As I admired the two youths through my bedroom window who were repairing our swimming pool out back I felt my vagina moisten. My husband had been on a six month business trip in Europe that still had nearly three months to go. I had been faithful to him during ten years of marriage. Nevertheless, I had always had a powerful sex drive. This enforced celibacy had been real agony for me. I would have accompanied him, or at least visited him, but I had my own business, which I operated out of our home. After an uncertain beginning, business was finally picking up.
They were little over twenty years old, and stripped to the waist. Their jobs obviously kept them in excellent shape. When one of them looked up and saw me admiring them, he smiled shyly. I suddenly became embarrassed, and turned away, and went back into my bedroom.
During the two days that they had been working on our swimming pool they had been officially polite, almost deferential. Although I called them by their first names, Larry, and Tom, I was "Ma'am" and "Mrs. Eastman" to them.
Because the day was hot, I went outside and asked them if they would like to come inside, and have some ice tea before heading home at the end of the day. "Thank you, Mrs. Eastman," Larry said. "That would be nice."
When the boys came in at the end of the day, they smelled deliciously of perspiration, deodorant, and cologne. I sensed that they were uncomfortable with the affluence my husband and I enjoyed, so I tried to put them at their ease. I told them about my husband's business trip, and my own business that finally seemed to be succeeding.
They were obviously on their best behavior, but avoided telling me very much about themselves.
After about a half an hour, when it seemed time for the boys to leave, I picked up our glasses and the pitcher of tea, and carried them into the kitchen. When Tom followed me, I thought he would help me rinse them. Instead, he put his arms around mine, gently, but firmly enough to keep me from moving.
"Tom," I protested. "What are you doing?"
"I am doing what you want me to," he said kissing the back of my neck.
"No I do not, now let me go!"
"Make me," he said laughing.
By now Larry had entered the kitchen. After putting his hands behind my head and kissing my lips, he unbuckled, unsnapped, and unzipped my shorts, pulling them down below my knees. My panties were soon to follow. "Please boys," I pleaded, "If you stop now I promise not to tell anyone. Let's just forget this happened."
"We're too excited to stop," Larry said. "We have wanted you ever since we saw you." He put his hand inside my slit, and said, "You're enjoying this too. You're nice and wet. We're going to give you something to tide you over until your husband gets back."
"You don't have my permission for any of this," I protested. "I"ll report you to the police."
"We'll take our chances with that," Tom said, laughing. "If they put us in prison, we'll have much to tell the other convicts. We'll describe you so well they'll notice you if they see you. You are too gorgeous to resist."
I kept telling myself that this was not really happening. Just to remind me that it was, Larry removed my sandals, and pulled my shorts and panties off. It was somewhat more difficult for them to remove my blouse and bra, because I continued to resist, but they managed after a struggle. They were careful not to hit me, and not to tear my clothes.
Tom held my arms tightly behind me, causing my fairly large and firm breasts to jut forward. These Larry zestfully explored, feeling, and commenting on the hardness of my nipples. My mind revolted against what was going to happen to me, but my body wanted it. My husband had been gone too long.
Larry explored the rest of my body, devoting much time to my now very wet vagina. "I'm glad you are so wet," he said, "That'll make it easy for us."
Each boy firmly held one of my arms, as though I was being led to my execution, and they led me into my bed room. This room, which had seen so much love and pleasure shared between my husband and me, was to become the scene of my rape by two boys young enough to be my sons.
They lay me on our bed, on my back, so that my head was at the opposite end of the headboard. This gave Tom the ability to hold my hands down against the bed, so I could not move. Larry quickly removed his clothes, spread my thighs, and kneeled between them, with his hard penis standing at attention. After squeezing and rubbing my breasts, he began his assault. What had waited six months for my husband's deliverance was invaded and conquered by a man I hardly knew.
"This is rape," I warned them, while my body shook to Larry's coital movements.
"It's rape all right," Tom said, while firmly holding both of my hands. "You've honored your husband. Now relax and enjoy it."
My first orgasm was an unwelcome reminder that I was enjoying it. With my husband I make noise when I climax, but I tried to conceal what was happening to me. It was to no avail. "She just came," Larry boasted. "Do you see how much fun this is?" he asked.
"I wish it wasn't," I said tensely.
"I'm glad it is. You'll have to explain this to the judge if you report us," Larry said with a leer.
After what seemed an eternity, but may have been ten minutes, Larry shot his load into my vagina. "Yes! Yes!" he shouted. Then he grunted a few times as he squeezed out his last drops of semen. Relaxing, he descended into my breasts, kissing my lips, and saying, "That was wonderful."
He wanted to stay in me as his penis became flaccid, but Tom said, "It's my turn now. I've got a case of lover's nuts that won't quit."
They changed places, and Tom and I went on together from there. I had a few more orgasms. Yes, I was enjoying it.
After Tom deposited his contribution to my violation, he told his friend, "She's great, isn't she?"
They quickly put their clothes on, high fived each other, and left. When I was sure they were out of the house, I put my clothes on, got a hand gun my husband taught me to use - and which had obviously been no help — locked the front and back door to our house, went into my bedroom, locked the door to that, and began dialing the police.
Then I considered my situation. A DNA test would clearly implicate them. They would of course say that it had been consensual. Evidence in their favor included the fact that I had no marks on me, my clothes were not torn, there was no evidence of a struggle, and there was the tell tale wet spot on my bed.
The trial would be an extended embarrassment. If they were acquitted, my husband might agree with their defense attorney. My husband was jealous. Although I was thirty when I married him, he regretted not being my first. He might even divorce me. I put down the receiver of the telephone, and did not call.
.... There is more of this story ...