Unconscious Love

Becky loved her husband. As their fifth wedding anniversary approached, she knew she loved him. She was sure she loved him. Actually, no one had ever asked her and he hadn't either. It was an understood aspect of their marriage that they loved each other and always would do. Her friends had said to her many times how lucky she was to have such a husband.

"Always the gentleman," they'd said, "and so caring towards you."

They were right of course. He was never angry with her and always praised her when they were together and when they were in company. He did the gentlemanly things such as helping her from the car, opening doors, carrying the heavy bags, helping in the kitchen without being asked. He was the ideal husband. She knew he was the ideal husband. She was sure he was the ideal husband. It was simply understood between them that he was the perfect gentleman and an ideal husband.

And their life together was just fine. Caring. Loving. Considerate. Free from anxiety about each other. No doubts about their love for each other, and nothing to fear. Actually, no one had ever asked her if her life was just fine. All her friends assumed that she must be happy and content because she was married to the perfect gentleman.

She'd never told her friends anything about her sex life with her ideal husband. She didn't complain like they did about their husbands' demands, about the inconvenience of some aspects of their sex lives. The bad timing. The roughness or perhaps the rushed orgasms for their men. One of her friends had been open and frank.

"He calls it Having a Quickie but I call it Pleasing Himself," she'd complained.

Becky had never thought of her sex life like that. What they had was based on their early experiences together because neither she nor her husband had known any other partner. They'd learned their sex together and been happy to explore together. Not they there had been much exploration; just a gradual accommodation of occasional excitements and regular togetherness at the weekend, so that he got his release every few days and she got hers sometimes. And sometimes not. For many weeks or even months. But that was the way their sex lives had grown and she accepted it as normal. What they didn't know was her desire to be dominated and exposed to extremes of sensation so that her orgasms came explosively and left her exhausted. But she knew it would never happen.

It was on a Tuesday in October that her happy and contented life was thrown suddenly into question. She had been sitting on the bus home from work, an earlier bus than usual, and so it was mostly empty. Behind her were two women of her own age and they were talking in tones that suggested secrets. They weren't whispering but keeping their voices down and leaning towards each other. Becky found herself trying to hear what they were saying and she heard snippets.

"I was thrown around," said the first woman, "I wondered what they'd do with me, you know?"

"Were they rough with you?" asked the second woman.

"Well, no. Not really. They were just so strong and they ......" Becky lost track of the conversation but now she was intrigued to hear more, to learn what had happened to the first woman.

"And were you scared?" asked the second woman.

"Well, at one point, yes, I was but it was so exciting, you know? I didn't want them to stop, you know?"

"So how did you cope with it all? The roughness and everything?" persisted the second woman.

"Well, to be honest, I didn't care what happened. I was just wanted it to go on all night. So long as they didn't hurt me, you know? But then for me it ended because I just lost it. I passed out on them. What they did then, I don't know but they were real nice with me when I came round."

"Why did you pass out? What did they do to you?"

The first woman lowered her voice again, "They shagged me unconscious."

For Becky, that single phrase overtook everything that had happened that day. She stopped listening to their talk. Her ears weren't receiving any more. One thought overtook her mind and her imagination. Shagged unconscious.

Everything that had happened in her life so far seemed lessened somehow. She heard it and she wanted to know what that sort of excitement and rigorous sex was like. She heard just one more snippet from the woman behind her.

"When Brian came home, he said I looked healthy and very happy. I didn't tell him anything but I was so contented. I didn't have a single mark on me, you know. I gave him a good time and he never knew why." And she gave a little laugh, as they stood up and left the bus.

Becky knew in that instant that she wanted to be shagged unconscious. She knew also that her husband was not the man to do it. Her dream was just beginning.

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Later that day, in the quietness of her home, Becky started to analyse the meaning of the woman's words. Did the woman mean that she had so many orgasms that she passed out in ecstasy? Or did she mean the men had knocked her about so much that she collapsed; but no, she hadn't a single mark on her, she'd said. So perhaps she passed out with excitement. Becky was mystified but also excited at the thought of such sexual experience and she desired it more than anything else in her life at that moment.

Initially, she planned to encourage her husband to provide much more and more imaginative sex, but she realised again that he was not the man to do it. For the first time in her life, she started to plan her unfaithfulness and the extremity of an experience she hadn't even thought of a few days ago.

"How to get so much excitement that it knocks me out?" she asked herself silently every few hours.

Becky had a feeling that the only way she could get this experience was by meeting a new man. No; she'd have to meet a group of men who knew what they were doing, and weren't going to injure her. She needed caring and careful men who would treat her well and take her to the extreme of consciousness in their handling of her. She felt instinctively that there would be no such thing as a group of caring men who could shag her until she was unconscious but, by now, she was in a risk-taking mood and wanted the experience above all else in life.

Over the next few weeks, the times she spent with her husband in bed were used for fantasies. She imagined herself being thrown around a bed by a group of strong young men. Or held in mid-air somehow and used by a long queue. Whenever her husband was playing on her body or deep inside her or coming to his own climax, she could see herself in her ultimate sexual situation and it helped her achieve orgasms in a new quicker way. Her husband seemed please with the effect he was having on her, and believed he'd become a new lover. He was visibly pleased with himself and asked if she'd enjoyed their time together.

"Yes, oh yes," she'd replied and kept her thoughts to herself.

By accident, a few weeks later, as Becky was logging in to Excite.com, up popped a "swingers group" notice. It promised just the experience she sought and she found herself doing the unwise thing: making contact with strangers who promised ecstasy. Of course, neither the pop-up nor the email said anything about "shagging until unconscious" but she was asking for "everything a woman can take" and "make me lose my senses" and "give me more than I know about". The contact was named Michael and he seemed to understand perfectly what she wanted. In fact, Becky was the person who didn't know what she was asking or what she meant by the words she was using, and that would become clear in the days ahead.

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In a warm hotel bedroom, Becky found herself undressing with two young men. They'd all had a little drink as they arrived and met; a sweet drink that Becky didn't recognise but it tasted nice and made her feel very relaxed.

She was shy and kept her eyes from looking towards them, but they watched every movement and seemed to be counting her clothes as they came off her figure. When she was naked and so were they, they gently took a hand each and led her towards the bed.

"This is it," she thought, "now I'm going to find out what real shagging is like."

"Close your eyes and enjoy this," one of them said, and he bent down and started to lick her nipples and kiss around her breasts.

She enjoyed. The other kissed her face and nibbled at her ears and played with her throat with one hand. With the other hand he traced her figure downwards from her shoulder to her waist and then to her hip and then over onto her tummy. And so to the top of her legs and between them, pushing them gently apart. As soon as he touched her labia, they both knew that she was excited. Her juices were flowing and his fingers made a little slurping sound as he dipped inside her and spread her moisture around.

She leaned back and murmured her pleasure, "Hmmm." She was oblivious to everything except the hands and the mouths, playing on her body. She could feel her orgasm building.

One of them put his hand across her eyes and started to kiss her even more deeply; to her back teeth, into her throat. He was like an animal in her mouth, going wherever he wanted. His other hand was up her vagina -- her cunt she wanted to call it to herself now. The second man was massaging her clitoris whilst squeezing and pulling on her left breast.

"Don't stop, don't stop," she wanted to say but could only grunt in her throat and think it to herself.

Her climax came suddenly and she started to soar in her mind and her imagination. These two men had taken her to ecstasy in three or four minutes and she was in a different world so quickly, only barely aware of her surroundings or the men who had done this to her -- for her. She pumped juices out of her cunt as it twitched. Her breasts were on fire. Her clitoris felt as if it were a foot in length and so hot she felt it must be steaming in the air of the bedroom. Her breath came in short stabs into her lungs and she didn't care if she was alive or dead, just so long as her orgasm could continue for a few seconds more.

Through the mists of the ecstasy, she became aware of being lifted. Hands were under her waist, lifting her clear of the bed. Other hands were lifting her shoulders and holding her arms out straight. Yet other hands were lifting her thighs and stretching her legs further apart. A long way apart; more than ever she could have pushed them apart by herself. Her hips were beginning to complain but she let all the sensations wash over her in her orgasmic state. The finger was still up inside her but now hardly moving, just waving back and forth to maintain her orgasm to the last millisecond. She felt that her skin must be flushed and heated but there was no way for her to see anything because of the hand over her eyes and the face close to hers, still kissing and probing her mouth. Both breasts were now being massaged and pulled and squeezed. To her, they felt to be the size of melons; water melons. No, she imagined they felt hard and rounded like basket-balls. Her imagination was in overdrive.

Although still surrounded in mists, she was aware of the hand leaving her cunt and another feeling of something pressing at the lips. Not a finger, not a hand at all. She knew it was a penis but let the knowledge pass through her head without thought -- just so long as these feelings continued a few seconds more. The penis pressed against her cunt lips and she parted before it. It started to climb into her and the owner took hold of her waist as he dragged her onto himself.

Her legs were now splayed out almost in a straight line and her cunt would have been an open cavern if left without its filling. All the other activity was continuing on her body; the breasts, her eyes, her throat and mouth. Now the penis was at the end of its travel into her. She could feel it pressing up against her cervix and pressing into her abdomen, somewhere around the height of her navel. She felt full and excited still, enough for another orgasm if the penis could continue its movements and stretching her wide open.

She as in mid-air, stretched out like a sacrifice and being pumped into her tight stretched cunt. She wanted him to come in her in a few moments, when her orgasm arrived. He began to move backwards and forwards into her: almost out of her and then in to the limit of her cervix and a little further to stretch her insides. She was aware of so many sensations and imaginations at the same time. Her stretched legs must now be in a straight line, she felt; her breasts were great swollen hard spheres, she felt; her throat and mouth were full of a huge animal tongue, she felt; the penis was pushing into her hard enough to split her open in her stretched state. She felt it was so big it seemed to be filling her vagina and rectum at the same time. For a second, she worried that he'd broken through between her openings.

Then the orgasm began to build again and the penis began to twitch in a way she recognised would lead to her being filled. She passed into a daze as he started to pump and her orgasm took over. Even as it did she felt things happening to her body -- terrible things - exciting things: through the ecstasy and the pleasure, she could see all this in her mind's eye even though her eyes were still covered:

- he'd started to come and to swell inside her;

- he was pumping an extraordinary load of his fluids into her, she couldn't tell how much but she felt a rising pressure in her organs;

- with other men leaning back and pulling her legs wide apart, her body was stretching too far already and she knew that those two forces would split her open;

- her clitoris began to peel itself off from her lips and started to split into two;

- her lips separated into two and split up her mound;

- her skin separated and her pubic hair formed two mini-mounds as her body began to tear apart;

- up the crack of her bottom, a tear began to run up her spine as well, matching the rip up her front;

- she thought she could hear the flesh tearing and her ligaments parting as her body split into two;

- her splayed legs become the ends of two different parts of her separating body;

- all the way up her abdomen, to her navel, to her breast bone at the front and to her shoulder blades at the back, her body just tore open;

- only her breasts remained together with the two hands still massaging and squeezing them, wheile her insides began to spill out of her,;

- whilst the penis was emptying itself into her, she emptied her torso and become a hollow carcass, with her entrails flopping onto the floor underneath her;

- her body was a Y-shape, right up to her breasts, emptied of her guts but filled by a massive penis in her cunt which was still intact but now no longer hidden inside but visible to all around and swollen by the influx of vast volumes of sperm she could feel were pouring into her.

Below her waist, she was just a wrecked torn carcass of a woman but still she could feel the rising pressure of the avalanche of sperm from this super human penis, pumping into her cunt, forcing its way through her cervix and swelling her uterus like a football between her now-shattered hips. She wished she could look down and see the bloody open mass that was her poor torso and the swollen uterus sticking up into the bedroom, resting atop the spilling intestines and other organs as they flopped out of her. She thought she'd find it even more exciting to see herself torn apart in this way; her body devastated and wrecked by the ferocity of her orgasm and the shattering invasion of her entrails by this man's giant penis and his everlasting torrent of sperm.

She couldn't look because her eyes were still covered by a man's hand and he was still probing and delving into her throat with his tongue.

She thought, "Will he be able to tell when I'm dead -- a few seconds from now?"

The thought lasted but a second as her orgasm grew and continued washing over her; she stopped thinking.

She knew that she should struggle and scream, "Stop, stop stop," but her orgasm was shouting in her head, "More, more, more, more."

She knew she was dying, but she didn't care because this orgasm was an orgasm to die for. They hadn't shagged her unconscious; they'd shagged her to death. Her thinking was slowing; she knew she was close to death. Then all went black in her head.

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She began to regain her senses and return to the land of the living. She was lying on the bed again and a number of men were placing her comfortably on the pillows and stroking her hair.

"I'm alive," she thought, "but how?"

She put her hand down and felt her stomach and lower towards her groin. Momentarily, she was surprised not to feel the warm bloody mass that should have been her torn body, with its load of viscera lying to one side of her on the bed if someone had scooped it all up off the floor.

She was intact and very tired. Her legs and hips ached. Her cunt felt as if she'd been impaled on a telegraph pole. Her breasts were sore and felt stretched but not quite the basket-balls she'd thought earlier. She was alive and very very tired, and sore. As she felt around herself, she realised that someone had washed her, and she was dry and clean.

"So this is what it feels like to be shagged unconscious and it's over," she thought, "I'm not sure I could take any more."

She was wrong, of course. These men had other ideas and it was no part of their plan for only one of them to empty himself into her. She would soon be taking a great deal more.

She regained her composure and put her hand to her face, rubbing consciousness back into her eyes. One of the men came to her ears and whispered gently,

"You're amazing. No woman has ever taken Clive to his full length before. He's out of his mind with happiness. You should be proud to give him so much pleasure."

"He's very big," she mumbled in her half-awakened state, "I thought he split me open."

"No; you're fine," he said softly, and then very close to her ear, "now I think you're ready for the rest of us."

"What?" she was just a little bit alarmed and started to rise on one arm, "What do you mean?"

"Don't worry. We'll all be very careful and anyway," he explained, "after Clive, this is going to be easy for you. You'll like it. I promise. Rest for a time."

He gently pressed her head back to the pillow and she slipped back into sleep.

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Some time later, she didn't know how long, men were handling her again and she was being moved around on the bed. She was moved to the very edge and her head held carefully over the side of the mattress. Two strong hands held her from flopping backwards too far and the same man started kissing her deeply but gently. Another hand reached between her legs and she could feel the cool slipperiness of a lubricant.

"They're greasing me up," she thought, "obviously I'm going to need it. Wonder what's coming to me this time?"

She realised that she didn't mind whatever it was. They could do as they wished with her -- to her -- so long as she could have another devastating orgasm. The men were talking around her in quiet voices and she could hear a little of their conversation.

The leader was saying, "Anyone in a hurry can take her now like this. As much as you like. She'll take everything you want and all you can give her, I think. I'm keeping mine until we get complicated with her."

"I want her ass before anyone else, OK? I won that. OK?"

"Sure. You won it. But now it's cunt and face first. Anyone want this before we turn her round or anything?"

"I want her now."

"Me too," said a number of other voices.

And so, one by one, they climbed onto her between her spread legs and shagged her plain and simple, these men who just couldn't wait for anything else. Others came round to her head and shagged into her stretched throat, as her head was gradually pressed further and further down the side of the mattress. The started to come in her at both ends and she swallowed and swallowed.