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From: Philip Harris <pharris_online@yahoo.com>
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Wed, 14 May 2003 14:12:26 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: {ASSM} Edward's Lust (MF, rape)
Date: Thu, 15 May 2003 02:10:07 -0400
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Edward's Lust (MF, rape)
by Philip Harris
Her pussy was throbbing from forced self-abuse, and she
knew that she still had the ordeal of intercourse to
endure.
Edward's Lust
Edward walked through the peaceful woods, his engineer's
boots quietly crunching the leaves that still lay on the
ground from last fall. He carried his sketchbook in his
hand, and breathed the fragrant spring wood-scent. The
path he followed was faint, perhaps known only to him.
He'd been coming here nearly every day for three weeks and
he hadn't seen another soul here. Ducking beneath a low
canopy formed by a newly leafed bush, he took a seat on a
rock, opened his sketchpad, and resumed penciling the view
of the reed-choked river that he could see before him.
Edward knew that he should be looking for a job. His
unemployment checks would run out in just two more weeks,
and then he would have to start looking seriously. This
morning he'd slept until 10 o'clock, as he did nearly every
morning these days. He didn't get out of his apartment
until almost 2 pm. Edward had been up late the night
before, reading erotica on the Internet, lurking in the
personals ads, writing "make-you-cum" letters to sex-lonely
women.
None of that was good for calming Edward's needs. Edward
was desperately fighting his desire to rape again.
It had been five years since he'd raped a woman. He'd gone
all that long time without the pleasure. It was his
longest good behavior since high school, since that time
when he'd first traveled to an unfamiliar town, hunted the
nighttime streets, and torn the pants from a frightened
woman within convenient park shrubbery.
Her's had been the first pussy he'd ever really seen. When
he closed his eyes today he could still see her grown
womanhood, could still feel her loins squirming beneath
his. He could still feel the wonderful pleasure of his
successful needle-threading. He clearly remembered the
thrill of laying on her afterwards, still insider her,
smothering her mouth with his hand to quiet her while a
couple walked by the bushes, only few feet away, speaking
romantically of doing what he and his unwilling victim had
just done.
There had been many others after her. Thirty more, by
Edward's count. But for these past five years he'd tried
to reform. He'd kept a steady job. He'd been faithful to
each of the two live-in girlfriends he'd had. Neither of
them had ever suspected his past, had ever guessed that
their bedroom willingness to his torrid and frequently
lovemaking was keeping his savage needs at bay. Edward had
promised himself that he was never going to rape again.
But then he'd lost his job, and then he lost his recent
girlfriend. Since then he'd been living alone. For nine
months now he hadn't scored any pussy. The urge was
building inside him. His cock was screaming at him to take
a girl.
He'd gone back to his last girlfriend. "I love you," he'd
told her, "I need you one last time." She'd refused him.
He'd tried the girlfriend from before that, but she was
living with another guy now.
He'd tinkered with the idea of raping her. He knew her
habits, the vulnerable places where she went. If it was
dark and he wore a ski mask then maybe she wouldn't
recognize him. It wouldn't be rape, technically, because
she'd once promised him her body forever. But no, it was
impossible to get away with rape these days. Edward knew
he just had to quit, or that someday he'd get caught.
Edward had never been caught for any of the rapes he'd
done. He'd raped thirty-one different women and girls.
Seven of them had been teenagers he'd taken in one summer,
at different malls, ripping their virginity from them in
the back of the old van he'd privately called his "rape
mobile." He'd hung their bras one by one in the back of
his van, amusedly watching the bras sway in his rear-view
mirror as he drove.
His last victim in the van had been a college girl
hitchhiker, taken at the end of the summer. He'd offered
to let her go if she could fit in any of the bras. She
tried them all on, but they'd all been too small for her--
little girl's underwear that no longer fit her woman's
body. It wasn't going to be a rape, he'd told her as she
watched her own bra being hung beside the others, because
she'd consented to the test.
Thirty-one lovely and unwilling pussies, and every one of
them had been a success--he'd gotten inside each one:
fucked her, felt her breasts, spermed inside her; he'd
owned her body for a brief, exquisitely delicious time.
And it had been easy each time. Edward was tall and
strong, and ready to be cruel, and woman were so weak and
fuckable. He'd never had to hurt any of them; they'd all
done as they were told. That should be the natural order
of things, he thought: women shouldn't be allowed to refuse
men. Edward's urges would be so much easier to satisfy
then.
With an effort, Edward turned his thoughts away from those
things. At twenty-seven years old Edward still didn't have
a career. He'd kept some jobs for a long time, but he was
still considered to be unskilled. And his "needs" had kept
him moving around a lot in the past.
Edward wanted to be an artist. He could draw simple
sketches pretty well. Objects with straight lines were no
problem for him at all. And since his last job ended,
since he'd become unemployed, he'd been practicing his
sketching, and was becoming very good, at least in his
opinion.
That was when the urge had started again. It was this past
winter, when he'd been practicing figure drawing by
sketching nude women from photos in men's magazines. He'd
gotten very good at breasts, he could draw really good
breasts, and then he'd started drawing pussies; but he just
didn't like drawing them empty.
Whenever Edward drew a picture of a pussy it was realistic
in every detail, but no matter the pose, the pussy seemed
unfinished to him unless it had a cock in it. Or a dildo,
or a woman's finger, or a woman's hairbrush handle, or
another woman's tongue, or . . . . Well all of Edward's
naked pictures of women had the woman playing with her
pussy, or in bondage on a dildo, or being fucked in it by
some guy who vaguely resembled Edward.
When the spring weather finally arrived, Edward started
going for long walks in these woods behind his apartment
building. His walks took him away from his nudie magazines
and his Internet stories and his emails to dirty sluts who
always promised willingness to do exactly the things that
Edward said he wanted to do to them, but who always turned
out to be married and who got all their real sex at home.
Oh, man, Edward had it bad today! His thoughts kept
straying back to sluts. He tried refocusing on his
artwork. He was at least a mile into the woods, he
reminded himself, and there was nobody around, and nothing
to bother him.
Edward finally succeeded in clearing his mind. The quiet
bubbling of the lazy, urban river and the rustling of air
in the high trees overhead eased his mind, and he began
drawing quietly, and with credible skill.
That was when temptation came into the woods. At first it
was a noise that just faintly caught his attention,
something not quite a part of nature. Then he recognized
the sound as footfalls, light footfalls, a single pair of
feet. His position was nearly concealed, but gave a good
view of the woods around him. His eyes caught a movement,
a color. It was a woman. It was a woman, and she had come
alone to Edward's private place in the woods. She's come
here willingly, Edward thought, rationalizing what he knew
he was going to do.
Edward didn't plan this, but he was going to make use of
it. He looked around carefully, to satisfy himself that
she was alone. This area was a depression near the river.
There was no view on this side of the river, beyond the
wooded hillside. On the other side of the river there was
a long stretch of cattail weeds. Only someone with
exceptional eyesight, or binoculars, would be able to make
out details from the other side of the river. But what if
there was somebody behind her, some boyfriend coming along
the trail?
No, a boyfriend would be walking ahead of her, Edward
decided. Of course she could be followed by a girlfriend .
. . . That was a teasing thought, but no, then they'd be
talking aloud, shouting to one another. Everything was
quiet except for her. She was alone.
She stopped right at the break in the woods that gave a
view of the river, right at a place where Edward had been
sketching two days ago. Her back was toward him. Edward
half-rolled his sketchpad and put it into his jacket
pocket. He ducked low, creeping quietly out beneath the
leaf canopy. He stepped very quietly, stepping closer to
her, closer. She didn't know anything of his presence
until his shadow fell in front and to the right of her.
She turned then, showing sudden alarm. Edward sprang
forward and grabbed her, reaching behind her with one arm
and pulling her to him, pulling her body tightly against
his, clasping his free hand over her mouth. He rolled,
throwing them both to the ground, making sure that his
weight fell on top of her. Edward knew from experience
that whether in the back of a van or behind bushes this was
the best way to take a woman.
Edward held his victim tightly to him so that her arms
weren't free to hit him. Keeping her silent was the most
important thing. Here, nobody would hear her if she
screamed, but it was better if he kept her silent.
"Quiet, quiet, quiet," he told her repeated, whispering,
his face very close to hers. "Quiet. Do you understand
quiet?" he asked. She nodded assent. "Just be quiet," he
said to her. "Just be quiet." She struggled only a little
bit. Edward felt her tears on his hand. That was good;
girls who cry don't put up much of a fight. "Just be
quiet," he said.
Edward lay on top of her for a long while; longer than he
did with most girls, because he felt very confident in the
privacy of his place here in the woods.
"Quiet, quiet," he repeated, pressing his hand tightly
against her mouth, cupping her jaw to keep her mouth
closed. He pinched her nose shut, cutting off her air
entirely. She suddenly struggled fiercely, which Edward
had anticipated. He was much too strong for her to
effectively resist. He waited for the fear in her eyes to
become panic. Then he waited for the moment when she would
stop looking around for escape and would look at him
pleadingly. When they plead, they cooperate. There, that
was the look.
"Now do you understand what I mean by, 'quiet?'" Edward
asked menacingly.
He was holding her face so tightly that she couldn't nod
her head, but she said yes with her eyes. Edward uncovered
just her nostrils, letting her breath again, making her
understand that he was giving her life--for a price.
"I won't hurt you if you cooperate," he told her as she
gasped for air through her nostrils. "I'm just going to
fuck you. You like to fuck, don't you?" he asked. She
looked at him without giving any answer. He pinched her
nostrils closed again. "You like to fuck, don't you?" he
repeated. This time her eyes answered a definite yes.
"All girls like to fuck their boyfriends," Edward said,
"and I'm your boyfriend now, understand?" When she
signaled agreement he let her breathe again. "Let's stand
up now--together."
Edward stood up, bringing her with him, still keeping her
mouth tightly covered. With his other arm he crushed her
body against his, pinning her arms, squashing her boobs.
Without looking around, Edward knew that there was a big,
fallen tree just a short way into the woods. He'd sketched
it the other day. He dragged his captive over to the log.
Yes, he could lay her down beside that, and then even
someone close by wouldn't see her.
He was still holding her mouth shut and holding her body
tightly against his. She was smaller than him, just a
little short. Her hips were firm, so she didn't have much
fat on her, plenty of boobs though. Her hair was short,
but not so short that Edward couldn't grab a hank of it,
which he did. Now she was able to hold her body about a
foot away from him, but he yanked downward on her hair,
forcing her to face upward toward the sky. His other hand
still kept her mouth smothered.
"The jeans first," he told her. Edward always liked to
make them strip below the waist first; a bare pussy made a
girl feel very vulnerable. She tried looking at him,
pleading with her eyes. Edward wasn't keeping her mouth
shut to prevent her yelling, he was keeping it shut to
prevent her from trying to talk her way out, wasting
precious sex time.
She slowly kicked off the still-tied sneakers she was
wearing. Eventually her fingers fumbled at her waist,
undoing her pants. The slow unzipping sound was familiar
music to Edward. God he loved making them undress!
"Hurry up," he said angrily. Her jeans came off quickly
then. "The panties too," he said, and they also fell to
the woodland ground. Edward looked down at her naked
waist. He couldn't see much from his present position, but
she was now the way he liked a victim to be.
"Listen carefully," Edward said, releasing his pull on her
hair and turning her around so that she could look directly
at him. "In a moment I'm going to uncover your mouth. You
are not to say a single word. Do you understand? Not one
word, not now, and not ever about this. You will moan
during sex, but you won't talk to me. When I play with you
I want to hear sounds from your pussy, not from your mouth.
You won't plead with me, you won't ask questions. You're
just here for sex, and if you accept things that way I'll
let you go when I'm done. Just pretend you're asleep and
that this is a very nice dream that makes you very horny.
You will never say anything to me, and you will never say
anything about this to anyone, ever! Understand?"
She nodded her head yes. Edward uncovered her mouth,
taking his hands off her entirely.
"You can cry quietly now, if you want to," he offered, and
she immediately burst into sobs. "Quietly, I said," Edward
reminded, and she closed her mouth, gulped, and nodded her
head in agreement, trying to do as she was told.
Edward looked down between her legs now, saying "Hands
away" when she instinctively covered herself, and she
complied immediately. She was a very nice sight!
"Take off your shirt and bra," he said, and her fingers
went to her top button. "No, open from the bottom," Edward
told her, and so she was revealed from pussy upward, as
Edward liked. She looked terrific as she reached backward
to undo her bra. Soon she was standing naked in the woods,
undressed fully except for her socks.
Edward tossed her bra up into the branches of a nearby
tree, where it hung nicely.
"No, ple . . ." she started to say, but Edward spun her
around and yanked one of her arms upward behind her back
hard enough to lift one of her feet off the ground.
"I said no talking!" he said. "If you say one more word,
when I'm finished with your pussy I'll take a tree branch
and fuck you so roughly with it that your pussy will
scream. I'll be the last boy you ever get to do."
She shut her mouth tightly and nodded agreement.
Spinning her frontwise again, Edward reached to her and
grasped her boobs in his hands. Yes, they were ample.
This was the way to tell a girl's real age, Edward thought,
from feeling her boobs. He hefted hers, and squeezed them
in several ways, like an animal buyer feeling livestock.
Twenty-four, he guessed.
She was a short, big-boobed girl, with her hair dyed
blonde. She crying again, quietly, and for several minutes
Edward continued his feel-fest of her boobs. This was the
first thing a boy probably ever felt on her, he guessed.
Her first feel would have been by a boy wanting her boobs,
and every boyfriend since then would have started with
these. This was a boob girl.
"Don't just keep your hands at your sides," he ordered her,
"get them busy with your pussy."
She put her hands between her legs, but just held them
there, her fingers curled slightly.
"Do it for real," Edward ordered, "I don't like to fuck a
dry pussy." Her crying began anew, but her right hand
became active in that secret skill known to all women.
"You can do better than that," he said. "Pretend that
you're showing your brother." She cried at his cruelty,
but applied herself sincerely now.
"Don't let yourself cum," Edward said, still feeling her
boobs, his thumbs testing her nipples, "Tell me when you're
ready." She hesitated, and then did just a little more
with her fingers, and then stopped again, looking to him.
"Is your pussy ready for fucking already?" Edward asked.
She nodded her head yes.
"Then gather your clothes and make a bed for yourself here
beside this log," he told her.
She bent to pick up her clothes, and the moment Edward's
hands were off her she looked as if she were going to run
like a gazelle. Edward kicked her ankles, sweeping her
feet from beneath her and making her fall very hard onto
the ground.
"Stay on the ground from now on," he said, "And take off
those fucking socks." She took off her socks while she was
still sitting on the ground, and then she arranged her
clothing beside the fallen tree.
"Well, lie down there," Edward ordered her. "You don't
think I'm going to be underneath, do you?"
She wasn't crying now, and laid herself placidly on her
forest fuck-bed. Edward, still fully dressed, knelt beside
her, touching her breasts almost tenderly with his left
hand. She closed her eyes tightly at the moment his right-
hand fingers touched between her legs.
"You lied to me, didn't you?" he accused. "Your pussy
isn't wet enough for fucking yet, is it?"
She shook her head no.
"Then finish the job," he told her. He took her right hand
and placed it between her legs, where her fingers curled
cleverly and went to work again.
"Spread your legs to give me a view," he said, getting up
from her and kneeling between her now-spread legs.
"Shut your eyes," he coached, "and think of yourself as
being at home in your own bed. Just imagine that you're
rewarding yourself at the end of an ordinary, hard day. Do
it just like you're giving yourself a reward."
"That's good," he said, "Now faster, just like you do at
home." She obeyed, and made a little, involuntary noise in
her throat.
"You're doing okay," he said. "Everything's going to be
okay. You're doing the right thing. You're going to be
okay just as long as you do what I say. Let yourself get
off for me and then I'll like you and I won't hurt you.
Don't talk to me, but open your mouth and share your sex
moans."
She did as she was told, and when Edward made her finger
herself faster she moaned genuinely. Edward undressed to
the music of her eyes-closed solo. She was a good
performer, he thought, and this was a rare performance. It
was rare when a victim complied on herself this
successfully.
She orgasmed, obviously, and started to slow down. "Keep
doing it," Edward said sharply, "Go faster with your
fingers. Keep doing it until I say you've had enough."
Edward absolutely wore her out. He made her continue until
crying exhaustion. He made her masturbate until long after
he knew that she'd rubbed herself sore. She switched to
finger fucking without even having to be told. He'd never
made a girl work herself that much before, but he liked it.
She was a very skilled operator, and now that he was back
in the game in vowed that he was going to make every girl
give beyond her best.
"Okay," he said, kneeling close to her head, "Keep your
eyes closed. Does your pussy hurt very much?" She nodded
yes. She was breathing as hard as if she'd just run a
marathon. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Edward re-
spread her legs, and gazed at her lovely pussy, trying to
imagine the mix of pain and ecstatic tingling she was
feeling. He kept his eyes there, enjoying the sight of
open, well-worked pussy, while her breathing quieted.
She winced when he blew on her pussy. Ooh, tender!
Edward was naked himself now, and had been stroking his
cock along with her even before he'd finished undressing.
But he'd gone easier on himself, saving himself for her
penetration.
"You were very good, " he said, she flinched slightly as he
stroked the tip of his cock across her cheek, streaking a
cum-line of wetness. "In fact you were magnificent! We'll
give you a short rest there, would you like that?" She
nodded her head yes again.
Edward turned her face toward him, and pressed the tip of
his cock to her lips.
"Just use your tongue to have a little taste," he said. He
stroked his cock slowly with his left hand, making her keep
licking lick pre-cum from him while the fingers of his
right hand gently twisted her nipples, each in turn.
"Take it, and stroke it while you're tasting." Her fingers
were delightful on his cock. No wonder she'd been able to
keep herself going for so long, she had an excellent touch!
"No, don't milk it," he said, not wanting to cum yet, "Just
touch it and taste it."
"Okay now," he said, pushing her hands aside, "into your
mouth we go!" He forced his left thumb deep into the side
of her mouth, pressing the meaty part of this thumb against
the teeth of her lower jaw to keep her from biting him. He
shoved his cock into her mouth, but it scrapped on her
teeth. "Open wide," he said, and she did.
Once his cock was fully into her mouth, Edward forced his
other thumb into the other side of her mouth. With her jaw
unable to bite, he gently face-fucked her, making her suck
and tongue him as well as she could. She gagged and
whined, but eventually found the skill he wanted.
He keep his cock in her mouth long enough to give her a
good taste, an unforgettable taste, one that she would
remember always. He slightly hip-fucked, and her sucking
was seductive to him, maintaining his erection, and twice
almost making him cum.
"Don't let me cum, don't let me cum," he'd ordered her.
"Save it for your pussy. But keep sucking. Taste me."
He caught her looking up at him. She shut her eyes again
immediately, so Edward didn't say anything. He pulled his
cock from her mouth then, deciding that the between-the-
teeth game was becoming too dangerous. He took his thumbs
from her mouth too, and reached over and twisted her
nipples very hard, one after the other, in punishment for
looking at him.
"Okay, you can open your eyes if you really want to watch
yourself being raped," he said.
Her eyes were beautifully blue. Edward's cock ached with
pent-back semen, and he wanted to expend it right away.
But then would he recharge in time to fuck her pussy?
Damn! Why had he made her hand-job herself raw? He wanted
to fuck her now, but knew that her pussy still needed time
to recover. There's no point in fucking an insensitive
pussy, he realized.
Well he'd just have to keep her here long enough for a
reload. Edward knelt closer to the side of her head,
taking her forehead in his left hand and turning her face
upwards. He began cock-stroking vigorously with his right
hand.
"Keep your legs spread open," he reminded her, noticing out
of the corner of his eyes that her legs had closed a
little. He knew never to let a victim close her legs on
him, because then she might be able to jump up and run.
"Spread them as widely as you can."
In just moments, his semen spewed upward from his cock,
fountaining in a long, white rope. It seemed to hang in
the air for just a second, and then it rained down upon her
face, falling expertly on her closed lips. She'd shut her
eyes just before contact.
"Open your mouth, slut," he said, genuinely angry that
she'd closed up on him. He coaxed a second, much shorter
spurt that fell right within her now-open maw. "Lick the
rest from your lips he said. No, don't clean anything off
with your hands. Put your hands back down or I'll make you
put your fingers to your pussy again." That brought her
hands down quickly.
Edward's own hand was covered with his cum too, and he
wiped that on her boobs. He wiped the first glob right
across her nipples before realizing it was a mistake, that
he'd have to taste it himself if she wasn't flexible enough
of to lick it off for him.
"Here, lick it clean," he said, presenting his cock to her
mouth. This time he didn't using the thumb safety
technique, but he didn't insert his cock between her teeth
again, he just made her lick it. Then he made her lick his
hand clean.
"Lick that bit off your nipples too," he told her. For a
moment it seemed as if she was going to forget herself and
speak to him. "Try it," he said.
She tried, and although her boobs were big they were too
firm for her nipples to come close to her mouth.
"Clean them with your hands then," he said. "Clean them
thoroughly. Rub your boobs with your palms, use your spit
on your fingers to clean your nipples."
Edward watched her obey him. Oh god she was a pretty slut!
In clothes, she'd looked kind of plain, a big-tit bimbo.
Now naked, being used for sex, her legs spread open to the
world, and licking her fingers and cleaning her tits like a
kitten cleaning itself, she looked absolutely gorgeous.
"Okay, now just lie there," he told her. "I want to look
at you while I decide what I should do to you next."
Man he wanted to fuck her! But now he wasn't ready. He
wanted to sketch her too, to do a drawing of her like this.
He'd only drawn women from photos. Here was a live woman,
available to him for anything. But he didn't dare sit here
drawing a picture in the middle of a rape. He knew that he
was foolish even for letting her rest, letting her think of
things and gather her self-resolve. He should be making
her finger-fuck some more.
"Can you play with your pussy again yet?" he asked. She
shook her head no, and pleaded with her eyes.
"Then play with my cock," he said, straddling her ribs, and
laying his cock between her big boobs. "Use your boobs to
get my cock ready for fucking you. If you don't get my
cock up, it'll be your fingers again, and then again until
we're both fuck-ready."
Edward sat on her, riding her, looking down into her face,
which now looked directly up at his while she gathered her
boobs between her hands and jiggled them about his cock to
arouse him.
He'd like to sketch her, Edward thought again. He wished
he had a camera so that he could take some pictures to
sketch from later. Well he'd just have to remember her, he
decided. He'd just have to look her body over carefully,
remembering every part of her, and then drawing her later.
This is a beauty who would sell, he thought. He could draw
her just as she looked laying there on the ground, and
could caption the drawing, The Ravaged Woman, and the
drawing would sell very well in expensive galleries. Maybe
that's what he'd do, he decided, from memory, just changing
the face a little. Would she ever recognize herself in a
drawing somewhere?
Mmmm! Her boobs were working their magic. He helped her;
he raised her hands to cover her breasts, and then clasped
his own hands down over hers. Together they bounced her
boobs while Edward tit-fucked her and his erection rose
again.
"You're still a little dry," he commented, after reaching a
hand behind him and inserting a finger into her. "Wait,"
he said, feeling deeper, "You're ready on the inside."
Now was fuck time, he thought. But he suddenly decided
that he wanted something else. She had his taste to
remember, and now he wanted a taste of her. Edward had
never done this much to a victim before. He'd fondled
them, he'd used things in them to make them open up, but
he'd never kept one for a whole afternoon of sex like this.
This girl was making up for his long forbearance. It was
good that she could go the distance.
Edward knelt down on the ground a little awkwardly. He
didn't want to get his own cock dirty from the earth. He
placed a hand on each of the girl's thighs, high up her
legs, just below her pussy, pressing her outward with his
thumbs. Her pussy lips were wide open and didn't need any
further spreading. His tongue touched inside her, at the
very top of her open slit, just below her clit. Oh she
tasted delicious!
Oh man this was good! The thorough fingering he'd made her
give herself had taken all of the bitter away and left her
with only the sweetest essence to give. Oh this was
wonderful! The "finger yourself" method was something he
was always going to force on girls after this. Oh she
tasted just lovely.
Edward ate and ate, tasting each part of her until the
flavor left, and then moving onto elsewhere. He knew that
there was more goodness still inside, and he brought it out
with two fingers. She bucked; she moaned; she screamed
sometimes. He learned what hurt her and what didn't, and
that what didn't hurt her brought him more of her
deliciousness. Edward feasted and finger fucked, feasted
and finger fucked, until finally she moaned out:
"Pleeaaasssssee!"
She shut up immediately, becoming very still. She'd broken
his rule of silence!
Her cry brought Edward back to reality. He'd been having a
wonderful time, and although he knew that it hurt her, he
had also discovered that she seemed to have unlimited
capacity to orgasm. She'd cum more for him, he was sure,
that both of his girlfriends had in the whole time he'd
lived with each of them.
Edward lifted his girl-soaked face, and looked along the
whole length of her body. He looked from between pussy,
between her boobs, and into her frightened eyes.
"Please, what?" he asked, telling her with his eyes that
there was only one right answer.
She turned her eyes away.
"Go ahead," he said. "I'll let you speak this one time--if
you say the right thing."
"Please fuck me," she said very timidly.
Edward rose further, bringing his whole body over hers. He
paused to wipe his face roughly clean between her boobs,
and then towered over her, looking down straight into her
eyes. His hips moved slowly, his cock eased into her pussy
like a mighty ship being gently guided into port. He
lowered his full weight onto her, feeling the warmth of her
boobs pressing against his chest. This was his first time
feeling the warmth of her naked flesh with his whole body.
Her body felt terrific! Her pussy felt wonderful. His
cock felt ecstatic inside her.
Edward fucked her slowly, enjoying her. Her pussy had been
well spent today, and his cock had been teased and emptied
and reteased. For a long time she was a very easy slide,
very lubricated. She felt very good to him, very familiar
and comfortable, as if they were long-time lovers instead
of being on their first date. Slowly he felt her pussy
contracting about him. He felt it clutching, treasuring
each of his thrusts. Her responsiveness delighted him. He
held her face and kissed her lips, and began fucking her
harder. His cock stayed stiff; it wanted her desperately.
He didn't have to hear her moan to know that she was
climaxing, and that it was genuine--he felt it from within
her. He felt her pussy grasp convulsively. He felt it
pulse and squeeze. She wanted him to cum inside her.
Edward had never been this welcomed by a victim before.
Her yearning for him seemed as great as his yearning for
her. His cock fired off hotly, almost painfully, as semen
rushed out of him like a dam bursting.
"Oh I fucking love you! I fucking love you!" he said,
while she mouthed a moan of true passion. He knew that,
inside, she'd felt his hot sperm, and that her sex-abused
body couldn't refuse another orgasm to that. Her hungry
pussy quivered, taking all that her sex-weary body had left
in it, and giving generously and unselfishly in climactic
sexual surrender. And then Edward came again, just like
that! It hadn't been merely a second spurt, it had been a
full orgasmic climax, it was the first true multiple that
Edward had ever experienced, and it had been brought out by
her.
Edward thought of her unselfish masturbation for him
earlier and he suddenly felt guilt--a new, unfamiliar idea
entered his head that he'd been selfish with this woman.
He wanted to give back to her. He gathered his haunches
and fucked harder, willing his cock to stay hard. He
wanted to give back to her. He wanted perversely to cum
for her as many times as she'd cum for him. He thrust and
thrust and thrust until finally his erection was entirely
expended and he had nothing left to give.
Exhausted, he lay atop her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.
"I'm sorry I didn't fuck you more."
Edward left himself inside her as he lay upon her. He felt
wonderfully satisfied, wonderfully at peace. The guilt
washed cleanly from him not that his fevered lust was over
and he could think of her once again as a victim.
This had been the most wonderful sexual experience Edward
had ever had. All of his other rapes had been thrust-and-
jab sex. There'd been a worry about time, a fear of being
caught. But now, after having her for so long, Edward felt
that this woman was entirely his. He'd never heard a word
from her other than her sexual "please fuck me," and yet he
felt that he knew her more intimately than any other man
ever could.
Edward toyed with the idea of taking her home with him. He
pictured her tied naked and spread-eagle on his bed, a gag
kept in her mouth until through repeated rapes he taught
her to love him with her heart. He pictured how he'd fuck
her again and again, how he'd enjoy all of her, and each
time he'd sketch her, filling an entire sketchbook, no, an
entire gallery, with after-fuck drawings of this woman--his
woman.
He'd do her a hundred ways, a thousand ways, and each time
he'd do her both in flesh and on paper.
Edward lay on top of her, feeling her body beneath him. He
felt her pussy, still around his cock. He felt the
reluctant retreat, the regretful kiss of parting as the
last of his erection left him and his cock no longer filled
her. They were both sticky and salty from sweating
together, and she was wonderfully fragrant from sex. This
was the right smell for her, he thought, the smell of woods
and sex. Still he remained on her body, letting hot little
drips of his after-cum drop from his cock and into her
still-open pussy.
They lay together for a long while; their breathing calmed,
and Edward could feel his heart beat quietly against her
breast and her own heart beat easily against his. Edward
bent his head to her ear and whispered sincerely, "You're
absolutely the best I've ever done."
Edward knew that his thoughts about keeping her, about
drawing her from after-sex, had just been fantasy. He
would have to let her go, although he knew it would cause
him heartache forever. But he had to take care of things:
the girl, the evidence, all of the betraying DNA.
He got up from her and dressed himself quickly, making her
to remain exactly as she was. He didn't make her do
anything as he dressed. He enjoyed looking at her sex-
spent body. He could see that the poor girl was worn out.
Oh she did look gorgeous in after-sex, he realized. He
wondered if she was meant to be just like this--destined by
some cosmic fate to be his rape toy, now, here in the
woods, as if her present radiant beauty meant that this had
been the fulfillment of her whole purpose.
Now dressed, Edward lifted her from the grown and held her
still-naked body to his. She hugged him back, holding her
body to his to in tight willingness, or in obedience,
Edward wasn't sure which. Perhaps she thought she was
going to die like this, naked and fucked, with Edward being
the last man she loved.
"You've never had it like that, have you?" he asked her,
kissing behind her ear to let her know it was okay to
answer.
"No," she said, very quietly, her hug tightening with
genuine desire.
"Go walk into the water," he told her. Here eyes opened
suddenly in a fear he hadn't seen in the past hour; she
showed worry of betrayal.
"Just to wash yourself off," he reassured her. "You've
been very good, and I promised you I wouldn't hurt you."
He held her by her wrist while she gathered her clothes,
except for her tree-hung bra, and then he led her to the
riverside spot from where he'd first taken her.
"Go into the water," he said, "and bathe thoroughly. I
need to see fingering from you again, in the water, even it
if hurts a little. I have to be sure you're clean of
evidence before I can let you go. Understand?"
She nodded that she understood, and walked very slowly into
the river.
"Out farther," he said, "at least up to your waist." He
watched her wash, and he made her clean everywhere very
thoroughly, even making her dunk her head beneath water
several times to clean her hair.
"No, stay there until I'm out of sight," he told her, and
then picking up her clothes, he said, "Sorry, but your
clothes have to be clean of evidence too," and he threw
them as far as he could into the river.
Edward turned and walked quickly away through the woods,
deciding to take the most direct route out to the safety of
his apartment. It would be stupid to be in the woods any
longer than he had to. Tomorrow he would leave town, he
decided. He would have to go far away. Of course he would
never see her again--that's how it is. But he wished that
he could have kept her. He really wished he could.
-end-
More Philip Harris stories may be found at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/pharris/www.
The author appreciates comments at pharris_online@yahoo.com.
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