I was coming home from the PTA meeting alone about ten at night, when the car brake down. The first thing I thought of was finding the nearest pay phone and calling my husband at home.

When the engine had started to sputter I’d managed to turn off the freeway. Now I got out of the car and started walking up the deserted, dark street. The neighborhood was totally unfamiliar.

I must have walked a quarter of a mile without seeing any phone booths. Briefly I considered going up to a house and asking if I could make a cell. However, when I took a closer look at the homes around me, I decided against it.

The neighborhood was at least half abandoned. At first I’d assumed that the absence of lights in so many of the windows meant most of the residents turned in early. Then, upon closer inspection, I realized that nobody was living in many of the houses. This was apparently one of those neighborhoods the newspapers placed under the heading of “urban blight”. For some reason the people who’d formerly lived there had been scared or pushed out, and now it was a no-man’s land.

Suddenly I felt scared. Crime was reportedly rampant in areas like this. From what I’d read and heard, clearly this was no place for a woman to be walking the street alone after dark.

Then, at last, I saw a phone booth. I ran toward it, somehow thinking that if I could just hear Don’s voice on the other end of the line I would be safe.

Clutching a dime in my sweaty palm I anxiously ran for the booth. When I slipped inside the narrow enclosure I could hear my heart loudly thumping from the exertion.

Wiping the perspiration off the dime on my skirt, I dropped it into the slot. My hand was trembling as I dialed our number at home.

I was so agitated that it took me several seconds to realize that I was holding a dead line to my ear. There was nothing but silence coming out of the receiver.

Finally I caught on and took a better look at the phone. The whole center of the box was missing. It had been ripped off by vandals and was a useless piece of junk.

Turning away from the phone to leave the booth, I found myself confronted with the very thing I had feared most for the past several minutes – a man.

He was standing right in front of the booth, blocking my exit. It was dark, but I could see the smile that split his unshaven face.

“My… my car broke down,” I nervously volunteered, unable to think of what else to do. “I’ve been trying to call my husband on the phone, but it’s broken.”

He said nothing. However, his smile became broader. Apparently he was amused by my plight.

We stood there, looking at each other, for a long, uncomfortable moment. The hair was standing on the back of my neck.

“If… if you’ll excuse me,” I finally stammered, “I… I have to go find help.”

I started to leave the booth, praying he would let me pass. However, he didn’t move.

“Please,” I pleaded with him. “I’ve got to go.”

His hand shot up from his waist and slammed against my chest. I could feel the fingers gouging into my breasts as he shoved me backward. When I looked down I saw that my blouse was torn.

I was cowering when he spoke for the first time. “You’re not going anywhere, bitch, until I’m through with you.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“What do you think?”

“I… I don’t know,” I lied.

“Yes, you do,” he rightfully insisted. “And I want to hear you say it.”

I shook my head. I felt that if I said it, I would somehow be sanctioning it.

“Say it!” he insisted again, only this time it was in a much tougher voice. For the first time I noticed how big he was. I didn’t stand a chance against him.

Still, I couldn’t bring myself to answer him. Impatient with my silence, he slapped me across the face.

The blow sent me to my knees. Hemmed in by the phone booth, I was kneeling before him.

He was very calm about what he said now. Apparently he’d had a lot of experience at this. “I can just kill you and leave you here,” he informed me. “The cops don’t even come around here after dark. Unless I get what I want, consider yourself dead.”

There was no reason to doubt the truth of what he was saying. I knew I was at his mercy.

“You’re going to rape me, aren’t you?”

He nodded his head and unzipped his fly. “But first,” he said, “we’re going to have a little foreplay. You’re going to suck my cock.”

Then I was looking at it. It was thick and long and twitching as it suddenly loomed from his open trousers. It was the first erect penis I’d ever seen other than my husband’s.

On this man the male organ seemed like a weapon instead of the instrument of love that I was used to as a respectable married woman. It seemed to me that sucking it would be like putting the barrel of a loaded gun in my mouth.

He was eager to get started. The instant I parted my lips, he bucked his loins forward. Abruptly my mouth was filled with several inches of rock-hard phallus.

“I’m gonna fuck you in the mouth,” he said, his voice becoming raspy with excitement now that he was getting what he wanted. “I’m gonna come down your throat, and you can keep on living if you swallow every drop of it.”

He began grinding his hips, just as though he were engaging in a normal act of intercourse. His language was repulsive, but it accurately described what was happening – he was truly copulating in my mouth.

Don had always wanted me to have oral sex with him, but I had always resisted. Since he was a considerate husband, he had respected my wishes.

“This is the first prick you’ve ever tasted, isn’t it?”

How could he tell? Was my inexperience really so obvious?

“You don’t know how to use your mouth right,” he criticized my performance. “You’ve got to suction with your cheeks like your mouth was a pussy.”

Anxious to live, I followed his advice. Having a normal sex life, I was certainly aware of the way in which the woman’s vagina stimulated the man’s penis. I began to do my best to orally duplicate it.

“Mmmmm, that’s better,” my attacker passed favorable judgment after a few moments of my improved sucking. “I can feel it all the way in my nuts.”

I was sure he could. He was penetrating me to the hilt by now, and I could feel his testicles churning hotly against my chin. It wouldn’t be long before he was ejaculating in my mouth.

“Suck… suck… suck,” he rhythmically chanted as I worked my lips back and forth along his shaft. “Suck the cum out of my balls.”

I had never tasted sperm. But I was going to have to start now if I ever wanted to see my family again.

Desperate to survive, I began working my lips faster and faster along the expanse of his stiff cock. I just wanted to get it over with.

He began to moan. Then he grasped the back of my head and pulled my face into his musty crotch. Down my throat, the head of his cock seemed to suddenly extend another inch.

His orgasm came with a spurting eruption. The semen flooded like hot cream down my throat and into my belly. What I didn’t swallow filled my breathing passages until my nose was dripping with it.

By the time he pulled away, my face was a gooey mess. Kneeling in the grubby floor of the derelict phone booth, I must have resembled a cheap prostitute who’d just done a few dollars’ work.

I looked up at him through eyes filled with tears of shame. Even through the blur I could see that his erection was still as hard as ever. Obviously we weren’t through.

He pulled me out of the phone booth by my hair and swung me across the sidewalk and threw me into the gutter. Then, straddling me, he shook off a last drop of sperm. Only when it splatted against my bare breast did I realize that I was completely open in front. When he’d ripped my blouse, he’d also torn the cups of my bra apart. I was essentially naked from the waist up.

“Spread your legs,” he turned his attention to the lower part of my body. “I want to see your cunt.”

Terrified for my life, I complied. Parting my thighs, I could feel my crotch straining against my thin panties.

“Good, it’s a hairy one,” he said as he peered up my open skirt. “I like to stick my cock inside hairy pussies.”

“Then go ahead and do it!” I astonished myself by blurting. “Get it over with.”

“It’s not that simple. First you’ve got to tell me how much you want it.”

“But I don’t!” I protested. “I’m almost ready to vomit.”

“Bullshit!” he snapped, and then reached forward and slapped my face for good measure. “I saw the way you drank my cum. You want it, bitch, and I know it. I just wanna hear it from you.”

I tried to say something that would satisfy him; but my tongue was tied. I knew he’d only be content with the kind of filthy language that I’d never used in my life. Uttering obscenities seemed almost as repulsive to me as being sodomized and raped.

“Tell me your pussy is wet for my cock,” he leered. “How good my ten inches will feel in your hairy twat.”

“I… I can’t,” I whimpered.

But when he grabbed one of my exposed nipples and began brutally twisting it, I realized I could. The pain would have made me do just about anything.

“Okay, okay,” I called him off. “I’ll do it.”

“Then start talking or I’ll pull the Goddamn nipple right off your tit.”

“Fuck me!” I bleated it flat-out. “Stick your big, hard cock in my cunt and fuck me!”

“You want it bad, don’t you, bitch?” He grinned.

“Yes. I want to feel your prick in my pussy. I want you to come between my legs the way you did in my mouth. Make my cunt run with your cum.”

“Okay, bitch, you got it,” he hissed and then shoved his hand between my open legs. Seizing the crotch of my panties, he ripped the flimsy fabric from my body. Now my bottom half was as thoroughly exposed as my top.

I expected him to fall between my legs and begin raping me right away. To my surprise, however, after stripping me of my panties, he backed away. Apparently he still had some games he wanted to play.

“Now,” he said, “I want you to show me how much you want it.”

“How?” I asked. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“Put your hands down there and spread your cunt open. Pull the lips apart and make your hole wide for my cock.”

Except for bathing, I rarely touched the area around my groin. The idea of manipulating myself in a sexual way seemed dirty and disgusting.

But then, of course, my life had never depended on it. When he repeated his command, I did as he asked.

However, even that wasn’t enough. Not only did he insist that I handle myself, now he demanded that I tell him about it. Describe it in words. Obviously he got a big kick out of hearing me talk dirty.

“My cunt is wide-open for your cock,” I heard myself describe the situation between my legs.

“How open?” he egged me on. “Stick your fingers inside yourself and tell me how far they go. Finger-fuck yourself and get your pussy ready for my cock.”

With no choice, I slipped one, and then two fingers in my gaping slit. When he snapped, “All the way,” I shoved them in to the last knuckles.

To my surprise it was wet and sticky in there. It was like putting my fingers into a jar of honey. My first inner touch of my pussy was a damp one.

“How is it?” he eagerly asked.

“My pussy is sopping,” I confessed in the gutter language he so craved. In truth, I was gradually becoming more used to it. The filthy words were starting to roll more easily off my tongue.

“Move your fingers around,” he ordered. “Fuck yourself with them.”

“Mmmmmm,” I moaned from the sudden spasm caused by my wriggling digits, “that’s what I’m doing.”

“Now find your clit and push it with your thumb,” he instructed. “Let’s see you really get yourself horny.”

My thumb slid up the side of my crack and parted the meaty folds at the top where the lips came together. A stiff nubbin of flesh popped out like a concealed doorbell.

Automatically I pressed it. The response was immediate and electric.

“Oh, my God!” I cried. “My cunt is on fire!” During the pause that followed I realized both of us knew that for the first time the rapist had nothing to do with my steamy remarks.

A strange, involuntary feeling had come over me. Although I recognized it as undeniably sexual, it was more intense than anything I had ever felt between my legs. Even making love with my husband had never produced this powerful a sensation.

I couldn’t stop masturbating. It was fantastic how I instinctively knew just where to touch. My crotch became wetter and wetter.

Whether I liked it or not, the dirty words describing my action came more and more naturally to me. Then, in a short time, they were joined by thoughts just as lewd. Incredibly, I was starting to see and think of my spread-eagled body as the rapist did.

I’ll spell it out to you. My breasts became tits. Rather than a vagina between my legs, I had a pussy – a cunt.

“Oh, my cunt is so tight,” I breathlessly told him between miniature orgasms. “I can feel the walls pressing around my fingers.”

“Wait’ll you feel my cock inside you,” he practically drooled.

“I don’t think I can wait!” I feverishly exclaimed. “Fuck me now – please, please!”

I pulled my hand out of my snatch and impulsively grabbed for his cock. My grip was slippery because of the pussy juice on my fingers, but once I had him he didn’t get away.

Now I began drawing his twitching cock toward my dripping, wide-open cunt. “Fuck me… fuck me… fuck me,” I was droning over and over again.

As the head of his prick slid between my pussy lips I forgot all about being raped. Instead of a victim, I’d become a horny woman dying for a long, deep fuck.

The rapist had mentioned that his dick was ten inches long. By my estimation that meant it was about four inches longer than my husband’s. This meant that when my cunt had been penetrated as far as it was used to, there were still four thick inches of prick remaining. I wanted them badly.

“Fuck me all the way!” I pleaded. “I want to feel your balls squashing against my twat!”

“Is this the biggest cock you’ve ever taken?” he asked as he drilled me with the final inches.

“Oh, yes, yes,” I whimpered from the full insertion. “It feels like the head of your prick is inside my womb. I’ve never been fucked so deep.”

“And hard,” he promised, beginning to plow away with deep, scathing thrusts.

“Fuck me harder, harder!” I screamed. “Fuck me until you split me in two with your huge cock!”

Automatically I wrapped my legs around him. Locking my ankles at the small of his back, I crunched him into me so that it really did seem as though his lancing tool were going to sever my body in two.

“God,” I shrieked uncontrollably, “your cock feels so good in my cunt! So fucking good! Is my pussy tight enough for you?”

He breathlessly agreed that it was. Incredibly, no compliment my husband had paid me had ever pleased me so. In my sexual frenzy, being told by a rapist that I was a good lay seemed like the highest praise I could receive as a woman.

We fucked so hard that we rolled out of the gutter and into the middle of the street. The rough pavement was scraping into my flesh, but I didn’t care.

All I cared about was fucking with his huge cock in my tight, wet cunt. The orgasms had built and built and built until I was coming so hard I felt like I was soaring through space.

“Play with my tits while you’re screwing me,” I urgently requested. “Suck my nipples.”

When he started doing it, I immediately became greedy for even more action. Taking one of his hands, I shoved it down to where our crotches met and guided the longest finger between the sweaty cheeks of my ass.

He immediately got the idea. After rubbing the anal ridges into flaming sensitivity, he plunged inside and began reaming me out.

“Finger-fuck me,” I moaned. “Finger-fuck my ass.”

He was an expert at it. Or at least it seemed that way to me as a woman who had never had anything more exciting up her asshole than a rectal thermometer. Almost immediately I began coming in my spasming anus almost as hard as I was doing in my cock-filled pussy.

The thrills had been maximized far beyond what I would have dreamed possible before this moment. With my tits, cunt and asshole being serviced, I was certain that I was orgasming in three places at once. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before.

There was only one thing left to make it complete. If I was going to come this hard, the man fucking me in the street had to produce with equal male intensity.

“When are you going to come?” I asked him. “I want your hot jizz flooding my pussy. Running down my legs into the crack of my butt.”

His hard-on grew that extra tell-tale inch I had previously experienced when I was taking it in my mouth. My heart jumped to my throat and stuck there from the excitement of anticipating his gooey explosion.

I swore I could hear the muffled hissing of his prick when he began spurting his cream within me. It felt like I had a garden hose shoved up my snatch the outpouring was so wet and continuous.

The spunk was already leaking from the sides of my twat and his ejaculation hadn’t stopped. Realizing my cunt had all it could handle, I decided to give another of my deserving erogenous zones a break.

Pushing his head from my chest, I pulled his prick from between my legs and had it spurt the remainder of its load all over my heaving tits. Then I smeared it all over. The excitement when I massaged it into my tender nipples with my fingertips was exceptional.

When I was through with my tits I began to suck some of the leftover goo from my hand like a kid tasting jelly from the jar. Now that I was used to it, his cum was sweetly delicious. In another world, I started wondering if it was possible for him to come a third time.

I was so up that when the blue light hit my face, I just assumed it was an orgasmic effect. I had already experienced so many sensual fireworks that anything was possible.

However, such was not the case. Seeing the sudden azure cast to my face, the rapist bolted upright and blurted, “Shit, the cops!”

I was hit with instantaneous fear. Confronted by the unexpected presence of the law, I was more terrified than I’d been when I’d first realized I was trapped in a phone booth by a rapist.

“I… I thought you said the police never came around here after dark?” I muttered in shock.

“I did,” he said. “But I didn’t get to be a three-time loser by always being right.”

With that, he sprang from on top of me and fled into the night, trying to keep from tripping over his drooping pants. I still couldn’t believe it was over. It was like being jolted awake from a wet dream.

Then headlights illuminated the night. Brakes screeched. Doors opened and slammed shut. Somebody yelled, “Halt or we’ll shoot!” Gunfire followed. I held my breath, wondering if any of the bullets were accurate.

“Goddamn it, you missed,” I heard somebody curse. He’d gotten away safely.

I breathed a sigh of relief, but any good feeling was short-lived. Looking straight ahead, I gazed into a reflection of myself in the shiny grill of the police cruiser. My gaping cunt seemed to be winking at me as though it had just played a joke on me. In addition, it was drooling with fresh, white cum.

Seeing the image of my sopping, newly fucked pussy had a devastating effect on me. For the first time the true meaning of what I had just done hit me.

I had been raped and enjoyed it. Attacked by a stranger, instead of resisting to the end like a respectable woman, I had experienced orgasm after orgasm.

Even though I closed my legs before the two cops finally walked over to me, I still had f-u-c-k written all over me. Although the rapist had escaped unscathed, I had the terrible feeling that my punishment was yet to come.