I received an email a short time ago from a perfect stranger named Milo. He has a.cz ending on his address, which I think means his ISP is in Czechoslovakia, if that country still exists by that name; I just don't follow political name changes in Europe. His note was as follows:
"Hallo, i must writte you after i was reading your story.I like it very much. I was very excited when i read that.I love reading sex stories.I imagine my girlfriend in the storie.She is very beatifull, but very shy.Please can you writte story about my girlfriend.I have two Themes, that excited me incredible.Thanks for your answer.Miro
My girlfriend is 19.Her name is Cathy.She has long dirty blonde hair to her waist.weight 53kg.very slim.smaller breasts.height 168cm.She is very shy.We had no fucking together.but she is not a virgin.She look very innocent, and she is.she has beatifull small ass.She is uncertain and non-selfconfident.I dont know why, if she is so beatifull.
1.Thema Cathy is student in university first year.She is going every day about 20km from home to school.Often is she return from school late.She goes with bus.She is living 2 years in small village.She goes with bus often alone with driver/dirty old ugly man,40+/.On the next station is waiting his old friend/the same characteristic/.they wanna fuck Cathy.They are very horny, so beatifull and young girl they hadn't very long time.They force or persuade her to oral sex.Then they will fuck her.
2.Thema Cathy is student first year in university.One old profesor will invite her non traditional for examination into his home.He say that he has no time, so she must go into his house.Cathy need this examination very much so she agree with his offer.When she came to him.He is not home alone.There is his friend /older man over 50/.The profesor is examining her before his friend.Cathy is ashamed from this situation.During this they are very horny.They persuade/force?/ her to jerking their cocks.then oral sex... then they will fuck her..."
It seemed strange to me that some guy would get off by reading about his own girlfriend being raped and abused, but to each his own. I was working on the end of "Jamie Gets Help" and the next chapter of "I Love You, Sean", (while I wait for Sean to do his own next chapter) as well as a couple of new ones, so I emailed him that I would be happy to try it, but it would take a little while. Meanwhile, I asked him a few background questions, like his age, etc.
I got no reply, but the idea seemed intriguing, so I knocked off a quick story, with Milo as the 'good guy'. I was in process of fleshing it out when I received a second email, totally ignoring my questions and asking when the story would be done.
That pissed me off to no end. Here I am not getting paid by this guy, and he ignores the questions I asked that might improve the story, since my previous efforts at rape stories have not been that good. I thought about changing the story to make Milo as evil as the other men, but frankly I was just too lazy. Maybe I'll at least get an apology from him, or a thank you.
Rush hour was over; in reality, there never was a rush hour on this route. The bus was empty, save for the leering pig of a driver who undressed me with his eyes every day. I curled into a corner, almost a fetal position, my books on the seat next to me to protect my privacy, as the ancient machine chugged slowly along the bumpy and dusty little used road toward the University. We have much newer buses even back in my country. My eyes had closed, a necessary part of my daydreams. Also because there was nothing to see but dirt outside the windows and the idea of looking at the driver's eyes in his mirror made me want to retch.
Tonight I would give my body for the first time to my beloved Miro; so beautiful, so patient and kind. Tonight I would feel the powerful thrusts of a man plunging inside me, sensations of exquisite pleasure I had not felt since I came to this country. I could not remember his name, that boy/man who had spread my legs open with his hands, had spread my labia open with his penis, had pushed himself inside me to bring me to womanhood. I could not remember his name, but once the sharp pain subsided, I would forever remember the joy of the friction of our bodies, the gift of his fluids flooding me, oozing out of me, my own she-penis pulsing with satisfaction. He had taken me without permission, and even as I had argued with him, fought him, tried to deny him, the pleasure had overcome me. They call it date rape, but it is still rape. When I had told my mother, especially the part about enjoying it, she slapped me as though it was my own fault.
Tonight, Miro my darling, tonight we shall be one, your frustrations shall be ended, your patience rewarded as only a loving woman can reward. Your Katya, Cathy as they call me here, will be waiting for your love. Come to me, my Miro, I have denied you for too long; I have denied myself for much too long. My own fingers do not give me the wondrous feeling that your hands, your lips, your body will bring to me.
Yet I am still truly nervous. Nineteen, alone in a strange country, I was so happy to meet you, one of the few here who speaks my native tongue, the native language for both of us. We kiss, your hands caress my breasts, but I have hesitated beyond that. Perhaps it is because that boy/man had not been invited to love with me, because the physical pleasure I found from him is always blurred by the insult of his unwanted assault. The television crime shows like to talk of sex, of the fact that a woman being raped can actually have an orgasm, and it is true. I shall forever feel the mixture of pleasure and disgust. Miro, my darling, I want you so much, but please be gentle with me.
I laugh to myself. You do not even know what joy I plan to offer you this evening. Well, my beloved, I expect that you shall be pleasantly surprised. I shall dress primly; I think you will enjoy removing my undergarments even more than you would enjoy finding me naked under my clothing. I shall wear just a hint of that toilet water you gave me; perhaps one day we shall be able to afford the real perfume. The restaurant I have chosen is not expensive, but it does have tablecloths and candlelight; those flickering flames should help draw the blood from your body down to your secret part, as if you would need any help in that regard. Ah, you men are all alike.
An invitation to your room for an after dinner liqueur will I'm sure have your imagination working overtime, but we have done that before. You may think that you are in for another evening of frustration as we kiss in the doorway, as you fondle my breasts. I can only imagine your surprise, your astonishment, when I move your hand under my sweater. Then, my darling, you shall be on your own, free to please us both as you may wish. Just be gentle, my Miro.
The motor sputtered as always and the bus pulled to the side of the road. My eyes opened to see a new passenger, the driver's dirty looking friend, a regular. Eddie, the driver had called him; he called the driver Pete. As usual, they both looked at me, whispered something to each other, no doubt obscene, and began to laugh. My face reddened and I closed my eyes again. I am fair of face and body: I do not deny it, and I have seen those looks before. If those obscene looks were designed to excite me, to bring moisture to my private parts, they failed miserably.
The bus lurched forward and then made an unexpected turn, but I ignored it until the ride suddenly became very bumpy. I looked up and saw that we were on the driveway leading to Eddie's farm house. I sat up, staring at the front of the bus, and the driver spoke.
"Relax, little girl, we're just taking a little detour." Meanwhile, Eddie came walking back toward me as the driver pulled behind a barn and stopped, turning off the engine. The ticking sound as the engine cooled punctured the silence. I sat frozen; in an instant, I knew what was going to happen to me. I looked around, saw no one around, no way out. I screamed and he slapped me.
"Shut up, cunt." I began to cry. He pulled me by my hair toward the long bench seat in the back of the bus. I am 168 cm tall, I weigh 53 kg. In this country that would be five feet six inches, 117 pounds. I am no midget, but I was totally unable to protect myself from that huge monster, taller than me, probably 90 kg, a muscular outdoorsman. I scratched his face and he punched my ribs viciously.
Oh, Milo, Milo, my darling, save me, save me. Where are you, Milo? I called out his name, but I knew he was not near, that he did not even know of my distress.
Eddie pulled my sweater over my head and threw it to a corner. In my terror, all I thought of at that moment was gladness that he did not tear it, that I would still be able to wear it when this ordeal ended and I reached the University. I should have been planning to kill him, yet I was worried only about a sweater. He pushed up my bra to expose my breasts, froth dripping from the corner of his mouth as he licked his lips. My breasts are not large, but I know that men find them attractive. Ugh, men find most any female attractive when they feel those urges in their penis.
Eddie straddled me, sitting on my chest. He opened his flies and withdrew his disgusting penis, fat, smelly, vile. He pulled back his foreskin and pushed it toward my mouth.
"Suck my cock, bitch."
I held my lips tightly together, until he wrapped his hands around my face and began to put pressure of the swivel of my jaw, forcing my mouth open.
"If you bite it, I'll kill you, cunt."
.... There is more of this story ...