I just want to warn our sensitive readers that this story contains a bit more guy on guy stuff than is normally in my writing. It also focuses on no
I met Jill through Stacy. They were both playing with the same subby male and we had a sort of 4 way one night. That’s another story though.
Jill then was still exploring her sexuality. But came to believe herself to be a straight switch leaning towards submissive with a particular taste for non-consent. When it came to consentual play, she was very prudish, disliking much more than light foreplay and fucking. With non-consent play, she got off on being “forced” to do the sort of things she didn’t normally like.
The next time we had a play date, she was seeing jack and it was a cuckoldry sort of scene. Jack describes himself as a straight sub. I won’t argue the semantics of kinsey scale on that one. What they shared was a fetish for the non-consent. Not only did Jack want to be forced to watch, but to participate.
Our first scene, was at a party. The theme was that they had stumbled, very drunk, into a room for a hook up. I came in after them finding them both pretty much passed out drunk. She acted as if she was so drunk she thought I was him, and him so drunk he was pretty much stuck on the floor watching. Helpless to stop his girlfriend from being face fucked by a rapist. Especially disconcerting as she almost never gave him oral sex for more than a bit of foreplay.
Life changed for us all and the next time the three of us played, they were engaged. The theme of the scene being that I was a burglar and broke into the house to find them about to have sex, him hand-cuffed to the bed. I humiliated him while forcing her to suck me and tell me how much bigger I was than him. The whole time she was apologizing to him but saying everything I told her too. I made her admit that he couldn’t get her off and that he never ate her out because it was disgusting. Then sat her up on his face and fucked her ass while he licked her to orgasm.
Those are other stories though. Maybe one day I will write them. They were early explorations and I’d like to write about what they are like now.
When I met them, they lived on one coast and now they live on the other. I’m invited to join them each year when work brings me out to their side of the country.
Jack and Jill live the suburban dream. Jack makes good money at a job like mine, but doesn’t have to travel. Jill left her job to be a full time mom. They have two kids and live in a nice neighborhood. Jack sits on the HOA board and Jill is a girl scout leader and does all the PTA stuff. A nice normal couple living the American dream.
They also confuse me sexually. They are SO kinky, but not overly sexual. They have sex a hand full of times a month, indulging in bdsm (he subs to her) maybe once every month or two. They do the sort of shit they do with me only 2 or 3 times a year and only with a guys like me, whom they have known forever and trust. There sex is normally very vanilla and quite boring. Missionary sex and sometimes oral. He told me the last time we played that he had only fucked her ass three times (I’ve fucked her ass in front of him more times) in their entire relationship and she fucks his ass on special occasions.
The thing they would explain to you is that sex isn’t that much fun for them unless they are being forced to be taboo. That the release they get from the sort of thing we do is enough to keep them satiated for months on end.
I don’t get it.
****
I meet Jack and Jill for dinner at a nice place not to far from their home. The conversation is wholesome. We catch up on each others lives, careers and share gossip of old friends. We talk of their children and our friends. Anyone listening would think we are just old friends catching up. Perhaps we are.
We make no mention of what is to come. Of the emails, the ideas, the fantasies that we have discussed. The dinner is mundane, except for one tiny thing.
We refer, repeatedly, to my being her ex boyfriend. It is not true in the slightest. But we all pretend it is. This is building to the later fantasy. You see, in this fantasy, I am angry at being left. I see her new husband, my friend as some rival, some rival far less of a man than me.
In this fantasy, I plan to get revenge later. I plan to show her what she is missing out on.
****
As dinner ends, we hug and perhaps she squeezes me too tightly. Perhaps she feels me hard, thinking of what I will do that night, on her leg. But she says nothing.
I follow them. Carefully. Slowly in my car, behind them far enough to not be seen, but to know where they are going. It is dark by the time they pull into their nice little suburban house. I park my rental car at a visitor lot just inside the gate that isn’t manned. What a ridiculous thing. Why have a gate if it is always up and never guarded. It is all a ruse of course. I have done this before. Only a year before in fact the last time.
I walk to their house. It is dark and the houses are well lit in front. But this sleepy suburb is quiet as I slip behind the house into the dark.
This part of California, has no basements and I check my phone, for the time. It is only 9:25. I have 5 minutes to wait outside the back door to the play room. I stand against the wall, inches from sliding door, I can see the lights moving as they walk around inside the house. Do they know I am there yet? Do they wonder? I can hear their voices vaguely through the glass. Not enough to hear the conversation, but it sounds mundane.
I think about my role. I am to be the intruder. The rapist. The raging ex-boyfriend. I go back to the last email on my phone. The agreement of our plans for the night. The fantasy. I smirk a bit at a few of the points. Every year they get a little bit more fucked up. But I’m game. I’ll make them beg me to stop. I’ll make them cum. I’ll make them hate themselves in the best possible way.
9:30, the lights go out. 9:31. I slide the door open. I walk, lazily, in the dark, down the hall. The lights, conveniently, are low enough for me to feel hidden but bright enough to see my way. I can hear them talking in the bedroom. It’s boring. A child’s sports activities for the weekend. Whom is to pick up which child the next day.
Both of the kids are with a relative for the night if you are worried.
Their is a large closet, just outisde the bedroom door. It is open just slightly and I step in. There is a bag at my feat with a wet washcloth in it. I stand. Waiting.
The conversation pauses around 9:40. I hear the sound of lips on flesh kissing. Then Jill’s voice.
“Not today,” she says, “I’m just not in the mood.”
Silence and then his voice, angry, hurt, “you haven’t been in the mood for weeks.”
“Stop,” she says, “you know I hate that.”
His voice, sullen, childlike, “you’d have been in the mood for him.”
More kissing noises.
Her again, “you know that’s not true,” she says, “I love you honey, its just tough these days, I don’t feel sexy.”
Murmuring I can’t really hear.
How much of this is for me? I think about my role. I’m pissed I guess. She left me for this loser that she doesn’t even fuck. I of course know that they are just at times asexual. They really haven’t fucked for weeks. Waiting for me.
Jill’s voice, “I am going to take a shower.”
After a few moments, the shower turns on. I hear his footsteps pass me. I check my watch. 9:50. I wait.
9:55. The shower is going and I take the wet washcloth from the bag and step out of the closet. It is just water, but the fantasy, the fantasy is chloroform.
No I have no idea how chloroform really works.
I sneak out and head towards his office, peaking in, I see the back of his chair. I see porn on it. A man is tied to a table while a woman fucks his ass with a strap on and a man shoves his cock into the tied mans mouth. I step quickly behind the chair and quickly force the washcloth onto Jack’s mouth.
He struggles briefly, before slumping into his chair. He is topless and in loose flannel pajama bottoms, his cock is pocking out of the fly. I ignore it and get to work. He will be “unconscious” until I have set the scene up. He will be helpless and vulnerable.
The chair has wheels and there is another bag in the room. The bag has restraints, perfectly shaped for his wrists and the chair. His ankles and the stand of the chair.
He doesn’t move as I strap him to the chair. He doesn’t move as I roll him out into the family room. He doesn’t move as I walk off towards the sound of the running shower.
***
I pull off my shirt as I enter the master bedroom. That’s not on the agenda as emailed, but unlike them I have to worry about being dry as I drive home.
The shower is running. As I open the door the steam hits me.
“Jack,” she says from the shower. But no.
It is not Jack. I am sliding the shower door open and as she is beginning to scream my left hand is on her throat, pinning her to the wall. My mouth is on hers. Kissing her roughly, forcing my tongue into her mouth as she struggles to breathe and my right hand is forcing her legs apart.
Her hands jump up to my left hand, but I am simply too strong, choking her as she fights, holding her too high to use her legs, my right hand sliding against her slit, sliding up to her clit. She hasn’t been touched by him in weeks. She hasn’t masturbated in weeks.
Her hands grasp my left wrist and her feet kick lightly, but she can’t fight too hard without losing her balance and totally choking. My fingers work inside her. Sliding, twisting, sliding, twisting.
She has been neglected by her husband. She has forced the neglect. She has not had a real man to abuse her.
She cums for the rapist. She cums against my rapist fingers. She cums as she fights for every breath. Cums to the man she did not marry. Cums and thinks herself a harlot.
But she cums and I feel it in her body.
The night has begun.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/5c67yi/jack_and_jill_get_raped_part_1_mfm_consent