The Consequences of Infidelity [FMMM] [Rape] [Cheating]

I would never think of myself as someone who could ever possibly cheat. Not in a million years, I would tell myself. I’d read countless posts on forums, watch countless of movies with characters participating, listen to friends and sometimes family tell stories about how they’d come close to, or sometimes commit to, cheating on a significant other – I would always listen attentively, but feel repulsed at the very thought. I could never possibly cheat on anyone. It is hurtful, it’s evil, and even now, I can’t bring myself to believe I could ever do it again.

On the summer after high school graduation, I moved in with my high school sweetheart, Jon. He’s perfect. An incredible partner. I’ve loved him for as long as I can remember, and I know he has loved me just the same. We met casually during middle school, and began dating junior year. We were the ideal couple, everyone looked up to us. Growing up in a conservative family, he respected my wishes and did not even try to kiss me until I was a senior. We were our firsts for everything. My first kiss, my first sexual partner, my first love. It was only natural for us to move in together. He began taking classes at our state’s university and I transferred from my hometown job, to a local retailer at the new city, roughly 5 hours away from our hometown. Our life was perfect. I’d work during the day most of the week while he’d take classes, and we’d both be home roughly around the same time. We’d do everything together. He’s my best friend, and I can’t possibly see my life without him. That is why what happened makes absolutely no sense to me – how I could betray someone I love dearly for no reason. After over a year of living together, my schedule at work changed. I would now mostly be working nights, and we’d be home at opposite hours. He’d get home around 3-4PM, right when I’d leave for work. We hardly saw each other anymore. My store closes at 10PM. But keeps us late for inventory, and to organize the store for the next day. Some nights, he’d pick me up around 2AM. We hated it, but it was the only job I knew. It was a Friday night shift that I ran into Miguel – an old friend from high school. Since that Friday, it felt like everything moved way too quickly.
For descriptions, my boyfriend Jon is white. He’s tall, black hair, hazel eyes, and fit. He’s incredibly attractive, I would say. I’ve seen him grow and have fallen in love with everything he is now. The Friday I was working late, Jon went back home to visit family for the weekend. I was working all weekend, so I couldn’t tag alone. We met up right before his drive, I kissed him and hugged him, told him I’d miss him, and asked him to text me lots. He smiled and agreed.

Myself, also white. More pale than I’d like to be. Black hair, blue eyes, and somewhat tall for a girl, 5’8”. I’ve always kept myself healthy, and somewhat slim. I learned to be more free with my body after moving away from home. I’d wear tighter dresses to work, heels, anything that might help fitting in with the attractive ladies I’d work with. Jon always compliments my body, and is incredibly sweet about it. I don’t have much on my chest, but have plenty in ass. I hid it most of my life, and finally felt safer to show it off through tighter jeans, or dresses at work. That Friday night, I wore a form fitting green dress, with my neck, arms, and upper back exposed. It rode down to my knees.
As for Miguel, I knew him briefly during high school. We shared a few classes, and I considered him a school friend. I was naïve, and always felt he was sweet and friendly for the same reasons I was in return, for friendship. Miguel is Hispanic, he is fairly short, around 5’6”. He would always be upset at our height difference. He was a wrestler in high school, so he seemed as fit as he could be. Short black hair, and an awful beard. He would occasionally say something to me in Spanish, that I could not understand. It would usually be followed with an apology and warm smile, and a request for a hug. Again, I was very naïve, and would always oblige. We fell out of contact since I moved. It was surprising to see him at my retail store – as the style didn’t seem his type. I was at the register, and caught him staring at me from the corner of my eye. He waited until everyone was gone.

“Hey! I haven’t seen you in forever!” he said, moving behind the register, arms open for a hug. Being an idiot, I allowed it, and he embraced me in such a way that immediately made me uncomfortable. He felt stiff while his arms freely grabbed at me. I tried restraining him, I said hello and we exchanged small talk. “Look at you. Damn, have you grown huh?” he grabbed my arm and held me in place, looking up and down at me, undressing me with his look. I should have stopped it all there. I should have maybe said hello, and then went on with my shift. But we talked, and that didn’t happen. We exchanged social media. He now had my snapchat, my Instagram, my facebook, and my number. I wish it had ended there, but it only got worse. We talked longer. He waited outside until my lunch around midnight. He texted me during the remainder of my shift, and found out I had no car, so he offered me a ride. Again, for no reason, I accepted. Around 3AM, he was outside waiting for me. He took the longest way to get to my place, but he did. Made another comment in Spanish parked outside of my door, and we both laughed. We texted more right up until I fell asleep.
The next day, I woke up to a mountain of notifications. He had liked all my selfies on Instagram. He had sent me a few messages on snapchat. And he had sent 12 texts, all throughout the night. I woke up early that morning, felt incredibly lonely with Jon away. Jon had stopped texting me early the night prior, and had not woken up yet. I felt obligated to respond to Miguel, to thank him for all his comments on my pictures and the ride. It all felt uncomfortable already, when I think back. But the compliments were sweet, and felt wonderful. I hadn’t had such a wave of them hit me all at once. We texted more throughout that day, messaged back and forth. He insisted I go over for a party he was hosting that night. He recalled back to how we were old friends. I apologized, but said I couldn’t make it. I had work that night again. He said he didn’t care, that he could pick me up after work again. I accepted, managed to leave early that night, and there he was, waiting. I can’t bring myself to explain why I did it, but I went with him. It felt good. I knew what he wanted, and went anyway. He knew I was with Jon, and he went along with everything, too. It felt weird and exciting to be sought after. It felt odd, but it didn’t feel wrong just yet. Or I was lying to myself. We had texted before my shift that day, and I did what he asked me to. He told me to take the same dress I wore the day before, the green one. I don’t know why I did it, but I did. Didn’t ask why, but I knew. It felt good on me, and I wanted him to look at me like he did the day before. I had the dress in my purse, and a few minutes before my shift ended, I walked into the restroom, heart beating and racing, slipped into that same dress. “Why are you doing this” I remember asking myself, but had no answer. The dress almost felt tighter. I fixed my makeup and hair. It felt wrong, but I wasn’t stopping. I sent one last text to Jon:

“Just got home, sweetie. I love you! I will text you in the morning.”

Once we got to Miguel’s, the neighborhood was dead. It was around 11pm, only another car on his driveway. I made a comment about it being quite a party, but he didn’t laugh. We got out and he walked me towards his front door, following behind me. It was exciting seeing a house again, after living so long in an apartment complex. I complimented his place from the outside, again, he didn’t laugh or said anything. He seemed so focused on getting me inside, and was fixated on my ass in that dress.

As soon as the door closed, it all felt real. A wave of regret hit me, and I knew this wasn’t a real party. Miguel introduced me to his 3 friends, and his uncle. The uncle sat on a chair in the corner and immediately gave me a bad vibe. They were watching some gangster movie on their small tv. Someone handed me a drink, and we all sat down on the smallest couch. One of his friends made a comment about me sitting on his lap, we all laughed. “If she’s gonna sit on anyone’s lap, it’s gonna be mine” Miguel answered. I checked my phone one last time, a goodnight response from Jon. I drank a bit more, but so did everyone else. It wasn’t long until he was right, I was sitting on his lap, his hand in between my legs, feeling my thighs. I opened my mouth, but words wouldn’t come out. My heart was still racing. I was really doing this.

For the next hour, they all occasionally touched me. My thighs, my breasts, my ass. Miguel was always aware, and made sure they touched nothing ‘that was his’ – he would say. Thinking back, I don’t remember him drinking at all, but his friends did. I managed to push them away most of the time, and after a few more drinks, began asking Miguel to take me home. He friends all apologized and swore to stop, but they never did. The occasional friend would ride his hand up to my panties, and Miguel would proceed to push them off. Another friend began pinching my breasts, and I began to cry. Miguel’s uncle grabbed that friend and took them outside. I felt relieved, but terrified. I was all alone here, and Miguel had no intention of taking me home just yet. I couldn’t call Jon. And it was way too late to call a coworker.

Not long after, Miguel asked me to get on top of him, on his couch. His friends all stood up and watched in anticipation.
“I promise I will take you home after this, mami” he said. Believing him, I straddled his lap, and his friends and uncle all cheered. Miguel closed his eyes and bit his lip. I had no idea what I was doing, but I grinded on him a bit, thinking that might be enough. His hands were now firmly on my ass, and he was making sure my dress was up, giving everyone a good look. I kept trying to bring my dress down, but he insisted and kept rolling it back up. My heart was racing, I felt myself getting wet, and I was horrified knowing this was all really happening. I begged him to stop and take me home. He grabbed my throat with one hand, and pulled off my panties with the other. There was a look in his eyes that I had never seen before, it was fixated on what was in between my legs. Crossing my legs, hoping he’d come back to, I urged him again to stop. He wouldn’t listen. He grabbed my legs and split me open, and I began to cry. I’m still not sure how long the entire night went on for. For what felt like hours, Miguel proceeded to rape me without stopping, in front of his friends, and his uncle. He held my arms behind my back, and raped me on the couch, bouncing me up and down like a doll. I cried onto his shirt. His beard hurt scuffing against my cheek. He felt like he was tearing me apart, and all I could do was scream onto his shoulder. I thought about how I could call Jon. How I could possibly explain to him how I was getting raped by an old friend, how it was my fault I got in his car and got on his lap. The tv felt louder, hands would occasionally spread my ass while his hands were holding mine in place. He raped me while everyone else watched. I couldn’t call Jon.

After the longest time of my life, he was finished. He held my arms in place, and I felt him pulsating inside of mine. I squirmed and tried to free my hands, but he was stronger than me, and had a firm grip. I felt warmth inside of me, now dripping down my thighs. He held me in place for longer, finally bringing me up to my feet, I had a hard time keeping my balance. He kissed me, and I felt his tongue crawling inside my mouth. I was a mess. My eyeliner was smeared from the crying, and my hair a mess from the pulling, he wasn’t very sweet to me. I cried while he kissed me, thinking of how I could never tell Jon. I was stupid for believing this wouldn’t happen.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that to you” he told me. One of his friends gripped my ass hard, and I pulled his hand away. “Take her home, tio” he signaled to his uncle. I remember gathering my things, my phone, my purse, and walking out the house with tears running down my face, while his uncle followed behind me. I felt guilt, like this was all my fault, and I knew it was. He opened the door to the car and let me in. He went back inside the house while I caught my breath and cried some more alone. He eventually came back outside, and took me home, without saying a word.

He parked outside of my apartment, and walked out to open my door. He pulled me into the backseat, pushed me on all fours, and raped me in the back of his car. I cried harder than I have ever cried my entire life. He was hurting me, biting me, pulling on my hair, and breaking me with each thrust. He made me suck him off afterwords, and threatened me while I choked on him. Told me I deserved this. The windows were foggy, and he used me in the dark. The last I remember, he had my face down on the seat, while he held my ass out towards his face. “I need to make sure I clean you up, mijita” he whispered. He proceeded to eat me from behind for what felt like half an hour. I felt dirty and embarrassed, as if my rapists cared what I tasted like. I was dripping, and he noticed. He would feel my wetness, and rub it up onto the opening of my ass, and he would then lick it off again and again. The dust of the backseat smeared onto my face, and into my mouth while I sobbed. I could finally see the sun rising when he decided to stop. I saw him sniff my panties and put them inside his pocket. He pushed me out of his car, and drove off.

My shower must have lasted an hour. I called in sick to work, as I could barely move. Jon stayed an extra night back home, which was awful, but also a relief. It gave me a day to fix myself, to sob alone and convince myself that I deserved this. That this was my fault for doing this to Jon. That he could never know, and I had to endure this all alone, for the sake of our relationship.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/cm5dha/the_consequences_of_infidelity_fmmm_rape_cheating