"The captain has turned off the Fasten Seat Belt sign. You are now free to move about the cabin." The flight attendants voice crackled over the speaker.
My new girlfriend loved role playing. She had been an actress, some bit parts in television and movies. She said they told her she couldn't get gigs because her breasts were too big, people would not pay attention to the main characters. I could see their point, literally. She moved on to do set decoration and sound production.
She had lined up some chairs in rows in her front room. The speaker played a jet engine sound effect in the background with some kind of mixer that let her add voice over. She had on a sexy flight attendant costume with non-regulation low cut blouse and a tight non-regulation length skirt. Pantyhose with a line up the back and hair tucked up under a cap completed the picture.
She bent way over to serve a drinks to the imaginary passengers sitting across the aisle, then leaned way over to serve the passenger next to me, brushing a breast against my face.
"Coffee, tea or me," she whispered into my ear.
We met in the bathroom. I pulled her hose down to her knees and bent her over the sink.
I am a proud member of the 'Virtual Mile High Club.'
She outdid herself with the naughty nurse thing, decorating the bedroom to look like a MASH 4077th tent, complete with IV dripping into a martini glass. Tight non-regulation khaki scrubs hugged her curves. 'Hotlips' indeed. The speaker played helicopter sounds with the occasional artillery round in the background. She had rigged in a sound effects board, though I was not amused when she played a laugh track after pulling down my olive drab boxers.
I earned a 'Purple Hardon' medal.
"So you have been pretty good job of fulfilling my fantasies," I told her one evening as we laid in bed. "What fantasy can I do for you?"
She hesitated, then said, "I do have this one fantasy, but I'm kinda ashamed of it."
"You can tell me anything," I reassured her, my curiosity piqued.
"Well, it's like this," she stalled, "I've never shared this with anyone before."
I reached out and clasped her hand.
"I um, have this, uh, fantasy, I guess you would call it non-consensual," she said hesitantly.
I didn't say anything. I wondered to myself what the 'right response' was. I had heard that it is a common fantasy for women. Probably not for women that were survivors. That's the word I'm supposed to use, not victims. Right?
I remember getting aroused watching mainstream movies that had depictions of women being forced, like 'Clockwork Orange.'
The non-consensual porn I had happened upon entirely by accident was exceedingly poor.
I have had women who wanted me to hold them down and play rough with them, but that was just some standard foreplay. I didn't mind getting a little of that action myself.
She interrupted my thought process, "Hellooooo! Anybody home?"
"Hold it! I said, adding, "The truth is, it's complicated. By far the sexiest thing for me is when a woman really wants me."
I congratulated myself for having the perfect answer, then I cringed realizing it sounded phony.
I made the suggestion that we watch some non-consensual porn together.
She said she didn't like pornography, that it was either women being exploited or being betrayed.
My heart sank, she was right. I had a pretty good appetite for porn, considering myself to a connoisseur of sorts. Now I felt uncomfortable about all I had watched.
"Oh yeah, I totally agree," I said unwholeheartedly.
I suggested that we find some non-consensual erotic literature to read to each other. She thought that was a great idea. I was surprised at how horny I got reading. She got extremely aroused, the first time we didn't even finish before she jumped me. It was hard to find good examples, most of the writing was poor and the plots were predictable.
One day I found a transcript from a trial. It was a detailed account of a real home invasion. A group of guys broke into a home, tied up the husband and made him watch while they had their way with the wife. Thankfully they all got busted and convicted. We took turns reading, both shaking when we finished. I got rock hard, she was soaking wet. We fucked, with both of us coming fast. To be honest, I felt pretty guilty about getting pleasure from someone else's terror, for a few days at least.
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I made a trip to the thrift store and picked up some items. The next time I went over to her place I had a box waiting for her in the kitchen.
"I got something for you," I said matter of factly.
She opened it up and pulled out two articles of clothing; a white cotton blouse and a knee length wool skirt with a slit in the back. They were obviously second hand.
She grimaced and said, "These are not even remotely my style and they look like they have been worn before. What on earth were you thinking?"
"Oh, Gee, I'm sorry," I responded. "I'll take them back. Put them on and we'll see if I got the right size and I'll buy you something nice."
She shook her head and frowned. She disappeared for a few minutes, coming back into the kitchen wearing the outfit.
I had hidden behind a door, pulling on some gloves and a balaclava. I could see her looking around for me through the gap.
I sneaked out and crept up behind her. With one hand I grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back. I clamped my other hand over her mouth, stifling a scream.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," I snarled at her from behind. "Either way works for me!"
She struggled against my grip, writhing up against the kitchen island. I held her tightly and growled, "I'm going to take my hand off your mouth. If you scream things will get really bad for your boyfriend tied up in the other room."
"Not a word. Got it?" I hissed into her ear.
She nodded yes and I let go.
My hand reached around and traced down to her trembling chest. I grabbed a handful of her blouse and ripped it open violently, buttons flying across the room. I grabbed a breast through her bra, roughly squeezing it.
"Not a word!" I growled.
I pushed her down, bent over the island. I reached into the drawer and pulled out a spool of string, the kind you use to truss up a Thanksgiving turkey. I pulled her other arm behind her and tied her wrists together as she struggled.
I reached two hands around to rough up both breasts. She gave another yelp as I squeezed. I ripped her bra upwards, her breasts spilling out against the cold marble counter as she continued to wriggle.
I reached down and grabbed the skirt and gave it a yank upwards, tearing the slit up to the waistband.
I leaned forward and hissed again, "Now all I want to hear from is you moaning like you are enjoying this. Understand?"
She furtively nodded yes and whimpered in response.
"Make sure your boyfriend can hear!" I hissed as I unzipped and pushed my rock hard member up against her quivering behind.
I reached down any yanked her panties down to her knees. She yelped again when I kicked her ankles apart. I reached across the island and grabbed a bottle of olive oil, Italian, Extra Virgin. I poured it down her butt crack.
"You better start making sounds like you are enjoying this or I am going to stick it in your ass!" I hollered as I parted her butt cheeks with my unit.
She whimpered out a half hearted, "Yes. Oh, Yes."
"Louder!" I hollered, prompting a full throated moan from her.
