Was It Consensual?

It was a double date with my co-worker, a Japanese woman who has a white boyfriend. The boyfriend has a friend from England in town for business, and he wants to be set up on a date. I only find out much later that the co-worker asks me because her boyfriend wants her to find a Japanese girl who will "put out," and somehow, much later, when the stories begin to filter around the office, I hear through the gossip that I have a "reputation." Among my co-workers, I discover, I am the subject of innuendo and whispered stories of kinky sex and being "easy."

This co-worker who wanted to please her boyfriend thought I might be perfect to "satisfy" this out of town friend who wants a one night stand with a sexy Japanese girl. She asks me if I am still single, and even though I am not exactly friends with her, she acts as if she wants to do me a favour by setting me up with a potential good match, perhaps a long distance relationship with this wealthy good looking man from England. Little do I know that she is actually thinking of me as "available," perhaps even desperate for a good fuck...

That night I go from work with my co-worker to meet her boyfriend and his friend. I dressed this morning in one of my more provocative office outfits, still suitable for work, but sexy enough to be enticing on a blind date. It is a black dress, not too revealing, but fitted to reveal my hourglass figure. I wear sensible high heels, not too flashy or slutty, but underneath my dress I put on stockings and garters rather than my normal pantyhose, and a slinky lingerie thong that barely covers my lips.

At the restaurant, I am impressed with the English man. He is not too tall, but good looking and well built. Even though he is middle aged, it is obvious he takes care of his body. He has muscular arms and a flat stomach, and he speaks with a sexy English accent that seems to make everything he says sound wittier. Especially as I drink!

Too much drinking and too little food. After a few hours, I can't even tell how long, we leave the restaurant and go to a bar. More drinks and conversation, and I begin to warm to this man. He is worldly, and carries a confidence and self assurance that is attractive, even compelling. He and I begin to talk almost exclusively, and at some point my co-worker and her boyfriend leave the two of us alone at the bar. Suddenly, it seems, the bar is closing, and I realize it is long after midnight. I feel tired, and am more than a little drunk, but I decide to go to the man's hotel room after he asks if I would like to continue our conversation.

What did I expect would happen? Probably that we would have sex. That I would see what it would be like to sleep with him. He was handsome, after all, and was a good conversationalist. We walked through the lobby of the hotel, which was deserted, and I felt self-conscious getting into the elevator with this stranger at 2am. What kind of girl visits a strange man's hotel room at two in the morning? Did the front desk clerk think that I was an escort girl or a prostitute?

I realized that I had to concentrate on walking straight as we entered his luxurious room. He poured us drinks from the hotel mini-bar, but only took one sip before we sat on the couch in his room and kissed. There was no hesitation on his part. He was not tentative like many men, no waiting for a sign of approval from the woman. He was confident, almost aggressive, and I responded by melting and moaning with desire. He pressed me into the couch, smothering me with the force of his desire, and I began to pant in anticipation. Soon he was naked, almost posing for me, showing off his muscular body and erect penis.

And then my memory becomes spotty, to the point that I would recall later almost nothing of this evening, nothing except intermittent memories that would be triggered by what he said next--"Impress me."

Later on that phrase would unleash a trickle of memories, like fragments of a broken pot with most of the pieces missing.

But I cannot remember exactly what happens next. Did I in fact try to "impress him"? Did I slowly strip off my clothes in return, to show off my body in response to his? Was it not yet "bad" at that moment, nothing yet to forget, just sex play, showing him my firm breasts and toned curves to match his hard cock and hard body? Did I want to turn him on, make him mad with desire for me, just like I do on every one of my dates when I am horny and in need of a good fucking? Perhaps I went to his room thinking that if I could "impress" him in bed that he would continue to communicate with me even after he left town, that I would visit him in England, continue a long distance relationship from afar. I knew I was capable of it, and that he would enjoy fucking me—what man wouldn't!

Was the "yuckiness" of his manner, his arrogance, disturbing only in hindsight, with what would happen next?

Or was it actually that disturbing at all...?

The next blurred memory I recall is of both of us naked, my legs open, of him trying to enter me without a condom, and me saying "no."

He gets angry.

Is this where the fear begins, of being trapped, of having put myself in a bad situation where his aggression and anger now rules? How will I get out of here? I think to myself, maybe at that moment, maybe later, how was I so stupid as to put myself in this spot, of being in his hotel room, with no way out now except to please him and accede to his aggression? Perhaps this is why I block out the memory of this night later on. The only way I can give myself some control back is to tell myself later that I had been stupid, that I should never have chosen to go to his hotel room.

But that is hindsight, and at this moment, I still feel perhaps that I have control, that I can make up for my refusal to fuck him without a condom by giving him a blowjob, as good a blowjob as I can muster in this situation.

I take his hard cock into my mouth, licking its head, swirling my tongue around until he groans. The shaft is thick and like other white men's cocks that I have experienced, soft to the touch even though fully erect. A dribble of clear precum oozes out of the slit and I lap it up, moaning with pleasure as I taste it. Then I lick all around his shaft, slicking it with my saliva so that I can use my hands to pump his cock, jacking him off while I suck on the swollen head. I love sucking cock, especially big white cocks, and this one is no exception. He enjoys the blowjob I am giving him, grunts his approval, tells me that I "really know how to suck cock," which sends a surge of pride through my horny body. Grabbing my hair, he begins to push my head up and down his shaft, sending the head deep into my throat. I gag, the wet sound of my choking so loud that it seems to fill the room. This seems to make him even more horny, and he becomes more forceful, angry, pumping in and out of my mouth and utterly unconcerned with whether I can breathe as he is fucking my face.

Is it a false memory that I am so turned on by this that I begin to groan and whimper? Or is the true memory the sense of fear that fills me, wondering if I will suffocate? Perhaps I feel both, and as he thrusts in and out of my throat, the wet saliva drooling out of my open lips, I know that I am losing myself in the feeling of giving in to his desire, to abandon all thought and just wallow in the pleasure of being wanted and being taken.

He tries again to fuck me, pushing me back and opening my legs, his hands grasping my ankles high above me. I moan, perhaps I am moaning "noooo," or perhaps it comes out just as a guttural slutty animal sound. He does not wait to find out what I want, his cock filling me with one quick thrust that makes me gasp with pleasure. His flesh is warm and hard inside me, making me scream as he begins to fuck me, in and out, in and out, feels so good, feels incredible. But I don't want him to come inside me, don't want to get pregnant because I have no birth control, and so I force myself again to say "no," pushing him off, his wonderful hard cock slipping out of me with a wet plop. Again he is angry, and he protests that he still "has not come." I am truly scared now, his eyes look insane, unrecognizable, and his voice sputters with rage. He is breathing quickly, from exertion, from anger, and his still erect cock wags with every intake of breath, my wetness glistening on the hard shaft. My cunt is burning, wanting him back inside, but I am insistent that I want to leave, that I must go. I know if I do not leave now I will not be able to stop myself from losing myself in the pleasure of fucking him, will not be able to stop him from coming inside me. He accuses me of being a cock tease, of leaving after I have made him hot and horny. His rage suffuses his white skin with a red glow.

Perhaps I say that he can come by himself in the bathroom, or something brave and dismissive...

But I will never know. I can remember nothing else of the rest of the night. How I got out of the room, how I got home, nothing even of the next day, of whether I had to search out a morning-after pill to prevent a half-white, half-Japanese baby growing in me as the result of being raped. It is all a blank. Perhaps he hit me, knocking me unconscious. Or maybe he had slipped a date rape drug into my drink earlier and it finally took effect. Or maybe I had just drank too much and I passed out or my memory blanked. I don't remember.

What actually happened was that he raped me, violently taking what he wanted, what must have been, should have been, a horrible memory. But later on, when the memories comes back in fragments, triggered months later when I hear the phrase "impress me" said in a casual conversation, it is not horror that that two words "impress me" triggers. I have erased the memory, but it does not come out of my repressed mind suffused with terror and fear. No, it wasn't as simple as that...

What I want to forget about that evening, perhaps, is that I enjoyed being raped, that somehow even as I felt the fear of being trapped in that hotel room and having to accede to his commands and desires, that this in fact turned me on, that when he pinned me underneath him, forcing his hard cock into me, and began raping me, that I was wet and horny from the idea that I was not in control. Perhaps it is not a drug he gave me that makes me forget that night, but maybe it is because being raped revealed a side of myself that I would rather not remember, that despite my protests to the contrary, in fact I wanted to be fucked like this, taken against my will, and that I came again and again screaming like a slut that night...

All of the stories he would tell his friend later on, and which would be passed around the office in whispers, about what a great fuck that I had been, of how wet I was. Who knows if they were true, just whispers and snickers of it was said that my eyes lolled in my sockets as I abandoned myself to lust, of how even when men become rough and violent with me, taking what they want, using and abusing me, how I scream for more, beg to be fucked harder. All of the stories that would get back to my co-worker, who listened in shock and amazement at just how much more slutty I was then even she imagined, that these stories were not just male bravado bragging. Not him trying to cover up a night turned sour without a climax for him, as I think I want to remember that night when I want to consider myself a victim...

Perhaps that is why my co-worker looked so ashamed the next time she saw me. Why she could not even meet my eyes, only cryptically say that her boyfriend's friend had said that he had "really enjoyed" that night. Was she feeling ashamed for having introduced me to him, or ashamed that I turned out to be even more of a slut than she imagined...?

So I did some investigating last week. I asked a mutual friend to go out for drinks with my co-worker's boyfriend. He was willing to help me because he had heard some of the stories about me and thought they were unfair, and so when I suggested that he try to find out from the boyfriend what had actually happened, he enthusiastically began planning for it as if he were on an important intelligence gathering mission. My friend the spy! The day before, he and I sent emails back and forth, planning how he would bring the subject up, and how he would wait until the boyfriend was drunk and talkative, or perhaps after my friend had first told a very revealing (and untrue) story about himself to encourage the boyfriend to open up.

Late that night, my friend came over to my apartment to tell me what he had learned. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, so I knew right away it had taken a few drinks for him to find out what we were looking for! I made a joke about it and asked how many drinks I owed him for his great sleuthing adventure! He laughed and then told me a long story about what the boyfriend had told him about that night...

"So after about five beers and relaxing talking about work and girls and other things, I brought up the fact that I knew you, telling him that I had gone on one date with you, and what an incredible slut you were--how you had wild sex with me the first date, and how kinky you were...

He said that he had heard the same about you, and that his girlfriend had told him many stories about your various sexual adventures, and how one of your friends at the office, a silly young woman, would immediately run and tell her office friends whatever you said as soon as you told her about your sexual adventures. You clearly enjoyed dating and sex, being perfectly capable of talking about sexual matters without shame at the office, and that you had probably come to work in North America in order to get away from the watchful eyes of friends and family in Tokyo, just as she herself had, and to indulge in your curiousity about what it was like to have sex with white men.

After I asked him whether he had any interesting personal stories about you, he revealed that he knew every detail about one night you had spent with a friend of his. He told me about his friend from England visiting, and how he had asked him to set him up with a sexy Japanese girl. He had never had sex with a Japanese woman, and so kept asking again and again to make sure he would be able to satisfy his curiousity while in town. The English friend was so persistent that finally his girlfriend had suggested putting his English friend together with you while he was in town.

He had originally told his English friend that you were a Japanese girl who was single, and according to his girlfriend who worked with you, had a reputation for liking to date white guys. So a date with you was the perfect way to spend his last night in town, he told his friend. They would all have drinks together as a double date, and that he should make sure to keep buying you drinks until your tiny Japanese body was drunk and horny. Then his friend could bring you up to his hotel room and fuck you all night long. You'd be getting a good deal, he figured. According to him, his friend had a tight muscular body. Even though he was a busy executive, he made sure to work out regularly and his body was toned and fit. The friend was also proud of being well-endowed, claiming to have a monster cock. From what he had heard, his friend was very physical in bed, an aggressive streak that most women seemed to like. So that's why he wasn't surprised when he heard the next day what a great evening of sex you had..."

That was all my friend told me that night, but the next day he forwarded me an email he received from the boyfriend, which was itself an email the boyfriend had received from his English friend two days after your date with him. The email had been sent from London after he returned from his trip, to let him know what had happened and to thank his friend's girlfriend for setting the date up.

Here it is...

"So yeah, thank your girlfriend for setting up the double date with her co-worker. She was every bit as fantastic as promised. Great looking girl and what a sexy bod--good firm tits and a woman's curves--nice fuckable hips, yeah? Not like those skinny Japanese girls with boy's bodies...

Yeah, so after you two left, we had some more drinks and laughs and then I asked her up to my hotel room. She said yes quick enough--your girlfriend was right, she was up for a one nighter, no strings attached. We were sitting on the couch in my hotel room, and I made a move, right after she finished the drink i made using the hotel mini-bar--damn expensive drink but well worth it! She's a horny girl, all right, she started moaning as soon as I kissed her. She was pretty turned on, eyes closed, mouth open, she liked it when I felt up her tits, groaned when I squeezed them, and I could feel she was warm and wet when I rubbed her cunt through her panties. So I figured I'd get right too it and took off my clothes. I could tell she was horny by the way she stared at me, especially my 8 incher standing at attention!

So I says to her, "impress me" and she laughs. But then she got up and did a nice slow strip tease, really drawing it out, taking off her clothes slowly and giving me a nice show of touching her tits and running her hands all over her body.

After a bit of a show, I was good and horny and pushed her back on the couch. I was right ready to fuck, but she stopped me and said she didn't want to have sex without a condom. Well, I didn't have one, and she didn't have one on her either, so I was right pissed off. She really wanted to please me, so she gave me a great blowjob--that Japanese girl can sure suck cock, but I wanted some pussy that night, and so before she could make me cum I pushed her back on the couch and spread her legs, opening up her nice juicy cunt.

She started moaning "no, no," but her wet cunt was saying "yes yes" and I wasn't having any more of her shit, so I grabbed her arms, pinned her down, and told her "I'm going to give you a good hard fucking, you horny Japanese slut, so shut up..."

I gave her a good slap across the face, and then another just for good measure. I think she lost it right then, just closed her eyes and started moaning, like her mind switched off and it was just her cunt telling her what to do. I slipped my cock inside and started pounding her good. Damn, she's got a tiny body and man was she ever tight. Soon enough she was just screaming and moaning and begging for more. That slut just lost herself in being fucked--her eyes were rolling around and she was just making animal grunting noises as I fucked her and fucked her hard.

Boy, I was good that night. Lasted a long time, and she just kept taking it, from the front, from behind doggy style, you name it. I even fucked her arse, but I had to stop because she was screaming so loud I thought someone in one of the other rooms might call the cops! She really was submissive, even got on her knees and sucked my toes and licked my arse! That was the first time a woman stuck her tongue up my arse! Don't know whether I'd like it all the time, but it sure turned me on that night!

I just had to fuck her arse again, so I bent her over and just started giving it into her tight asshole as hard and fast as I could. As soon as she started screaming again I reached around her head and used both my hands to jam her mouth full of my fingers, pulling her head back like a fish hook! That did the trick, kept her fairly quiet and gave me a great way to hang on so I could really pound into her Japanese arse. Just because she didn't want me to come inside her, I did her a favour by pulling out and jacking off on her face, which she loved. She lapped up all of the come off her face, using her fingers to scoop it up and licking every drop. After that she licked my cock clean even though it had been in her arse!