by Jenne64 ©
You might think that a thirty-five-year-old woman living in the Nineties would have gotten over the emotional baggage she'd carried since her teenage years. But not even years of therapy have been able to dispel what happened to me then. It wasn't for lack of trying. I'd spent a fortune for the dubious pleasure of lying on a couch telling a stranger my life's history. And still could not resolve the issue that continuously burned in my head. I was almost raped when I was 15.
Almost. Attacked, yes. Entered---not quite. It happened in a run-down part of the city where I shouldn't have been to begin with. Fortunately the would-be rapist was interrupted by a passing policeman. He made a run for it, and got away as the cop tended to me. Eventually, the officer calmed my hysteria--- but I never was able to erase the image from my mind.
Even today, replaying the scene over and over, I can feel the bastard touching me, smell his after-shave, taste the mintyness of the toothpaste on his breath. And any little thing can trigger a re play: a news story, a man wearing the same aftershave, anything.
But it's not the replay that I have struggled with the last 20 years. It's not the reason I've spent thousands on therapy. The real problem is that I hate myself for what I feel every time the image is triggered. Because I want him.
Oh, true, a part of me wants to rid my mind forever of the memory. But another part of me burns to have it happen. To feel him pushing in me. Feel his hard cock filling me. Hear his grunts, his moans. Feel him moving, pumping, plunging--- and then jerking, squirting, spurting up inside me!
Why? God! I only wish I knew. Try as I might to erase the loathsome image, a part of me responds with highs of such erotic intensity that I can almost come just from the image of him fucking me.
I've struggled for so many years to come to terms with these feelings. Like most women coming to adult hood in this day and age, I'd had my share of lovers. But, until Marc, I never felt I loved. Always, the spectre of that almost-rape loomed up between me and genuine intimacy with a man. I wonder now--- had I not met Marc, would I ever have been truly happy?
Marc was different. I met him 5 years ago, and from the start, it was as if I had found a long lost friend. We were harmony. We hit the right notes together. From the start, we could talk for hours and never sound off key.
The sex between us was music sent from heaven, and remains so to this day. It was a relationship that seemed too good to be true. And as it moved on, the memory of the rape was pushed farther back in the distant corridors of my mind.
It wasn't gone. I still recalled the scene and felt the guilt---and the excitement. No matter how close we became, or how much I came to trust Marc, I always kept from him that one vile secret of my past. I think he sensed there was something between us. He'd hinted around the edges, but had never confronted me, had never even pushed. He was so kind, so caring, so willing to let me keep my unopened, secret door inside me.
And, in the end, that's why I told him. It just sort of spilled out of my mouth one night And once started, it was like a raging torrent. I couldn't stop. The hurt, the anger, burst from me like poison from a boil lanced. I purged my mind and body of my memory.
He held me close. We talked for hours and then made love. I told him how the thought of it still excited me. He understood! He actually understood! I had shared the most intimate secret that I had with the man I loved. And more than merely accepting it, he'd understood.
We made love--- truly, love--- all over again. It's now a subject that we can openly discuss. We sometimes even fantasize about it. I almost think it turns on Marc as much as it does me. By accepting the emotions that it conjures in my mind, trying not to analyse and fight them, I've begun the long journey up the path to feeling whole again--- to becoming again the composed and rational woman that I pride myself on being, without the alter-ego of a woman with a dark and guilty secret. The journey wasn't over. But it had surely begun.
And then, one night, it happened. After a long and stressful day, I fell into bed exhausted. Marc followed. I cuddled close to him, and drifted into a deep contented sleep. What happened then was such a shock to my senses that I remember it now as if it's happening again.
Suddenly, without warning, I'm awake and Marc is leaving my side. Through the haze of sleep, I sense that something is wrong--- terrifyingly wrong! But what?
All too soon, I know. There's an alien presence in the room. Marc is struggling, fighting, cursing. A bedside lamp crashes to the floor. The wall-switch light snaps on, blinding my night-filled eyes. Then, as my vision returns, I see a man standing at the foot of the bed, holding his hard, erect cock in his hand. Two other men are tying Marc to the rocker with clotheline, and gagging him with duct tape.
My pounding heart bolts to my throat. I start to scream but a hand clamps over my mouth. I try to bite it but I can barely breathe, and in my ear, a guttural, menacing whisper breathes, "Shut up, bitch!"
Terrified, I do. I see them clearly now--- three men in ski masks, radiating a beastial lust so menacing I fear my heart will stop. Moving swiftly, they take my arms and bind my wrists. The one with his hand on my mouth says, "I'm going to let you go. Don't make a sound ,or you'll regret it to your dying day."
"Which may come sooner than you think," snarls a second man.
"Right here in bed," sniggers the third. "With a big strange dick in your sweet juicy cunt."
All three look into my eyes as they shed their clothes. I am revolted. I want to puke. But behind my revulsion, behind the terror that consumes me, something else begins to loom. I return their gaze defiantly. They seem to look straight through me.
Suddenly, I sense the power they feel. They're in control. In this, the most intimate chamber of a wife and husband's love, these aliens run the obscene show--- and they are about to raise the curtain. I must resist, and yet I can't. For Marc's sake as well as mine, an inner voice insists--- I can't.
The man who held my mouth now tears my nightie from my body. "Get naked, bitch!" he snarls. I shut my eyes, blocking out reality, lie helpless, as the others begin to explore and plunder my body.
In my mind, it's as if the three thugs are as one crude, lust-filled man. His rough hands fondle my breasts, slide between my thighs, caress my belly and flanks, the cradled contours of my flesh. His teeth nibble sharply at my nipples. A hand touches my pubic mound, slides along my labia, then rips away my panties. I hear the sinister laugh of my rapist's lust. I gasp. I try to shut down my emotions. But the past comes back. Oh God! The past comes back! Their pricks are hot and hard. Their sense of power fuels their lust --- and, against my will, it fuels mine too. Again, they dissolve into that one instance long ago. A man's fingers probe my sex. One finger, then two, then more--- deep inside, working in and out.
"Get away!" the voice inside me screams. And then I feel 15 again, and another voice, whispering low but gathering strength, cries, "Do it! Don't stop! I love it! Love it! Love it!"
The intruder lies beside me on the bed. He pulls my hair, kisses me, and forces his tongue into my mouth. I taste his minty breath. The past again! He parts my thighs. I feel his tongue slithering between my pussy lips. Jesus! Yes! Don't stop!
"Stop it!" my inner voices scream--- but my cunt gives forth the slick and oily fluid of my lust. In the caverns of my mind, I hear the echoes of my youth singing, "This is what it might have been! This creature of your pleasure!" "Nice pussy," someone says. A tongue flickers over my clit. I groan, "Oh God! Oh God!"
I know that Marc is struggling. But I also know that struggle as he may, he's as powerless as I am. He's naked in the rocker. They've tied his arms behind him. His face is flushed with lust. His prick is hard, erect. He's humping, trying to fuck the air. Now I'm confused: is that agony or pleasure that's written on his face? The men sneer. "Your wife might enjoy another cock inside her, no??" one asks. Marc groans. A yes? A no?
The man moves over me and brings his pulsing prick within inches of my cunt. He forces my legs apart as far as they can go--- exposing my cunt, its drooling lips betraying my arousal, my lust, my wanting for his thick hot prick that now, against my will, consumes me.
"You've waited a long time for this," he says as his cock moves toward my sex. He rubs its swollen head upon my clit. I feel his shaft sliding up and down through the wet and fevered cleft of my aching cunt. And against all instinct, all effort in my mind and heart, I hear my inner voices crying, "Yes! Oh yes! Oh! Twenty fucking years!"
His cock enters my body. Oh! I shut my eyes and savour its intrusion. Oh! Time stands still. Turns back to the dark city street. Oh! The terror. Oh yes! Deeper! The cop who interrupted. .. "It's okay!".. .The ache, the pain, the fear--- the hysteria that followed. And now this alien, nameless prick plunging into my body brings me back to that dark night so long ago.
Oh God! It brings me back! "Yes!" I cry. "Yes! Don't stop! I want it! God! I want it! Fuck me!"
A mouth clamps down on my my swollen nipple and bites. "Yes!" I say again. "I want it! Yes!"
A cock thrusts into my face. I want to resist, but my mouth opens and swallows it. "Oh, fuck, yes!" I moan. " I want it! Ummm! Yummm!"--- and intelligible sound is lost in my slurping up and down the silky skin of his hot, hard muscular shaft.
I fight the pleasure, but it's no use. I know now that I've wanted this for years. I'm beyond fighting. With each thrust of this alien, cock the chorus in my mind grows louder--- an iron anvil chorus hammering "Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!"
One prick works my cunt. I suck and jerk another. And then a third slowly pushes into my butt. My anus! Oh God! Let me endure this vile, taboo bliss--- these three hot, fleshy pricks moving in and out within me! Deeper! Don't stop! Oh God! Its okay!
And before my God can answer in the sacristy of my mind, I feel the soft flames kindling--- burning up within me, lapping, overlapping, towering upward, bursting like a super nova star into orgasm after orgasm--- a crescendo, I know, that had been building all my life. My life. .. my life.. .ooooh God! My life!
And as my convulsion ended, as my spasms died--- as I came back to conscious life again--- I felt the demon that had haunted me so long slip sliding away, down into some dark vortex of my soul, from which it never again would rise to haunt my love-filled nights. Never had I felt so many emotions course through my body all at once. Never had I felt such release of anger, of self loathing, of confusion between what I'd been and what I so desperately wanted to be.
Each orgasm brought its own release. Each prick that entered me and fucked me brought joy beyond my wildest dreams. My mind relinquished all my guilt. I feel cleansed. I took them, welcomed them, and begged for more.. .
But Marc, my love, was still imprisoned in his rocker, his face a mask of anguish, eyes of lust, his cock still hard and oozing rivers of precum. His sexual hunger was palpable. I could feel it in my well-fucked cunt. And I wanted him. Oh God! I wanted him where all those other cocks had been! Wanted his hot flesh to erase the feeling of the others!
Someone untied his bonds. He lunged for the bed but they held him back. They laughed.
"You want your wife now, do you?" one of them asked. " You said she was such a sweet, wet pussy. .. You want a piece of her now, don't you?"
"Yes!" Marc cried.
But maybe we haven't finished with her yet," the intruder said. "You said ...?" Suddenly, the intruder's words struck home! Marc had planned this from the beginning! He'd hired these thugs to invade our bedroom, tie him up, and rape me--- to exorcise my past!
I looked at the love of my life. Our eyes met. His face streamed with tears. I pursed my lips and gave him the most compassionate air-kiss I could fashion. Then I looked down at the alien fingers that were probing my hot and hungry cunt. And I knew that I wanted them too. Wanted them again. In me. Yes. Wanted to feel their hot pricks fucking me while Marc looked on.
It was beyond our control now. My legs were forced apart, exposing my pussy lips once more. Oh, yes! More alien fingers probed my body's depths. My juices were running like a river. Yes! Marc, watching, had already cum once and seemed about to cum again.
"Want your hubby, bitch?" a harsh voice intoned.
"Yes," I begged, pleaded.
They let him go. He fell upon the bed and we embraced in tearful kisses. "I'm sorry, God! I'm sorry," he sobbed, and I soothed him, comforted him, and tried to tell him it was all right.
"Please--- it doesn't matter. Take me now, Marc.. ." I pleaded.
The disembodied voice growled, "Tell me you want your hubby to fuck you now, bitch."
"I want Marc," I sighed. I desperately wanted him to end this here and now. Yes, oh please, yes! I gazed into his eyes, pleading. They begged apology but nothing more. Our intruders stood stolid, grim faced, waiting what their leader told them to do next.
They knew. Strong hands lifted astraddle Marc's thighs. I felt his prick against my clit--- and then, as the intruders stood watching, I sank down on it, let it slide full length into me. I savored the feel of it rubbery length pressing the walls of my weeping cunt. I was pushed forward onto Marc's chest as I humped his prick. "I know it's you in me," I whispered. "No one else." "Oh baby!" he replied. "I'm so sorry."
There wasn't time for more commiserations. A cock was pushing towards the opening of my ass. I wanted to hide, to die. I wanted to scream--- in ecstasy or in pain. I couldn't tell which, because a third cock was somehow in my mouth now and my tongue was sliding up and down its shaft as two fat cocks fucked my cunt and ass.
Like Confucius said, "If rape is inevitable, relax and enjoy it." I relaxed. Oh God! It was good! A cock in my mouth! Another in my virgin ass! And a third--- my sweet lover's lovely prick, buried in my eager, hungry cunt! So fucking, fucking good!
And then, seemingly simultaneously, the cocks inside me began to twitch. .. then jerk. .. and then, balls leaping, spurt and squirt their hot cum up into my cunt, my mouth and ass. My own tension, bottled up for days, burst loose, rushed over me like a prairie fire out of control. I came, and jerked, and shuddered--- and then came again! And then, as the afterglow receded, we, Marc and I, found ourselves alone. As if they'd never been there, the men who'd fucked me silly had vanished to wherever they'd come from--- wherever Marc had found them.
I tried to come to grips with my thoughts as I lay in Marc's arms, He held me gently. We didn't need to talk about anything just then. We had shared it all--- my past, our present, the fantasized future--- in the last hour. And now there was only our real life future together.
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