My Deepest, Darkest Fantasy
Because He Asked
TRIGGER WARNING: Please bypass this post if you have been a victim of sexual assault. This may trigger your PTSD big time.
I’ve been chatting with this guy, a potential lover, for a few weeks. It’s been interesting. He’s bright, passionate, easy on the eyes and seems genuinely fascinated by me, which is intoxicating. I like being someone’s obsession. It boosts my ego and makes me feel special.
During one of our chats, we asked each other what we liked sexually. My pussy started dripping at the thought of my deepest, darkest fantasy, and I felt a bit ashamed at the thought of revealing that dirty little secret to him. I didn’t say boo, but told him I’d write this story for him to see — yeah, he follows me here. So adorable!
Let’s Get to the Meat, Shall We?
Before I begin, I have to say that I think myself to be a fairly intelligent, reasonable and logical woman. I’m sane and of sound mind. What I’m about to touch on is a big no-no. It’s taboo. If we have that fantasy, we don’t talk about it because it would be considered seriously disturbed. Maybe I am seriously disturbed.
It is insane, I know, but the thought of being raped turns me on like no other thought. And gang raped even more. It’s totally weird because I’ve been raped and it wasn’t a fun experience in the slightest. But there is something about picturing a bunch of hard cocks surrounding me, hands groping me, pinching me, slapping me everywhere, every hole being overfilled, cum hitting me from right, left and center while I beg for mercy that gets me there every single time.
In my dreams, I am walking down a dark alley when I come up to a group of men, some white, some black (I have a thing for black men). They whistle. They catcall me. “Woohooo! Look at you little mama! Why you in such a hurry? Don’t you have time for a little bit of fun? I have a big black juicy bone for you to chew on!” I walk faster but come up to a dead-end and start feeling nervous. They approach.
One pushes me up the wall and pins me down. He cups my breast and pinches my nipple. “You’re turned on, aren’t you, you little slut!” I am breathing heavy. Another one comes up to me and puts his hand between my legs, inserting a finger, finding some wetness. “Yeah. She is,” he says, pulling out his big black cock, rearing to go.
At that point, they all surround me and force me down on my knees. One holds my head while others take turns sticking their dicks into my mouth. Another rips my dress, bra and panties. There are shreds of clothing everywhere. I don’t even try to defend myself. I know I am overpowered and will only get hurt more if I try.
A small dipsy dumpster sits in the alley. It’s not one of those tall ones. It’s just the right height. They grab me and drag me to it, lifting me up, holding me by my wrists and ankles. One of them lies down on top of it and my back is thrown right on top of his chest. He spits on his hand and covers his cock with saliva, then sticks it in my ass. There is a lot of resistance. My ass doesn’t want to cooperate, but he tears it up anyway.
Another guy positions himself right in front of me and starts pounding my pussy. Guys are watching. There are cocks everywhere and I stop paying attention to whose dick is where and lose count of how many there are.
My body betrays me and I start enjoying the pounding but I don’t let them see that. I try to scream but a hand grabs my throat, shutting me up instantly. I feel dizzy. My clit is being rubbed and soon enough, licked. My nipples too. I can’t take it anymore. They are stimulating me from every single direction. My ass is hurting but the line between pain and pleasure blurs up. My body can’t contain or hide the arising wave of intense enjoyment it is feeling any longer. I cum. They see it and double down.
“The bitch just squirted all over my dick! There’s so much cream in her cunt!!! She loves it, look at all that juice,” says the guy balls-deep in my pussy.
“Let me have a turn,” says another one.
It goes on and one until they all shoot hefty loads in my face, on my tits, in my ass, in my cunt, you name it. Every hole is filled with cum. Cum shots are such a turn on for me. When I masturbate, that’s the visual where I choose to let go.
Maybe it is Stockholm syndrome that gets me to picture rapists as objects of sexual fantasy? Maybe it’s just a way for me to cope, a defense mechanism, of sorts, to help heal the trauma I underwent. I turn the table on rapist, therefore I’m in control and not helpless, like I was when it actually happened.
Then again, maybe, as a high power individual always in control, the thought of losing every ion of control turns me on sexually? I don’t know. But in my wildest scenarios, I get taken without consent, by men who want me so much that they can’t control their urges, and the thought of instilling such a reaction in someone turns me on to the max.
Now to be clear, this is NOT an invitation to try and do this, if I so choose to meet someone. This is not permission to violate me. However, it is certainly something that I wouldn’t mind acting up at some point. And it is an indication that if I do choose to sleep with a man, I’d like someone who takes charge, someone I can completely surrender to, who will take my body and do with it as he pleases.
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