Marion’s Rape

Marion is a beautiful, 5’8’’, 26-year old college graduate with long dark, auburn hair, hazel eyes & fair complexion. She loves men and is sexually liberated and one night an intruder comes into her apartment and forces himself on her, and she tries to continue on and enjoy her relationships with men afterwards.


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I had just come back to Los Angeles from my vacation in Santa Barbara. I had spent the first night at a friend’s house. The next night I was out with some friends I hadn’t seen in a while. We stayed out until after the bars closed.

My friends went home while I remained with one of them, Bobby. Bobby was actually a friend of a friend and it was the second time I met him. Bobby came from North Carolina and played in a minor league baseball team based in Anaheim. I was really attracted to Bobby. He was such a straight-up, decent guy with good looks and no pretenses. He offered me a ride and I found myself readily accepting. He drove across town to Runyon Canyon Park. After parking we went for a short walk to find the closest great view of nighttime Los Angeles sparkling with thousands of lights under a starlit sky. We stood there, marveling in the wondrous sight of sprawling Los Angeles, aglow with lights, asleep under a half moon. We talked for a short while and then, perhaps emboldened by alcohol and the romantic sights of nighttime Los Angeles, we began embracing and kissing.

One thing quickly led to another. Our kissing became very deep and passionate and we were fondling each other. We needed privacy. Bobby and I walked off the parking area into the brush and found a small, secluded clear spot which still afforded a beautiful view of the sparkling, sprawling city under night skies. We quickly resumed kissing and fondling each other. Bobby had it easier. I was wearing a black brocade, short-sleeve, fashionable mini-dress, and for underwear just a black demi-bra, and sheer-to-waist, Sheer Energy nude pantyhose. Bobby had his hands all the way up my mini-dress. He told me that he found my pantyhose a real sexy turn-on, especially without a panty underneath, as he slipped his hand under the elastic waistband to caress and fondle my pussy. I had my way with him, too, my hands inside his long-sleeve shirt to feel his hair-covered chest. Earlier in the evening I repeatedly and unashamedly gazed at his crotch, delighting at the bulge in his black, cotton jeans. Now I didn’t have to be furtive.

I rubbed his crotch, noting the hardness of it before unzipping his jeans and sliding my whole hand inside. I had to push away a bunch of clothing to access his erection which I grasped and stroked before going lower to cup his balls which felt large in my fingers. We were incredibly horny at that point. Bobby pulled off my pantyhose and felt the soaked, wet crotch panel and inhaled the musky scent from my pussy on it, smiling devilishly at me. He laid my pantyhose across a nearby tree branch. In turn I pulled off his jeans and next his briefs. I pulled his stretch briefs over and off his already hard cock. Seeing he was already aroused and hard turned me on even more. Seeing a man already packing an erection was very erotic and sexually arousing to me. Bobby’s cock drooled pre-cum from the tip. Our bodies were thoroughly primed for sexual intercourse.

I kissed the helmet-shaped glans several times and gave the underside of the cock tip several licks. I took the tip into my mouth and sucked it, also rubbing the edges of my teeth over the sensitive flesh. By inch, I took the fleshly shaft into my mouth and tasted the saltiness of him. But we both wanted to have sex. Before Bobby could ejaculate, he lifted me to my feet and kissed me passionately. Bobby backed me gently against the tree and I hugged him tightly, wrapping my legs around his waist. I felt him sliding his hard-on all over my wet pussy until his glans tip found my vaginal opening and slid all the way inside, burying the entire shaft as I felt his penis tip press against my cervix.

We began making love, French kissing passionately, the kind where we even bring our tongues out to wrap around each other. Bobby was thrusting his shaft in long, moderate speed, full thrusts, ensuring almost the entire erection slid out and back in. My arms were inside his shirt so I could feel the warm skin of his back. He buried his face in my neck and shoulder and this left me a clear view of the glittering, sleeping city lights sprawled in front, down in the valley all the way to the horizon. I kept gazing at the sparkling city lights under the night sky full of stars and I thought to myself over and over, “I’m really doing this. I’m really having sexual intercourse.” It wasn’t just the sex, of course. I truly felt a great attraction and affection for Bobby and I hoped our relationship would deepen after this.

Our sex, our love-making, was fantastic and I felt immense sexual pleasure from his virile manhood stimulating my vagina and clitoris. I felt the stirrings of my orgasm and I hoped Bobby could keep it up long enough for me to climax. We hugged each other tightly and kissed so hard our faces were dripping with drool. Bobby is a very virile man at the peak of his sexuality and I knew he was reaching his climax by the change in his rhythm, hardness of his thrusts and his groans and moans. He thrust hard and pressed his cock deep inside, pressing against my cervix as he came, spilling his seed. He had me pinned up against the tree and I felt as if he could keep me pinned there with his hardened shaft. Bobby made several more thrusts while he ejaculated and thrust hard inside and held me there. It was fantastic. I felt some orgasmic-like pleasure although I did not fully climax but the whole lovemaking and sex was indescribable. The feeling of a handsome, virile young man’s semen inside my vagina is a sensation that is hard to put into words other than it is messy and mush yet feels extremely erotic and sensual and makes me feel so womanly.

We remained locked together against the tree for a little while longer, still kissing passionately. Then I slowly released myself and my feet touched ground. Bobby’s penis still remained mostly inside my vagina and we continued making out.

When we were finally done, Bobby pulled away, still gazing softly into my eyes. I felt some loss when his penis pulled out. It felt so good inside me when he was hard. Still the considerate gentleman he is, Bobby retrieved my pantyhose before he reached for his own clothing. I didn’t have any wipes or napkins available for cleaning and I had to settle for just pulling my already soiled pantyhose back on.

We finished dressing and leaned back against the tree together, Bobby’s arm around my shoulder. We took in all the glittering city lights of nighttime Los Angeles and marveled that there was still some auto traffic on the roads so late at night. We talked for several minutes, mostly small talk but reassuring to me that Bobby wanted to meet me again and I knew intuitively that he was sincere. He really wanted to sleep next to me for the night but unfortunately had to return to Orange County for a late morning baseball team meeting. I was just as disappointed for I wanted to feel his naked body next to mine in my bed. But I could wait for the next time. It happens so often that the best things in life end so quickly. Bobby drove me home to my apartment and watched until I entered and shut the door. I hear his car drive off.

I came home at four, cooked some food, watched TV, and turned out the lights at about a quarter to five. I removed all my clothing except the pantyhose. I thought how wonderful it was going to be in my own bed again. It would have been even better if Bobby was in bed next to me. Next time, I thought.

Then my adopted stray cat, Curly, began making a tremendous amount of noise, you know the way cats sound when they cry. I thought something might have been wrong with him, so I walked out of the bedroom and saw this thing coming into the room with a knife. He was a multi-ethnic man about twenty-six. I guess he must have weighed about a hundred and eighty pounds and was about five foot eleven or six feet. He had an athletic body like a runner. He had light caramel skin color. His eyes were green set in an angular face. His hair was close-cropped. He didn’t look thuggish, more like a male model.

When I saw him come in, I couldn’t believe it. I kept saying, “I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it.” I didn’t have any clothes on except my pantyhose but I ran to the door, even though I knew my neighbor wasn’t home. He ran very quickly from the window, put the knife against me, and told me that if I didn’t shut up, he was going to use the knife. I told him the only way I would stop screaming was if he put the knife down. When he easily put the knife down, I thought there might be a chance for me. I knew I had to do what he wanted, but I hated the thought of having to go through with it.

He was at the end of the bed. I felt I had to talk to him, to try to make him relax, because he had so much adrenaline in his system that he could have reacted to the slightest little thing. I asked him his name and he said, “James.” I said, “It doesn’t matter if it’s your real name or not, but at least I want to know if you’re going to make me fuck you.” He said, “It is. It is.”

I asked him if I could put in my diaphragm, since I didn’t want to get pregnant, and he said I couldn’t. He mentioned that that he thought I hated ethnic guys, so my tone of voice switched to a street level and I said, “I’ve gone out with a lot of ethnic guys,” just to make him think that I wasn’t going to do what I had to do only out of fear. I felt I had to make sure he believed that I might even enjoy it, so he would really be convinced that I wasn’t going to turn him in to the police or anything.

He grabbed my arm and he took me to my purse. He wanted to watch as I put in my diaphragm. I said, “You can’t do that. You have to turn around. This is a very private thing.” My legs were shaking and he asked me to relax. I told him he could fuck himself if he thought I could be relaxed after his coming through the window with a knife. I just had to rely on my intuition and say what came to my mind.

I retrieved the diaphragm and spermicide tube from my purse. I thought to myself, just take several deep breaths and keep it slow and steady. Next I pulled my pantyhose down to my thighs. I reminded him not to watch but he ignored me. I took a deep breath and kept my focus. I squeezed spermicide inside the diaphragm. Then I squeezed the diaphragm together, placing my left foot on a chair. I spread my labia and inserted the diaphragm completely into my vagina until it reached the back and felt it flex back apart. My fingertip pulled the diaphragm lip to seat it completely over my cervix. Afterwards I pulled my pantyhose back up. He was still staring at me, having seen everything. He complimented on sexy my pantyhose looked. He asked me about it and I said it was L’eggs, Sheer Energy, sheer-to-waist, nude color. He asked more about my pantyhose saying that it was a sexy, hot turn-on that I didn’t wear a panty underneath. He asked if I always wore pantyhose without anything underneath. I said, of course, that’s why it’s called, pantyhose.

He grabbed my arm again and took me to my bed, telling me to get on top. I felt myself still shaking a little so I took in several deep breaths as I climbed on the bed and lay in the middle, straight and still. He told me, “You know what I want, woman.” I didn’t have to guess and so I complied. I spread my legs apart. He spoke louder, “Wider.” So I spread my legs apart as wide as possible. I kept my gaze on the ceiling, and my arms at my sides, waiting for him to do what he wanted with me.

I heard him undressing and he got into bed next to me. I looked at him as he began touching and fondling me intimately. He caressed my face and put his finger into my mouth. He groped and squeezed my breasts and nipples, asking my breast size and I replied, “34C.” He felt up my body lower and ran his hands over the pantyhose, telling me how much he liked feeling the silky material. He cupped my vulva and squeezed. I winced as he slid his hand under the elastic waistband of my pantyhose and fondled my bare pussy lips. He seemed to enjoy talking about how much he liked my body in intimate detail. He said how much he liked feeling up my bare, thick, meaty pussy lips and how wet I felt. I bit down on my lower lip, remembered I had just had sex not long ago and felt embarrassed about him discovering this intimate fact.

He pressed his lips over mine wanting to French kiss but I resisted yet he forced his tongue between my pursed lips and over my teeth. He pulled my hair painfully and when I opened my mouth he thrust his tongue deep inside. All the while he continued fondling and groping my body. As he continued rubbing, groping, and fondling me all over, he asked brazenly how many men I had fucked before. I stared at him, “You can’t ask me that. That’s none of your business.” He gripped my hair and squeezed my breast painfully, repeating, “Tell me, tell me, and I want the real number.” I was scared that he might be starting to get out of control and I momentarily thought of speaking any number but I admitted, “Okay, thirteen guys.” I don’t know what made me blurt out that accurate number but I supposed I was scared. I had more worries about staying alive than divulging my sexual history. He surprised me by saying what a turn-on that was for him and what a hot bitch that made me. I wasn’t sure how to react to that. It seemed so dirty yet so erotic to hear those nasty words from him, especially a total stranger.

He moved himself over my pussy. I looked up and asked, “James, what are doing?” I gasped when I noticed his right hand was holding a tiny scissors that I recognized from my table. His left hand was groping at the pantyhose crotch panel. I pleaded, “No, oh no, no, James, please what are you going to do?” He pulled the wet crotch panel away from my pussy and with the scissors snipped the oval crotch panel open from bottom to top. The elastic material pulled apart, exposing my pussy lips. He tossed the scissors away and began fondling my pussy lips. He spread the labia apart and started rubbing inside, feeling my sex hole. I knew what he was going to do. I heard myself sobbing, “Oh, wait, James, please, no, no, no.” He levered two fingers into my vagina, all the way in and starting rubbing around. I felt his fingers spread, opening my sex hole as he peered inside. He looked at me and asked, “Have you been with a man already?” I sobbed, “Oh nooo, why? Why do you want to know, James? Are you turned on by all this?” “Bullshit.” He replied. “You’ve just been fucked tonight. I can see it. I can feel it. And I can smell it.” He withdrew his two fingers and held it close to my face, so I could see the gooey, whitish seminal fluid coating it. “Damn you!” I sobbed. “I had sex with my friend. Go fuck yourself and get out!” He said gruffly, with a dirty smile, “Baby, this just makes me want to fuck you more, taking another man’s woman, just right after he’s fucked her.” He was totally nasty and dirty, lewdly voicing his naked sexual lust for me.

He got on top of me. I saw his erection was big, at least eight inches long and thick. The purple veins stood out around the light brown shaft and pre-cum drooled out of the glans head. He lay on top of me and immediately inserted his entire shaft into my vaginal canal, filling me up literally and figuratively. I groaned, “Aahhh! Ooohh! Noooooo! Oh, no, James, no….” Having had sex previously, my vagina was already lubricated and wet with bodily fluid and Bobby’s semen and it was a good thing it was because I felt his really thick shaft stretch my vagina apart, much farther than any man before him. It actually felt painful at first and I wondered if my vagina would be the same afterwards. I doubted it. He’d stretched my pussy wider apart permanently. James raped me. He fucked me hard. (Sounds of sexual intercourse)

While he was raping me, I was concentrating on the fact it wasn’t supposed to be pleasurable physically and so my body didn’t react to it at all at first. But that didn’t last. I thought to myself, this is it…I feel like I’m being raaaped. No, wait, I’m really getting raped. I’m being raped and I’ve never experienced this before; how do I deal with this? There was a point where I thought my body might be having an orgasm. I wanted to refuse, to not let my body rule my mind but I couldn’t prevent it from happening. He was going to make my body climax and orgasm because of his large cock filling every little space inside with those forceful, hard thrusts. He continued fucking me hard and forcibly kissing me. (Sounds of French kissing and sexual intercourse.) There was nothing I could do to stop it and it happened. My body shuddered with its climax and I orgasmed. (Sounds of kissing and sexual intercourse ending with a woman’s orgasm, long, audible, enjoyed.)

He ejaculated his semen and I hoped that might be the end of it. I asked him if he was finished but he wasn’t. He wanted to French kiss and feel up my body. He grabbed both of my breasts and played with them. I had no control over my nipples being erect and he rubbed, squeezed, pulled, and sucked on both. When he was finished fondling my breasts he started playing with my bare pussy. I felt him spreading my pussy lips wide apart and his fingers touching and probing around in there. He went in deeper, opening my sex hole and making dirty talk about my pussy lips being big, thick, and puffy, adding vulgar comments about my fuck hole being open and filled with cum, dripping out. That’s the natural outcome of having sex with two men in one night, one from passion and the other one raping me. I was raped. He raped me, and I was still processing the fact. I sensed his lewd and vulgar talk wasn’t meant to shame me but that he was getting off on talking dirty and I told him what I thought. He just laughed it off.

I felt his wet, leaking penis lying on my thigh grow hard again and I was alarmed. He looked at me and I saw he wanted to fuck. I moaned, begging him, “James, please, please, oh no, no, no, noooo, not again. Why, oh why, please, please, tell me why me, please, oh nooo, oh, no, oh, oh…” I sobbed and cried hard. (Boohoohoohoo, womanly, sexy feminine crying for a long time.)

He raped me, telling me how hot and sexy and big turn on it was for him to see and hear me cry because it was so feminine to him. That had the effect of making me stop crying when realizing just then that it wasn’t necessary at all. I said aloud that he liked raping me, trying to elicit a response and he taunted that I was a great fuck. I knew it was better for me to be stronger through my rape, as he continued raping me, knowing I would be better off in the long run.

There was no question of his virility. It was strong, reflecting his powerful sex drive, no doubt greatly enhanced by what he considered my beauty and my body and the erotic feeling of his engorged erection thrusting in and out of my vagina. If his really thick manhood stretched my sex hole wider permanently, how was that going to affect me in the future with men? The thoughts of it almost brought on tears again. He forced another orgasm out of my body. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t even try to stop the climax resulting in the orgasm pulsing through my body and mind. My body is just too hard-wired for sexual intercourse. I resumed mentally processing the incongruity of being raped and experiencing a womanly sexual orgasm. Biology, I reasoned, it’s all about biology and the body. A man can make love to me and I enjoy the orgasm. Another man can rape me and I still orgasm as a result because it’s all about the body’s sexual biology.

After it was over, I was sitting on the bed and he said that he felt very ashamed about what had happened. I kept talking so he felt that he was communicating with me, even if it was bullshit. He raped me twice, and enjoyed doing it.

He told me to take off my pantyhose and give it to him, which I did. He went about the apartment, searching and picking up any worn, discarded pantyhose of mine. He sniffed several worn pantyhose usually at the crotch panel. He liked that I wore my pantyhose as underwear and wanted to keep those as intimate souvenirs of me. He fingered the pantyhose and held up one, feeling and sniffing the crotch panel. He smiled and pointed at the crotch panel, stiff with dried semen, rubbing the crusty material. He found another, similarly soiled pantyhose of mine and said those would be his prized souvenirs of me. He rummaged through the waste baskets, digging out several more discarded, worn pantyhose. Several were inexpensive pantyhose with no usual crotch panel, just solid nylon. He grinned when he picked up one that was ripped open at the crotch. I bit my lower lip, embarrassed that he was going through my sexual history and keeping intimate items of my underwear, my pantyhose. In the waste basket by the bed he reached in and pulled out a wadded up paper towel. Unravelling it, he pulled up a used condom by the rim, the reservoir tip filled past with ejaculate. He dangled the dirty condom and lewdly remarked on the large size of it, asking about the man who wore it and how it must have fitted tightly through my vagina.

He gathered up all my worn pantyhose, including the Sheer Energy pantyhose I wore which he snipped the crotch panel open so he could insert his hard cock through into my vagina, raping me. I told him to go out the front door because it was getting light it wasn’t safe to go out the fire escape. He reminded me to be a good girl and not contact the police, promising he would not return if I complied. The whole incident took about two hours, but most of the time was spent talking.

After he left, I pulled on a pair of tights and a cropped T-shirt and went to the phone. I knew that my downstairs neighbors were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake them up. I tried calling Bobby but only got his answering recording so I thought of calling the guy that I had been with the night before. He had wanted to come home with me, but I said no, that I wanted to be alone, and it occurred to me that maybe if he had come…But the guy would have come anyway, not knowing that someone was there.

So I decided to call the last guy I had been dating. I woke him up. He was so sleepy he didn’t know how to respond or deal with it. But I felt paranoid that the guy was going to come back. I felt as if I were hanging in space; as if there were no walls. So then I called someone else that I was dating—a Greek man, a very possessive type. But he didn’t know how to react to it either; he felt that I just wanted anybody to come down and be with me.

So then I called a fellow I had met in the city—we had a platonic relationship; he wasn’t even a boyfriend—and told him what had happened and he was there within fifteen minutes. He is an Asian-American guy, Jeff, six years older, very friendly and personable. I met him at a former employer. Jeff is a multi-skilled self-professional. He works as a freelance and contract technical writer and also does Web graphic design.

I had spent so much time convincing the guy that I wouldn’t go to the police that I convinced myself as well, reinforcing the feeling that something terrible would happen if I picked up the phone to call them.

For the next five days my male friend, Jeff, was more or less my bodyguard. I stayed at my girlfriend’s apartment because I couldn’t stay there in my own apartment. If it had happened in the street, I could still go back to my own home and my own things, but now I couldn’t, at least not now.

At first I thought I was handling it pretty well, but about ten days later, when I was in bed with a man for the first time since my rape, I just burst into tears because it kept flashing through my mind. I didn’t feel any fear just upset that it happened. I stayed with different girlfriends for the next two weeks, Monday through Wednesday at this friend’s house; Wednesday through Saturday at another friend’s. The few times I did stay in my apartment, it was with a man who spent the night with me. Eventually my anxiety faded and I understood the guy would not be coming back.

I could count on my male friend, Jeff, for support. One night I was going to be alone in my apartment so Jeff came by to keep me company. We sat on the sofa talking watching television and engaging in small talk. Jeff sat close to me and held my hand, saying that I was still as beautiful as ever and nothing could change that. I felt greatly comforted by Jeff’s words because I needed to hear that. Jeff hugged me and kissed me on the cheek, saying softly to me how incredibly beautiful I was to him and how much he had desired to make love to me if I ever gave him the honor. I smiled at his tender words but then my mind processed his other words about making love to me and I felt surprised that Jeff should express his physical and sexual attraction for me. I turned to look at Jeff and he kissed me on my lips.

I said to Jeff that I was surprised but flattered by his feelings and compliments. Jeff said, “I want to make love to you, Marion.” He kissed me again. My surprise grew. I had never been with an Asian man before and honestly had never felt an attraction to them except in friendship like Jeff. But now here was Jeff, one of my best friends, wanting to be more. Jeff drew me closer and kissed me. I liked Jeff. He was an intelligent, friendly, courteous, and honest guy. I just never felt any more than friendship with him. I didn’t know what to say or how to react to this surprising turn of events. But of all men, Jeff was the most understanding, sympathetic, and more, empathetic with me. He understood in unspoken ways what I went through and helped me through it. Jeff went to great lengths to repeatedly reassure that I was and would always be the same beautiful girl, inside and out, that I wasn’t to blame and that I wasn’t diminished in any way from my ordeal. He gave me such unconditional love, how can decline his attentions and now it clear, his desire for me in the way of men that I’ve understood for so long?

Jeff gently lifted me to my feet and embraced me. He began swaying to unheard music, taking us into a slow dance as if at a nightclub or some distant past high school dance. He kissed me on the lips and if I couldn’t reciprocate with passion, I didn’t stop him. He stroked my hair, side of my face, and down my back which he rubbed and stroked. Jeff pressed me close against him, affectionately and with male passion but not possessively. He kissed my neck and shoulder and his hands lowered to feel my buttocks. He cupped and squeezed my buttocks and I didn’t move away or say anything, even when his hands went under my miniskirt and fondled me, on top of the pantyhose. Yes, I was wearing my pantyhose as usual and as underwear. He whispered in my ear how erotic and sensual he felt my pantyhose to be, and it didn’t surprise me as almost every guy I’d dated expressed similar sentiments about my pantyhose.

I’ve long known it’s normal for many guys to be turned on about women’s lingerie, underwear, and nylons. I didn’t engage in any talk with Jeff during our slow dance. He was truly a best friend and I felt a sense of reciprocating the friendship, even if he wanted it this way. I contemplated my unusual situation and emotions. This is not something I really wanted to do but it was something one of my best friends, a male, wanted to do and I wanted my friend to be happy with me. I didn’t object in any way when I felt Jeff slide his hand up my buttocks to my waist where he pulled the pantyhose waistband and slid his hand inside to fondle and squeeze my bare butt cheeks. He slid his hand down the front inside the pantyhose to my pussy. I felt him rubbing and tweaking my pussy lips. He spread my pussy lips and rubbed in between them.

I felt a twinge of pleasure at the stimulation. Jeff lifted me in his arms and walked into the bedroom and lowered me to my feet. He undressed me, removing my blouse, mini-skirt, bra, and low heels. I only had my pantyhose left. Jeff embraced and French kissed me. I felt his hands fondling my breasts and squeezing my buttocks. I remained still and silent while Jeff quickly pulled off his clothes and left it on the floor. He embraced me and resumed our slow dance, body to body, my breasts pressed against his chest, the nipples pressing hard into him. He caressed and rubbed my bare back before fondling my buttocks, again sliding his hand under my pantyhose to squeeze my butt cheeks. He slid his hand down the front to caress my vulva, rubbing and spreading the labia, pulling on each of my pussy lips. I rested my cheek on his shoulder, my hands on his back as he touched me all over and felt me up. I felt his erection pressing against my mons pubis, rubbing on the pantyhose nylon material. His cock dripped pre-cum which smeared over my pantyhose. Jeff repeated how beautiful and sexy I was and how erotic my pantyhose felt to him.

Jeff lifted me onto my bed whereupon he calmly and deliberately pulled my pantyhose off. He sniffed my pantyhose in his hand, concentrating on the crotch panel where he said how sweet and attracting my feminine musky scent was to him. He moved on top of me, spreading my legs, embraced me, holding me steady at my shoulders and kissed me passionately. He didn’t attempt to insert his hard cock just yet, a surprise to me, from my past experiences. Jeff gently rubbed the underside of his engorged erection over my labia and pudendal cleft. I appreciated his patience and finesse because I wasn’t aroused and was still mostly dry. Jeff kept up the sensual sexual caressing of my vulva with his hard cock and it did start to feel nice. Then he positioned the tip of his penis, the glans, right over my vagina. But he didn’t attempt to force his way into my sex hole. Rather, Jeff just gently prodded my pussy with the tip of his cock, kind of like a gentle poking. This was interesting and I never experienced that male technique before. But it did something to me. It got me aroused and my vagina became wet fast. When that happened, his prodding simply pushed aside my wet labia and slid all the way in. That felt good and it felt real cool, I thought. Jeff pressed his entire shaft in me and I relished the erotic full feeling. Jeff’s manhood was normal sized to me and in spite of my vagina not being as very tight as before, I still felt the pleasure of being full or filled up.

Jeff began sexing me vigorously. He kissed me passionately. Only now I had begun to respond and feel sexually aroused, something I didn’t think possible or would ever happen with him. I embraced Jeff firmly and wrapped my legs around his thighs. Up till now I had passively allowed Jeff to kiss me but I began French kissing him in response. We were both engaged in passionate lovemaking, sexual intercourse at its best, with each other. Jeff made long, deep, rhythmic strokes through my vaginal sheath and I pressed my hips and pubic mound into him which was great because he stimulated my clitoris as a result. (Sounds of a man and woman French kissing and having sexual intercourse.)

We climaxed and orgasmed nearly together. (Kissing…intercourse…female and male orgasms.) I felt Jeff’s ejaculations. I bit my lower lip, thinking that neither of us was using any contraceptives. But the lovemaking was so genuine, so pleasurable beyond words, that I honestly liked the sensation of his semen in my vagina.

We continued touching and kissing, enjoying this new sexual experience of each other. Jeff left his penis in my vagina. He became hard again and I felt the swelling of his manhood stretch and fill me. We made love again. It took Jeff longer since he ejaculated once already which was good for me since it allowed me to orgasm one more time. (Kissing, sex, climax and orgasm).

Jeff wanted to take me out for a late night light meal. We just pulled our clothes back on and went out. I liked the feeling of his semen still in my vagina. I made me feel so much like a woman. His semen flowed out to soak my pantyhose crotch panel where it dried soon enough.

I continued to see other men for a short while. I wasn’t certain about Jeff since I still saw him as mostly a guy friend. He visited me on several occasions. We made love, had sex a few more times. I am beginning to like Jeff more. He’s growing on me, despite our ethnic and racial differences, which I’m seeing less and less of and more regarding Jeff as just a man, a good one at that. It must also be because I really like his unique sexual technique of poking at my pussy with the tip of his hard penis. It always causes my vagina to lubricate quickly and his penis just slides in like that. I consider it part of our sexual foreplay.

In due time I settled on Jeff as my one and only boyfriend, turning down offers of dates and hook-ups with other guys. We still live in different apartments. He comes over several times a week and on the weekends. We make love at least twice a week, sometimes more, which I like. I’m going to introduce Jeff to my parents. My parents are educated and open-minded people. Jeff is Asian but he’s born in the U.S. and there’s no cultural or language difference between us. I really like how Jeff appreciates me for everything I am and doesn’t take me for granted. Nor does he hold anything in my past against me, especially my rape, which I make every effort not to think about. Jeff helps me a lot. He encourages me to continue to be beautiful and look it. He wants me to dress nice and sexy at the same time, which means my miniskirts and mini-dresses and pantyhose with no panty underneath. He even tries to get me to go without a bra.

I’m grateful that Jeff is so supportive and I’ve never had to change a thing about who I am, how I look and how I dress. Jeff is really into me wearing pantyhose. He kept a few worn pantyhose of mine, some of which he claims is under his pillow at night. We make love regularly and sometimes it’s not always at bedtime but earlier even during the day and then I’m walking around in my pantyhose soaked with his semen but it’s all good and I like it. I know Jeff is thinking about marriage with me and that’s something I’ll have to think about. It would be a nice outcome as I feel more compatible with Jeff as time goes by. We’ll have Eurasian kids and I know they’ll be cute. Yet our marriage will not be a typical one so I will have to think about it.

I like that Jeff is a different kind of guy besides his race. He’s genuinely not the possessive type. He has no hang-ups with me talking with other guys. At nightclubs he isn’t fazed by the attention I get from other men. He’s even allowed me to dance with guys who come up to us and ask. He seems amused by the sexual interests of guys who run across me and I think it kind of turns him on. Maybe that’s another reason he likes me in short skirts showing off my legs in pantyhose. I’ve been asked to slow dance a number of times at the nice, popular nightclubs we visit. I often feel the guy’s hard-on pressed against me and as most of the clubs are dimly lit over the dance floor, I get groped a lot. I look at Jeff and either he’s not watching me or if he does, I see him smile at me but I don’t know if he can see what is happening to me.

I think he doesn’t but what if he actually sees me being fondled, groped, and felt up but he gets turned on? On one occasion I was slowing dancing with a guy at a nightclub that was dark over the crowded dance floor and I couldn’t see Jeff through the crowd and he couldn’t see me. The guy became aroused and I got heavily fondled and groped from my breasts to my buttocks and pussy. My pantyhose got ripped over my pussy and the guy’s fingers went in to rub my pussy lips. I had to slap his face – not too hard – to get away from him. Fortunately no one around us noticed anything. One time Jeff surprised me by smiling and chuckling when I told him a guy in an elevator got behind me, lifted my miniskirt and touched my butt and starting fondling and squeezing my buttocks, and as usual my pantyhose was my only underwear. He kept touching my buttocks until I reached my floor and got out.

Another time I was checking out a book at a bookstore and after several minutes I noticed a teenage boy behind me, crouched down pretending to look at books on the lower shelves but he was really checking me up my mini-dress, enjoying the view of my bare pussy under my sheer-to-waist pantyhose. It happened again at the same bookstore weeks later even though I was wearing a long-sleeve, turtleneck pullover, a fitted skirt reaching down to my calves and a short, mini-slip underneath. There was another very young man crouching down pretending to look at books while really checking me out. My long skirt didn’t deter the young man in the least. I caught him lifting my long skirt all the way up along with the mini-slip to expose my buttocks, totally visible to him under my sheer pantyhose and no doubt he had seen my pussy, too. I was lucky that there was no one around to see this; I would have been more embarrassed. In a loud whisper I told him to stop. The young man did something so brazenly bold it shocked me into freezing still. He reached both hands way up my skirt and hooked my pantyhose and mini-slip. He yanked both pantyhose and mini-slip down my hips and thighs to my ankles.

I almost lost my balance except for the tall bookcase for me to grip. Faster than I could have ever imagined, he had pulled off my low high heels so he could pull off both pantyhose and mini-slip. He grabbed both undergarments, jumped up so fast that it startled me, and sprinted off. I was still frozen with shock. I never bothered calling attention to myself. I couldn’t. I just got out of the bookstore fast. I had a used pantyhose in my purse and should have pulled it on.

These voyeurs and gropers happened to me ever since my teenage years and continue today. Jeff explains to me that it is one of life’s occupational hazards for beautiful women like me and it’s been true for me. It sometimes even makes me have a twisted thought that he could even be turned on by my rape since it was so lust-driven, and nothing else. I get conflicting emotions thinking about it. On one hand it can disturb me but on the other hand it can get me aroused just by the thought that Jeff is sexually turned on by my rape, that a man can be so lust-driven by me that he does bad things to me.

I might be spending my whole life trying to understand men while desiring them. Right now, Jeff is more than good enough for me. When I became Jeff’s girlfriend, he revealed his sexual fantasies to me. Among them were rape fantasies and I asked him what kind, recalling my own rape. He had a list of rape fantasies in his mind and I found it curious and fascinating to listen to each one in detail. By the time he was halfway through his list of rape fantasies, with me in them, I was starting to feel wet and becoming turned on, even though I had been actually raped including stranger groped and fondled. But this was something entirely different to me.

Jeff was promising me sexual adventures and I was interested. Jeff explained that I didn’t need to buy special clothing. I already owned everything he found sexy, miniskirts, mini-dresses, leotards, bodysuits, and pantyhose. He told me to expect a lot of ruined pantyhose but he would be more than happy to replace any torn or snipped pantyhose.

Jeff and I began to discuss these hot sexual fantasies together. I had never been fantasy-raped by any guy that I had been with before but I wanted to try these out with Jeff. This coming weekend, Jeff and I are going to try out one of his hot fantasies. Jeff knows of a large underground parking garage of a business building that is always open. I’m going to wear one of my shortest mini-dresses with sheer pantyhose and no bra. I’ll add a blazer jacket. I’ll be carrying my purse and a business bag. I’ll be pretending to be leaving work late, heading back to my car in a deserted garage. But a stranger will be waiting in the shadows for me. Only he really won’t be a stranger. But that is another story to tell.

My update. What a hot fantasy we enjoyed. Here’s a little tidbit to tell. We were not alone. We discovered that we had been watched the entire time in secret by someone. But that is a story to tell for another time.


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.