This work of FICTION contains themes of misogyny, non-consent, humiliation, abuse and other related kinks. This is meant as entertainment to bring enjoyment, not as something that should be carried out. If this offends you, please do not read. It is in no way a political, gender or societal protest.
I bite my lip as I read the response from the guy. I'm so nervous! I can't even believe I'm considering this, yet alone talking to this guy. I must be going crazy. This is so unlike me.
I'm currently on an IM site. It's one of those fancy can't-be-traced sites, which erase whatever you write after 30 seconds. It really sets the mood about what I'm doing, or thinking of doing. Hammers it home how bad it is.
You see, I'm a 35 year old married female, who is incredibly bored with her life. I work from home as a data reviewer, which is extremely boring and easy. My husband works at his office and is a data analyst. He comes home after work to which we take turns cooking. Then we watch TV and go to bed as we have no children. Boring.
It's also been close to a year since we last had sex. He just...stopped. Not sure why. A few times we got into it and tried, but something always happened, like the other just wasn't into it, or worked called, etc. But yeah, a year. More than a year now that I think about it. And he doesn't seem to notice.
Lately I've been having, errr, urges. Not for sex urges perse, but for excitement. You know what I mean? True excitement. Something new, fun, flirty, exciting excitement. Something that I could tell people and they would be shocked and jealous.
That's when I overheard someone when I went for a midday walk. I was walking alone at the neghborhood park when I was about to over take two women who were talking. They were roughly the same age as me, probably mothers gossiping midday before their kids got home from school.
That's when I heard one telling the other about some guy in the neighborhood. How she did a "CNC" fantasy with him. Thankfully the friend had to ask what "CNC" meant because I didn't know either. She explained it is a rape fantasy. A consensual nonconsensual fantasy roleplay.
On purpose I slowed down to get room between us as I wanted to hear this conversation. The woman explained how she talked with the guy about it beforehand. Said she told him what she wanted and didn't want, and he did the same. Did it all online so no one saw them together nor was there any record/app on her cell. And then...they met up. Said how the guy never messaged her after the event, nor did anything creepy like take pictures or threaten to blackmail for more sex.
The part I remember the most of what she said is how good the sex was. That she was sore for days and could cum just off the memory of what he did. That it was by far the hottest thing she had ever done, and outscored her husband by a mile.
It sure seemed like excitement to me and my boring life.
Best of all, I overheard her telling the friend how you contact the guy. Said he wasn't a professional or pimp or anything, just a guy that like CNC stuff. She said his email and it was really easy to remember. The two of them never even knew I was behind them.
A few days later I emailed him. I can't even say why I did it and I told myself not to. Went back and forth about it too. Told myself I'm a good wife and wouldn't do anything stupid or crazy. Yet I emailed him all the same.
The guy was pretty nice and chill. I was scared he would instantly be like, "Yeah bitch, I'll fuck that cunt for you," or gross like that. But he wasn't. Just explained what he liked then asked what I was after. He sort of like laid down the rules of what he did, and how it would go if I wanted to do it. It was really clear on things he wouldn't do and repeated them a few times, such as choking or putting nooses, cutting, and other darker thing.
From there I would email him every few days with some silly question to keep the conversation going. I was scared, but didn't want to lose him, you know? So I would ask him things like, "do you or have you spanked your victims?" All the questions I asked I already knew the answer or could guess the answer. He knew what I was doing, probably because he had seen it before.
"It's simple Beth. If you want to do it, let me know and I'll tell you a time. If you don't want to, it's fine. I understand and don't hold it against you," Ben, the pretend rapist typed but 20 seconds ago, which made me bite my lip. Seems pretty clear he's not going to be responding any more until I tell him I want to do the fantasy.
"Fine. I want to do it," I type back. I can't believe I typed this as I meant to type, "thanks, but I shouldn't cheat on my husband." But my fingers overwrote my brain to type what they wanted. It's as if my emotions can't take the boredom any longer. They sort of take over my entire body and write what they want.
The next message is his address and a time. That's it. I stare at it, knowing the street, for it's 3 streets down. The guy really does live in the neighborhood.
And it's today. He wants to do this today. I try to tell myself that I can't do it today, but when I ask why, there's no answer. It's just I'm scared and it's so sudden. I don't have any work to do and my husband won't be home for at least 5 hours.
After a good 15 minutes, I tell myself that I'm going to do it. I'm going ahead with it. I'll go there at 2 pm...and pretend to be raped. That I'll finally have some excitement.
At 1:30, I make myself a whiskey and coke. When I down it in one go, I make another in hopes of calming myself. After I drink that one, I make a third. The booze does hit fast, loosening me up, but also makes everything more intense. I still am in disbelief I'm thinking of doing this.
"I'm doing this. I'm going to have some excitement," I tell myself out loud, looking past that it is cheating on my husband. If he touched me once in a while, I wouldn't have to do it. If he spent as much time as he does on fantasy football as he would fucking me, then maybe I wouldn't feel this way. Why isn't he more kinky? Why doesn't he try BDSM or get rough? Every time I hinted at it, he just said something like, "isn't that for like, sex addicts and stuff?"
At 1:50, I leave my house. I lock the house up but leave a key under the backdoor flowerpot. I do this because I don't want to take anything with me that could be lost or used against me. So no phone, no keys, no pens, no nothing.
I didn't know what to wear, so I picked some old pajamas. It's a flowery blue pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt, with panties and a bra that I don't care about. I wore these because I plan to get rid of them as the first thing when I get back. I really don't care what happens to them.