This is a 100% true story, legal and consenting rape roleplay.
I am a normal guy in my 30's, smart, fit/athletic, tall, dark and handsome. I am also modest and the previous adjectives are not ones I would use about myself simply because I know what I am. However, I'm also keenly aware of the way other people see me and I'm just 'telling it like it is.' I have a great career, both exciting and rewarding. Sometimes I see the worst in people and sometimes just the opposite, but I rescue all of them equally.
Unfortunately, with this occupation comes a hefty share of trauma. Having said that, I know I handle my work-life balance very well. I really don't have any vices except one: I am a serial consensual rapist. What do I mean by serial consensual rapist? I like to find women who fantasize about rape. They don't want to go through the trauma of the real thing but still want their experience. So they consent to it and I come up with a plan to make it as realistic as possible. Of the many things I've learned in raping women, every experience and every woman is different but it is always good. Here is a chronicle of my very first rape:
I sometimes browse online dating sites to find sex partners. That is where I met Zoey. We emailed for awhile, made some small talk and then we started discussing sex. It surprised me when Zoey mentioned how much she fantasized about a real rape. I thought Zoey had a very unusual fetish (little did I know then that rape fantasies are actually very common among women). I thought I should take advantage of this unusual fetish because I might never get another chance; I agreed to help her live out this fantasy.
If I was going to do it, then I was going to do it right! I took a long time figuring out how I wanted the rape to play out. First, I wanted as much of the element of surprise as possible. I was aware of some couples making the news for being caught playing out their abduction fantasy and then being arrested for it which of course I didn't want. I also had to be cautious about where we could make Zoey's dream come true. These days, it's hard to find areas without surveillance cameras. If anybody saw it happen, we would immediately be struggling to explain ourselves to the police and this mishap would generate a public report, our full names included. I decided a home invasion was the best option. I also wanted to stalk my prey and be a complete stranger, making this challenge as real as possible. We talked about a timeline of 3 months, agreed to a few safety factors and how she could call it off if need be.
I never showed her my picture so she had no idea what I looked like. I saw her photo and she told me her first name. We developed a "safe word" and I also had her do a few things to make consent non mistakable (like it wasn't a set up by an ex husband which later almost happened). So once we had that established the game was on. The only clue Zoey gave me to get started was, "I live in an apartment complex in the Portland area. If you want it badly enough, you will find it." Now I had my challenge.
The good news is Portland Oregon has fewer apartment complexes than New York; the bad news is Portland still have thousands. Since I had seen a picture of Zoey, and from our polite (yet often kinky conversations), I had picked up some hints about her life: 1) Zoey had talked almost incessantly about how she loves her Lexus. 2) She hates living on a hill because it's a pain to walk up it everyday. 3) She also mentioned she has a side gig selling western jewelry at rodeos 4) Finally she mentioned having a lazy Sunday afternoon
Which these clues this was putting my detective skills to the test and I came up with the following: -living on a hill narrows down my target range to half of Portland-Zoey's complaints about this hill must be because she has to walk up and down the hill quite frequently -why would she walk this territory when she owns a car-she is complaining about it so it is likely to get somewhere rather than do it for recreation -it has to be a hill close to downtown since that helps avoid the headache and costs of parking a vehicle.
Mention of a "lazy Sunday afternoon" this sounds more like a tradition than a lucky day off. Zoey must have Sundays off of work. I decided to drive around several apartment complexes in the perimeter where I thought Zoey must live. I counted 11 Lexus vehicles in 30 apartment complexes. I paid attention to the vehicles and found that one "target" with a bumper sticker from a well-known rodeo, coupled with my prior information about her side gig of selling western jewelry; it only made sense that she would sell her art at one of Oregon's most famous events.
I decided to concentrate my investigation on this exact area because it was highly likely this was her lexus. I checked the parking space, hoping for an apartment number but no luck. I then came to see if there was a directory at her apartment with her name, no luck there either. I could put some kind of tracking device on it but that was a little too high tech for my liking. Where her car was parked I was mostly likely four different units judging by the walking to her parking vicinity. I walked around to see what I could see. That is when I caught a lucky break. The way this particular apartment complex did their recycling program is residents put their recycling out at their front porch once a week and maintenance came to collect it. So it was recycle day. I knew there was a pretty good chance that in that recycling their would be mail with her name on it and apartment number and then I could be sure.
This created a chance to get what I needed but how would I walk up to somebody's front porch and take a sample of their recycling without being suspicious? There is a two part answer, first I had to act like I belong, next was a frisbee. I sometimes play frisbee golf and had one in my truck. So I stood in the courtyard of the apartment poised like I was practicing my best frisbee golf shots at specific targets. I pretended to shank a few of the shots which happened to land on the front porch right near their recycling. It was a good cover for running up, grabbing my frisbee and grabbing a handful of paper out of the recycling and then hide it with my frisbee. Then I would go to my truck and sort through the mail hoping to find Zoey's name. The first mail was someone else. The second time I did it the paper I grabbed was not mail and didnt' have a name on it. I was starting to doubt my plan and I'd already been there 30 minutes or so being careful to not look suspicious with my frisbee game decoy. The third one is when I got lucky. I grabbed some mail and sure enough it had Zoey's name on it. Now I knew where she lived!
