Last summer, I spent a lot of time talking with the neighbor girl across the street. She is about 28, married, maybe 120 pounds, around 5' 10" tall, long blond hair, fantastic body for a married lady. nice husband, and three small children. A wonderful family, to the casual observer. But as we became closer, she confided in me that there was something missing in her marriage, something she couldn't understand.
Her husband was somewhat unimaginative in the lovemaking department, always the same thing, and she was turning to fantasy for excitement. By the time we got to be close friends, she felt comfortable enough to tell me that she had fantasies about being raped in her own house, by an intruder wearing a ski mask, and the guy forced her to engage in a variety of sex acts with him at knifepoint. The idea excited her, and she was ashamed that she could have these dreams when her marriage was otherwise great.
She and I talked at length about her fantasy. She explained in detail about exactly what happened, that she had accidentally left the back door unlocked, and that she suddenly woke up to find a guy sitting on her chest, with a knife in his hand. We discussed why she would have that fantasy, why she wanted something different in her life. I explained that it was perfectly normal to feel the way she did, that everyone has such fantasies, but very few people ever express them to anyone, and even fewer ever have their fantasy actually happen.
She looked at me with her big brown eyes, and held my arm, saying "Well, it's a wonderfully exciting dream to have! I hope you can have a dream like that sometime..."
Nothing more was said about it for a few weeks, and we remained close friends. One day she told me her husband was going to be gone on a business trip for the rest of the week, and then she started talking about how safe our little town is, that she felt safe enough to leave her back door unlocked, and that her bedroom is the one to the left at the top of the stairs. As she said that, she stared into my eyes. Nothing more was said about it.
That night, I decided to make her fantasy come true. I gathered a small bag of toys, and at five minutes till one, walked over to her back door. I was wearing only a t shirt, jeans, and a ski mask. I had put on one of those voice changers. It's the kind that kids play with, that makes you sound like Darth Vader. Just as I expected, the door was unlocked. I quietly slipped inside, creeping carefully through the kitchen. In the moonlight I saw a wooden block full of kitchen knives, and grabbed a large one. Knife in hand, I crept up the stairs, and through the open door to the left. She was sleeping soundly, flat on her back, the blanket up to her neck.
I jumped astraddle her chest, and held my hand over her mouth. She woke up with a start, and struggled.
I whispered to her, in a robot-like voice, "I have a knife, don't make me use it! I'm going to fuck you, bitch, for the next several hours, whether you like it or not. Now, I'm going to take away my hand, and you are going to decide if I have to kill you or not. Either way, you're fucked. You must be very quiet if you want to come out of this alive."
I carefully started to remove my hand, and she started to scream. I covered her mouth again before she made a sound. It was time to show her I was serious. I held the knife in front of her face, the tip perilously close to a point right between her eyes. Her eyes got really big, and she stopped struggling.
I asked her, "now, bitch, are you going to fuck me without any struggle?" She shook her head yes, with a sigh of resignation.
It was now 1am, and we had at least 5 hours for uninterrupted sex before any of the kids would wake up. I would be gone long before that.
She was shaking now, tears rolling down her cheeks. I motioned for her to sit up, and she sat, moving to the side of the bed, her feet on the floor.
She looked very somber and resigned. She asked me to please close the door, and I did. I said, "You're going to be alright, I'm not going to hurt you or your kids. We are going to practice safe sex, and I won't leave any evidence behind. Understand?" She shook her head yes.
"Now, I want you to stand up, and strip for me," I ordered, motioning with the knife.
She slowly stood, moving over to the middle of the floor, and very slowly started to peel off her long nightshirt, pulling it up over her belly, slowly up her chest, revealing her breasts, the nipples starting to harden in the cool air. She pulled it over her head, and tossed it aside, defiantly staring into my eyes. She wore only white cotton bikini panties now, cut high on the hip, held together with only a narrow band of elastic.
"Now stand in that doorway, spread your legs so your feet are against each side, and grab the door frame with your hands, arms spread above your head," I ordered. She quickly complied, her eyes never leaving mine.
Her body was fantastic in the soft light from the hallway. Her breasts were not large, but were very nicely shaped, with large areoles, and her nipples were small. her long narrow torso flared into smoothly rounded hips. Her legs were long and slim, looking very smooth and firm, only slightly muscular. Her body was that of a woman much younger.