I come back to reality to find myself screaming. My screaming stops, my lungs drink in a long breath, and I can feel my body – filled with pleasure, so alive, brimming with excitement.

All is good. Wonderful. Amazing and fantastic. My eyes open.


His eyes, poised above me, are chilling. Like a zombie, like a wolf looking at prey. He didn't cum yet; his need has completely taken him over.

My situation passes before my eyes. I am female. I can't stop him. He will not stop until he cums – I see the look in those eyes. He starts thrusting again. Violently. Uncaringly.

Now I can feel his body on mine, weighing me down, pinning me in place, his cock deep inside me. He is bigger than me, and stronger than me. And he can hold me down and do whatever he wants to me. And I cannot fight, because I don't like conflict. And I would lose anyway.

He turns me over and penetrates me from behind. I do not have the energy to prop myself up, so my face is pounded into his pillow. I turn my head to the side so I can breath, and I arch my back to make his entry less painful.

I created this – I wanted him to be excited, I wanted him to be excited about me. This feels like rape now, but I wanted this intercourse to start. I helped. I am woman.

His thrusts jar my whole body.

Right now he needs ME! I try to feel wanted.

He flips me over and plunges into me again. I wrap my legs around his back, trying to prevent him from pulling out so far before pounding back into me. His hands pin my wrists to the bed. I don't know if he even realizes he's doing that. I hope I don't get bruising.

His eyes are frightening. He doesn't blink. He doesn't really see me. I am prey.

He starts pulling out. No! – one more thrust, please God, don't stop on piece of meat. I try to wriggle to keep him in me, I push up against him, my legs fight to keep him in me, but he's strong and determined, and he pulls out. And not gently, I remember when he was gently kissing my breasts.

He holds his cock, jerks it twice, and white cum shoots towards me and lands on my stomach and chest. Talk about feeling used. That was agressively demeaning. Is he angry at me? Should I have done something different tonight? Did he tell a joke that I missed? Did something happen again at work to make him angry at women? I thought we had gotten beyond that. I look up at him.


Humanity is returning to his eyes. I start relaxing.

He smiles at me. Those warm, brown, sexy eyes. "Thanks, babe. That was great."

I am happy.

He sees his sperm pooling on my body. "Um, I'll get something to clean you up. Just a second." He jumps up, goes into the bathroom, and returns with a warm, wet washcloth and starts gently cleaning me up. He's taking care of me. He does love me.