The doorbell rings and I get up from the couch and strut barefoot to the front door, wrapping the folds of my bathrobe around myself. My heart is pounding as I try to act naturally. There's been nothing natural about my life for the past few months, but for the sake of my three children, I have to pretend otherwise.
I reach out to grasp the door handle and a vision of a gang of musclebound Black men waiting on the other side flashes through my mind. Half a dozen dark-skinned thugs with big arms and big cocks ready to lay their brutish hands on me and pin me down while they take turns splitting me open with their black mambas.
The image in my head is so racist I have to stifle a laugh, but given how drastically my life has changed, I'm terrified that my awful husband might want to up the ante. As if having his own wife raped and impregnated wasn't despicable enough.
The doorbell rings again and startles me out of my distraction. My visitor is still waiting, so I take a deep breath and open the door.
I actually half-expect to see a group of Black gangbangers on the other side, or maybe even a gang of White rednecks waiting to pounce and gang-fuck the mixed White-Asian housewife who opens the door to greet them. But when the door is fully open, I see that there's only one person waiting on the front porch.
The visitor is tall with an athletic physique barely contained by his shirt. There's a thin layer of manly stubble on his otherwise clean-shaven face, making his strong jawline stand out even more. His dark hair has grown out a little, but it's still slicked back like he's an extra in Grease. He looks at me with the same beautiful blue eyes as my baby son and grins.
My rapist steps across the threshold without being invited in -- but of course he's already been invited in by my husband for this staged hookup scene. I remember to stay in character, and I grin back as he steps into my waiting arms.
His lips are soft against mine, and his thick arms wrapping around my waist squeeze me tight against his firm body. I break off the kiss and hustle him inside before the neighbors see us.
This is all part of the scene we're filming -- all caught by hidden cameras positioned around the house -- in which a lonely and horny housewife hooks up with her secret lover while her clueless husband is at work. It's a scene that's occurred in one form or another in every culture on Earth for thousands of years, and now I'm acting it out for perverts on the internet.
My rapist shuts the door behind him and resumes the kiss. His hands wander across my body, seeking out the open folds of my robe while my own hands clasp his clean-shaven cheeks and hold his mouth against mine. We walk backwards into the front room, alternately kissing and giggling as we stay in character while I try not to make eye contact with the hidden cameras.
When we reach the front room, I break out of his embrace before taking a few steps back. My rapist plays along with the scene, even though he probably wouldn't let me get away from him if this were real. I can see the bulge in his pants from here, and he's not even fully hard.
I reach down to my waist and loosen the cord of my robe, keeping the black lens sticking out between the leaves of the houseplant in the corner of my eye. My rapist feasts his eyes on the strip of naked flesh just visible between the folds of my robe from my neck down between my still-covered breasts to my navel, my freshly shaved crotch, and the tiny triangle of black cloth.
Finally, I grip the lapels of my robe and disrobe, exposing my bare shoulders, then my breasts and the rest of my body, and let the robe fall to the floor.
Despite giving birth to three babies, I'm still a prime specimen of womanhood. My hips are wide, and my waist is thin, while my bare breasts are an impressive D cup, swollen from their original B cup size thanks to three pregnancies. My pale skin is largely untouched by the sun, and the only part of me still hidden from view is the thing my rapist wants most.
My rapist closes the distance and puts his hands on me again. He kisses me ravenously and my heart races with anticipation. I feel his powerful hands running across my bare skin, his fingers and palms groping at my vulnerable flesh, seeking out my breasts and crotch especially.
I let him guide me to the couch and lower me down onto the cushions. He continues to kiss and fondle me, his lips covering my mouth and neck with kisses while he touches me. He's gentle enough that I can almost pretend I want this, because a part of me truly does.
He pauses his ministrations to remove his shirt, revealing an athletic chest with thick pecs and a toned six pack that would make any man jealous and every woman wet. I know he won't take the rest of his clothes off just yet. The script requires some foreplay.
His hands and lips migrate down from my neck to my big tits, which he spends a while fondling and kissing like a horny teenager. Then he moves down across my bare belly to the newly bald mound of my crotch before moving my thong out of the way to expose the real prize.
I twist my body around on the couch so that the other hidden camera can get an excellent shot of my rapist going to town on my pussy. He parts my bare thighs with his hands as if I'm going to snap them shut around his head and presses his mouth against my crotch.
I tilt my head back and dig my fingers into his dark hair, keeping my thighs wide and my toes curled for him. He licks and sucks at my pussy with hunger and skill, his tongue flicking across my clit and between my folds. Probably the only perk of being a housebound sex slave and an amateur porn star is that I get way better sex now than I did before this man raped me.
Before long, I'm shaking with pleasure, pulling his face in close to my crotch while he devours my cunt with gusto. He keeps his strong hands on my inner thighs, and I keep my legs locked at the knees for him, my feet shaking in the air as he goes down on me. I can already feel the tightness of an early orgasm in my vagina, and the more he licks me, the tighter it feels.
I'm moaning through my teeth, genuinely enjoying the oral pussy worship while trying to keep the circumstances and backstory out of my head. If I asked him to stop right now, he wouldn't. This man raped me in my own bed at my own husband's behest, and this encounter is all part of their sick plans to control me and fuck me for money.
So much for trying to keep my mind off it.
My rapist sticks his fingers inside my wet pussy and wiggles them around, making me squirm with pleasure and soak his fingers with lubricating fluids. After a moment of that, he takes his fingers out and sticks them in my mouth.
I suck on his fingers like they're a cock, tasting the tang of my own cunt juices while he moves closer towards me. That's enough pussy eating for my rapist. Now he wants to fuck me.
He stands up to pull his pants down while I play with my pussy, keeping my thighs wide and ready for him while chewing playfully on my lip. His boxer shorts come down, and the eight-inch rod that changed my life forever pops out, a dribble of pre-cum glistening at the pink tip.
He gets down between my open thighs and maneuvers his weapon into position. I stare into his eyes, breathing through my gaping mouth as I pant with anticipation. My heart is pounding as I feel his glans press between my labia. He rubs the head of his penis up and down to tease and torment me, staring into my eyes with his own blue gaze before pushing inside.
Three babies have stretched my birth canal more than any cock ever could, but I still gasp with unfeigned discomfort as I feel his thickness penetrate me. My vagina is already wet thanks to his licking and fingering, so his length slides smoothly inside me, but his girth pushes my walls outward in a way that makes me yelp.
He lowers himself down on top of me and begins thrusting immediately. I moan and whimper as he fucks me. The feeling of his overbearing masculine weight pinning me down makes me feel even more vulnerable than the weapon thrusting inside of me, but I do love the feeling of his chiseled muscles gliding across my bare breasts and smooth belly.
My legs are still spread wide and locked out at the knees -- a nice little pose for the perverts on the other end of the cameras -- and I wrap my arms around his body, digging my trimmed nails into the flesh of his back and moaning incessantly with each stroke. His head is down next to mine with his face buried in the cushion, and if I strain my neck, I can see down the length of his back to his taut ass rising and falling between my married thighs.
As we make increasingly passionate love for the cameras, his body is pressed so close to mine that I can feel his pubic bone rubbing against my clitoris every time he thrusts inside me.
It isn't long before an orgasm is on its way. I try to clench my pelvic floor and resist the rising tide of pleasure growing between my legs, but it's hard when your man is determined to fuck you until you cum. He's humping me increasingly aggressively, like he has something to prove that can only be proven with his penis, like he's trying to breed me all over again.
The camera concealed in the houseplant has a fine view of my rapist's ass pistoning back and forth inside a married woman's snatch. I turn my head to the side and catch a glimpse of the other camera mounted on top of the wide-screen TV. This one has an excellent side view of our lovemaking as my knees rest on either side of his flanks and my arms embrace him.
My rapist's cock slides forcefully in and out of my vagina, his length massaged and moistened by my increasingly copious sexual juices. My body has long since surrendered to the natural joy of being fucked by a man more virile than my weak, pervert husband, and my will to resist is slipping away like my increasingly slippery pussy.
My rapist is grunting and growling in my ear. He's close to cumming. I renew my grip on his body and squeeze him close, moaning into his ear as my own orgasm approaches. It'll be great for the cameras if we cum together.
