This is the story of a “fitness advisor”, a young woman that fancies herself very smart, but in reality she’s very clueless and self absorbed and has no clue or common sense about her actions or consequences. If ever anyone was asking to be raped, it’s this broad. Not that any woman is consciously asking for that, but common sense has to take some part in one’s actions. There is no violence or brutality in this story, so some might not consider it a true “rape” story. The author enjoys classic women’s romance novels, the bodice rippers, and in that same vein where the heroine finds herself in difficult situations, it’s often easier to submit than to fight, that is the vein this story is in.
Normally I just have one story as one soundfile, but this one is long, it’s 2 hrs 45 min in length, and I seriously doubt anyone is going to listen to this in one go, so thought it easier to post it in the segments I recorded it in.
To Listen To Me Read This Story, Click
“Part 1 The Rape of Sarah Hanes”
A 14 min 52 sec recording.
“Part 2 The Rape of Sarah Hanes”
A 15 min 20 sec recording.
“Part 3 The Rape of Sarah Hanes”
A 15 min 09 sec recording.
“Part 4 The Rape of Sarah Hanes”
A 21 min 08 sec recording.
“Part 5 The Rape of Sarah Hanes”
A 15 min 59 sec recording.
“Part 6 The Rape of Sarah Hanes”
A 20 min 50 sec recording.
“Part 7 The Rape of Sarah Hanes”
A 17 min 13 sec recording.
“Part 8 The Rape of Sarah Hanes”
An 11 min 39 sec recording.
“Part 9 The Rape of Sarah Hanes”
A 17 min 29 sec recording.
“Part 10 The Rape of Sarah Hanes”
A 16 min 15 sec recording.
Hello, my name is Sarah Hanes and I welcome you back to my audio documentary series, “Sarah, A Man’s Health and Fitness Advisor ”. In this chapter of my life as a personal health, fitness, and male fulfillment advisor and counselor for men, I recount the possible risks and personal incidents that may serve as a cautionary guide for anyone, especially women, who contemplate following a similar career path. As you may recall from my introductory chapter, I found great personal satisfaction and self-fulfillment in personally helping men achieve improved quality of health and happiness in their lives through helpful advice and personal training. But like any career there is no perfection and guarantee. It is measured in achievements, success, and with set-backs along the way, but nonetheless, continuing forward as you find self-satisfaction in knowing you are doing something you enjoy which helps people in so many ways and provides your source of livelihood.
If you chose not to start from the beginning of my documentary and are listening to this audio chapter now, it might be helpful to recall just briefly what it is I do as a men’s health adviser, how I do it, and why I entered this career.
My name is Sarah (low, girlish, quick giggle). I am 28 years of age, stand five feet and eight inches tall, have ash blonde hair and eyes that turn from azure blue to blue-green depending upon my emotions. You’ve already seen my portrait on the front of the cd audio case. I’ve been frequently complimented that my face bears a mixed resemblance to two, celebrities, a younger Mary Hart, and supermodel Bar Refaeli. A number of my male clients even remarked that my voice, while not identical to Mary’s does somehow remind them of her.
The best compliments of all, belong solely to me. Almost all my clients compliment me on my athletic figure and above all, my legs, which have often been described as, ‘perfect’, and a never-ending source of admiration from the men (low, girlish giggle). It all sounds very nice but in truth can serve as a distinct distraction to the clients, which is something I’ve had to tactfully accept and work through. I can attribute my appearance to, good genes, naturally following my own advice for a healthy lifestyle, and devoting most of my youth to physical activities including aerobics and especially dance. Add recreational bicycling and you have a pretty good idea of how I have nice legs. More on that later.
In college I studied sports fitness and nutrition which I had always been interested in and plus I knew that careers in those fields were in demand after college. I kept up with exercise and dance during college and stayed fit. During summer breaks I worked in health clinics and doctors’ offices as a receptionist and sometimes helping the health workers, nurses, pa’s, and even the doctors. I learned a lot during those times. It was during college that I began doing some modeling on the side. I met some fellow female students who were doing it and they encouraged me to give it a try.
At first I wasn’t interested but those girls made some decent extra cash and knew the right people and agencies to work for. I never saw myself as a model but the idea that it was temporary and could earn good money changed my mind. Thanks to some good leads from my friends, I started modeling with no prior experience for some professional and amateur photographers.
I modeled different things, like casual fashion, a lot of lingerie and swimsuits, of course since I was younger and pretty, had good height and great legs. So I got a lot of modeling work during college and the summers. I couldn’t do as much because of college and my summer jobs. I had to turn down a lot of paid modeling work. I admit that very soon I was doing mostly lingerie and swimsuit modeling because of my figure and legs.
The one thing that stands out from modeling, and I think it was because of my legs, I started doing a lot of leg glamour and pinup. Then I started doing a lot of pantyhose modeling and I was surprised because women today don’t wear pantyhose except leggings and fashion tights. It was because of so much pantyhose that I (emphasis) wear them today and because of my professional occupation requires I wear business outfits so the pantyhose goes appropriately with it.
So after graduation I returned to southern California and I started my work experience working with physical therapists as an assistant. I tried out a number of different related jobs. Along the way, I went back to school at local college continuing adult education programs for seminars in subjects like reflexology, Pilates, massage, stress management, sexual health, and other subjects to increase my knowledge and skills. I then found a perfect position in a private, personal trainer’s health and fitness program office.
The woman I worked for as an assistant was one of the talented, positive, and nicest person I’ve had the good fortune to meet and work for. It was she who helped guide me and get me started on this present career path of helping people rediscover good health, believe in it, and maintain it.
Therefore that leaves one fascinating subject, how it is that I came to specialize with men? (low, girlish giggle). Well, it was not intentional. My intent was to serve both genders. My first clients were men and they felt comfortable with me. I must have had the right ‘touch’ so to speak, or the right charisma. Some clients of mine have said that they feel more comfortable with a woman helping them and touching them than a man.
They feel more comfortable confiding and discussing very personal subjects, like virility and performance with a woman than a male counselor. Word of mouth helped spread my business. I also had an Internet website set up to advertise my business.
Men approach me with similar questions and bodily needs. Some realize they are not in good physical condition and need an assessment of their body and then a physical fitness restoration program customize to their body and needs. Others just feel their bodies out of harmony, out of synch, so to speak. They don’t feel right even though they are not ill. They might be lethargic, stressed, worried, or something like that.
I offer homeopathic treatments, massage, relaxation exercises, and related activities to stimulate their bodies’ hormones, blood flow, energy flow, and thereby restore bodily inner balance. When something is balanced and running smoothly in synchronization, the person feels it in body, mind, and spirit. Their lives and their relationships improve.
I’ve been asked for advice and guidance on good nutrition and vitamins. I give them the information but attempt to build the entire ‘health’ picture for each individual man who seeks my services. This approach is always the best in the long-run but in the short-run men can have immediate needs which can be addresses.
The physical fitness programs I customize for the men tend to be health restorative. Men come to me typically not in the best of physical condition in one way or another. It becomes my obligation, something I look forward to and enjoy, to determine what best will enable that client to regain his good health and well-being and perhaps achieve a higher or greater level of fitness he once knew or maybe was not aware he could attain. Every man I work with is capable of this and in different ways of doing it according to his own body, physical abilities, and will power.
What every man wants for himself may not always be what he needs because he may not be aware of the root cause of his physical, biological, and emotional problems. It’s my challenge to discern that and do my best to explain in in ways he will understand. Yet for the most part the process can be straightforward. If a man comes to me wanting something like good flexibility and movement, I can help him as personal trainer with exercises designed to restore and enhance flexibility. Another client may want better cardio conditioning but finds workouts boring. I can work with him as a dance teacher, training him in popular dance styles, like ballroom, hip hop, the hip hop, which will all give great cardio workout while keeping his attention on learning something interesting.
One major reason men approach me is for advice and counseling on male virility issues. The men who visit my office typically range in age between their 30s and 50s. Some have begun to experience potency issues, or the decline of it. It differs somewhat along the age range. Men at the younger end still retain a libido but experience the beginnings of problems such as, achieving an erection, achieving hardness and maintaining during as during their youth. As men progress into their 50s these virility issues become more acute along with a loss of libido. It is a source of great anxiety for some of these men. Also, men who retain my physical fitness services sometimes add the virility and potency concerns into their total health wellness program.
I must make it clear here that I emphasize to my male clients that I am not a physician or trained, licensed pharmacist. I can provide useful information but a client should still visit his regular physician for a full health check-up that might reveal any medical issues requiring professional medical treatment. But that said, I can recommend, over-the-counter homeopathic remedies and herbal treatments that anyone can legally purchase.
I offer my men clients a range of available practices and advice for restoring and enhancing male virility, especially for concerns of erectile dysfunction, lowered potency, premature ejaculation, and difficulties achieving orgasm or ejaculation. I am trained in sexological bodywork which enables me to assist the troubled client by alleviating first his stress and anxiety and then apply appropriate therapy for him for regaining a large measure of sexual health quality of life.
More of my therapeutic approach for men’s virility concerns. The stress and anxiety can become self-inflicting where it causes the problems to worsen. Just for starters, a long, session of meaningful Swedish massage just helps a man relax. More advanced therapy such as reflexology has been shown to strengthen inner lines of energy and helps restore inner vigor which in turn promotes virility. I gently assure my man client that everyone’s body responds in its own way to healing, compassionate, and affectionate touch.
If the man experiences sexual arousal resulting in an erection during my massage, I reassure him this is a completely natural and healthy response that is no cause for embarrassment. I add that it is fact a very good sign of a normal healthy male physiological response due to releasing of stress, anxiety, and the resulting improved stimulation to the circulatory system, all brought about by feminine nurturing touch. For the purposes of the documentary I reveal that those male clients who underwent my massage therapies almost all responded positively, showing the signs of relaxed muscles and breathing.
My experienced nurturing and human touch are the keys to making the massage successful. When massaging an unclothed man totally, it is his beginning of a path to health recovery and higher quality, should he remain and go through a fitness program. During the full body massage, my hands and arms unavoidably rub against his penis and scrotum, especially when focusing on his inner thigh muscles and up to where his thigh joins the torso. Many of my clients experienced unintended arousal and a subsequent erection as they are thinking and feeling my hands and arms against their cock and balls. There have been some instances of a spontaneous ejaculation. Again I reassure them that this is but a normal, healthy male response to healing feminine touch and the stimulation to their circulatory system.
For those men who asked me to include a full male virility health wellness in their total fitness program package, the full body massage can be a good time to visually and physically assess the man’s virility, after he consents to my touching of his genitals. Almost always by then the client has experienced an erection of some degree and I can better gauge his potency. The emission of clear, yellowish fluid, especially in a good flow from the Cooper’s Gland, is always a good sign, I tell the client, that his reproductive organ is functioning as it should. My fingers gently feeling over his testicles give me a general feel for normal sizing and condition. If I think there is anything amiss, I will suggest the client visit his physician.
What I should emphasize is the feminine healing touch with its physical and spiritual properties of affection and compassion, which all men need and thrive on and it has been an important ingredient in my own way of helping men and without it I could not be as successful.
Experience with clients and their input helped me design the right content that appealed to prospective clients. So now I have been building my health counseling business for several years, all men now, and it has been an interesting and mostly self-rewarding profession. My counseling fees I feel are reasonable and affordable. At the same time, I know that only serious men who can afford my fees will walk into my office. My clients tend to be educated, white-collar, professionals and typically upper middle class financially.
Finally, I still do modeling as it still proves lucrative from time to time. I even have a webpage on a major, national modeling website, one of the largest. I’ve done a number of Glamour pinup, some very risqué and it’s all still out there, however, and I know that it’s possible for clients to see those. I did some catalog work and I even modeled pantyhose for pantyhose manufacturers. You can still see me on some pantyhose packages wearing the pantyhose in typically nude poses but discrete since the packages are on display in department stores.
For a full background biography please refer to the first chapter of my documentary.
I continue the documentary chapter on those risks and problems I have encountered in my cherished chosen profession. You may be surprised, given what I have dealt with that I am still doing this. But let me assure you that I have always liked helping people and the joy, satisfaction, self-esteem, and self-fulfillment that it has given me. I made the conscious decision long ago that I will not and cannot allow any instances of negativity upon myself to change who I am and what I love doing.
This profession of a men’s health and fitness advisor has what I would say, its own occupational hazard, stemming from being a woman. My photo portrait is on the cd case and it is the real me, without a lot of makeup and not photo-shopped. It’s a good guess I would be judged as at least a very attractive woman. My male clients almost to a man compliment me on my beauty and figure. It’s highly flattering but can be very distracting to the men and then causes its own distraction during consultations.
I’m sexy without trying and it has been a problem. I usually dress in a business suit. There’s the long-sleeve button up blouse, blazer jacket, a matching short skirt, high heels, and modest jewelry. My underwear is a bra and sheer-to-waist pantyhose; that’s it. I apply makeup to my eyes and lipstick but little else. It also saves time in the morning. My blonde hair is either combed straight or bound up behind my head. Sometimes I wear a midi-dress under the jacket. It’s professional enough to look at but the men find it very sexy so they tell me.
The men love it most when I’m in my exercise clothing, which is often since I do personal training. When exercising and training, I like to wear a one-piece, swimsuit-like leotard or a danskin with sheer-to-waist glossy tights or even pantyhose and with socks and fashion exercise shoes. Sometimes I’ll wear leg warmers down around the ankles. I know it sounds so late 80s but I love wearing it. But sometimes I feel like wearing less maybe when it is too warm. I’ll then wear an exercise bra and bikini bottom with the socks and shoes. Even when guiding a man through dance exercise, I’ll be wearing a leotard and tights, and then it might be a black ballet style leotard with black or tan tights.
One of the things I had to get used to while taking a man through an exercise routine or teaching a dance style, our bodies would be right up against each other, and it frequently happened that the man would experience an erection. It would be pressed firmly against me and usually between my thighs. I always proceeded as if it everything were normal, because for one, I had a job to do, teaching and helping my client, and two, if you really think about it, (low, sexy giggle) it really is normal for a man to get an erection if he is holding a beautiful woman in his arms. In my opinion and my experience, it was best not to mention anything and leave the man wondering about it. It would be awfully distracting and uncomfortable of course, if this went on for a long time, which sometimes couldn’t be helped.
There were some clients who I think took advantage of this and I felt their hard penises rubbing against my vulva. It could be even more of an ordeal depending upon the exercise clothing worn by the client. I remember several different clients who must have hit upon the same idea. Each man started showing up to his exercise or dance training wearing men’s spandex bicycle Tights or bicycle spandex thigh tights, or just some kind of stretch nylon shorts. It was immediately obvious they were not wearing anything else like an athletic supporter underneath.
Each man’s genitals were fully outlined under their spandex wear. And when a man experienced an erection (giggle) it was embarrassing to see their hard penises stretching out the material, in some cases I could then almost see through the material and see everything. I played it off smoothly, however, maybe to their disappointment. But I had to spend the studio exercise time feeling hard penises pressed against me. Sometimes though, it backfired (giggle). I was shocked at the time but thinking back it does seem very amusing. What happened was that a couple of men who did that to me inadvertently ejaculated inside their spandex. Without underwear it was totally obvious and a mess. They were so embarrassed. In time I put my foot down and started insisting on underwear or at least an athletic supporter. But occasionally, someone will claim he forgot.
I have a nice, six-foot long desk, table style, with a two-drawer nightstand underneath to my right and another unit underneath at the left end. The drawer on the right has one smaller top drawer and a big bottom drawer where I stash my purse, and other personal items like cosmetics, female toiletries, and spare pantyhose. There’s worn pantyhose stashed in the bottom drawer too, that I keep forgetting to take home. My rental studio is not large, situated in a business strip mall, although a nice one in a good area. It doesn’t have to be because there is an adjoining room which I use for the exercise workouts, training, and dance instruction. Mirrors cover one side and the remaining three are mostly bare except for a clothes rack, some health and body posters and clothing hooks lining the walls, most of which have my worn leotards and tights, other exercise wear, and street clothing hanging on.
There is a very artsy fashion, wooden, four-divider room screen. The wood room divider is fashioned of different-sized wood circles. It’s very nice but completely see-thru even though I change my clothing behind it, trying to use other clothing and leotards to cover some of the strategically-placed circles.
My main office has the desk at the back in front of a plate glass window with a great view. The front door is at the opposite end. The side walls have a few art pictures and health, exercise, nutrition, and body posters. I have my college degree and training certificates framed and on the walls. A charcoal black suede sofa sits against the wall to my left. It can be pulled out into a bed. A good-sized, low, wood coffee table sits in front of the sofa.
Now every health fitness advisor counselor like me will have his or her own room furnishing style, depending much upon personality. I prefer not to sit at my desk leaving it as a barrier between myself and a client, especially visitors who are thinking about becoming clients. I feel it gives a cold feeling of separation. My style is to sit comfortably at one end and the client or would-be client at the other, leaving no physical or psychological communication barrier. It makes the best for more intimate, informal human communication and social interaction. It’s part of my professional style and I know it has a positive effect.
Sometimes a client will like to edge up closer to me as if for better communication and I do not display any sign of discomfort. Sometimes that leads to a man patting my knee or placing his hand on my thigh while he’s talking with me. I know the reason. I Frequently wear short skirts with my jacket blazer and blouse. When I sit on the sofa and cross my legs usually that shows a lot of thigh which the men stare at so that sometimes entices a man to slide up closer to me. I know when a man appreciates the pantyhose because I feel his hand gently rubbing the nylon. I am usually able to let that go and maybe give the client the impression that I am totally comfortable and confident in myself. I’ll normally put an end to it and remove his hand if he starts squeezing and rubbing or starts sliding it up my skirt. The clients know that I can be very comfortable with them but they must know their limit.
My situation is that because of my age, beauty, good figure, and appealing legs, it leaves me open to a lot of (giggles) affectionate touches, pats, and squeezes. It’s something I’ve gotten accustomed to and know how to control. I may be different and unique in allowing such personal contact from the clients. I can only say it’s part of the whole me and in how I conduct my consultations on such an open, friendly, basis which has been a contributing factor in my profession.
I often wear a matching short skirt with my jacket blazer because it’s one of my dressing preferences. Sometimes the skirt is a looser or almost pleated type. I must be careful as there are times when clients have lifted my skirt up from behind. I sense it more than feel it and I know they are enjoying the sight of my bare derriere’ underneath the sheer-to-waist pantyhose. I have no idea if they can see everything else, too. I might cough loudly or move but usually I proceed as if I do not notice. I am a woman alone in a closed office with a man and I best handle the situation by being calm and unruffled and going on as if everything is normal is the safest way and surest to keep my situation under control.
OCCUPATIONAL HAZARD
In the years I’ve been doing my health fitness consulting business, it’s been my dream come true. But there have been occasions when things went wrong on me and this is part of my documentary.
One needs to be educated and trained in this industry, very well. There’s no question though, that it helps if the health, fitness, and personal trainer is an attractive woman. It attracts the clients. The vast majority of my clients, past and present, have been okay guys. A number have been really nice guys and a few are like friends to me. During past economic downturns I owed it to a bunch of my loyal clients supporting me with office visits, even if they didn’t have to. Unfortunately the odds of so many men approaching me meant that no doubt a few bad apples came my way. In the past I have been groped, fondled, forcibly kissed, I’ve even had my pantyhose ripped.
Usually I am confident and competent enough to handle myself and the situation by getting guys like that out the office door quick enough with admonitions not to return. I’ve usually been able to weed out those kind of guys as most of the time they are very obvious with their bad intentions. But over time with the odds, eventually things would go south on me. I’ll just come out and tell you.
I’ve been raped. Five times.
It will sound incredible to listen further to me. Why of all things am I still doing this? I will admit to you why. Five times could not change me, could not break me, and could not diminish me. I still can find the love and joy in what I do to help men. Of all the number of clients I’ve had the pleasure of meeting and working with, I met some of the nicest people ever. How could I let a few bad ones take that away from me.
Maybe it may make more sense if I could explain it that my education, my outlook, my personality, helped me look with a dispassionate, clinical perspective at these five men, who on five, separate occasions, forced me to have sexual intercourse with them. After each time I found myself, surprisingly, thinking not of myself but of contemplating the man in a clinical, psychological inquiry; what made that man suddenly loose his self-control? What was it that made him so?
I have been able to evaluate every incident and come to the same conclusion that a man can be so overwhelmed by primal lust that it in turn overwhelms his own personality. Seriously, I could not sense hate, anger, or intent to humiliate, I felt it…I felt the overwhelming wave of sexual lust and desire and a primal instinct to copulate flowing out of each man. It was pure carnal hunger…aimed at me. I felt like someone to be devoured, sexually. When each man was in the throes of his uncontrollable, primal sexual instincts, I could not discern his normal self, his personality. At the moment he was not the man who walked through my door. He was something different.
Was he temporarily experiencing a different personality and reality, I do not know and this is so subjective I can never be certain. My assumptions still surprise. Each time I instinctively felt that each man did not intend nor was going to hurt me. I did not feel my life in jeopardy and it seemed ridiculously clear to me at each time that I wasn’t going to be hurt in the slightest because the man just needed to have sex with me. It was a sense that the man needed intercourse with me as he needed food, water, and air.
I have been speaking properly and professionally throughout my documentary. Now I will express in more plain, earthy language the occasions of being with each of the five men at their will and pleasure.
I was fucked…hard…five times, on each time. I wasn’t hurt and what mostly came out of it were, buttons ripped off blouses, pantyhose ripped or torn. Once, one guy used a scissors off my desk to snip open my pantyhose at the crotch panel to expose my bare labia so he could get into my vagina but not before rubbing and pulling my pussy lips. There were the stretched and ripped leotards, ripped exercise tights, and ruined exercise bikini. And of course there were the unasked for deposits of semen into my vagina requiring long clean-ups.
What happened to me and them is another documentary in itself.
I did not report anything.
Two of the men never returned, not surprisingly. Three of them apologized afterwards or after some time. Each man claimed he was not in control of himself and could not explain why he did what he did. Incredibly all three men begged to remain as my clients. After consideration, you know what, I relented and kept them on. Listeners on this audio cd are by now questioning my thought process and where am I coming from. I believe it’s all in the willingness to drop any negativity of any kind and accept apology and move on with forgiveness to live a healthy life. Because I must be the first person to accept my own message of a healthy life of wellness and well being which leaves room for anger and destructive negativity. Perhaps I needed to forgive and move ahead for myself and my well-being. And it’s positively true. There was still the scientist part of me that wanted to continue working with these men to help them overcome that weak part of themselves.
I wanted to find out more. It’s not a one-sided street. I’ve learned that both men and women harbor rape fantasies, the men doing it and the women experiencing it. I admit that like most women, I too have thought of rape in my mind and fantasized about it. The fact that I experienced it for real five times and continue to have those fantasies just makes me want to explore this dark side of human sexual nature even more.
KEVIN
Of the incidents that have happened to me, this one stands out in stark, vivid memory because of its intensity and emotional effects that have touched me in every way as a professional, as a woman, reaching my femininity and my own sexuality which I still feel today. If I relate the entire incident to you in every detail, hopefully you may understand me better.
Be advise that what I am about to relate here is highly graphic and sexual in detail.
About a year ago it was a Thursday early afternoon. My boyfriend, Frank, was taking a long lunch break to be with me. We were at home and in bed together, in the middle of passionate love-making.
Frank is a young woman’s dream guy. He’s six-foot tall, almost no fat showing on his toned body. He’s multi-racial with light, caramel skin tone with little body hair. He has green eyes, short, brown, curly hair, full kissable lips which I was fully kissing at the moment. Best of all, he’s well-endowed and his manhood filled me completely. The fullness I felt was so satisfying. All in all, Frank is a beautiful man, masculine but nice and sweet, intelligent, and witty. He has a college degree and works as a contractor technician.
Any girl would be so fortunate to have him. At that moment I was feeling so much joy and pleasure with Frank, that I was more concerned of him climaxing too soon and finishing too fast. I wanted him to remain inside me and continue sexing me all afternoon if he could. I didn’t want it to end, at least too soon. We don’t use condoms when making love and I actually enjoy the sensation and feeling of having his semen filling me. I hoped that if Frank did orgasm too soon for me then I must do something to keep him sexually aroused and hard.
I just remember at that moment when Frank was completely inside me, giving me that wonderful, full feeling that I could feel my vagina actually stretch, pressure of his penis glans against my cervix, his balls…ahem, I mean testicles tenderly slapping and rubbing against my bottom and his tongue and mine wrapped around each other. Then my cell telephone began chiming its melodic ring tone while sitting in its docking cradle on the nightstand. Naturally I had no intention of picking it up and I should have turned the phone off. I let the cell phone continue its ringing melody. The ring music stopped and a man’s voice came on. It was one of my steady clients, a man in his late thirties, Kevin.
Kevin began speaking and reminded me of his appointment that afternoon. I was suddenly startled out of my carnal reverie. I thought Kevin’s appointment was tomorrow, Friday. I must have made a mental error. Kevin was a steady, reliable client, and a mostly nice, personable, if a little eccentric but okay. I had to take the phone call because the appointment time was just under an hour away.
I squeezed my honey affectionately, pulling my tongue out of his mouth so I could apologize profusely but I had to reply to Kevin. Frank is always an understanding man, which is a big part of his charm and attractiveness to me. He’s so cool and does a great job at letting nothing get to him. Frank just smiled into my eyes and nodded alright. He’s so nice and smart. He is in no rush and has the time because he knows I never rush him. Today might be the exception.
I reached out awkwardly and fumbled with the slim cellphone, almost knocking it out of its docking cradle. I got a hold of it just barely and thumbed the slick glass surface, trying to activate the speaker phone. I whispered, hush, in my lover’s ear and asked, no, begged him not to make any sound or noise. I was more worried that I might do so and inexcusably reveal my present amorous, carnal activity.
Kevin and I exchanged greetings, his voice emanating audibly clear due to the high quality of my cell phone’s internal speaker and electronics.
Frank continued sexing me while I spoke to my client, Kevin, his face was buried in the side of my face, neck and shoulder. I felt his teeth nibbling and his tongue over my skin, giving me a tingling, pleasurable feeling. It was going to be difficult for me to keep calm and cool and not make any give-away sounds.
I tried with great effort to speak calmly and professionally, but it was becoming more difficult. More, I began feeling the onset of an impending orgasm.
It seemed to be the wrong time for everything as Kevin was being talkative and kept wanting to discuss details of his health program and the upcoming visit. It couldn’t be helped but the lovemaking sex made natural sounds, not loud enough, I hoped, to be heard over the cell phone. Kevin continued talking and I lost track of what he was saying when Frank thrust the length of his tongue into my mouth. My tongue met his and we French kissed so hard I could hear it. Frank was gripping me tightly and my fingers dug deep into his back. He was giving my vagina complete long strokes of his entire hard penis length, all the way in till I felt the tip pressing the cervix and then pulling almost all the way out then back in again.
I felt the oncoming sensations of an orgasm and I knew I was about to climax very soon, and there would be no stopping it.
Kevin talked on but I could barely understand anything he was saying despite his voice being loud and clear. Finally he uttered something of a question and stopped speaking. My brain registered his change in communication.
I pulled my tongue out of Frank’s mouth and I made a slurping noise, a low gasp for air and made other unavoidable noises. Also I could hear the swishing, slurping noise of Frank’s beautifully formed cock sliding in and out of my vagina, intensifying my pleasure level as I felt his virile shaft slide under my G spot and his pubic bone pressing and rubbing my clitoris with each thrust. It was going to be only a matter of moments. I could now speak somewhat, to acknowledge Kevin and tactfully replied with a generic statement of understanding and encouraged him that all his questions would be satisfactorily covered during our upcoming office consultation. I voiced encouragement and a closing greeting quickly before Kevin could begin talking again. Fortunately for my situation, Kevin seemed to understand and voiced an okay and a farewell.
I don’t really remember Kevin saying goodbye that well because I was immediately engrossed back in Frank’s lovemaking. I was transfixed by the rushing climax, growing in intensity as I felt it quivering in my vagina, inside me and all the way to just about the top of my head. Frank had increased his rhythm and I knew his body well enough by now to recognize his coming orgasm. We were going to be nearly synchronized. I felt the climax bursting like an opening blooming flower with the gracefulness of a popping popcorn. Up till now my legs had just been spread wide apart on the bed. But now I wrapped them around his legs and dug my fingertips deeper and harder into his back.
His face was pressed against the side of my face, his breathing coming in deep, ragged gasps. I groaned and moaned loudly, I knew, because it felt so good. In the middle of my orgasm, Frank thrust deep inside all the way and held it. Here comes his climax. Here goes his ejaculation. The thought barely passed through my mind as the physical act of insemination occurred. From many prior experience I knew Frank could ejaculate a lot of semen. He did so again as I felt it deep inside, his semen spilling out, filling a milky syrupy pool at the back of my vagina. He pressed the tip of the glans against my cervix as if to deposit his seed directly into my uterus. I relished the thought of it and hoped he could. We talked of marriage before and raising children.
I would be delighted to carry his seed inside my womb for however long it would last inside. It would happen anyway. His sperm-filled semen would slip through the cervical opening and trickle into my uterus. I would be walking around with his sperm packet inside my womb and seminal fluid still in my vagina. Nothing else could make me feel so much like a woman.
Doctors and scientists will claim that a woman really can’t feel a man ejaculating inside nor the sensation of his seed coursing deep in her vagina. But they’re wrong. I could feel it, everything. And that is part of the deep pleasure of sex and lovemaking.
I could feel the pulsing sensation of Frank’s penis, the strong stream of his warm semen making its own presence felt. I could feel movement in my lover’s testicles while he came inside me. His manhood had a distinct life of its own that my own body feasted upon and thrived like nourishing energy flowing deep into me, rising through the middle of my body and streaming up through my brain.
Yes, it is a unique sensation that is both thrilling, energizing, warming, filling, yet so relaxing, calming, and smooth all at the same time. This is what lovemaking gifts to a woman every time. I could expect the relaxation and pleasurable drowsiness to take over soon and I would normally look forward to a most relaxing sleep or nap. But not this time, however.
Frank and I remained in each other’s arms, his body still on top, his manhood still sensuously filling me though it was relaxed now. I knew I would have to be the one to get up out of bed and I disliked the notion of having to gently push my lover off of me. I rather he remained on me and we slept, turning over so I lay on top of him with his virile member still deep inside me. It would be such a wonderful nap.
But at length I turned my head to look at the clock, doing so as to stay awake. My eyes focused on the cell phone and as my vision cleared, I became alarmed. A tiny, white LED light shone near the top next to the little round video lens. It was a sign that my cell phone was fully on and the video camera was activated. I gasped. I thought the phone was off. Was it on all this time? I snatched the phone off the cradle and turned it off. I didn’t dare to think that it could have been still on, that somehow I pressed the camera video on function. And I hoped desperately that Kevin heard or saw anything.
I slid out from under Frank, letting him doze comfortably. My clothes were already lying on a nearby room chair. All I could think were a mash of quick thoughts. I was thinking of my darn cell phone and then I was growing anxious about the time having slipped by quickly. I needed to dress fast and depart immediately if I were going to meet the client on time. Getting cleaned up was the last thing possible for me. Snatching the all sheer, tan pantyhose I pulled it on purposely but not too fast for risk of snagging the delicate nylon.
The immediate wet feeling between my thighs reminded me that a quick clean-up would have been better. I glanced down and thought, oh no, these sheer-to-waist tan pantyhose do not have the typical crotch panel also called a gusset. It’s just solid, see-through nylon throughout. My swollen pussy lips pressed visibly and sticky against the material. Normally that would be okay but in my present situation a pantyhose crotch panel would have helped my feminine hygiene. Too late to worry about that now, I considered, as in a little while everything will dry down there. I grabbed the black demi-bra and hooked it secure, settling in my C-cup breasts snuggly. The demi-bra cups only hold half the breasts and I thought of the timing as I wasn’t initially expecting a client today and probably would have worn a normal bra starting out the day. I did take the time to apply underarm deodorant and a few, quick dabs of perfume to freshen myself and conceal any lingering telltale sex odors.
The makeup could go on in the car while I waited at stoplights. On went my teal-colored, long-sleeved blouse with fashionable snaps instead of buttons. Next I pulled on a black, jersey miniskirt, a three-inch elastic waist and the rest loosely flared, comfortable to wear. After tucking the blouse inside the miniskirt I added a wide, black elastic belt over the waist band. A matching black blazer jacket completed the ensemble. Simple but office-looking. I stepped into black high heels while hooking a gold chain necklace behind my neck.
Stepping back to my lover and best male friend, Frank, I bent over and kissed him on the cheek. He’d get up after I‘d left and return to his workplace. I looked forward to a possible repeat lovemaking affair tonight with him.
The traffic on the way to my studio office was brisk but it was moving. As I expected, red lights slowed my progress but gave me the time to apply back some makeup, not too much needed, just the lips and the eyes.
Reaching the corner strip mall, I parked and headed inside, taking the elevator to the top-most, third floor which was mostly indoor offices while the shops occupied the first floor and part of the second. I left my watch behind but a glance at an outdoor wall clock told me that I would be a few minutes late. Stepping out of the elevator I hurried down the corridor, my high heels making loud clicks on the hard surface. My office studio was the last unit on the third floor at the back. It meant a long walk but I liked the relative privacy of the far location.
Rounding a corner, I saw Kevin standing near my office door, leaning back against the wall. He saw me immediately, straightened up and waved a friendly smile to me.
Good, he was not annoyed. I smiled back and apologized for my tardiness but Kevin kept his smile and reassured me that it was nothing as he just arrived but a few minutes ago. We shook hands and Kevin thanked me for coming in. He leaned in and gave me a light hug. His hand was on my hip and his fingers resting on the top of my buttock but at the time I didn’t think anything of it. I unlocked the door and Kevin insisted politely that I enter first. His good manners were pleasing and I walked inside, heading for my desk. I noted that Kevin was following in close behind me, as a matter of fact almost too closely and nearly touching my back.
I reached the front of the desk and lay my large purse on it. I felt Kevin right behind me as if he were going to look over my shoulder. I felt slight contact behind me but I remember at the time being more puzzled over his behavior of being inside my personal space in such an intimate proximity. And yet I was not alarmed as in my profession I have had to be in close proximity to many clients. It wasn’t the first time a client stood himself close to me and I knew the man was attracted to me. I turned around and Kevin’s beaming face was right in front of me. He seemed so happy and pleasant.
I suggested Kevin sit down and make himself comfortable. I walked around the desk corner and bent over to open the bottom desk drawer where I stored my purse. I straightened back up and turned to see Kevin standing at the desk corner still smiling. Another infatuated client, I surmised; I knew how to politely handle the situation. I kept up my own pleasant demeanor and guided Kevin by the arm to the sofa and gently sat him down, reminding him to be comfortable. Kevin continued looking me over, especially at my legs and still I didn’t find his behavior any different than many of my clients who in the presence of a pretty woman with nice legs, did their own gazing.
Kevin and I exchanged some pleasantries before getting down to business. I said that I would glance into his client folder to check on the notes from our introductory consultation. My website offers a free, 30-minute introduction and consultation, mostly to see if the client is serious, has real concerns, and feels comfortable with me and vice-versa. I turned around and reached down on the desk for Kevin’s folder. I was certain it was there from the beginning of the week. I quickly brushed through the papers and folders there but didn’t find it. Then I remembered, I brought his folder to my car intending to look through it at home but forgot about it. I sensed movement behind me and I felt a touch. I glanced around, looked down and asked, Kevin? Kevin had quietly moved up on the sofa and was sitting right behind. He gave me an odd look with a smile that didn’t look real and simply asked if I found his folder.
I kind of knew that Kevin had touched me but unlike other women not in my line of work, my reaction is different. I react by not reacting, maintaining calm and poise but being alert and letting the client know I am alert. My social interaction at the moment is more complex. I’m alone with a new client and my main purpose is to establish a successful and relaxed rapport between health guidance advisor and her client. I’m supposed to be the professional and know best how to conduct her consultations with men naturally being men. As such I needed to be calm and controlled. I ended the incident with tact and finesse, a kind of poise that I appear not to have noticed anything but really I did.
I found myself apologizing again to Kevin informing him that I needed to retrieve his health personal file from my car. Kevin stood up, smiling, and replied it was no problem and he would wait, and bade me to take as much time as I needed. Kevin was being so nice and accommodating, I thought, a good client to work with. I offered Kevin a bottle of water which he accepted and I pulled one from my floor mini-fridge. I retrieved my car keys and cell phone from my hand bag and told Kevin that I’d be back as soon as possible, adding that I would compensate by adding more time to our consultation session.
Back at my car I located Kevin’s folder in the back seat. Before I could take it my cell phone rang its melodic tune. It was another client wishing to schedule an appointment and voicing several questions.
THE SURVEILLANCE VIDEO
I need to explain something else first that occurred while I was preoccupied in the parking lot on my cell phone with another client.
My studio office came with a surveillance video camera in a smoke-color glass dome set in the middle of the ceiling. It could be connected via Wi-Fi to the tenant’s desk computer. I thought it was a good idea so the landlord showed me how to set it up and set it to automatic operation. I seldom checked what the ceiling vid-cam recorded but after what happened that afternoon, I later reviewed the surveillance recording and was shocked at what I viewed.
My delay in the parking lot gave my client Kevin a lot of extra time, time to casually inspect my studio office and workout space and get his hands into a lot of my things. But before he was alone, the video footage confirming what I felt and more. On each occasion that my back was turned to him and I was bending down or leaning over something, Kevin was behind me, peering up my miniskirt. It helped him that my jersey skirt was already short enough that he didn’t have to bend low to see up. When I leaned over my short skirt also being flared with light pleats gave him a clear view of everything. I never wear a panty or thong underneath pantyhose. Years of modeling pantyhose had ingrained that underwear habit.
Every photographer, agency type, professional, and amateur who took pantyhose modeling photos of me made sure I wore sheer-to-the waist pantyhose with nothing underneath. I was used to it. And that day I wore a tan, sheer-to-waist pantyhose with no crotch panel. My fingers clenched tightly. He’d seen everything through the sheer pantyhose, and I mean everything, my complete bare buttocks and my bare labia, let’s just say it, my bare pussy lips and no doubt revealing totally to him every evidence that I had just had sexual intercourse barely an hour before. He would of course think of it in his own way, that the fine up-skirt view showed I had just been fucked. I saw the footage where Kevin slid over on the sofa behind me as I searched the desk for his file. Kevin lifted up my miniskirt, exposed my bare ass showing under the pantyhose and placed his hand lightly on my butt cheek. That’s what I felt.
The vid-cam showed a lot more as Kevin was just getting started after I left the office. I clenched my fist and bit down on it as I stared bleakly at the computer screen.
After the office door shut, Kevin sat back down and looked at the coffee table. He saw the slim binders describing my health fitness guidance and counseling business and one that described my life and background in detail with photos. He looked through that one and closely viewed the photos pages of my past modeling. He evidently enjoyed the ones of me in swimsuits, lingerie, and especially the photos of the commercial pantyhose modeling, which included photos of the department store pantyhose packages where I’m standing nude in artistic poses, wearing only sheer pantyhose, my arms covering my bare breasts and skillful angles that conceal my private parts. Finishing the binders, Kevin stood up, stretched and yawned, then walked over to my desk.
Kevin immediately went to the bottom desk drawer and pulled it open. He sat in the chair and began rummaging in the drawer. He took out my large handbag purse and placed it on the desk. Returning to the drawer, he reached in and when he withdrew his hand it was clutching a fistful of my worn and used pantyhose. I sometimes changed out pantyhose in the office and would drop the worn pantyhose in the bottom drawer only to forget about it so a collection grew over time. Imagine my embarrassment as Kevin separated each pantyhose from the pile and held it up to his face for examination.
He sniffed every pantyhose and pulled the waistband apart to look at the crotch area and would feel and finger the material. The pantyhose were worn and soiled from my body and had to be smelly but Kevin looked as if he were sniffing sweet perfume. It was so embarrassing that I felt humiliated. Besides being soiled by my bodily perspiration, feminine fluids, Kevin must have detected those worn pantyhose soiled with seminal fluid from my lover Frank. Frank and I enjoy an active sex life and we make love at least five times a week. We would have sex seven times a week or more if we could find the time to do it.
A surge of panic hit me when Kevin began rifling through my purse. I can still recount every emotion I felt at the moment watching him violate my privacy and most intimate possession of every woman, her purse. Kevin didn’t touch my money or credit cards; he was interested in everything else that had to do with my womanhood and femininity. My handbag contained used pantyhose also. I’m so messy. He went for those right away. He pulled out several worn pantyhose balled up.
Kevin pulled apart one balled-up pantyhose, a nude color. It was stiff because it had been soaked with my pussy fluids and copious amounts of Frank’s semen from a past lovemaking session. Kevin smelled that filthy pantyhose like it was scented lace. And then I gasped in shock when he stuffed the pantyhose into his pant pocket. What was he planning on doing with my soiled, stained, filthy pantyhose? I knew he would make it his little own souvenir trophy as good as if he possessed me. He’d continue to sniff it, play with it, and jack off to it.
The fun for Kevin was only beginning as I continued viewing the recorded vid-cam streaming footage. He unraveled another balled-up, worn pantyhose, a suntan color. I gasped when he started rubbing the crotch area and opened the waistband to reach inside. This was truly embarrassing. He pulled out a used tampon by the string. I used a tampon when I was not on my period to keep my pantyhose dry as it was the kind that is solid nylon without the typical crotch panel. I couldn’t believe he’d want to keep a used, wet, smelly tampon that had spent the day inside my vagina. Worse, I should have disposed of it immediately but I remember being in a rush and not in the right place that day and I forgot about it.
Then Kevin examined another worn pantyhose out of my purse and it was the worst. Kevin opened up the old pantyhose and he looked as shocked as I was watching him on the vid-cam footage.
This was the worst humiliation because he discovered one of my most discrete, confidential services that I do in my health business. Kevin unraveled a Sheer Energy, sheer-to-waist, off-black pantyhose and peered inside to find…omigod, a used condom.
I have to explain. Many of my men clients engage in male virility health counseling for common reasons. These reasons include sexual dysfunction such as impotence or partial impotence, what is better known today as erectile dysfunction. Others include premature ejaculation, difficulty achieving climax, orgasm, and ejaculation. Some men have intimacy issues which end up affecting their virile performance. I remind them that I am not a physician but I do have guidance training, knowledge, and certification in sexological bodywork.
I can educate them in various self-treatments for male sexual dysfunction and show them available, over-the-counter homoeopathic remedies to stimulate male response.
There are a number of personal therapies within sexological bodywork that I can offer the men to rejuvenate and stimulate male sexual health. These are mostly, personal-guided, hands-on physical bodywork designed to regain or improve upon the client’s male virility. It begins with understanding erectile dysfunction. And while the client may no longer be able to produce the virility of a young man he can improve and accommodate what he has, for example, transforming premature ejaculation.
This may include being introduced to the pleasure of non-ejaculatory orgasm, possible even with a soft penis. The client will learn prolonging and expanding pleasure. Actual techniques for stimulation can involve activities such as, prostrate massage, which is highly effective for clients who may have come to feel they cannot achieve a full erectile response. The massage proves they can.
The nature of a man means that he still retains the desire for sexual intercourse and orgasm even as his body starts experiencing prolonged difficulties achieving that. Once my virility health guidance counseling helps the client, he still has those male needs. A number of my clients have physical male needs that simply were not been met. Erotic coaching, intimacy practices, and hands-on bodywork prove very successful for those clients in achieving much-needed climatic release yet ultimately there is no true substitution for coupling intimacy. Whenever a client has inquired with me and I feel that it can be helpful I offered the coupling release he needs. This has been but one of the major options of male virility health counseling treatment available to my clients.
Over the years the number clients desiring virile health guidance treatments for intimacy, hands-on bodywork, erotic coaching, and coupling release have grown to constitute a significant part of my men’s health guidance coaching.
Much to my embarrassment, Kevin had discovered an intimate course of hands-on bodywork and physical coupling release between myself and a client. The client was a professional football player whose identity remains confidential. He was a strongly well-built, attractive, young, mixed, Hispanic black man in his late twenties who had come to me seeking advice on nutrition, relaxation, stress relief, muscular flexibility, and confided that his sexual performance was suffering as a result, to include loss of sex drive and intimacy. I must also add that I can do in-call sessions to clients after becoming acquainted. After several office offices I agreed to follow-up with in-call visits to his luxury apartment.
Later he expressed overwhelming male need and asked me for coupling intimacy release which I provided to him on several sessions. I remember the last occasion I helped that client. I had just finished a personal fitness training session on bodily flexibility exercise with him. The program required me to be hands-on, up-close, body-to-body during times I needed to guide and assist him through a prolonged stretch. My previous health guidance treatments helped him relax and lower his stress enormously. He had taken my advice about over-the-counter male virility enhancement performance products and tried several.
Everything had been working fine for him. But now together in a private, intimate setting, he experienced an erection which stayed with him throughout almost the whole workout session with me. It was a difficult situation as I felt his hard-on pressing upon and rubbing against my thighs, buttocks, abdomen, and my vulva, depending upon what exercise positions we were doing. I was feeling dismayed by own unprofessional reaction because I started experiencing instinctual pleasurable feeling and increasing wetness from my vagina and I began worrying that it might show. I even worried that he might cause a climax in me if we continued exercising body-to-body much longer. It was slightly uncomfortable for both of us and I could tell his need was only growing stronger. He finally mentioned his embarrassment to me for which I reassured him that an erection only meant a healthy male response to lowered stress and tension and the improved blood flow and circulation for which are major goals of his health wellness customized program through me.
I asked him if he was okay and he mentioned feeling discomfort and pain in his groin. I gained his consent to examine and touch then slid my hand inside his spandex shorts. My fingers closed around his erection and I realized that the blood flow was so strong that his hardness must indeed be causing him some discomfort. Cooper’s fluid, what most people think of as, pre-cum, flowed out of the glans down the greatly thickened shaft. He is a very well-endowed man and his virile member was impressive in length and width. I pressed the pad of my thumb on the base of his virile shaft and slid it up the entire length the tip of the glans. Cooper’s fluid flowed copiously down and at the end whitish seminal fluid appeared mixed in. My fingers slid down to cup his scrotum and feel the individual testicles. Everything seemed to look and feel fine other than he was experiencing intense sexual arousal at the intimate biological level and if not released the pent-up sexual energy could be bad for him. He looked at me with great need in his eyes and asked me for a release, which I agreed to.
Because of his above-average size erection, I kept a number of extra-large condoms, Magnum Bare, in my purse, which accommodated his large cock. I retrieved one from my purse and returned to him. He wasted no time. I allowed him to pull off my exercise leotards and shiny pantyhose tights. When he was at last sated and lay on the carpet nearly asleep, I had to pull myself together and get up. It took me time because my own body went through natural female arousal, climax, and orgasm, and I had to resist the urge to lay there next to him and fall asleep. I felt lingering sensation of pleasurable throbbing, tingling, and mild discomfort in my vagina because my body is not accustomed to being filled with a man’s sex of that size. It wasn’t the length so much as the width and thickness. As a courtesy I removed the filled condom from his penis. I used my exercise pantyhose like a disposable glove and pulled the condom off, wiping him clean, then rolling up the pantyhose into a ball with the condom still inside and sticking it in my purse.
Why I didn’t dispose of the condom there and then I should have but I became mentally distracted with my daily calendar of things to do and so I got dressed and left.
I watched the video recording as Kevin pulled the used, dirty condom from out of my soiled, workout pantyhose and held it up with his fingers, examining the long length and larger width. He fingered the reservoir tip, filled way past with seminal fluid to at least an inch, squeezing the elastic bulb of reproductive fluid. Much to my shock and embarrassment, Kevin wrapped the condom back up in the worn pantyhose and stuffed it into his slacks. What on earth was he going to do with all that intimate DNA from me and the other client?
Kevin continued his excited exploration of my handbag. I saw him pull out new tampons, feminine hygiene products including, panty liners, vaginal creams, vaginal spermicide suppositories, water-based lubricant, skin lotion, vaginal clean wipes, and a blue plastic clamshell case which he opened and turned upside down to drop out my birth-control diaphragm. He fingered the rubbery white cup, smelling it, feeling the rim; it had of course been used in my vagina a number of times although I stopped using it a long time ago. He played with my diaphragm like a toy before taking that as well, putting it inside his pants pocket of feminine loot. Nothing was off-limits. He pulled out a purple-colored plastic sachet which he pulled open.
He pulled out a pink plastic rim with a thin, pink polymer film tiny bag attached. It was a menstrual cup but Kevin didn’t recognize what it was, probably assuming it was another birth control device. He had also found several boxes of different condom brands, all expensive, top-of-the-line promising natural sensation like nothing there. Most were meant for the average sized penis but I kept a box for the under-average penis size and one, the Magnum Bare, for well-endowed men.
Kevin rummaged to the bottom of my handbag. Among a few more used pantyhose he found two, forgotten used tampons, which I had used when not on my menstrual period but to keep my sheer pantyhose from being soiled. I wrapped both in used panty liners and promptly forgot about it. I worried that I might have used those tampons after sexual intercourse to prevent leakage but I don’t remember if I had. He kept the shocking trophy souvenirs of my femininity and sexuality, maybe as a way of voyeuristically owning me.
He stuffed everything else back into my handbag and glanced out of the window to see if he could see me in the parking lot. He picked up my second, old cell phone and started scrolling through it.
He started grinning widely and I felt the surge of deep embarrassment. I knew what he was looking at. Photos. There were self-photos I had sent to my fiancé Frank. Those were very intimate photos. Beside a few risqué, posing photos, I knew there were topless photos, then nude photos of myself, and then the really explicit photos I ‘sexted’ to Frank, the spread leg photos showing everything in graphic, gynecological detail. Some of those photos were taken not long after we had sex and I wanted Frank to have a visual record of our intimacy together, proof that we had passionate sex and his seed was inside me should I ever conceive our child. And now all that was taken by a stranger for his own self-gratification and thrills. I kept shaking my head and my eyes teared as I saw Kevin thumbing the cell phone screen. I knew he was emailing those photos to his own cell phone or computer.
Kevin finished with the cell phone and put it inside the handbag. He returned the handbag to the desk drawer and closed it. Looking around, he saw the exercise room and strolled inside. A ceiling surveillance camera recorded his activity there and it was streamed to my desk computer too. I watched. Kevin stood in the middle of the room and looked around. He observed the line of my clothing hung on the wall hooks, normal clothes and exercise and workout clothing.
Kevin went from left to right, looking and touching each item. If he found a pantyhose hanging on a hook he lifted if off and examined and smelled it, usually lingering at the crotch area. I mentioned previously that Frank and I enjoy and active sex life and as a result many of those pantyhose would no doubt have dried semen on it which Kevin would automatically detect. Kevin spent more time touching and smelling my exercise leotards and tights which he thoroughly enjoyed smelling the breast and genital areas the most. He looked through the rest of my clothing, blouses, tops, skirts, and bras which he smelled the cups. Kevin gazed thoughtfully at my clothing as if he was thinking about collecting more personal, intimate trophies of me. Kevin glanced around and noticed the nearby trash bin. He went over and peered down and bingo, he found discarded pantyhose and tights, with runs, holes, tears, and soiled. Kevin pulled out the trash pantyhose and tights to examine each.
I sat at my desk staring at the screen, feeling beyond humiliation. It was like Kevin having been present, watching me with every client that I had conducted sexuality coaching, hands-on bodywork, erotic training, virility treatment, physical release…everything. Kevin pulled up a nude tone Sheer Energy pantyhose. He pulled the material and looked at the crotch panel gusset. He saw the oval-shaped panel had been neatly snipped by a scissors bottom to top and the material on both sides were stained. Another trash pantyhose, suntan color Basic Editions sheer-to-waist, had been torn open at the crotch, where there was no crotch panel. He found a third, discarded all sheer pantyhose with no gusset, heavily soiled obviously with male semen at the crotch. A fourth pantyhose could be credited to my amorous man, Frank, who had torn a small hole over my pussy to allow access for his eager cock. I accommodated the pent-up, unmet, sensual male needs of some clients and Kevin would know that. Perhaps it would lead to Kevin asking for full intimate, hands-on, bodywork of all treatments and for a coupling release.
Remember that I am recounting what I viewed on the overhead surveillance vid-cam recording after the incident with Kevin. But at the time I didn’t know anything of this. I recall that I returned to the studio office and saw Kevin sitting casually on the couch resting his arm on the back. He just smiled and stood up to greet me. I went up to Kevin, expressing my thanks for his patience and he reached around my waist and pulled close, telling me it was okay and not an inconvenience. I was just mildly surprised at the friendly hug since we both gave each other a friendly introductory hug. On the second embrace Kevin hugged me firmer and pressed me against his body. I felt his hand slide down and pat my butt cheek over the miniskirt, giving it a firm, gentle squeeze.
I felt Kevin’s privates press on me but I wasn’t totally sure if he had an erection or was growing one. I laughed it off and gently pulled away.
We both sat down on the couch and I opened Kevin’s file to review my notes. We discussed some sort of customized health fitness program, tailored his present condition with the goals of improvement and no need for great change. He wanted nutritional advice, proper foods, foods to avoid, right vitamins to take and in appropriate dosage, so forth. There was discussion on flexibility improvement and exercising for muscle toning and conditioning. Kevin had no physical handicaps or limiting, past injuries, or any ongoing illness or ailments. He expressed interest in going through dance instruction for physical fitness. He added interest in massage treatments for relaxation and stress. This was usual stuff from a new client, but a lot that would commit him to a length of time with me and with the accompanying guidance counseling fees.
I inquired whether he was interested or concerned with anything else, Kevin smiled, almost shyly, and replied that he wanted to include guidance counseling, advice, and hands-on with male virility health. Accustomed to such inquiries as it is a significant part of my health fitness business, I reached over and lightly touched his hand reassuring him there was nothing to be embarrassed for but everything to be gained by just asking and I included additional assurances of my knowledge and experience plus the comfort of asking such assistance from a caring woman.
Kevin told me that he wanted to revitalize his masculine virility. While everything still worked, he said, he noticed that his penis took longer to grow erect, was not as hard as before, and erections had become shorter in duration. He remembered when as a youth he would experience instantaneous erections at the slightest feminine provocation, intentional or incidental.
I gave Kevin’s hand a squeeze with my best, reassuring Hollywood smile. There’s nothing wrong about your body, I continued to Kevin except the passing of time and age. Yet I understood that men clients don’t want to be reminded of that which they already knew. I quickly assured Kevin that his still relatively young age would help very well with the over-the-counter remedies for male arousal and erectile function. I mentioned the easy availability of the homeopathic remedies found in major pharmacy chain stores, gas service stations at the salesclerk counter display stands, and at liquor stores. These were easily noticeable as small cardboard blister packs holding one large capsule of any color. Typically the cardboard backing reflected an erotic scene of a nude man and nude woman shown from shoulder high embracing one another. The caption would usually promise a restoration or great enhancement in male potency, even persisting for several days. It would be just so much marketing hype except for the list of the ingredients on the backside. The capsule was essentially a complex mix of ground-up or powdered herbs which frequently included, ginseng, ginger, yohimbe bark, ginkgo biloba, horny goat weed, kava root, and a plethora of other long-known medicinal herbs known from the all over the world. Scientific research appeared to indicate some of these medicinal herbs helped increase penile blood flow and reputedly rejuvenating the libido.
Kevin asked if I could show him any samples. Certainly, I replied. I kept a number of samples that I purchased along the way from different gas stations and liquor stores. I had to retrieve the samples from the small drawer unit under my desk. The manufacturing effort to procure these herbs, process the lot, and encapsulate the mixtures for human consumption was not cheap.
These herbal male libido boosters and stimulants usually cost between eight and ten dollars just for one bill. A number of clients who followed my advice and purchased these pills told me which ones worked the best. Therefore I knew which samples to look for.
I retrieved a small box from the drawer and returned to the sofa where Kevin awaited. I needed to turn my back to Kevin before sitting back down. It was only for a few moments. In those moments, Kevin lifted my miniskirt up and I felt the palm of his hand resting on one of my butt cheeks. He was gazing at my entire ass showing under the pantyhose. And he was probably noticing my bare pussy lips too.
In this situation, a girl can react any number of ways. My reaction best fits the timing and overall circumstances. I needed to retain control of myself and the situation without showing alarm. I know the men clients become sexually aroused near me. And it wasn’t the first time I’d been touched intimately and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. Over time I became accustomed to it without showing an emotional reaction which risked escalating the situation into an unknown direction. I am calm, collected, and in control. I have a man next to me who is seeking my professional health guidance, treatment, and is paying me a good amount of money for my help. I remained calm and cool and showed absolutely no reaction as if I didn’t know. I simply turned around to face Kevin and sat down giving him my best smile while letting him know in my way that I knew what he did and it wasn’t nice.
The conversation later shifted from his male sexual health to male sexuality. Kevin discussed his sexuality, preferences, desires, and fantasies at length. He talked about certain things about women that triggered sexual arousal and this is a common interest with men so I asked Kevin to specifically identify those exact sexual arousal triggers, or, as better known, turn-ons. Kevin hesitated for a few moments then identified his biggest turn-on was seeing and touching sheer pantyhose on pretty women. He asked me if pantyhose was a fetish and was it something to be concerned for. I researched fetishes a long time ago and am able to distinguish between harmless ones and those that can lead to problems later on. I knew about pantyhose.
From my online research and personal experience, many men loved pantyhose on a woman who had shapely, long legs and was pretty to beautiful. A woman didn’t necessarily have to have long legs although that helped for professional modeling purposes. A woman needed only to have proportionate and well-shaped legs to fill a pantyhose with visual attraction. I did a pantyhose modeling a while ago and understand it well. Men obsessed with pantyhose does constitute a fetish, I told Kevin, but of the mildest and likely harmless type. Kevin’s pantyhose fetish was limited to seeing it on leggy, beautiful women and there was no cross-dressing involved. So his sexual interest, I continued, was essentially normal.
How much do you like pantyhose, I asked Kevin. He was sitting close and placed his hand on my upper thigh and rubbed the pantyhose while looking at me in the eyes and saying this was a good example of how he enjoyed the feel of the tight weave material over soft, female skin.
Oh, I see, I said to Kevin, understanding that the pantyhose attraction to him was a total package. The pantyhose have to be filled with shapely woman legs. Kevin nodded yes and asked me to raise the leg which was crossed over the other. Curious, I raised my knee and he could see my entire thigh. But Kevin had other ideas. He carefully and slowly pushed my knee higher to expose more area down there. His other hand stroked my upper thigh and his fingertips were straying close into my private area.
I heard Kevin compliment me on my shapely legs and how splendid they appeared inside pantyhose, especially the all sheer-to-the-waist, he mentioned, thereby making me aware that he was viewing the top of my pantyhose. I thanked Kevin for the compliments and said that I understand. It was meant to be a signal for Kevin to stop but he didn’t get it. His fingers continued stroking my thigh, almost going between thigh and sofa. And then I felt his fingertips move further inward and his fingernails could be felt stroking my labia. Now I truly wished I had worn a panty underneath.
I deliberately coughed to catch Kevin’s attention, and tried to move my leg away from him, saying that I really understood his point and that was enough. Kevin kept talking, expressing his appreciation and delight at my pantyhose wearing habit with no panty or thong underneath, which was his way of letting me know he could see everything.
I’m a very understanding, patient, and compassionate woman but now this situation had crossed into the uncomfortable zone. I was already anxious that Kevin might have felt the wetness in my pantyhose from my previous sexual liaison with Frank. Kevin even boldly pulled my miniskirt upward enough to reveal no secondary underwear, just my bare flesh under the tight nylon weave. I felt Kevin’s fingertips touch my labia and rub them. I pulled my leg away and forced a smile telling Kevin that it was more than enough to make his point. I stood up from the sofa and asked Kevin if there was anything else he wanted to discuss and I would be happy to schedule another session for him.
Kevin stood up and looked at me if as nothing untoward had occurred and asked me about relaxation dance. I was surprised he either knew or guessed that I offered a relaxation therapy based on intimate physical contact. A client and I would slow dance in each other’s arms, while soft background music played. It was reminiscent of slow dancing between a boy and a girl at a high school dance or prom, or a college formal. No training or skills were required, just friendly, warm human contact, slow rhythmic movement of bodies to pleasant background music.
I hesitated before admitting, yes, I do offer that type of relaxation treatment but usually not right away. Before I could finish or even continue, Kevin had stepped forward and held me in an embrace, not too tight but firm enough, telling me that he very much wanted to try it. I stammered my response, being surprised that yes, it was possible but maybe not so early at the beginning of his health program. However, I would allow him to feel what the relaxation slow dancing for a minute or so.
Kevin pressed me against him and I placed my hands around his upper back. I could not help but giggle at the unexpected situation. Our bodies and hips began swaying to imaginary soft music. I asked him what kind of music he would prefer the next time and he surprised me by stating he was a fan of 70s and 80s classic rock and soft rock, including some 90s and contemporary that fit the soft beat also. I am also a fan of that kind of music and play it often on a mpg3 player, iphone, cd player, and in my car.
Kevin’s hands were now on my hips and his face was almost touching mine. But now his very hard erection was pressing firmly against my vulva and he knew I could feel it.
He slow danced with me, pressing his cock up against me. This was ridiculous, I thought because I already had one penis, Frank’s, on me just over an hour ago and now a second penis is on me. I had just been sexed and I worried about Kevin’s sexual rubbing against my still swollen and sensitive genital area causing an unwanted sexual stimulation arousal response. I was already starting to feel just those same stimulating sensations. I did my best to make a smile, and tell Kevin, almost pleading, that this was a good session and I can program relaxation dancing into his health program. Kevin was now fondling and squeezing my buttocks, his hands on top of the miniskirt. He was good enough not to pinch or grip too hard. He just kept holding and fondling and squeezing each butt cheek.
Kevin, I said, we can continue this next time but the session time is over and another client will be coming over very soon, I lied.
Kevin slid his hands under the miniskirt and continued fondling my buttocks on the pantyhose. Kevin, I pleaded, looking into his eyes; we have to stop now, I have another appointment. But into my opened mouth Kevin pressed his lips on mine and I felt his tongue dart like lightning deep into my mouth. Huhhmmmph, I gagged. I tried pushing away but Kevin held me firm. I couldn’t even speak to tell him to stop his unwanted French kissing. His tongue was all over inside my mouth. The thought came to my mind of biting his tongue, but I am such a peaceful, non-violent woman who doesn’t have a single mean cell in her body. I am passionate about my own pacifism and I didn’t even seriously contemplate doing that.
I wasn’t going to kiss Kevin back in the slightest but I couldn’t hide my tongue. His tongue was rubbing over mine and I tried futilely to pull my tongue as far back as possible beyond his reach. I could only continue uttering, gurgling, moaning, and gagging sounds…errrmmph…mmmmm….ahhhmmm…
Kevin reached inside my clothes. He pulled open my snap-button blouse and put his hand in over my breast. He easily pulled the breast out of the short demi-cup and fondled it, rubbing the nipple.
With great effort, I pulled my face away from Kevin and pleaded, no, Kevin, no, we can’t do this, please stop right now. I felt Kevin squeeze my breast hard and I yelped in pain, ow! Kevin, don’t, you’re hurting me, please stop this now! He grabbed my hair hard from behind and I moaned. He whispered loudly in my ear, don’t struggle or fight, Sarah. It’s better for you this way. You won’t get hurt and nothing will happen to you. Just go with the flow. What do you mean by that, I insisted, are you threatening me if I don’t given in or cooperate? Kevin’s response was to press his lips hard on my mine and initiate another forced French kiss while his hand pulled my other breast out of the demi-bra. I heard myself whimper (whimper) and my eyes begin to water. I was in deep and right now Kevin was making me his. I could hear myself starting to utter weeping sounds. (soft, subdued muffled crying sound)
He seemed to have some kind of diabolical skill. I felt him pulling the bra straps off the shoulder and push the bra down from my breasts. His hand reached deep and around my back and with one hand I felt him fumble with the bra hook for a few moments then the hooks were freed and the bra fell loosely, held on only by the shoulder straps. His hand went to work skillfully on the shoulder straps. Moments later he had undone one shoulder strap then the next, allowing him to pull the bra out and toss it aside.
He fondled my breasts, cupping, squeezing them, lifting up each one, finding and rubbing the nipples, pulling on them. He continued fondling my ass and his hand went up to the waist band where he pulled it down enough to slip his hand inside to squeeze the bare flesh of my buttock.
I found myself unable to keep it together. Tears flowed and I cried, weeping, and pleading…(crying) omigooooddd, noooo! Kevin, noooo! Please, nooo! Don’t…don’t do thisss to me, oh noooo… (weeping loudly).
Kevin realized I wasn’t resisting and that pleased him even more. He started to pull my clothes off.
I was crying so loudly that I was almost screaming…(crying) Ohhh noooooo,oh,oh,oh,oh,noooo…please stop…don’t….ooohhh, nooo-oh-oh-oh, ooooohhh, hoo,hoo,hoo,hoo, knewwwww…hoo-hoo-hoo…nooooo,oh-oh-oh. The tears flowed out make my vision blurry. Kevin pulled my blazer jacket off my shoulders and down my arms. Ohhh, noooo, uh-oh-oh-oh-ho-ho-noooo, (weeping loudly) K-K-Kevin, no, please don’t take my clothes off, we can’t work this out, we can, I can give you what you want…what you need, but not like this…not this wayyyy…oh boo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo, oh noooo…please, don’t, nooo,ohhhh, (continues crying loudly).
I blinked hard several times and looked at Kevin’s face. His face had somehow changed, his features harder, his eyes different and darker, smoky. I could hardly recognize him. His uncontrolled lust had transformed him into a sexually-obsessed Mr. Hyde. I was helpless, knowing he was going to possess me totally and bodily and devour me sexually for how long, I dared not guess.
He pulled off my blouse and tossed it away. He slid behind me, reached around and cupped both of my breasts in each hand, lifting the fleshy mounds and squeezing but surprisingly causing only slight discomfort not pain. I couldn’t stop whimpering and sobbing (sobbing, weeping sounds) as his fingers rubbed over the nipples. Fingers found my nipples and rubbed them between finger and thumb, then pulling it away from my body. If he was trying to stiffen my nipples, it didn’t take much effort. My nipples hardened and pointed out.
Then his hands slid down my sides to the miniskirt. His thumbs hooked the waistband and he forcefully pulled down the miniskirt to the floor in one fell swoop. I felt him crouch down, squeezing an ankle hard and lifting my foot off the floor. He pulled the miniskirt loose and then yanked the pump off my foot. He did the same to the other foot and I was quickly reduced to stark naked except for the sheer pantyhose which didn’t conceal anything.
Kevin stood up noiselessly and wrapped his arms around my waist. He lips went to work kissing the side of my face, neck and shoulders where I felt his tongue and teeth on the bare skin. His fingers slipped inside the pantyhose waistband and slid all the way down to my waxed, bare pussy lips.
(crying) Omigodddd, noooo, oh nooo…hoo,hoo,hoo, oooohhh, no, Kevin, please stoooppp, I cried more out of shame and anxiety because I knew he was going to feel sticky wetness down there and know what I had done earlier before the appointment. His fingers slid down over my labia and began feeling me up. I felt his fingers massaging my pussy and sliding between the lips. My worst fear was confirmed when Kevin joked to me about getting lucky and being a very busy girl. I was further complimented on being a, ‘natural’ lover, meaning having sex with no condom or any other type of barrier birth control.
Abruptly Kevin grabbed my shoulders and pushed me towards the sofa. I want you so bad it hurts…you’re all mine and I have to have you, he insisted. But I resisted, saying to him, no, Kevin, this isn’t right, you can’t have me like this, (sobbing). I belong to another man I’m in love with. Kevin interrupted, and you were with him just before weren’t you? Admit it because I know. You just had sex with him, tell me! His brazen, voyeuristic questioning of my sex life shocked me. Kevin want me to tell him everything.
You should be more careful with your cell phone, baby doll, Kevin said to me as he bent over to pull the sofa seat out into a bed. I just stood there, frozen with embarrassment as I realized my worst fear, that Kevin had enjoyed the whole view and sounds of my sex with Frank thanks to my cell phone video camera. I could only stand there and compliant with his commands. I inwardly cringed at his inappropriate terms of familiarity and affection, baby doll. He was going to treat me like his baby doll. Kevin pushed me on to bed. We were going to have sexual intercourse and I had just had sex with my own boyfriend just a short time ago. The prospect of having two men’s semen inside me was terrifying because it was my fertile time of the month when I was ovulating. I could be made pregnant by either or both men. I begged Kevin, (sobbing) please Kevin…let’s not do this….ooohhh, noooo, hoohoohoohhoo, nooooo…I tried telling him, listen, Kevin, please, look…I just made love with my boyfriend earlier today. He’s still inside me. Please don’t do what you want to do. I can get pregnant from him but if you do this to me it could be you getting me pregnant.
Kevin spread my knees apart and sat on the bed between my legs. He rubbed my pussy lips under the pantyhose. The pantyhose looks hot on you, he said. I love that you wear pantyhose all the time and with no panties underneath, as he continued rubbing my vulva and fondling the labia.
Kevin looked at me while continuing his fondling of my pussy. I expected him to rip open the pantyhose any second. But he preferred to rub my genital area with the pantyhose intact, which was thoroughly soaked by my vaginal fluids and mostly Frank’s semen. Kevin asked me, how many men I had sex with in my life. I cried, omigooddd, Kevin…nooo, oh no, ohohoh, noooo, please…don’t ask me those things. It’s private and you’ve no right to ask. Kevin leaned over close to my face, squeezed my breasts and muttered some inaudible threat. I thought what difference does it make to tell him. I replied to him that I had had sex with about seven men. Kevin grinned and asked that he understood the number but wanted to know how many men counting those I had given full bodily releases by intercourse in my business. I closed my eyes because I didn’t want to answer. This was confidential to my business.
Kevin squeezed my breasts hard again. I gritted and made a quick mental count. I told Kevin, alright, I had had sex with a total of about sixty men, mostly clients. Some were long-term, some short-term, and some just for the release they so physically needed from a woman. I crossed a gray area I know, but I understood men have urgent biological needs that must be satisfied.
Kevin said that I was told him was very hot and turned him on. He wanted to keep my pantyhose and he pulled my hose off. I asked him if he was keeping my pantyhose as a personal physical trophy of myself, my bodily smell, body fluids, and my sex to which Kevin nodded.
Kevin tossed the pantyhose behind and returned to fondling my vulva. Without the pantyhose he spread my labia apart and I felt his fingertips feeling the wet, slippery flesh inside. Kevin didn’t look at me as he asked another question. He asked me if I had ever been raped and how many. I gasped loudly, almost choking, as I pleaded why would he want to know something like that. I couldn’t understand where this was coming from and why it would interest him to know but Kevin was insistent and for some reason I was telling him everything. I was already stark naked and couldn’t be more naked to him. I stammered out the answer, four times, I told him. Then he wanted to know how and I told him.
The first rape occurred when I was in my early twenties and I was at a friend’s birthday party. I was wearing a t-shirt, tight jeans, and boots. I drank too much and even though I was still conscious if you could call it that, I couldn’t stop three guys who had been watching me all evening from taking me upstairs to a bedroom. They stood in a close circle holding me in their arms. They tossed me around to each other like a rag doll. After having fun doing tossing me back and forth, catching me in their arms, they lay me on the bed. They stripped me naked, stretched me apart and fondled everything. I was French kissed, my breasts grabbed, fondled, squeezed, and the nipples pulled, squeezed, and sucked on. One of the guys performed cunnilingus on me. His buddy put his erection all the way into my mouth, wanting me to suck on it but I was too far out of it. Then each guy had sex with me. And I was conscious the whole time but out of it. I never told anyone about it, including my friend.
The second rape happened to me when I was just reaching my mid-twenties. I was with a former boyfriend at a popular, classy dance nightclub in north downtown. I remember wearing a white, cotton, off-the-shoulder, short-sleeve, buttoned, short blouse, and a white, faux leather miniskirt, off-black, sheer pantyhose, and heels. I left my boyfriend at the table to visit the restroom which was awkwardly located down a long, dim corridor requiring several turns. On the way back a very tall guy stopped me somewhere in the corridor to flirt with me. I was flattered by his attention and flirtation naturally but told him about being with a boyfriend. The fact didn’t stop his chatting and flirting, which only got more intense.
We starting talking some trash to each other when suddenly he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back some distance around a dim corner. He held both my wrists together above my head with one hand. He was about 6 feet, 4 inches tall so he was very strong and I was helpless. He pulled apart my button blouse and yanked down my strapless bra, baring my breasts which he fondled. He lifted my skirt up above my waist and put his hand between my thighs. I felt his fingers fumbling and then hearing the nylon rip as he tore the crotch open, exposing my vulva which I kept bare-shaved. He remarked lewdly about me being hot and sexy wearing pantyhose with no panties, which I always do. He fingered my labia lips and put two fingers into my vagina. He crudely expressed satisfaction of finding my vagina wet and slippery, not knowing I had been dancing close-up to my boyfriend earlier, rubbing up against him. He unzipped his pants fly and reached in and struggled to pull out his erection from his tight underpants. He spread my thighs apart, inserted his erection and fucked me hard. He came relatively quickly, releasing his semen into me. After releasing me, he zipped up his fly and walked away. I returned to the women’s restroom to clean up. I returned to my boyfriend, finding him talking to his buddy on his cell phone. I did not mention what just happened to me but I had him take me home.
The other two times occurred with clients in my studio office who became out of control. It’s a very long story. I could see that Kevin was extremely excited and aroused by my sexual history. It was an aphrodisiac to him and he didn’t care what happened to me before or that I just earlier had had sex and was still holding some of my boyfriend’s semen in my vagina.
Kevin pulled me under him. He was already naked and his erection was long, thick, rock hard and felt hot as it pressed against my pudendum. I could feel some vibration in his hard cock because so much blood was locked up in it. His biological urge for intercourse was powerful. To say it bluntly, Kevin needed to fuck badly. He was going to fuck me hard. I felt his hardened penis sliding up and down my vulva, centered between the labia lips. He was taking his time, savoring my body, my flesh, not rushing in. It was futile to persuade him to stop but I tried anyway, still sobbing and crying, pleading with him.
(Crying, sobbing, moaning, pleading, in low and loud bawling for 30 seconds.)
Kevin wrapped his arms around me in a strong embrace. He rubbed his cock against my pussy then I felt his penis tip nudging my vagina. He wasn’t trying to slide his penis inside but curiously was just prodding my pussy lips and vaginal opening with the tip of his penis. This was new to me and I didn’t anticipate my body’s reaction. I felt stimulation like oncoming arousal in my genital area and it was impossible I thought given the circumstances. Yet it was happening. I don’t know why, maybe it was because I just recently had sex and my body was still primed for sex. It felt like an automatic sexual response inside my body, whether I wanted to or not. It was a biological reaction I knew. Vaginal fluid was being released again. It didn’t make a whole lot of difference because my vagina was still wet with semen.
Kevin felt my body’s reaction, I’m certain as in the following moments his penis promptly slid its entire length into my vagina. I immediately felt the power of an engorged virile male organ spreading my vaginal walls wide and the immense sensation of feeling totally full. I felt the glans pressing against the cervix and his pubic bone pressing against my clitoris. Kevin shifted his body weight fully over me, still holding me in his embrace.
Kevin began sexing me, hard. His thrusts were paced, not slow nor fast, rhythmic and full, the entire shaft thrusting full into my vagina and sliding almost completely out. This gave me the full sexual force of his virile vigor, ensuring all my sensitive female sexual surfaces were contacted and stimulated.
As he thrusted deep in and out, my senses drew into to my immediate proximity, his bare skin and body weight on top of me, the sound of his deep breathing, vibration from the beating of his heart, and still even the sounds of the sex, the slurping, squishing noise of his thickened, incredibly hard cock sliding in and out of my vagina, stretched firmly around his virile shaft, adding to it the sounds of his scrotum, that is his testicles sack making slapping noises against my buttocks with each vigorous deep insertion. I couldn’t resist or do anything to stop his tongue deep into my mouth probing for my tongue.
I became self-aware that I stopped crying and pleading. I was just going along with the sexual intercourse. My body was going along with the sex, indifferent to the male provider, responding to the sexual stimulation. I won’t deny it. I was being raped but my body was experiencing its natural, feminine sexual stimulation. Already I knew and had to accept that Kevin would cause me to climax to an orgasm. I felt it would be better and safest for me to let Nature take its course and everything would work out safely to the finish for both of us. Once Kevin was sated, he would be safe to be around again.
I did try once more to communicate with Kevin, pleading he should stop because I am his physical trainer, health advisor and wellness counselor who is here for his benefit and cannot do my functions properly if I am being raped. I added the usual, let’s stop and talk about this and I will keep everything confidential here, which I sincerely meant. I begged Kevin not to cause me to climax to an orgasm because again, I am his health fitness advisor and it is not right to embarrass me by forcing me to come to an orgasm. I waited a while before begging Kevin to pull out his penis and ejaculate on my stomach so that I wouldn’t become pregnant, even though that plea was really moot given my boyfriend Frank’s semen inside my vagina and probably already inside my uterus by now.
It was to no avail. Kevin was totally preoccupied sexing me. I felt the familiar bodily trembling, the inner impulses, the enveloping warmth, tender muscle contractions. Kevin’s engorged penis sloshed in and out, the sounds of his testicles slapping on my buttocks. The sounds continued, swish, swish, thwap, swish, swish, thwap, thwap. In spite of myself I couldn’t help it. I began uttering the same sounds from the depths of my mouth and throat, the low moans, and uuhhs, sighs, and groans, whenever sexual arousal intensifies during sex and a climax approaches.
Hmmmm…mmmhuuhhh…oh whyyy…aahhh…ohhhh….nooooo, oooohhhh… aaahhh…hhmmmm. (simulated female sexual arousal sounds)
Kevin groped and fondled my breasts, squeezing the flesh, rubbing and pinching the nipples which stiffened under the touching and the sexing. The problem for me was that Kevin knew how to fuck good and it was working on me. I was going to cum and there was nothing I could do about it. I tried to mentally calm myself and relax the tension throughout my being. When I tried and felt a success of calm, I felt a powerful surge of sexual energy blossom from deep down in the back of my vagina, the pulsing uterus and quivering ovaries, freed by my mental relaxation attempt.
As the sexual energy released itself, causing me to arch my back and my vagina muscles to tighten while vaginal fluids flowed, the climax was reached and the top of a sexual volcano exploded into my orgasm. I gasped, groaned, and moaned loudly, letting it all go; aaaahhhhh!!!! Hmmmhuuuhhh, oooohh, haaaaa!!!! (simulated female orgasm).
My orgasm electrified my whole being like a flash, from my genital area through my body to the top of my head. And it lasted, as usual, like water flowing down a fast river. Vaginal muscles contracted, warmth surged through my limbs, hormone and endorphin ecstasy numbed my brain with pleasure. It made me lose track of time. In the midst of it all, Kevin stepped up the tempo of his thrusts and sure sign of his oncoming climax.
He thrust in and out fast, prolonging my orgasm, until he thrust in deeply till he could go no further. His arms tightened around me into an uncomfortable bear hug. Then I felt his warm seed forcefully spilling inside me. I felt the tiny vibrations of his ejaculations through the walls of my vagina, the flood of very warm, thick syrupy semen flooding deeply around my cervix. I knew from Kevin’s bodily reactions, the strength and duration of his ejaculations that he was spilling a large amount of seminal fluid deep inside me.
Kevin lay on top of me, emptying out the remnants of his male vessel in me. His breathing, deep, ragged, and swift, started slowing as he slowly relaxed. Curiously his virile member remained engorged, keeping me filled.
My body still felt tingly and pleasured. But I was fully aware. Kevin relaxed his grip on me and released his embrace of me. I took advantage of the situation, placing my right palm on his upper chest and gently but firmly lifted him off, aware of keeping the situation calm and under control. I gently pushed Kevin up and over to the side, using my leg for the leverage. I reached down and wrapped my fingers around his emerging virile shaft, pulling the rest of it out of my vagina. His cock was still mostly stiff and gorged, but not as much as before. His penis was warm and slick with sexual fluids from both of us. I squeezed his shaft and the rest of its semen flowed out.
Here was a man who had just raped me and I had his entire manhood in my hand. But I am a strong woman who knows how to maintain her emotions and be in control of the situation. My education, training, long experience, and knowledge of men, taught me that at this moment, I still needed to be the woman in charge, the health fitness guidance counselor.
Kevin, I spoke plainly, clearly, and with authority. Wake up, Kevin. You need to get up, Kevin. Do you know what you’ve done here? I repeated myself and at length, Kevin opened his eyes, gazing at me with hazy, wet eyes.
His face interested me. He looked completely normal and recognizable as I originally remembered him. Kevin, I repeated, you have to understand what happened here. You grabbed me and took my clothes off. And then you had sex with me and you came inside me. Do you understand? We need to talk about this. You can’t be doing this again with me or to anyone else for that matter. If you need sexual release there are proper ways to approach me and I can do something about it.
Kevin nodded dimly, sighing. I need help, Sarah. I’m a bad man and I need your help. I’m really sorry, Sarah. I don’t know what came over me. I just really lost it. It was like, I was a different person who was doing what he wanted. Sarah, I still want your help with everything.
That you do, Kevin, I replied. I need to work with you on control and maintenance issues so that what happened just now does happen again and especially outside this office which could go very wrong for you. I don’t mean teaching you to bottle up your feelings, urges, and needs, but how to understand them and accommodate all of it the right way without harming other people or yourself.
I talked some more with Kevin then got him to his feet. We were both still naked, smelly, and a mutual mess. As Kevin slowly got dressed, so did I, first grabbing a pantyhose off the wall from the exercise room. I wiped myself with several disposable, moist scented napkins. Making sure Kevin couldn’t see me, I straddled a small plastic trash basket and allowed his semen to dribble out. I finished wiping my skin with the disposable wipes, feeling cleaned and scented. I pulled on the pantyhose and selected some clothing hanging on the exercise room wall hooks, a blouse and a miniskirt. I put those on and walked out to see Kevin dressed and sitting uncomfortably on the sofa couch. I put back on my high heel pumps. I didn’t sit next to Kevin, instead pulling a side chair to the sofa and sat down facing him.
We spent the next thirty minutes discussing more of what happened and I took the path of therapist, advising Kevin of his actions. I convinced him that he needed sex therapy counseling in addition to his fitness program. I emphasized to Kevin that what he did to me was wrong and causing me to orgasm was no excuse. But as in all good therapy, I held out that promise that I could make him better, if he wanted it. During this time I needed to keep my legs together or crossed. I was still leaking and putting up with the squishy, stickiness between my legs, not helped by the huge amount of semen deposited there by Kevin. I was going to need a long bath afterwards.
Kevin had since returned to his sense of normalcy. It wasn’t difficult to convince him of his need for long-term health and sexual counseling. We agreed on his counseling and fitness training schedules. He really needed two parallel lines of visits, one for his health fitness and one for his sexual therapy. Kevin and I finished and we both got up to say goodbye. Kevin wanted to hug me and I let him. Strange it may seem that I allowed this behavior, but I am a men’s health and fitness counselor and I have a job to do, helping men overcome their health and emotional problems. I take great pride in what I do and what I accomplish. I tell myself that professional athletes and professional entertainers like dancers all get knocked down in their careers but they get up, shake it off, stay calm, and push ahead. That describes me.
I accept the challenges and now you know the occupational hazards that come with my line of health and fitness guidance counselor and personal trainer work. I don’t let it stop me.
Yet there’s more to me that explains myself but still won’t seem rational because all people are complex, emotional beings, yours truly included.
Kevin departed the office and I returned to my desk, just sitting and contemplating my thoughts, staring ahead without looking at anything. Minutes passed as I withdrew into myself and merged thoughts with feelings, instincts, passion, and emotion. At length I retrieved my personal journal from the desk drawer. I opened it to the next blank page because I had a lot on my mind to write.
I will bare myself on the journal’s pages, showing just what a mysterious, passionately sexual person even an educated, trained, professional woman like myself can be. Education and social class have nothing to do with it. It’s all about the mysterious emotions and passions that drive a woman’s sexuality that even she does not comprehend.
I wrote in my journal that it was a day to remember forever in my life as a woman. I experienced one of my most fervent and passionate, irrational sexual fantasies, a particular rape fantasy. Yes, I am opening up a taboo subject, women’s fantasies which include a Pandora’s Box that involves rape fantasies common to so many women. Without any forewarning or prediction, a man named, Kevin, entered my life today to bring to reality one of my longs-standing rape fantasies, that of a strange man entering my office or home to surprise me, overpower me, strip me naked, fondle me, and then force me into sexual intercourse of a vigor and strength borne completely out of his Sexual lust, forcing my body to submit and experience unasked for pleasure until he forced an orgasm out of my body.
Yes, it’s easier to understand me perhaps. I love men. I love their bodies and I love their lovemaking with me. I’ve known since third grade age that I desired males, looking with great interest at boys of my age and older boys and then men. As a very young woman I knew that I was born with a strong sex drive for the opposite sex. When I’m making love with a man I want the pleasure to be indescribable, like Heaven.
Still, like so many women, rape fantasies came naturally and are still not fully understood, only that it is wrapped up in our feminine libido, sex drive, and passions. At age thirteen I watched a rape scene on a television movie late at night while sleeping over at a friend’s house on the weekend. The rape scene changed me forever. It was by total random chance that the rape scene looked so erotic to me. Perhaps any other movie rape would have turned me away but it was the way this rape looked and occurred in this particular movie that instead of being traumatized, the woman victim started to experience and show sexual arousal and pleasure.
I was completely imprinted in my youthful libido. In turn I felt sensations and feelings that I can only describe as eroticism and arousal at the time.
Over the years as I became an adult and did my own research, I learned that I was not alone. Countless women expressed the unexplainable, that they harbored rape fantasies. I learned that during the 1970s and 80s, a sub-genre of the paperback romance novel enjoyed a short vogue. It was nicknamed the ‘bodice-ripper’ romance novels. Written by educated, intelligent, erudite women, it showed they possessed the same range of passionate illicit sexual fantasies and encounters often expressed as rapes scenarios.
The bodice-ripper romance novels duplicated the same historical backgrounds and varied geographical and cultural locations as the mainstream romance novels. However the bodice ripper romance novels crossed the line of adult themes into lurid and graphic sexual assaults, rapes, multiple rapes, and pregnancies of the lovely, innocent, but headstrong and passionate young women of those books. I started collecting these old bodice ripper paperbacks from used bookstores and the Internet. It was like feeding a drug habit. The more I read those fantasies the more intense my sexual fantasies became specifically the rape fantasies.
Like other women with similar dark sexual fantasies, I can endure some pain and abuse but it’s all in the name of giving ourselves in to a man’s unquenchable sexual lust. I believe a man needs a woman, her body, her sex, just as much as he needs real nourishment. He cannot be deprived of sexual nourishment.
I mentioned before that I had been raped, but those weren’t necessarily the rapes of my sexual fantasies. By coincidence there were elements in my previous real-life rapes that were common to my darker fantasies, for example, several men, the aroused stranger, but Kevin fulfilled everything of the rape fantasy that stalked my daydreams for years. My crying and sobbing were simply aspects of the fantasy being played out in my mind as if I were performing it for myself, the distraught woman pleading and begging for mercy.
Sometimes I think to myself that perhaps I may need to visit a woman therapist knowledgeable about things like this to work out the dark stirrings of my libido and sexual passions. But then again, I may find myself in the company of another woman who is just like me and harbors her own deep and dark sexual fantasies. And that would only simply serve to remind me just how typical I am among countless other women in the dark recesses and corners, dimly lit hallways and closed doors of our mysterious sexual natures.
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The above story was written by a client of mine for a custom recording they wanted made. I did not write it, nor do I claim to. I asked for permission to post it and was told I could for others to enjoy it. No one else has permission to copy it or post it.