Rape Porn Story

Rape Nightmare


She started it. She asked for it. It was all her fault.

I was innocently perving my way around my favourite chat site when I chanced upon her ad.

'Lady, 30, would like to be raped.'

Oh yea? Still, I zinged off a reply: 'Seriously?'

 

She must have sent the same response to hundreds of people.

'Thank you for answering my ad. I want to be stalked, spied on, attacked and raped. You can hurt me but not injure me. I do not want to know anything about you or meet you beforehand, but there must be some way of identifying you: figure this out and you can fuck me any way you want.'

I could see how the identifying bit would cut the field down from hundreds to, well, nobody so far I presumed.

But I had a solution.

'Hi, I am a webmaster. I could put a message on the site so you'd know it was me. Then if you needed to identify me you'd only need to contact the company and ask who their webmaster is. The site is www.blueblue.com.'

She replied: 'OK. Put "Diane in June" on there.'

I put those words up on a backwater page of the site and emailed her the URL.

Minutes later Diane replied with her full name and address, the address of the estate agents where she worked and she said: 'Stalk me, spy on me, rape me. It will be rape, I will fight back - kick you in the balls if I can. Any time any place before June 30th. My period will be 25-29 this month and June 22-26, but this is not a bar on those dates. If I spot you before you attack me the deal is off.'

And a few moments later another email arrived with a photo of her sitting at an outdoor cafe table dressed in a smart black suit and black tights. She was the sort of girl you'd definitely want to fuck if you saw her.

I was excited, very excited. For about a minute. Then the doubts set in. Anyone could have sent those emails and that picture - someone with a grudge against her perhaps.

So I emailed her back: 'How do I know it's you sending the emails?'

She replied: 'Fair enough. I'll take one pic posed in any way you like to prove it's me.'

A million dirty poses flashed through my head. But a malicious boyfriend could take any one of them without telling her why. So I replied: 'write "www.blueblue.com I want you to rape me" on a bit of paper, hold it beside your face and take a pic.'

And within the hour she did exactly that.

Now I knew it was her, I replied: 'I am going to rape you.'

She replied: 'Yes.'

Wow.

But how to do it? How do you watch someone without being spotted? Or maybe I should just turn up at her place in the middle of the night and knock on her door. No, she wouldn't open it. And for all I knew she lived with a large Rottweiler and an even larger boyfriend. And how did I know that was really her address?

Grab her in the street perhaps? No, not a very realistic idea. Lure her to a property asking for a valuation? No, she'd see that coming a mile off. My excitement was rapidly turning to gloom as the impracticality of the whole thing began to dawn.

Still, I looked up her home and office addresses on Google maps. Her office in - I'll call it Hertown - was in a pedestrian precinct near the station and her home was less than half a mile from her office.

I had nothing to lose by just going to have a look, so next morning I took the 40 minute train ride.

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Coming out of Hertown station I was nervous. I felt as though all eyes were upon me. I felt guilty, maybe I even looked guilty.

Number 44, 42, 40, 38 - her office was no 22. I crossed over to the far side of the pedestrianised street and glanced across at 22. And there she was! She was standing in the estate agents office with her back to the window talking to a man. Blonde hair, black dress, black tights - it was her, no doubt about it. And, God, did she look fuckable.

I hurried on by, my heart pounding, blood coursing through my veins - some veins more than others. I went into McDonald's. From my seat there I could see her office.

The Big Mac and medium fries calmed me down and I began to plot how I'd stalk her. It all seemed a lot easier now I was there and I'd seen her in the flesh. I'd go to her flat next, see where she lived, work out her probable route to work - it wasn't far so she most likely walked.

But my grand planning was interrupted by her emerging from her office clutching a folder, looking all business-like and gorgeous, accompanied by the man she'd been talking to. They were coming my way. Oh no. They were coming to McDonald's! I had no time to run and hide.

She must have passed within six feet of me - I could hear the swish of her tights, smell her perfume. I looked out of the window, at my fries, anywhere but at her.

I ate up and left as nonchalantly as I could, resisting the temptation even to glance back.

I went to her flat. It was a four storey block. There was no security so I went straight in. Number 30 was on the fourth floor. I took the lift up. There were 8 flats off the landing and no CCTV as far as I could see. I rang her doorbell. I was wearing a suit so if anyone did come to the door I'd think of something plausible. Nobody answered. I had a sudden urge to wank over the door - leave a streak of cum down it so she'd know I'd been there. But that would mean every man she'd seen that day would become a suspect and she'd be looking for those faces again.

I beat a retreat down the stairs and went home and had a glorious wank.

Two days later I took the train again. This time I wore jeans and sunglasses. I went for a haircut in the hairdressers next to McDonald's. That the hairdresser was a big girl in every way was a bonus, and I sat there in a hazy pleasure stupor with a huge hard on, watching Diane's office in the hairdresser's mirror.

Diane wasn't in the office as far as I could see, so suitably shorn I carried my erection across the street and pretended to study the properties in the window. Diane definitely wasn't there. I wandered round the town to get the feel of the place and then explored the possible routes between Diane's home and office.

Early next morning I took the car and parked where I could see the front door of the flats.

Diane bustled out at twenty past eight, not looking around at all to see if anyone was spying on her. She took what I had thought was the most likely route. There was a narrow alley that way and I did think of sprinting after her and attacking her there but it would have been far too risky at that time of day.

Instead I went up to her flat again and rang the doorbell. Nobody answered. She must live alone. As I went down the staircase I realised that its windows looked out over the approach to the flats. My plan was beginning to form.

I drove home knowing now that I was going to rape her, and how I would do it. But not just yet. I wanted to enjoy the anticipation and to spook her. Besides it was her period this week.

Next day I went in by train - in shorts and t-shirt this time - with my camera. I took a picture of her office, of her route to work, of that narrow alley, of her block of flats, of the inside of the lift and of her front door.

Back home I emailed them to her saying: 'I am going to hurt you.'

Knowing this would put her on her guard I didn't go to Hertown for the next week. Was she excited, I wondered, or frightened? Suspicious of every man she saw, surely.

The long week finally up, I drove in for one final recce. I parked near her flat late afternoon. She came home just after six. I watched the sway of her arse as she walked up to the front door of the flats. She'd be all hot and sweaty and smelling of woman and she'd taste nice. I'd find out tomorrow. I'd lick her arse.

Next day I was as calm as anything. I went in on the train, stiff as a ramrod all the way. I got to the flats at quarter to six and waited on the staircase between the third and fourth floors, looking out over the approach. If anyone came up or down the stairs I'd do a circuit via the lift back to my vantage point. If she didn't show up I'd come back tomorrow. Simple. I had my shorts and t-shirt on. No underwear. I had a large handkerchief that would serve as a gag and a length of cord just in case.

And there she was! Just after six as yesterday, without a care in the world, walking up the path and coming into the building. I was excited but not at all nervous. I went to the top of the stairs and looked through the little window. I heard the lift doors opening, I saw her walking towards her door, saw her getting her key out and putting it in the lock, turning the key and the door starting to open. I sprang from my hiding place and was on her in an instant, my hand over her mouth, pushing her into her flat, kicking the door shut behind me. She fell forwards. I fell on top of her. I sat on her arse and pulled her hair, jerking her head back.

"Make one sound and I'll gag you and then really hurt you," I said.

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