Lynda's Trauma

Hi my name is Lynda. I am a married, mature woman and I am 55 years old. I am 5'ft 4in, weight 130lbs. I have shoulder length mousy hair which I wear with a very light perm, just enough to make it look like I have naturally curly hair.

Although I am happy with my figure and I am not overweight or anything, as I get older I am 'filling out'. My hips are getting a little thicker and I have, what my husband thinks, is the most sexy thing on a mature woman, namely that little pouch of fat on my stomach. Aging has not affected the fullness of my breasts, they are still quite a firm 34c, though unfortunately they have begun to move south somewhat, leaving my nipples and areola sagging downwards slightly, alluringly so my husbands says, as luckily this is another thing he actually finds sexy about me.

It is good having a slender figure with large breasts when you are younger but now as a mature woman, I am told that I look better filled out a little, especially my legs which have become shapely rather than thin. This I am told, is something that transforms my legs in stockings and heels, much to my husbands delight.

Although I believe that I am certainly 'nothing special' and I am quite plain in my manner and my outlook, I am told my prettiness has changed in middle age and I have the attractive older woman look, rather than that of a 'cougar' or hot 'gilf'.

My husband was fond of telling me frequently,

"You look like a natural, normal, attractive, mature woman, that's what you are, so it's perfect."

My husband Ian and I have quite an old car and one day I had been visiting a friend on the other side of the city and was on my way home. Just to break up my everyday boring routine, I decided to make my way home through the centre, rather than on the ring road that circumnavigated the city.

It was at the worst possible place that the old banger finally let me down and began to overheat. To cut long story short, I made it to a garage and left it there until my husband could get over and sort it out and I went to catch the bus, which was fortunately due at any moment.

As soon as I was on the streets I immediately felt uncomfortable. This was the city I grew up in but it had become unrecognisable through various factors of depression, recession and unemployment. It was heartbreakingly run down and the racial mix had changed completely.

I felt like an alien in my own town.

I joined a bus queue and sure enough almost immediately the bus arrived. There was an undignified stampede for the door and your place in line meant absolutely nothing. I was pushed out of the way and subsequently was the next to last to board the bus.

The bus was packed and was a bedlam of noise and activity. There being no seats available, I noticed that the luggage rack at the back of the bus had a space behind it in which I could stand. This was good for me, because I certainly did not want to get caught up in the unseemly scrum, that the passengers were involved in.

I had just got myself comfortable leaning on the bars of the luggage rack, thankfully hidden from the rest of the bus by push chairs and rubbish abandoned on it, when a young black boy pushed in behind me. He was dressed like most youths seemed to dress nowadays, huge trainers with no laces, jeans hanging down his hips showing his brand of underwear and a hoodie with a sleeveless denim jacket over it.

As I rode the bus through the dilapidated area of town, I suddenly felt the young black touch me. I was sure he had cupped by bum with his hand but I was not keen on making a fuss in these circumstances. It was only when I felt his hand a second time that I made to move to confront him.

"Don't look at me, bitch," he hissed in my ear.

I looked away afraid and when I again felt his fingers on me, he had reached down and lifted the hem of my dress and his young hand slid up my thigh.

Before I could even react, I felt a hand at my throat and the knife appeared.

"I could cut your fucking throat and be off this bus and away, before anyone realised there is a dead, white slut back here," he hissed.

I froze in terror, unable to make my thoughts process quickly enough, I wasn't in my own environment, the normal rules of my life did not apply here.

The young black delinquent slid his hand up my thigh, resting seductively on my hip before sliding along my lower stomach and moving around to the front of my panties. I jolted like I had been given an electric shock, when his fingertips gently brushed the swell of my vulva.

This time I tried to resist, I couldn't possibly allow this young thug to touch me. As I made to push away and I opened my mouth to scream, the knife appeared again. This time, the glinting point came towards my face and stopped mere millimetres from my eyeball.

"I will take them both out quicker than you could ever believe, bitch," he threatened.

I was petrified, even women who knew the streets and were familiar with the 'rules of the street' would have been afraid, but a suburban, naïve, middle class, white, housewife, I was like a fish on a bicycle.

I felt my dress being pushed up my legs and hands sliding up my thighs and I froze. The young hoodlum (did anyone call them hoodlums anymore?) kicked my legs apart and pushed me in the back to make me lean forward slightly, my hands flat on the waist high surface of the luggage rack.

I thought I was going to be 'felt up' or molested but as I felt his deft fingers slide under one side of my panties, pull the thin material from my bum crack and drag them over to one side, everything became terrifyingly clear.

This shocking and frightening intimidation had me paralysed. I was totally incapable of resisting the fondling hands of this street scum. As the spine-chilling and terrible fear overwhelmed me, I heard the boy spit on his hands 3 or 4 times and sensed him smearing the saliva all around his penis.

I felt him placing his big, young, rock hard, ebony, engorged cock at the entrance to my vagina.

"How could this be happening to me in broad daylight?" I thought in a daze.

There was all sorts of bedlam going on, black women sat in groups, all seemingly talking to each other at the same time, youngsters played music on phones despite the notices not to do so, people smoked against the rules, which caused a cacophony of arguments.

No one knew or cared about me. At the back of luggage rack, hidden away I was about to be raped within yards of them and nobody was aware of a thing.

Sensing (wrongly) that I may be about to fight him, he again whispered in my ear. Above the noisy old bus and music and street talk and shouting and crude behaviour, he said,

"Don't do anything fucking stupid, there is no need to die today."

So it was in a paralysed, distressed and bewildered trance, that I allowed him to commit the most harrowing and appalling act.

I felt his young fingers finding the swell of my vulva. I felt his fingers spread me, then the dreadful feeling of my inner labia being exposed and vulnerable. When he deftly touched my pink inner lips, his finger searched for my entrance. He parted my delicate lips and another finger played around just inside me.

He was lining himself up.

Spitting on his hand once more and rubbing the lubricant over his engorged helmet, he placed a young, hard cock against my pussy and slowly pushed.

He entered me.

He was big, he was incredibly hard and it felt incredibly hot, as he slowly slid along my most intimate place, a private and sensual place, that up until now had been the sole preserve of my husband.

I was too shocked and traumatised to move, to resist, to scream or to protest in any way.

The worryingly calm and assured young rapist pushed into me to the hilt, his face against my neck. I could hear his laboured breathing and the almost inaudible mutterings,

"Oh fuck, oh yeah, oh man that pussy is so sweet bitch." He gasped.

I stood transfixed, rooted to the spot, unable to either think straight, act or speak. I shuddered as I felt his young, hard, long cock graze along my inner pussy. The tender and soft walls of my preciously private sex, felt the shape and the size of his manhood as he thrust into me. The unnerving part of this was that he wasn't in any hurry, he was not afraid of discovery, he was seemingly totally at ease with what he was doing to me.

It felt like forever but in reality it was probably only moments before the words changed,

"Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh fuck yeah," came out in a different tone, it was a tone that told me he was about to ejaculate.

"Oh please don't cum inside me, I whispered, please, please, please don't cum in me," I begged him.

I think my pleading had the opposite effect that I had hoped for.

His cock seemed to swell, lengthen and harden, then without ceremony he rammed himself up into me, emitting grunts of ecstasy.

"Uugh yeah, oh fuck yeah, aaahh fuck," he grunted, as he filled my poor pussy with jet after jet of powerful young cum blasts, filling me, violating and despoiling my hot inner depths.

Holding himself deep inside me, panting in my ear, as if the terrible thing he had done to me wasn't enough, he now verbally abused me.

"You loved it didn't you, you dirty white, cum whore, you just loved that nigga dick didn't you?"

It wasn't true - I couldn't fight - I only let him do it to me through fear - he had a knife - I couldn't stop him - please believe me!!!!

Slowly I felt his long length, still reasonably big and hard, pulling out of me. I felt his cock slip from me and my ravaged pussy close back up. Quickly and deftly his hands pulled my panties back over my ass and into place, meaning that the huge load he had cum into me, was caught in my panties.

The bus stopped and I suddenly felt him pulling me by the arm and dragging me off the bus. If my mind had been working at all, I would have been worried at this point, scared of being abducted and taken to somewhere to become a captive. However, he had only pulled me from the bus, so as I couldn't start screaming and asking the driver to call the police.

He got me on the street where I was disorientated and confused and in that confusion he simply slipped away.

The young delinquent had made us get off the bus in a dangerous part of town. When I was on the street my trauma threatened to overwhelm me. I wandered in a daze, to onlookers and passers-by I must have looked high or spaced out. I must have looked like a drunk, unable to take in my surroundings. I could not make my traumatised mind work in a coherent manner, if I had attempted to speak it would have been gibberish. People even gave me a wide berth and walked around me, I looked so out-of-it.

Desperate to compose myself and to gather my thoughts (not to mention clean up as the semen leaked from me) I began to walk in the same direction as the bus had been travelling. After a few minutes, twenty five yards or so down a side street, I noticed rundown, derelict, looking toilet block.

Making my way inside the run-down concrete structure, I noticed that there wasn't any sign for either male or female. I just entered, praying that the block was empty and I entered the first cubicle I came to.

Once inside, I took in my surroundings the best my bewildered and traumatised brain would allow. I put down my bag and took out the scented wipes that I was luckily carrying. I raised my dress, my hands still trembling and pulled down my sodden panties which were soaked with and smelled of, semen. At this point I noticed a hole in the partition which had been roughly and crudely made. Even though I looked right at it, it still didn't register in my confused and bewildered state.

In a daze I cleaned myself of the disgusting cum that ran from me, stuck to my thighs and matted my pubic bush. Already cool and drying, it had wrinkled on my skin and clumped my black curls together.

It was then that I thought that I noticed some movement in the hole. I wasn't thinking straight in my trauma and dismissed it as my imagination, when a large thick cock appeared.

The part of my brain still incapable of coherent thought, was strangely calm about this new development. It had probably not had time to register what was happening in its shocked and confused state.

When I stared at the semi-erect cock poking through the thin wall, any hope of, or pretence to, rational thinking deserted me. The last vestige of hope, that I was a woman in any way control of herself, of the shaking, or of the shock that had taken over her body, disappeared.

With a trembling and nervous hand I reached out and touched the strangers cock.

We both jumped.

I was startled with the surprise of my insane action and I suppose he was also because the guy probably wasn't actually expecting it. He probably couldn't believe his luck, no one in this situation probably ever actually got a willing woman to respond, the whole idea being a fallacy.

As my hand, (which would not obey what sense or reason I still had) reached out, I tentatively and timidly touched it again. The big penis instantly lengthening, swelling and hardening, causing the foreskin to tighten and then roll back as the engorged head grew too big to be contained any longer.

"Turn around, I'm gonna fuck you," a voice said in a commanding manner.

I have gone to great lengths to try and explain to you my state of mind after the traumatic rape. I was in a state of shock which was preventing me from acting rationally. I must continue to impress upon you the reasons I was acting in this way and what it was that was driving me and directing me.

I was not simply a woman who had had sex, enjoyed it and instantly turned into some sort of cock-crazed slut. I was and still remained a woman from a generation that believed in faithfulness. For our generation, casual sex was not 'a bit of fun' like the younger women of today seemed to treat it. For me sex with a man other than my husband was anathema, I was still a monogamous, faithful wife with the morals and standards that I had held dear all my life.

You could also think that I was just another woman, who had turned from a shy wife to a slut wife, on the strength of one bout of sex, this was absolutely not the case. I was not a woman who had been simply turned on by this sexual contact, however extreme it may have been. What I was experiencing was not normal, it was unnatural arousal, I was a woman shocked to her very core by what had happened to her. I could not rationalise, recognise, or deal, with the trauma and the affect it was having on me.

The extreme experience that I had undergone seemed to be making me recklessly aroused. As I took in his command, I suddenly felt weak-kneed, the feelings of heightened arousal making me tremble inside.

The effects of the rape and of finding myself in this crazy situation, were simply too overpowering and too overwhelming for me to handle.

I had been left in a state of confusion, I was operating in a bewildered fog, a trance, I was living in Lala-land in a dream-like unconsciousness.

The unwanted and unexpected result was that the whole shocking, harrowing, yet electrifying experience, was manifesting in me as uncontrollable sexual excitement.

With my heart beating in my chest, feeling like it could explode at any moment and on legs that threatened to give way on me, I turned around and leant forward to hold myself with my arms on the opposite wall. I bent forward, then spread my feet further apart to both steady myself and to position myself, then in the most shocking and electrifying act I had ever committed, I pushed my ass back against the cold dirty wall, and offered my trembling vagina, open, wet, unprotected and available to the stranger.

With legs spread wide apart, both to offer myself to this unknown man and to stop me falling down, my legs threatened to give way. My knees felt like jelly and the uncontrollable shaking that had overtaken me and threatened to overwhelm me, made me shiver with anticipation. My arms were shaking as they took the strain of holding me in position for this stranger to take me.

Every part of my body was in a quivering, nerve-wracking and agitated state, none more so than my vagina. As I offered myself to this unseen man, my pussy was wired, it was charged and exhilarated, it pulsated and throbbed with desperation.

My vagina flowered open, my outer labia had long since pulled back and the soft fink folds of my inner pussy were exposed, framed by my swelling and crimson small lips. As I felt the big engorged helmet of my unknown lover touch my sodden labia, I almost screamed at the electrifying touch. I was intoxicated with lust, my disturbed mind had put me in a sensational and mind-blowing state of arousal.

When the man applied a little pressure with his wonderful length on my open and vulnerable pussy, I felt my tight opening give slightly and the big cock head eased into me, my pussy closing up again behind his huge bulbous purple crown.

I nearly screamed in ecstasy at the electrifying sensation in my sex.

He played my pussy opening and my clitoris for a while and I felt the thrill of him slightly stretching me and entering me. I then had the sensation of him stretching me slightly again as he left me, it was in this manner he continued to make my pussy swell slightly, opening and closing my tight ring as he entered me time and time again.

Suddenly he slowly pushed forward, sinking into me. With a loud groan of pleasure, he thrust himself gently all the way into me, his throbbing helmet almost touching my cervix.

I matched his groan of pleasure with one of sheer ecstasy of my own.

In my sheltered, traditional and monogamous life, I had been a naïve little housewife. Never before had I known this incredible feeling of being so full of a man. This made the situation somehow worse, it was something I had never had or experienced, I felt somehow inferior and inadequate.

Amongst all the whirlwind of confusing emotions, of dread, despair and disbelief at myself and my situation, this man was giving me something new. He was sharing 'a first' with me, giving and sharing with me something my husband couldn't, it shamed me and embarrassed me. These feelings somehow made me feel feeble and amateurish, yet at the same time so aroused by them. I hoped that he couldn't tell that I was taking my first big cock (even though the black boy had been reasonably well hung, this was different still) and that I was so inexperienced with well endowed men.

As he tormented me with skilled, unhurried and deep strokes, I was worried that he may ejaculate inside me too quickly and leave me wanting. I needn't have worried, because I was so far ahead of him in our mutual quest for orgasm, I knew that I would not be denied.

I had been sexually assaulted and raped by a young black and the human body responds instinctively. Having had the young black inside me, my body had betrayed me, it simply responded as a body does. That reaction and response had begun to arouse and pleasure me, only to be left wanting by his sudden ejaculation. He had left me high-and-dry and the release that my traumatised body and mind desperately needed, was preventing me from recovering my composure and literally coming to my senses.

But now I was going to orgasm and I knew it.

Each time the head of his invading cock pushed deep into me, the rock hard meat eased open my tight (to him) pussy along its complete length, every millimetre of my soft delicate flesh tingled and every part of my vaginal walls gripped him.

They say a blind man's sense of hearing becomes acute because of the senses compensating. For me not being able to see, hear or smell my 'lover', only feel where our flesh touched, only succeeded in heightening my sense of feeling. With no other feelings to process, my entire mind and body concentrated on and was acutely sensitive to, the feelings between my legs and in my sex.