Author's Note: The story you are about to read is fiction. In real life, intelligent people use condoms.
"One, two, three, one two three." The cadence ran through my mind as I huffed and puffed along the path toward the next upgrade, my pony tail bouncing to and fro. I glanced upward at the darkening sky. Shit! Cursing myself for not getting an early enough start on my daily run, I stepped up the pace. The increased speed made my breasts strain against my sports bra, my nipples hardening as they rubbed the fabric.
And as surely as the night follows the day, the sensation on my nipples brought to mind my beloved Nina's sweet soft lips and the usual wild night of pleasure that I had ahead of me. No, make that the night that both Nina and I had ahead of us. First on my schedule was a quick shower; the long hot bath with candles and wine would come after dinner. That would be a candle-light meal at Chez Leslie, where the first three letters of our hostess' name notified the world that one would not expect to find a Men's Room there. Nina and I had met at Leslie's, over cocktails at the bar, and I hadn't looked at a man in over a year, nor been fucked by one in over two.
Then that bath I just mentioned, to be shared by the two of us, followed by a night of tender love-making. The mere thought of her clit between my lips had my panties soaking as I jogged along the darkening path. Dreamily I imagined my lover's fingers deep inside me, exploring me as...
My head spun to the left as a formless shadow ran from behind a large outcropping of rocks and then it spun to the right as a gloved fist crashed into the left side of my head. As I fell forward, my hands reached out to cushion the impact. The only thing that went through my mind was that the blacktop of the path would tear up my hands but that my sweat pants would protect my legs. In retrospect, I should have been worried about other parts of my body, but I never thought of that.
My body hit the ground with my head upright, sparing my face. Before I could scream out the pain in my palms, I felt cold metal pressed against the back of my neck and heard blood-curdling words in a stage whisper.
"Make a sound and you're dead."
My mind was a jumble of thoughts. Was it a gun? I didn't know. What did he want? I prayed that all he wanted was money but my brain told me that I was kidding myself. Would he really hurt me? I chose not to find out; I lay quietly. My eyes clamped shut tightly, ostrich-like, as though ignorance would ward off the evil. The same stage whisper boomed out — or so it seemed — once again.
"I've got her. Let's go, guys."
Two more shadows appeared, or so it sounded. Someone slipped a plastic grocery bag over my head and then rough hands dragged me across the ground toward and behind the rocks. I could feel the knees of my sweat suit tearing as my body moved. Silently, irrelevantly, I hoped that the skin of my knees and legs would not be scarred. The same rough hands rolled me onto my back.
For an instant I thought that the fumbling at my waist was for my tummy-pack, containing my cash and keys. And I thrilled when I heard the zipper open. I dared to speak, a barely audible whisper.
"Take it. Take it all. Just leave me alone."
I heard a laugh, and then I knew for sure. I knew that I was about to be raped, and possibly killed. Then I felt duct tape or the like zipped around the area of the plastic bag covering my eyes. I exhaled, calculating that the binding of my eyes was designed to prevent me from identifying them, and thus eliminating the need for my death. The ground under me felt dirty and cold, the rocks on which I lay painfully bumpy.
I struggled to sit up. One hand grabbed me by the hair and yanked me back down. A pair of hands held down each of my arms, spread straight out on each side. I heard a click. One man pushed my shirt up a mere two inches and laid a flat piece of metal against my stomach, clearly the sound and feel of a switchblade knife.
"Do you know what this is?" A different voice; there were three of them.
I nodded. The savage said nothing further, aware that his silence was more frightening than any threat that he might make about that knife. I could tell that I was not their first gang rape. Two hands pulled my sweat pants down roughly. When they were at my ankles, he pulled off one of my sneakers and slid the pants on that leg over my foot, allowing him to spread my legs like a wishbone.
"Holy shit, look at how wet her panties are. This cunt is really looking to be fucked." It was the third voice of the gang. Angry as I was at being violated, I couldn't resist a sarcastic response.
"Yes, but not by you limp dicks." My reward was a hard slap across my face, giving me a painful headache. I felt the knife slide under the gusset of my panties on one side and then heard the ripping sound as the knife tore through the fabric. Then it was repeated on the other side. The front of the panties flopped down, exposing my pussy. The man in front of me pulled that flap, yanking the panties off. Cold rocks pressed into my ass.
"I'm taking these for a souvenir," he said.
"Son of a bitch, she's got a bald cunt. She really wants it," the third voice chimed in.
"Let's make sure," the man with the knife laughed.
The thumb and forefinger of one hand spread my labia and I tensed, awaiting the long forgotten thrust of a hard cock. Instead, I felt the cold steel of his knife a fraction of an inch inside me. He released my labia so that they closed over the knife; at the same time, he clamped a hand over my mouth. My scream of terror came out as a grunt or a gurgle. Three animals laughed as I pissed myself and the knife slid harmlessly out of me. My body shook in terror. I had no more fight left in me.
I lay inert, spread-eagled at the sound of a zipper being opened, at the rustle of jeans being pulled down. I couldn't move. All I could think of was that I hoped he would neither impregnate me nor infect me. At some kind of signal, the two pricks holding my arms each used a hand to pull up my sweatshirt to my neck. Again the knife, this time between the cups; a quick upward thrust and they fell apart, exposing breasts and nipples.
Fuck me, damn you, my brain was screaming. Stick it in and get it over with. I almost laughed at the thought of what would happen if I had said that aloud. But he wasn't ready, no, not yet. I felt the knife blade on the side of my breast, sharp side down. He slowly moved it upward toward my nipple, and then ran it, frighteningly, harmlessly across the nipple. He repeated that first on the other side of the breast and after that moved to my other breast for the same action. Though I wouldn't have thought it possible, I pissed myself again.
He lay the knife down on my chest, between my breasts, and his hands went under me to lift up my ass. Clearly he meant to fuck me while on his knees. The soft crown of a hard cock pressed against my slit. I began to cry silently as I felt what had in past years been a pleasurable sensation, the imminent tender entry of a loving penis into my welcoming loins. Two rough fingers spread my labia anew and I tensed.
Without a sound, he tore into me to my full depth. My vagina dilated, spreading itself for him not in welcome but in surrender. Suddenly, the fact of the rape disappeared as my mind went back to happier days.
Not all lesbians are man-haters. Back in high school, I was pretty much heterosexual, which was not unexpected, since I had — still do - the face and figure to attract most boys of that age. I say 'pretty much' because I, as many girls of that age, had to experiment with the pleasures of female love, and I did find it enjoyable. But boys were my priority then, and despite the first few fumblings with the opposite sex, most of my fucking in high school was really teenage love-making. Oh, OK, let's just call it affection.
Things changed somewhat in college as I became totally bi-sexual, sharing my body with both sexes indiscriminately, including yes, the occasional threesome. But nearing the time of my graduation, my bed began to welcome more women than men. Sure, there was a lot to be said for a good hard cock, but even more to be said for soft lips and firm breasts and wet pussies.
I remembered fondly my nights with Tom. A gentle lover, his mouth and fingers were always in the forefront, kissing, sucking and licking, probing, making sure that I was pleasured before him. In almost every case, whenever we coupled, his primary goal was to make me cum before that beautiful penis entered me. And when he spent himself inside me, his tongue was guaranteed to explore me, to cleanse me as every woman loves to be cleansed. Were it not for Nina, Tom and I could have gone far with each other.
Which all adds up to the fact that, despite my love for and devotion to Nina, my desire to live as one with her forever, the thought of a good hard cock always brought back pleasant memories. But those cocks were voluntarily accepted, not thrust forcefully into me as the present one had been.
Though I was far from virginal, either mentally or physically, the lead animal's sudden invasion of my by then dry vagina was brutally painful. Yet the trio of rapists was aware of the female body and of the pain they were inflicting. The two assistants, holding my arms, had my mouth covered before I could scream. And then the thrusting in and out began.
.... There is more of this story ...