my modesty to this brutish monster. I self-consciously placed my hand in front of my shaved mound but he pulled it away violently. “You don’t do anything unless I tell you, do you understand?” I nodded and handed him my skirt.
Moments later, this sicko had thrown me onto the bed. He commanded me to spread my legs as he tied my wrists to the bedposts with my bra and blouse. I so desperately wanted to jump up and run it but I was too afraid. What if I didn’t make it? What inhuman things would he do to me then?
“Please. Let me suck you,” I begged. “I’d love to suck your cock. Stuff it in my mouth again. Please. I’m married.”
“Well, lucky him.” He mocked my pleading and misery as he crawled on top of me. He was naked now. His skin felt like sandpaper against my stomach and chest as he pushed his whole weight down on top of me. This loathsome demonic creature reached down between his legs and pushed the head of his penis up against my helpless opening. He rubbed it back and forth across my hole and lips as I tried to tighten myself in one last, futile attempt to resist what I could not control. It slipped inside of me so easily, I started to cry. He clutched at my nipples as started to pump hard and violently against my pubic bone. The bed creaked and crashed against the wall as the pounding of his malevolent wad threatened to cleave me in two. “Oh God, how can this be happening? Please make it stop!” But, the foulest, darkest and ugliest part of this whole sickening nightmare was that I was starting to enjoy it. The shredded cloth that bound my wrist, the rough despicable treatment, the smell of a strangers breath upon me as he drove his dick ever deeper into the core of what made me a woman. Shattering my will and seizing my most private places for his personal pleasures and amusement. Although I wept and begged him to stop, I could feel my vaginal canal tighten around his ghastly weapon as it angrily plundered my insides. My legs involuntary squeezed against his thighs. My resistance and virtue deserted me as I rose to meet his thrusts. My God, I can’t stop! The harder he took me, the more I wanted to be taken.
“You fucking bitch slut!” he called out.
I wept because I knew it was true. My vaginal clench was now becoming unbearable. I could feel the orgasmic swells start to swirl around my clit and rise up my body. If my hands weren’t tied, I would have frantically grabbed his ass and pulled him ever tighter into me. I was lost. I couldn’t think. All that existed in the universe was savagely ramming against the gates of my womb in a mindless, relentless quest for satiation. Then the switch turned on. Like a huge bolt of electricity flooding through me, an orgasm of epic intensity laid waste to everything it touched. And it touched everything. My scalp came. Even my gums throbbed as this mega-climax continued to build to brain exploding proportions. I started screaming – and not for him to stop. My legs were locked in behind his as I tried to drive his penis up into my brain stem. Vast lakes of girl cum spewed out of me in an attempt to extinguish the hellacious conflagration raging between my legs. A few moments later there was a pause in his ferocious pelvic bombardment and he started grunting like a pig stuck in mud. This barbaric malignant beast dug his fingernails deep into my shoulders as his fetid ooze started spurting into me. The icky manky revulsion I felt was intoxicating. All had been surrendered to him and he had left nothing untainted. When this animal had finished polluting me with his mephitic discharge, he jumped up off the bed and went into the other room and turned on the television. I lay there for a half and hour or more before he came in and fucked me again. The second time – he pulled out and came all over my abdomen. After he got dressed, he drew a heart on my stomach with his sticky cum, licked my mouth and left me there.
Bill got home ten minutes later and rushed into the bedroom to untie me. I spent the rest of the night sobbing in my arms. He had the wisdom to not ask me how it went.
And how did it go? Would I repeat the experience? Probably not. Will I spend the rest of my life thinking about it while I masturbate? Most definitely yes. But at present, I have to figure out how to talk my best friend Kelly into sleeping with us. And I also have to figure out a way to like eating pussy because there is no way on Earth I am going to let my man down after what he did for me. God, I hope she shaves it!
Copyright 2014 Lauren McAllister
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