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."
From the corner of my eye, I saw Pete, pig of a driver, waddling toward the back of the bus. His pants were already open, his penis already exposed, hanging down between his legs, swinging lewdly as he walked. My mouth was filled with Eddie's ugly man-thing and I was afraid to scream again. Pete pulled down my jeans and threw them to the filthy floor, then put his hands to my waist and literally tore my panties off me.
"Relax, you're gonna get fucked today, baby."
Milo, Milo, help, help. My plea was soundless, fear sealing my vocal cords.
Pete spread my labia, pushing a finger into my female parts. He wanted me to be wet but I would not, could not oblige him. He withdrew his finger and pressed his rotten penis up against me, clammy hands forcing my legs apart. He thrust into me without warning, without preparation, and I screamed despite that horrible penis in my mouth. His pubic hair intertwined with mine as he drove rapidly in and out of my body.
"This bitch has a real tight cunt."
I will never fully understand this language. When they taught us English back in my country, they never taught us any of the filth words. Some of them we picked up from each other, some were totally alien to our ears. Everyone knew the word fuck; that was universal. The same thing applied to bitch. I had no knowledge of the word cock, but I understood it as Eddie pushed it into my mouth. The word cunt left me totally confused. Was it an insult, like bitch? Was it a descriptive word, like woman? Was it a word for my female vault, my vagina? Whatever, I knew that it was meant to be a disgusting word, a demeaning word, and if Milo ever uses it, I will slap his face.
I prayed for the ability to pass out as those two animals had their way with me, one in my mouth and the other inside my vagina. I knew that shortly-Pete had a schedule to keep-they would ejaculate their slimy fluids into me. Eddie's discharge I could and would spit out; Pete's I knew would not at that time of the month make me pregnant, yet I feared the germs his body might spew into me.
They spoke to each other as they violated me, making it a game to see if they could ejaculate into me at the same time. Each ordered me to play with his testicles, nuts one called them, the other said balls, but I shook my head. Eddie slapped me again but still I refused. Nothing further happened; it appeared that my hands on their private parts was not so important as to make an issue of it. In my mind I urged them to get it over with.
Eddie delivered his fluids first, yelling aloud and holding my head forcefully in place as his penis spit into my mouth. I had no experience for comparison, yet it seemed to be a very large quantity of sperm. He was sated and removed his organ from my mouth. As I turned my head to spit his salty, slimy goo onto the floor, he clamped his rough hand over my mouth.
"Swallow it, bitch." Make up your mind, you stupid pig; am I a cunt or a bitch? I tried without success to push his hand off my face, but he kept pressing until he saw the motions of my neck as I finally had to ingest his vile juices.
The sound of Eddie's orgasm inspired Pete, who accelerated his pounding inside me. My vaginal walls had spread to ease the pain of his insertion, but they did not close on him to give him pleasure. "Make up your mind, honey. First you're too tight, now you're too loose."
I remained silent, wondering if his tepid term of endearment was supposed to make me desire his loathsome intrusion into my body. Are all men so stupid? My silence did not deter him, and soon my vagina was filled with his discharge, with the slimy and disgusting debris of his lust. As he withdrew his penis from me, some of his ejaculate oozed out of me, running down my thighs and legs. Did I have tissues to dry myself before I got to class? My thoughts were interrupted by the sight of his penis, shiny wet from his explosion inside me, presented at my mouth.
"Suck it dry, cunt." Oh, whatever happened to the terms of endearment? I was afraid to refuse, and opened my mouth to accept him, to give him the final suck that would get us back on the road to University.
"Get dressed, bitch, or we'll leave you out here naked." I adjusted my bra to cover my breasts, then put on my sweater and jeans. My torn panties were useless as a garment, but I folded them and put them inside my jeans, using them as a sanitary napkin to absorb Pete's sperm as it leaked from my sore vagina.
I sat and cried until the bus bumped its way to my stop, then ran to my first class. I was late, I had missed a quiz in my Biology class, and I wanted to apologize to the Professor. He looked at me sternly. "Come to my office tomorrow at two."
I spent the rest of the day in a haze. I could not go back to my room, for I knew that the following morning I would see the same bus driver, and probably his same smelly friend. I could not tell my beloved Milo, for the news of what those animals had done to me would cause him great pain. I could not even meet with him, to give him the present I had promised myself to give him, to surprise him, for my body felt so dirty.
I wondered whether I should call the police, or the bus company. It seemed a bad idea; in my country, the police are not my friends. The bus company would be no better; they would believe their own driver, would not even remove him from the route while they carried out an investigation. If they investigated at all!
I called and left a message for Milo that I could not meet him that evening; I gave no explanation, merely announcing that I would meet him the following day. Then I found an inexpensive motel near the University, reputed to be a place for 'quickies', loveless couplings of sex charged men and women. I went to buy a change of clothes for the next day, then sat in the tub soaking my sore body for hours, praying that Pete had not infected me. I could not afford any of this expense, but I had no choice; I could not face that ride again the next morning.
I slept poorly, waking all too often to feel the insult of their bodies assaulting me, feeling their slimy parts touching me though they were now miles away. I have already said that I was afraid to go to the police; in my country, one does everything possible to avoid contact with them.
Milo was finally available when I called again, but I refused to tell him why I had cancelled the day before, and where I was. He heard my tears, and he cried also, but in frustration, for he did not know why he was crying. "Cathy, Katya, what is the matter?" I would not answer him.
The classes that day were on different subjects, so I was able to somewhat forget the events of the previous day. But I dreaded seeing the Professor, a fiftyish man whose stomach overlapped his pants, which were held up by old fashioned suspenders. He ran an unpleasant class, always criticizing, threatening, never praising.
There was another man in the office with him. The Professor never introduced him nor called him by any name. The man had a bald bullet-shaped head and was built like the Professor, with a protruding stomach. "You wished to see me, Professor?"
"Close the door please, Cathy." I did so, hearing the thud of an automatic lock as I closed it. I turned back to him.
"You have made me very angry by missing a quiz. I have told the class that the quizzes are important and are not to be missed. Must I give you a failing grade this term?"
"Oh, please, Professor, allow me another chance; give me extra homework. You know that I am a good student in Biology." I was almost in tears; failure would mean a return to the poverty of my native village.
"We shall give you an extra laboratory assignment in Biology, my friend and I. If you perform it successfully, you will be given a passing grade in this course." With that, both fat old men stood up and opened their flies, exposing two partially erect penises. I gazed at them in horror, barely hearing the stranger's command to 'jerk us off.' I looked at them in confusion; here was another expression that I did not know. It was only when the Professor took his penis in hand and began to stroke it that I understood; they wanted me to masturbate them. Well, it would be better than the brutality of the day before. Still, I refused.
"No, no, I will not."
"That's all right, Cathy. You may go then, but do not be surprised when you fail my course."
How could he? Are all men the same pigs? Is Milo my beloved the only man who would not abuse my body? Is Milo just as bad? I shook my head, the tears flowing.
"No, please." But my plea was weak; they knew that they had a power over me which I could resist only at extreme peril, that I would give in momentarily. They moved to stand side by side in front of me. I dropped to my knees before them, even though my tears prevented me from seeing their vile sex organs. Each took one of my hands and placed it upon his own penis. That of the Professor was long and slim; his friend's short and fat. They directed my hands so that I was always pulling one penis toward me as my hand slid backwards on the other. My eyes cleared and I saw two disgusting members in front of me, thin urine slits gaping open, each oozing a thin clear liquid. I was later to learn that it goes by the name of pre-cum.
They were breathing through their noses, these two animals; soon each penis would be ready to spew it thick juices toward me. I looked at the desk between them, but saw no tissue box. My purse was too far behind me to reach. If I did not prevent it, their creamy sperm would ruin my new sweater. Should I use my mouth to protect it? Ugh!
I released them both, freeing my hands so that I might pull my sweater over my head, throw it toward a corner. I could hear rather than see the smiles of my fat assailants as I resumed the stroking of their male parts. Hurry, pigs, hurry and spend yourselves on my breasts so that I may resume my life. The silent stranger grunted first and I stared in horror as strings of his sperm leaped through the air to my breasts, hitting and then running down under my bra. When he was finished, the last of his ejaculation falling onto my still moving fist, it was time for the Professor to finish his share of my violation. He grabbed my head, fistfuls of my hair in each hand as he thrust his penis toward me, acting like it was inside me, my fist drawing his discharge into the air, to land in the same area as had his ugly friend, to roll down and soak my breasts under my bra.
I sat back on the floor against my chair, crying, reaching behind me for my purse and the tissues inside, which I used to wipe dry my breasts as best I could. Neither slob asked me to dry the head of his penis, an omission which frightened me. I said nothing, my eyes closed as the seconds ticked off ever so slowly.
"That was very nice, Cathy. You have successfully completed the first portion of your make-up quiz. Now please remove the rest of your clothing."
"What? What more will you do to me? No I will not."
The Professor sighed, a frightening sound. "Why do you fight the inevitable, Cathy? Please do as I say."
I stood, removed my bra; my nipples remained shriveled and soft, my breasts sagging from lack of desire.
"The rest now, please."
He could see the loathing in my eyes, yet he was unconcerned. He had no interest in affection from me, he only wanted a warm living vessel into which to deposit his rancid discharge, and he was using the power of his position to obtain it. I removed my skirt and hesitated; with a genteel wave of his hand, he commanded me to shed my panties.
"Now bend over the desk, please." Milo, Milo, come save me, break through the door, save me from these pigs, these vultures, these animals. Again, dear Milo did not know of my distress. As I bent, resting myself on my elbows and hands, the stranger removed his pants completely and presented his penis to my face. What was going on? Did not men need more time to recover from an ejaculation before attempting another? Did these animals mean to recover while inside my body?