Stories Of A Professional Rapist free porn video

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I am a professional rapist. Now I know what most people are thinking, "What is a professional rapist? That doesn't make any sense." Well, a professional rapist is just what it sounds like, someone who rapes people for money. In other words, people pay me to rape women. They have many different reasons for coming to me: revenge, rage, wanting to break the victim, or just knowing that that woman they see every day has been violated.

How does it work? It's simple, really. You leave a quick note at a nym account I have set up, making sure to tell me who gave you the e-mail address (I only take referrals) as well as who you are and a number at which I can reach you; any talk of business and you'll never hear from me. If you check out, I call you and we discuss the target, the motive, and any special requests you might have. Depending on the job, I charge anywhere from $2,500 to $25,000, which is to be wired into an offshore account. As soon as I get payment, I start researching the target and, usually within a week, the job is done. I then call you and provide you with all the details you want, if any.

Now that you know what I do, I should describe myself a bit. The truth is, I'm a pretty ordinary guy, of average height, average build, a forgettable face, and can pass for anywhere between 18 and 35 years of age. I am in very good shape, and am very skilled at various martial arts grappling styles, which comes in handy in my job.

The reason I'm writing this is simply that I'd like to share some of my favorite jobs with other people. It's not like I can just go ahead and talk to people about what I do for a living, but, here, on the Internet, there is minimal risk, and I can share my pleasure with people of like mind.

I should start with one of my favorite jobs. A man contacted me about his stepdaughter, a 14 years old (I usually only take jobs where the victims are between 16 and 32, but I made an exception in his case, for the money mostly) beauty whom he had watched and lusted after since he had married her mother two years before. He wanted her, wanted her badly, wanted her as his own personal sex toy; but he knew the risks, knew that a young, middle-class girl with a bright future wouldn't be easy prey. A raped, broken, humiliated, teen-aged girl, filled with shame and guilt after cumming for her rapist, on the other hand, would be much easier to abuse.

I was intrigued, and the information packet he sent about her, including a picture of a slender, brown-haired young woman, her eyes sparkling for the camera, her young, nubile body fresh and clean, soft, smooth pale skin seeming to glow with life, lips a pale red, turned up in a smile, her small breasts thrusting from a spaghetti strap t-shirt that hugged her body tightly, her stomach flat, her waist narrow, her ass showcased in a pair of short, rolled-cuff cargo-shorts, her buttocks high and firm, her thighs smooth pillars of beautiful flesh, her legs gorgeous, convinced me.

The job was simple: rape her, humiliate her, shame her, break her, make her easy prey for a perverted old man who lusted after her young body.

The set up was simple too, and didn't require much planning (besides putting together my kit) for me. On a Saturday, he and his wife were going out, and would be out from 6 p.m. until at least 1 a.m., leaving their lovely daughter, Emily, home alone to look after herself. That would give me a little under six hours alone with the sweet young thing.

Come the day, I was ready, having walked into their neighborhood from about a half-mile away and hidden myself in their back yard. As soon as I heard my client and his wife leave, I pulled my ski mask on, hitched up my backpack with my kit in it, and slipped in the back door that my client had conveniently left open. Before her parents had turned off of her street, I was looking at Emily's face, her pretty brown eyes widening in shock, her mouth opening to form a shout, adrenaline flooding her body as she turned to run.

I was on her in a flash, one arm around her waist, pulling her off her feet, her back against me as she kicked and fought, my other hand over her mouth, muffling her screams as she shouted, her world suddenly turned upside down. My forearm was hot against her flesh, her t-shirt, clinging to her body, riding up with her struggles, revealing an expanse of smooth, young, delectable stomach. Her skirt, a simple white A-line skirt, danced around her struggling thighs as she tried to kick at me.

I quickly carried her to the sofa and threw her down, hard, her breath wooshing out of her as she bounced against the cushions. Before she could even turn over I was kneeling down, my hand gripping her hair close to her scalp, pulling her head back, forcing her eyes to focus on the knife I was holding right before her eyes.

"Shut. Up."

Her eyes got wide, fear filling them, and her breath came in short gasps, her entire body quaking with adrenaline. She stopped struggling, going very still, her eyes locked on the knife.

"Stand up."

I guided her up, turning her so her back was toward me, my fingers tight around her upper arm, holding her against my body, my other hand holding the knife to her neck (dull side pressing against her flesh, since I didn't want any accidents).

"Upstairs."

I guided her upstairs and into her room. It was was important that we be in her room, in the place where she had always felt the safest, where she could always go to escape the world. My job wasn't just to rape this beautiful girl, but to fill her with such shame and self-loathing, to shred any sense of self she had, that she would be easy prey for her stepfather.

I could feel her apprehension and her fear grow as I shut the door behind us. I pushed her down on her bed roughly, sheathing my knife as she quickly turned, perched on the edge of her bed, her body trembling, her arms across her chest, gripping her shoulders, her lips quivering.

"Co-operate and you'll be fine; don't, and you won't," I said, making things clear and simple.

Her tongue quickly licked her lips and she began to beg, "Please, please..."

One step, and before she could react my hand was around her neck and she was on her back on the bed, her legs hanging off the end, my knee between her thighs, pushing against her groin. I started to squeeze, terror twisting her face as she struggled to breath, her hands gripping my wrists in a feeble attempt to dislodge me, her body slowly writhing in panic.

"Shut the fuck up," I growled at her, my face inches from her own. "You will speak when I want you to speak, understand?" I released the pressure on her neck, and she sucked in a deep breath, a frightened nodding showing that she had heard, and understood.

I pulled her further up onto her bed, a simple double with a simple wooden headboard. She started crying when I lifted her t-shirt over her head, knowing for sure that she was going to be raped, fear making her compliant. I drunk in her slender teen-aged body with my eyes as I unhooked her skirt and slid it down her legs: her narrow shoulders, the skin smooth and flawless; her small breasts, hidden by a simple bra, rising and falling as she quietly sobbed; her stomach, flat and firm, her belly button stretched as she lay there; her hips, widening ever so slightly, a pair of white panties keeping her modest; her gorgeous thighs, clenched tightly together, just starting to fill out, to gain those womanly curves, her legs smooth and fresh and beautiful.

Straddling her, I settled my weight on her stomach, starting down at her as she turned her face from me, avoiding my eyes. I could feel the trembling in her body, the shaking as she cried beneath me, tears streaming down her face. I set my backpack down beside her, opened it, and pulled out a set of soft leather cuffs. She didn't resist as I bound her arms in front of her and, leaning forward, making sure to press my body into hers, used a short rope to tie the cuffs to her headboard, pinning her arms over her head.

I started massaging her breasts then, over her bra, softly squeezing them, rubbing them, pulling them gently in circles, my eyes never leaving her face.

"Look at me."

She sobbed more loudly, and closed her eyes, her face still turned from me, her cheek pressing hard into the mattress as if she could escape.

My hands left her breasts and I wrapped my hands around her head, turning it toward me, my thumbs finding the spots just beneath her ears, behind her jaw, and I started pressing. Her eyes snapped open and she screamed, my mouth covering hers, muffling the sound, my weight pinning her as she thrashed about in pain. Her lips were soft, her mouth warm, as I forced my mouth against hers, my thumbs digging into her, keeping her gasping and shouting in pain. I released her just as quickly as I had grabbed her.

"Cooperate."

She was staring at me, looking so beautiful, her hair disheveled, her eyes shimmering with tears, red from crying, her soft pink lips quivering. I went back to massaging her breasts, holding her eyes with mine, drinking in every bit of fear and humiliation and degradation that shone from them. I kept it up for ten minutes, letting the rougher cloth of the bra sensitize her breasts, before pulling out my knife again. She sucked in her breath, her eyes leaving mine, and I slapped her side, hard.

"Look at me."

Her eyes came back to mine, her breathing quickening in fear. I cut her bra from her, pulling it from her body, revealing two perfect young breasts, a little smaller than a B-cup, trembling atop her chest as she started crying again. My hands closed on those two exquisite mounds of flesh, her nipples small and pink and hard, kneading them, rubbing them, tweaking and pinching the nipples to hear her gasp and cry between her sobs, making her keep her eyes on mine even though I knew her tears fogged her vision.

I got up off of her, smiling as she turned her head quickly away from me, the long, slow abuse of her breasts humiliating, a brutal invasion of her control, of her privacy, over her own body. She pulled her legs up and turned to the side, her knees against her chest, unknowingly giving me a beautiful view of her back, of her ass, of her panties stretched thinly over those gorgeous globes of flesh. I grabbed two single cuffs from my backpack and locked them around her ankles. A long rope followed, and I tossed it under the bed, bringing both ends up with me. I tied one end to one of her ankles, and, forcing her onto her back, dragged one of her ankles over one side of the bed using the rope and the other ankle over the other side of the bed with my hand. I pulled until her knees were on either side of the bed, and then I tied her ankles together, the rope stretching under the bed, her feet halfway to the floor, her knees bent on each side of the bed, her thighs stretched wide apart.

She was crying again by the time I finished, her young, almost nude body spread like an offering on her own bed, in her own room, posters lining the walls, her clothes tossed on the floor. She was going to be raped, and she knew it and dreaded and feared it. I stood by the side of the bed, her fearful eyes on me, and slowly undressed, watching as her horror grew, tears streaming down her face. When I was naked, I laid my body atop hers, flesh against flesh, my stomach heavy against her spread groin, her smooth skin and soft breasts sending wonderful sensations through my body.

I took her head in my hands and turned face toward mine, and kissed her. Laying on top of this beautiful, bound, teen-aged girl I raped her mouth with mine, my fingers against her jaw forcing her teeth to part, her lips to open to my probing tongue. I tasted the salt of her tears, felt the softness of her lips, the moist warmth of her mouth. She shook silently beneath me and I felt I could taste her horror. She sobbed into my mouth as I violated her, and I started to grow hard.

I had plenty of time, and slowly ground my body into hers, letting her feel all of me as I continued to kiss her, forcing so intimate, so personal, a touch on her. I spent a long time, I don't remember how long, enjoying her like that, every once in a while pinching her ear or her thigh when I felt her mind drifting--she had to be focused on me, on what I was doing to her, on what she would soon be feeling.

When I was ready to proceed I started trailing my lips and tongue down her lithe, slender body, taking first one nipple in my mouth, then the other, feeling her tense her body at the touch. She had stopped crying, and was trying to distance herself, mentally, from what was happening to her, and I smiled. I reached over, my lips still hot against her flesh, teasing her shallow belly button, and pulled out one of my favorite toys. It was a 'personal massager', a wireless vibrator with two speeds and a bulbous head that vibrated: simple, easy to carry, and effective.

I felt her body strain against the bonds as my mouth moved against her inner thigh, just inches from her pantie-clad pussy, and my vibrator tickled her other side; I loved the feel of her struggles, and sat up, sliding the vibrating head of the 'massager' directly against her panties, slowly moving it up and down her covered slit, from her ass to her belly-button.

Her head was turned to the side, her eyes closed, her body tensing and relaxing in response to the assault on her young cunt; it was beautiful to watch. Up and down the vibrator went, lingering over her pantie-clad clit, pressing in, her young body starting to squirm under the assault. My hand rested on the top of her thigh, feeling the soft flesh tremble as her breathing quickened.

There is a myth out there that it is impossible for a woman to orgasm while being raped. That's just what it is, a myth. Being assaulted fills a woman with fear, sends her heart racing, fills her blood with adrenaline, her body primed to fight or flee. It is easy for her body to trick itself, for any sexual stimulation to be heightened by the real terror she feels, for her body to react to it, her cunt to become slick with her juices, her nether lips to swell with blood. It is a wonderful myth for me, to see the utter humiliation in a woman's face as she cums for her rapist, her body betraying her, her self-respect shattering as her thighs shake in pleasure.

Almost all of my clients want their victims humiliated and broken, and I find forcing them to cum is one of the best ways to do that. It fills their mind with self-doubt, makes them believe that it they were raped not just because of bad luck, or bad decisions, but because of their character. "I came while being raped," they begin to think, "I must have like it, wanted it." The humiliation, the shame, is overwhelming; their entire concept of who they are, their place in the world, changes.

I could see Emily's face begin to turn red, a damp spot appearing on her panties as I continued to tease her, tears leaking from her eyes as she tensed against the sensations the vibrator was sending through her young pussy. I pressed the vibrator firmly against her clit and slid the soft, wet cloth covering her slit aside, running my fingers up and down the soft, moist, flesh, winning soft jerking motions from my victim as she tried to avoid my maddening fingers, grunting softly as she jerked her hips around.

Her thighs tensed, her ass-cheeks tightened, lifting her ass a few inches off the bed, and she sobbed as I slid my middle finger into her tight virgin channel. I hadn't been sure, but she was so tight that I had trouble pushing my finger into her, the vibrator still sending waves through her clit. I started slowly twisting and pumping my finger in her slick cunt, bending it up against her g-spot, earning mewling sobs from her as she tried to bury her head in the bed, her face and chest flushing as I teased her closer and closer to orgasm.

She tried to fight it, I could tell, tensing against my onslaught, breathing deeply, anything to prevent herself from accepting what was coming. When it hit she cried out, a sound of despair and humiliation and shame, her stomach heaving, her thighs trembling, her toes and fingers curling, her cunt clenching and unclenching around my finger as a wave of pleasure rocked her young body. When it was done I quickly used my knife to remove her panties while she sobbed quietly.

---------------------------------------

I would like to make this story a serial, but I only have two stories in my head, that of Emily and Jennifer. I would appreciate reader suggestions of other requests clients might make of my professional rapist. I would need a packet of information: a name of the victim, relationship to the victim, a description, a reason for the job, and what results are desired.

I am a professional rapist. Now I know what most people are thinking, "What is a professional rapist? That doesn't make any sense." Well, a professional rapist is just what it sounds like, someone who rapes people for money. In other words, people pay me to rape women. They have many different reasons for coming to me: revenge, rage, wanting to break the victim, or just knowing that that woman they see every day has been violated.

How does it work? It's simple, really. You leave a quick note at a nym account I have set up, making sure to tell me who gave you the e-mail address (I only take referrals) as well as who you are and a number at which I can reach you; any talk of business and you'll never hear from me. If you check out, I call you and we discuss the target, the motive, and any special requests you might have. Depending on the job, I charge anywhere from $2,500 to $25,000, which is to be wired into an offshore account. As soon as I get payment, I start researching the target and, usually within a week, the job is done. I then call you and provide you with all the details you want, if any.

Now that you know what I do, I should describe myself a bit. The truth is, I'm a pretty ordinary guy, of average height, average build, a forgettable face, and can pass for anywhere between 18 and 35 years of age. I am in very good shape, and am very skilled at various martial arts grappling styles, which comes in handy in my job.

The reason I'm writing this is simply that I'd like to share some of my favorite jobs with other people. It's not like I can just go ahead and talk to people about what I do for a living, but, here, on the Internet, there is minimal risk, and I can share my pleasure with people of like mind.

I should start with one of my favorite jobs. A man contacted me about his stepdaughter, a 14 years old (I usually only take jobs where the victims are between 16 and 32, but I made an exception in his case, for the money mostly) beauty whom he had watched and lusted after since he had married her mother two years before. He wanted her, wanted her badly, wanted her as his own personal sex toy; but he knew the risks, knew that a young, middle-class girl with a bright future wouldn't be easy prey. A raped, broken, humiliated, teen-aged girl, filled with shame and guilt after cumming for her rapist, on the other hand, would be much easier to abuse.

I was intrigued, and the information packet he sent about her, including a picture of a slender, brown-haired young woman, her eyes sparkling for the camera, her young, nubile body fresh and clean, soft, smooth pale skin seeming to glow with life, lips a pale red, turned up in a smile, her small breasts thrusting from a spaghetti strap t-shirt that hugged her body tightly, her stomach flat, her waist narrow, her ass showcased in a pair of short, rolled-cuff cargo-shorts, her buttocks high and firm, her thighs smooth pillars of beautiful flesh, her legs gorgeous, convinced me.

The job was simple: rape her, humiliate her, shame her, break her, make her easy prey for a perverted old man who lusted after her young body.

The set up was simple too, and didn't require much planning (besides putting together my kit) for me. On a Saturday, he and his wife were going out, and would be out from 6 p.m. until at least 1 a.m., leaving their lovely daughter, Emily, home alone to look after herself. That would give me a little under six hours alone with the sweet young thing.

Come the day, I was ready, having walked into their neighborhood from about a half-mile away and hidden myself in their back yard. As soon as I heard my client and his wife leave, I pulled my ski mask on, hitched up my backpack with my kit in it, and slipped in the back door that my client had conveniently left open. Before her parents had turned off of her street, I was looking at Emily's face, her pretty brown eyes widening in shock, her mouth opening to form a shout, adrenaline flooding her body as she turned to run.

I was on her in a flash, one arm around her waist, pulling her off her feet, her back against me as she kicked and fought, my other hand over her mouth, muffling her screams as she shouted, her world suddenly turned upside down. My forearm was hot against her flesh, her t-shirt, clinging to her body, riding up with her struggles, revealing an expanse of smooth, young, delectable stomach. Her skirt, a simple white A-line skirt, danced around her struggling thighs as she tried to kick at me.

I quickly carried her to the sofa and threw her down, hard, her breath wooshing out of her as she bounced against the cushions. Before she could even turn over I was kneeling down, my hand gripping her hair close to her scalp, pulling her head back, forcing her eyes to focus on the knife I was holding right before her eyes.

"Shut. Up."

Her eyes got wide, fear filling them, and her breath came in short gasps, her entire body quaking with adrenaline. She stopped struggling, going very still, her eyes locked on the knife.

"Stand up."

I guided her up, turning her so her back was toward me, my fingers tight around her upper arm, holding her against my body, my other hand holding the knife to her neck (dull side pressing against her flesh, since I didn't want any accidents).

"Upstairs."

I guided her upstairs and into her room. It was was important that we be in her room, in the place where she had always felt the safest, where she could always go to escape the world. My job wasn't just to rape this beautiful girl, but to fill her with such shame and self-loathing, to shred any sense of self she had, that she would be easy prey for her stepfather.

I could feel her apprehension and her fear grow as I shut the door behind us. I pushed her down on her bed roughly, sheathing my knife as she quickly turned, perched on the edge of her bed, her body trembling, her arms across her chest, gripping her shoulders, her lips quivering.

"Co-operate and you'll be fine; don't, and you won't," I said, making things clear and simple.

Her tongue quickly licked her lips and she began to beg, "Please, please..."

One step, and before she could react my hand was around her neck and she was on her back on the bed, her legs hanging off the end, my knee between her thighs, pushing against her groin. I started to squeeze, terror twisting her face as she struggled to breath, her hands gripping my wrists in a feeble attempt to dislodge me, her body slowly writhing in panic.

"Shut the fuck up," I growled at her, my face inches from her own. "You will speak when I want you to speak, understand?" I released the pressure on her neck, and she sucked in a deep breath, a frightened nodding showing that she had heard, and understood.

I pulled her further up onto her bed, a simple double with a simple wooden headboard. She started crying when I lifted her t-shirt over her head, knowing for sure that she was going to be raped, fear making her compliant. I drunk in her slender teen-aged body with my eyes as I unhooked her skirt and slid it down her legs: her narrow shoulders, the skin smooth and flawless; her small breasts, hidden by a simple bra, rising and falling as she quietly sobbed; her stomach, flat and firm, her belly button stretched as she lay there; her hips, widening ever so slightly, a pair of white panties keeping her modest; her gorgeous thighs, clenched tightly together, just starting to fill out, to gain those womanly curves, her legs smooth and fresh and beautiful.

Straddling her, I settled my weight on her stomach, starting down at her as she turned her face from me, avoiding my eyes. I could feel the trembling in her body, the shaking as she cried beneath me, tears streaming down her face. I set my backpack down beside her, opened it, and pulled out a set of soft leather cuffs. She didn't resist as I bound her arms in front of her and, leaning forward, making sure to press my body into hers, used a short rope to tie the cuffs to her headboard, pinning her arms over her head.

I started massaging her breasts then, over her bra, softly squeezing them, rubbing them, pulling them gently in circles, my eyes never leaving her face.

"Look at me."

She sobbed more loudly, and closed her eyes, her face still turned from me, her cheek pressing hard into the mattress as if she could escape.

My hands left her breasts and I wrapped my hands around her head, turning it toward me, my thumbs finding the spots just beneath her ears, behind her jaw, and I started pressing. Her eyes snapped open and she screamed, my mouth covering hers, muffling the sound, my weight pinning her as she thrashed about in pain. Her lips were soft, her mouth warm, as I forced my mouth against hers, my thumbs digging into her, keeping her gasping and shouting in pain. I released her just as quickly as I had grabbed her.

"Cooperate."

She was staring at me, looking so beautiful, her hair disheveled, her eyes shimmering with tears, red from crying, her soft pink lips quivering. I went back to massaging her breasts, holding her eyes with mine, drinking in every bit of fear and humiliation and degradation that shone from them. I kept it up for ten minutes, letting the rougher cloth of the bra sensitize her breasts, before pulling out my knife again. She sucked in her breath, her eyes leaving mine, and I slapped her side, hard.

"Look at me."

Her eyes came back to mine, her breathing quickening in fear. I cut her bra from her, pulling it from her body, revealing two perfect young breasts, a little smaller than a B-cup, trembling atop her chest as she started crying again. My hands closed on those two exquisite mounds of flesh, her nipples small and pink and hard, kneading them, rubbing them, tweaking and pinching the nipples to hear her gasp and cry between her sobs, making her keep her eyes on mine even though I knew her tears fogged her vision.

I got up off of her, smiling as she turned her head quickly away from me, the long, slow abuse of her breasts humiliating, a brutal invasion of her control, of her privacy, over her own body. She pulled her legs up and turned to the side, her knees against her chest, unknowingly giving me a beautiful view of her back, of her ass, of her panties stretched thinly over those gorgeous globes of flesh. I grabbed two single cuffs from my backpack and locked them around her ankles. A long rope followed, and I tossed it under the bed, bringing both ends up with me. I tied one end to one of her ankles, and, forcing her onto her back, dragged one of her ankles over one side of the bed using the rope and the other ankle over the other side of the bed with my hand. I pulled until her knees were on either side of the bed, and then I tied her ankles together, the rope stretching under the bed, her feet halfway to the floor, her knees bent on each side of the bed, her thighs stretched wide apart.

She was crying again by the time I finished, her young, almost nude body spread like an offering on her own bed, in her own room, posters lining the walls, her clothes tossed on the floor. She was going to be raped, and she knew it and dreaded and feared it. I stood by the side of the bed, her fearful eyes on me, and slowly undressed, watching as her horror grew, tears streaming down her face. When I was naked, I laid my body atop hers, flesh against flesh, my stomach heavy against her spread groin, her smooth skin and soft breasts sending wonderful sensations through my body.

I took her head in my hands and turned face toward mine, and kissed her. Laying on top of this beautiful, bound, teen-aged girl I raped her mouth with mine, my fingers against her jaw forcing her teeth to part, her lips to open to my probing tongue. I tasted the salt of her tears, felt the softness of her lips, the moist warmth of her mouth. She shook silently beneath me and I felt I could taste her horror. She sobbed into my mouth as I violated her, and I started to grow hard.

I had plenty of time, and slowly ground my body into hers, letting her feel all of me as I continued to kiss her, forcing so intimate, so personal, a touch on her. I spent a long time, I don't remember how long, enjoying her like that, every once in a while pinching her ear or her thigh when I felt her mind drifting--she had to be focused on me, on what I was doing to her, on what she would soon be feeling.

When I was ready to proceed I started trailing my lips and tongue down her lithe, slender body, taking first one nipple in my mouth, then the other, feeling her tense her body at the touch. She had stopped crying, and was trying to distance herself, mentally, from what was happening to her, and I smiled. I reached over, my lips still hot against her flesh, teasing her shallow belly button, and pulled out one of my favorite toys. It was a 'personal massager', a wireless vibrator with two speeds and a bulbous head that vibrated: simple, easy to carry, and effective.

I felt her body strain against the bonds as my mouth moved against her inner thigh, just inches from her pantie-clad pussy, and my vibrator tickled her other side; I loved the feel of her struggles, and sat up, sliding the vibrating head of the 'massager' directly against her panties, slowly moving it up and down her covered slit, from her ass to her belly-button.

Her head was turned to the side, her eyes closed, her body tensing and relaxing in response to the assault on her young cunt; it was beautiful to watch. Up and down the vibrator went, lingering over her pantie-clad clit, pressing in, her young body starting to squirm under the assault. My hand rested on the top of her thigh, feeling the soft flesh tremble as her breathing quickened.

There is a myth out there that it is impossible for a woman to orgasm while being raped. That's just what it is, a myth. Being assaulted fills a woman with fear, sends her heart racing, fills her blood with adrenaline, her body primed to fight or flee. It is easy for her body to trick itself, for any sexual stimulation to be heightened by the real terror she feels, for her body to react to it, her cunt to become slick with her juices, her nether lips to swell with blood. It is a wonderful myth for me, to see the utter humiliation in a woman's face as she cums for her rapist, her body betraying her, her self-respect shattering as her thighs shake in pleasure.

Almost all of my clients want their victims humiliated and broken, and I find forcing them to cum is one of the best ways to do that. It fills their mind with self-doubt, makes them believe that it they were raped not just because of bad luck, or bad decisions, but because of their character. "I came while being raped," they begin to think, "I must have like it, wanted it." The humiliation, the shame, is overwhelming; their entire concept of who they are, their place in the world, changes.

I could see Emily's face begin to turn red, a damp spot appearing on her panties as I continued to tease her, tears leaking from her eyes as she tensed against the sensations the vibrator was sending through her young pussy. I pressed the vibrator firmly against her clit and slid the soft, wet cloth covering her slit aside, running my fingers up and down the soft, moist, flesh, winning soft jerking motions from my victim as she tried to avoid my maddening fingers, grunting softly as she jerked her hips around.

Her thighs tensed, her ass-cheeks tightened, lifting her ass a few inches off the bed, and she sobbed as I slid my middle finger into her tight virgin channel. I hadn't been sure, but she was so tight that I had trouble pushing my finger into her, the vibrator still sending waves through her clit. I started slowly twisting and pumping my finger in her slick cunt, bending it up against her g-spot, earning mewling sobs from her as she tried to bury her head in the bed, her face and chest flushing as I teased her closer and closer to orgasm.

She tried to fight it, I could tell, tensing against my onslaught, breathing deeply, anything to prevent herself from accepting what was coming. When it hit she cried out, a sound of despair and humiliation and shame, her stomach heaving, her thighs trembling, her toes and fingers curling, her cunt clenching and unclenching around my finger as a wave of pleasure rocked her young body. When it was done I quickly used my knife to remove her panties while she sobbed quietly.

---------------------------------------

I would like to make this story a serial, but I only have two stories in my head, that of Emily and Jennifer. I would appreciate reader suggestions of other requests clients might make of my professional rapist. I would need a packet of information: a name of the victim, relationship to the victim, a description, a reason for the job, and what results are desired.

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Let me explain myself, as my mom and I seem to be the only normal people in this god-forsaken town. My name is Nicole, but I usually go by Nyx (you know? The goddess of night), I'm 16, Black hair, half White and half Hispanic, blue-grey eyes. I would say my ass is my best asset, just the right size and firmness, I'm skinny, and according to my (almost obese) physical education teacher, on the verge of anorexic. I have a D-cup breast's, with pink, velvet like nipples. My mom is a single...

Love Letter To My Future Rapist

LOVE LETTER TO MY FUTURE RAPIST Dear Rapist: If you find me here in the woods, PLEASE don't be nice and kind and make conversation first. That's what I dread the most. I am very serious about this.?? It's best for me if you break a thin sapling branch off a tree, a real thin one, a "switch". And when you come in, don't SAY anything. I'll be completely naked, just like I am now. Don't announce your name; I don't CARE who it is. I'd really rather not even know. I will put the keyboard...

Memoirs of a Rapist

Chapter 1: The Bunny-girl She was not one of my first; I had been perfecting my perversion for many years before her. No, she was just one of the most memorable and that's why I start with her. So why did I name her that? Was it her real name. Not. I spotted her one summer day working in her front flowerbed as I was on my way to a client. Her red hair almost glowed in the morning sun. It was beautiful, thick and waistlength, tied in two pigtails like big floppy ears. As I approached her...

The Humility Rapist

It's kind of a funny story really. Not "Ha-Ha" funny. More like "No, oh god no, not that, please help meEEEEK!!" funny. Heh. I guess it's kinda whatchamacallit Ironical. But I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Jaz. My real name is John, but you can call me Jaz. I'm a Rapeaholic (123, "HI JAZ!") Some of you may know me. I've been writing rape stories on the internet for years. Hardcore, nasty stuff. That's what I like. But they were just fiction for the most part. Oh some of...

Some Thoughts From The Rapist

There is an interesting half-truth propagated about rapists. Experts almost consistently preach, "Rape is not about sex. Rape is about power." The experts will usually continue to point out that many rapists are actually impotent and bottles and such. Perhaps it comforts the feminists --some of whom also claim that pornography is not about sex--to think that rapists don't want to fuck them. Well, it is true that rape is about power--Those experts have no idea how arousing it is to have such...

Offering My wife to a rapist

On Tuesday, my wife called me around 2pm and inform me that we will be having dinner with the rapist in the prison from 6pm till 8pm. I reached around 5:30pm and my wife is already there. She was wearing her tight and short OL outfit. She was so sexy, nobody knows her age is 34 if they didn't ask. She look like 23yo-25yo with her baby face. Her body was still as slim, tight, her skin was so white and smooth. She spend lots of time in the gym and learn kickboxing too so her abs was stunning....

Big Bad Wolf or how I learned to Love my Rapist

big bad wolf big bad wolf(or how I learned to love my rapist) In 1997 I was renting a house in north london, it was a mid-terrace and the walls were paper thin and the decor hadn't been touched since the seventies but the rent was cheap and I liked it, even if it meant turning the gas fire up on all four orange bars to heat the little place up in winter. It was set in a quiet cul-de-sac that lay behind a busy main road that was dotted with shops and had three local pubs. It was okay. I...

My Job as a Rapist

A few years ago I worked in Japan as an English language teacher. I am a very large hairy white guy teaching in a Japanese High School. The little Jap girls in their School uniforms (and some of the smaller boys) were driving me to distraction. Most of the girls seemed to be actively flirting with me and I was spending way to much time in the teachers toilet beating my meat. It was to the point I was getting strange looks from some of the Local teachers. Teachers don't make much money...

Daisy meets her rapist

******************************************************************************************************************** After he had left Daisy Daniels removed the pillow case from her head. She had just been raped; well at least it started out as rape. It had evolved into the best sex Daisy had ever experienced. Daisy thought back over what had transpired. She had sucked him, he had fucked her and finally, he had introduced her to a wonderful session of anal action. Something else...

Stepfather my Rapist

Stepfather my Rapist - Part 1 (Rape, forced impregnation)My name is Amy and I'm 19 years old. I had been living with my stepfather and mother until I was 16. Then things changed. My mother left. One day I came home late, but she never did. No note, no phone call, nothing. She just vanished. My stepfather Jerry was devastated. We called the police and they told us to wait 24 hours before searching. We waited. And nothing. Some of her clothes were missing and the police simply said she'd run off....

Methodology of a Serial Rapist

The Methodology of a Serial RapistByWhipsawThis story is for entertainment purposes only as kidnapping, rape and forced slavery are illegal. Not to mention the fact that those acts are just plain wrong.Chapter One Her name was Sara and she was lying on the table looking very attractive, as she was nude with her 42 D-cups sagging slightly over the sides of her ribcage, along with a flat stomach and those muscular legs. Her locking collar was attached to the table by two chains, one on either...

Avoiding the Rapists

Your name is Jane Doe and you are the most attractive girl to graduate your high school this year. Today, you get to go to orientation at your local college and later your first day at work. You must be wary of allowing yourself to become depressed - many men lust after you and will jump at the chance to abuse your body if you can't pay attention to your surroundings. In addition, be aware that several unknown rapists do in fact live near you and you do see at least one everyday and only know...

Buddies and Kindred Spirits The Harmonization of Two Rapists

Buddies and Kindred Spirits The Harmonization of Two RapistsPage 1. I was a long way from home. I needed to rest from my pursuit of madness and was taking a vacation break in Ithaca, a resort town in the Finger Lakes region of west New York state. It was a hot, humid summer and I wanted to recharge my batteries from all the raping and pillaging I'd initiated over the last several months. Five victims in all, including a mother and her teenaged daughter. My...

A Professional Woman

A Professional Woman – Amy’s story as told to Curt BruchAs ever when the midnight hour heralds the dawn of another new year I enjoy a solitary celebration sitting in my cosy apartment, drink in hand, and reflect what has passed and speculate on the maybes to come.Whilst some may think that to have reached nearly a half century of birthdays and still be an uncommitted single without a life partner to share one’s joys and struggles is something to be pitied. Should anyone be foolish enough to say...

Level of Professionalism

Level of Professionalism By Rosie Groggily, David Greene reached over to the incessantly buzzing cell phone and numbly thumbed at the touchscreen until he finally managed to turn off the alarm. He could tell it wasn't the first time it had rang that morning by its increasingly frantic sound, but he didn't know how late he was until he opened his eyes and looked at the screen. 7:43 AM, September 20th, 2075, the gently flowing characters read. With a jolt, David rolled out of the...

Gay Fun With A Professional Massager

Hello ISS readers, This is Karan (imaginary name). I am here to tell you about one of my experiences of gay sex with a professional massager. This happened a year ago. So first of all, let me say briefly about myself. I am 24, bisexual, 6 feet tall, 68kg weight, well-toned body, my dick size is 8 inches. I like to have sex with both men and women. So let us get into the matter. It was early 2020 before the Covid-19 has struck our lives and confined us to our homes. One Friday evening, my body...

Gay Male

Gay Fun With A Professional Massager

Hello ISS readers, This is Karan (imaginary name). I am here to tell you about one of my experiences of gay sex with a professional massager. This happened a year ago. So first of all, let me say briefly about myself. I am 24, bisexual, 6 feet tall, 68kg weight, well-toned body, my dick size is 8 inches. I like to have sex with both men and women. So let us get into the matter. It was early 2020 before the Covid-19 has struck our lives and confined us to our homes. One Friday evening, my body...

Gay Male

Professional Model Or Photographer

Please read the first part “First Class AC Nightmare” @ , would help to get the plot of this story. And second part for continuation “Glooming at Gents Hair Saloon” @ , would add spice to the current story. And third part for continuation “Village Adventure of an Idiot Wife” @ , would add spice to the current story. And fourth part for continuation “Colleague Taking Over Control” @ , would add spice to the current story. And fifth part for continuation “Local Crook Free Mistress” @ , would...

Professional Pleasure

Screw being professional ... her erotically-neglected body was wracked with desire at the mere thought of his strong, masculine frame dominating her lithe, needy curves! She knew it wasn't very professional - although not her actual client, John was the son. This was the first time Anita had met him, as he entered half-way through her home-visit with his elderly mother. From that point onwards, Anita had found it more & more difficult to concentrate on her work. Although John sat quietly...

Masturbation

Sonic the Rapist

"Oh hello sweeties! Thank you so much for taking care of my little baby while you fought off that mean old nasty Dr. Eggman!" I can't wait to see my cum mix with your tears you worthless cunt... Sonic thought to himself but only said, "No problem lady." They sat down for dinner and Tails soon came downstairs playing with a toy train, spinning and laughing all the way. He noticed Sonic and Knuckles and ran over to hug them both around the neck. During the hug Knuckles and Sonic both...

Interview with a Rapist

It didn’t start out that way, just sort of happened. I didn’t leave my house thinking I am going to go out and rape the shit out of someone. I was just enjoying the sunshine. You know, just watching the people on the beach, listening to the shrieks of the kids as they ran around on the sand, build castles or buried each other. It was a normal day and I was taking a break from writing. Didn’t I tell you I am writing a book? Oh! Well I am. It is a technical manual about travel patterns to...

Raped By a Rapist

Julie Peter was a beautiful, attractive woman, She was 43-years-old, 5'5 (166 centimeters), 158.4 pounds, long blonde hair that was up in a pony-tail, blue eyes, she was married to her husband named Adam Peterson of 26 years, and is a loving mother to a 17-year-old Teenage Daughter named Tracey, and a 3-year-old son named Mark, They live in a house in a shaded, gated tree-line neighborhood in a town called Chestnut Falls. On That Day Julie was driving the Family's Silver Ford Fusion Car to a...

My Brother My Rapist

“Why? What happened?” “Oh yeah, I never told you.” Hannah had a flair for being forgetful, but even as she hardened herself to tell me, it was clearly something she’d always remembered. “Well, when I was younger, my second oldest brother started molesting me.” “How so? Just kissing and touching?” I asked, hoping she’d elaborate. “More than that,” Hannah paused. “He’d force me to suck his cock, he’d give me oral, and then he’d have sex with me.” “Did he ever say why?” I gave Hannah a look...

The Taxi Cab Rapist

I drive a taxi. I don't drive it for a living, I drive it for fun. You see I won the lottery about five years ago and with some careful investments I'm set for life. So what do I do with my new found free time, I drive my taxi around New York and rape beautiful women. The set up is easy. I bought a new taxi and had it repainted to look very generic and outfitted it with some custom features. It has everything a normal cab has but it also includes a special air conditioning system. Most modern...

Interview With a Rapist

It didn't start out that way, just sort of happened. I didn't leave my house thinking I am going to go out and rape the shit out of someone. I was just enjoying the sunshine. You know, just watching the people on the beach, listening to the shrieks of the kids as they ran around on the sand, build castles or buried each other. It was a normal day and I was taking a break from writing. Didn't I tell you I am writing a book? Oh! Well I am. It is a technical manual about travel patterns to...

My Sisters Rapist

Copyright© 2004 -- All rights reserved. If a guard had looked down from his perch upon the prison watchtower, he would have seen the shiny green car now pulling into the prison's visitor parking lot. Still watching, the car would have come to a stop in a haze of dirt and gravel, allowing him to see the long auburn hair visible through the driver side window. This, clearly getting his attention, would have allowed him to then see the long pair of legs emerging from it's opening. Never...

My Husband the Rapist

I came home from work Friday night and found my husband's car was missing from the driveway. I thought that it was odd that he was not home by 7:30, but figured he went out with the boys for some fun. I was fuming over that. We had made plans for a special evening together. He had promised to fulfill one of my many fantasies. That is why it stood to reason that he would rather be hanging out with his buddies than me. As I stomped up the porch stairs, I thought I heard a noise in the house,...

The Backyard Rapist

There she lay, all alone in the back yard on a hot summer’s day without a care in the world save for her tan. Dozing on one of the long, adjustable lawn chairs that allowed one to lie reasonably comfortably in the sun, the dark haired girl gave little thought to the fact that her parents wouldn’t be home for several more hours. In fact, as far as she was concerned, that brought several benefits. Even without being able to sunbathe topless with impunity, the fourteen-year-old felt a deep...

A Professional Massuer Escapade From Bangalore

Hello folks, I’m Pavan from Bangalore, back with another interesting and sensual experience of mine with a gorgeous and voluptuous lady, who approached me for a massage service through my ad posted on locanto Bangalore and finally had a happy ending with intense pleasure and satisfaction. If you like the experience posted here. Your comments and feedbacks are always welcome at Guys, please do not ask for the girl’s contact which I will never ever share as I respect women and their safety. What...

Professional NCR Escort And The Gorgeous Lady 8211 One Long Night

Hey everyone! This is Rahul here, a professional escort based in Delhi and catering my services to all the lovely ladies out there. I have been providing my services in a wide variety of manner to a plethora of clients separated by desires, fetishes and longings, emotional and/or physical. My clients include a distinguished list of professional and elite girls/women from a wide genre of age unified by either an burning crave, passion or emotion or a casual encounter. Before I bask into the...

A Professional Woman

As ever when the midnight hour heralds the dawn of another new year I enjoy a solitary celebration sitting in my cosy apartment, drink in hand, and reflect what has passed and speculate on the maybes to come. Whilst some may think that to have reached nearly a half century of birthdays and still be an uncommitted single without a life partner to share one’s joys and struggles is something to be pitied. Should anyone be foolish enough to say that to me then I will politely counter that there is...

RebelChapter 49 Rapists

When the three women came into camp, they looked terrible - ravaged, beaten, distraught, frightened, their clothes in tatters. I have seldom seen the like. The men who brought them in said they found them huddled together in the woods, incoherent and shaking. We got their story from them in bits and pieces, between bouts of tears and shaking. It was an ugly story. They had been traveling on a regular stage toward a relative's home when a group of Hessians waylaid them. The men on the stage,...

A professional job

A professional job. Fiction by Johnny Cumlately Whenever you open a newspaper or watch the TV, there always seems to be a scantily clad girl looking out at you. This is great! I think many guys will focus on the assets above the waist. They will particularly admire her breasts. The centre of my interest lies further down. I see her smooth crotch and am conscious of how ugly I think my own bits are. I am envious. I was always interested in enforced chastity and made myself a...

Professional Mother

intercourseHer son wanted an 'Ideal Girlfriend' for his birthday. Well, that was her profession!Elaine said, "Greg, first of all, I am your mother and you are my son. Second, I am not a whore. I'm a professional courtesan. Do you understand the difference?"The powerfully built young man stood before her in the kitchen, his hands shoved into the back pockets of his blue jeans, his bare feet making nervous little movements on the expensive tile floor."Greg, I chose my career because I knew that...

Hot Sex With Professional Widow

Hi, I am Rajat 52years old from Delhi, a professional pharmaceutical executive traveling around India and had many encounters and recently got introduced to Indian Sex Stories dot net and now sharing my latest real experience with a gorgeous HR professional from Bangalore. Her name is Ragini 31years old vital stats 36d-32-36 fair widow having a 6year old boy. Any females interested in having fun contact travel any city. On my recent trip to Hyderabad, after completing my meetings for the day...

The Professional

We were sat in the bar of his favourite 5* hotel in Manchester enjoying a bottle of wine and sex chat. He was sat a few tables away, dressed in a very smart suit looking like the pure professional. I noticed him glancing our way as I rested my hand on her arm as the conversation got filthier. Dawn was absolutely stunning, a natural beauty. Tall, busty, blonde and confident. He could see she had hard nipples under her white blouse, and her shapely smooth long legs were fully on show. He knew...

Masturbation

Professional Help

Professional Help © 2004 by the author Claudia hesitated as she read the white painted letters on the door: Dr.Henry Stuart, M.D., Ph.D. , and then the single word beneaththat ricocheted throughout her brain: Psychiatrist .She wanted to reach for the handle, but her hand declined to move. Foryears she had suspected she might need professional help; her closest friendshad echoed that opinion on more than one occasion. Now only one hand andone door stood between her and a chance for a normal...

Professional Mother

Elaine said, "Greg, first of all, I am your mother and you are my son. Second, I am not a whore. I'm a professional courtesan. Do you understand the difference?"The powerfully built young man stood before her in the kitchen, his hands shoved into the back pockets of his blue jeans, his bare feet making nervous little movements on the expensive tile floor."Greg, I chose my career because I knew that I could be very good at it, maybe the best. And it has allowed me to raise you in a good...

Incest

Professional Pounding

“Alright boys, we’re done.”At last our practice was over. That was the second practice of the day, and we had spent at least half of the time doing running. I took off my cleats and headed for the locker room. Since I was a new member of the team, my running fitness was a little bit below par, but my overall physique was among the best on the team. Long sessions at the gym over the past years had given me a body better than Beckham in his prime. I had a wide back, large shoulders, and a perfect...

Anal

Straight Stud to Professional CockSucker

My boyfriend, Ron, and I were backpacking around Europe in the summer of 2018, when we made our way south to the Greek islands. We met in Belgium at a bed & breakfast and we hit it off right away. As in, were fucking like rabbits in every position, pushing each other's limits with every kink two sweaty, naked, oversexed 19 year olds could think of.My motto is: if you're man enough to fuck my wet, smooth, fully shaved pussy till its numb, stay rock hard and then drill my tight little ass...

Professional Courtesy

Jennifer pushed her way through the big revolving doors, knowing she was about to have sex with a complete stranger. As instructed, she strode across the lavishly appointed lobby without stopping at the reception desk. That this was the same hotel she had stayed in with her parents when they brought her to visit the college, struck an ironic chord with her. Jennifer slowed down to admire the gleaming cherry paneling, brass fixtures, and sparkling chandeliers. Well dressed guests milled about,...

Interracial

Administrative Professionals Day

Administrative Professionals Day Belladonna David paced in his office while he waited for his secretary to arrive. He had been planning this day out for months. He was going to give Veronika the opening he wished that she had taken the initiative to create since the prior year's Halloween. With Administrative Professional's day coming up, David knew that it was the right time to push the envelope with her. She was going to have an excuse to ask, and he was going to do everything...

The Professional

The Professional By Jungle Jane It all started at work. After several frustrating months, I was finally able to find a job doing computer graphics at a small local firm. The pay wasn't real great, but it was a place to start. There were also some benefits included that I had really been looking for, most importantly, a very flexible schedule. It didn't really matter when I did my forty hours, as long as I did them. As I said, it was a small firm, with only about a...

The Professional VictimChapter 3

Thursday, 9:03 am Dr. Brett Wheatley almost tripped as he walked rapidly down the stairs while fastening his belt. The doorbell sounded a third time. Finally, he reached the front door and opened it. "Donna! I wasn't expecting you this early. Come on in! There's toast and coffee and..." He paused and looked at her with concern. "Hey, are you alright?" Donna stood before him, small, meek and rather sickly-looking. She wore blue jeans and a white tee-shirt. Her hair hadn't been...

Professional Hazard

Mr. Jenkins smiled when he saw her and started to walk in her general direction. He and his friend were obviously drunk; both smelled of beer and neither seemed to be able to walk in a straight line. "Hey Emma," Bob Jenkins slurred when he stopped in front of her. "Sorry we're early...wanted you to meet my friend David." "Hello sir, nice to meet you," Emma said, striving for politeness as she held out her hand. David hesitated before accepting it,...

The Professional

We were sat in the bar of his favourite 5* hotel in Manchester enjoying a bottle of wine and sex chat. He was sat a few tables away, dressed in a very smart suit looking like the pure professional. I noticed him glancing our way as I rested my hand on her arm as the conversation got filthier. Dawn was absolutely stunning, a natural beauty. Tall, busty, blonde and confident. He could see she had hard nipples under her white blouse, and her shapely smooth long legs were fully on show. He knew...

The Professional Woman Part Two Down But Not Out

The Professional Wife Part Two: Making it big. I sat in my chair as the waiters brought out our plates before us. The appetizers were magnificent. Even though Mark had brought me here under false pretenses, I was in complete awe. Then the talking began, and I wanted to throw up all the contents of my stomach. Mr. Crawford or Edward Crawford was doing all the talking, and as usual, all the men around him just nodded their heads or kept repeating what he said, no matter how disgusting or stupid...

Toys

Annie Says Maybe Ch 4 Professional Help

One Month After the Anniversary"I have the pussy. I make the rules," Annie muttered to herself with half of the humming shaft inside her."Oh god." She panted. The shaft of the vibrating dildo painted her insides with a deep purple shade of lust. But it was her mind, her new mantra that was allowing it, coaching her to stretch and take more inside her. "I have the pussy..." The toyed hummed steadily. She pushed it in another half-inch. Such good advice.The toy wasn't something she could've ever...

Wife Lovers

The Professional Woman Part One Ups and Downs

Life had gotten boring for me. It had come down to work and home life, which wasn't bad. I have a good job working in the clothing industry. I was married to a good man for twelve years. But now reaching into my late thirties things were beginning to get routine.It was not anybody's fault that I was starting to feel bored with my life. Mark did all he could. We tried to excite things in the bedroom many times. Role Play, Videos, New Toys for both of us. He was satisfied with how things had come...

Anal

Professional Masseuse

Teri had been a certified massage ther****t for the last five years and worked in one of the best Day Spa's in town. Her boyfriend liked to tease her that guys had tried to solicit "extras", but despite the occasional hard-on under a towel, no one had ever even hinted at anything inappropriate. Due to her boyfriends teasing, it did make Teri think about what she would do if it did happen. Sometimes she thought she might run out of the massage room and tell the manager or maybe just say, "No."....

Whorishly Professional

Taking a seat in the lobby of his psychiatrist's office, Avery crossed his legs and picked up an issue of Vogue off the end table beside him. He never understood fashion's do's and don'ts but the people around him always complimented him on his innate sense of style. He wasn't attracted to the models in this magazine; there was no basis for attraction. Their billowing garments, intricately patterned and sharp coloured made it difficult for him to perceive the natural beauty they undoubtedly...

Professional

She lied there and stretched out her legs. The last one pounded her with her ankles up by her ears. No way she could do that without a 200lbs guy pushing down on the back of her legs while he pumped his cock in and out of her. As she stretched, she felt the cum ooze out of her soaked pussy. She arched her back and got ready for the next one. The other four guys stood there around the bed as their next friend positioned his cock at the lips of her cunt. He chanted something rude and the others...

Promotion To A Male Escort From A Professional Masseur

Hello everyone.. I really feel blessed to be here among all of you guys and girls and . And I’m overjoyed with the response I have received and I want you guys to keep them coming and I hope you are satisfied with my speed and my replies.. Unlike other writers I shall reply you within in an hour or 2 max to max in a day.. I love to be in touch with my readers.. you can even reach me directly on hangouts using this email id. Remember you don’t need to share ya number with me to chat on...

My First Massage Experience Made Me A Professional Gigolo

Hello all ISS readers. My special warm greetings to Girls/Bhabhis/Aunties, all female ones/House wives from #Odisha and #Chhattisgarh. Please give me feedback at “” after reading my experience. I’m Amitav aged 24 years, 5ft 8inch height, grey complexion and handsome athletic body. Now I am going to tell you how my body massage experience with my Aunt made me a professional gigolo one. I am from RAIGARH, CHHATTISGARH and had completed my B.Tech in 2015. Now I’m preparing for job staying away...

From Passionate To Professional Love Making

Hi Friends… Myself James Daniel (fake name for privacy), a simple south Indian guy from a well cultured and rich family. I am a Wild Life Ranger of 27 years old with a good size package to satisfy any girl or lady of any age group. I never shaved my pubic & body hair, but I kept myself Hygienic at all times. Most of the time I keep secrets to myself, in order to make others feel secured. This is the first story I am going to narrate here, Comments are welcomed to I was always passionate about...

Your Wish Come True Chapter 8 Professional Help

Many thanks for the positive feedback so far. I really appreciate the effort of those who have made comments. This chapter contains a rather detailed description of a luxury maisonette apartment in Belgravia, which some people may find boring. Sorry if this is the case. The apartment actually exists and I really like it, and it's my fantasy after all, so here it is. The electronic gadgets described are also real, but they are taken from a...

My First Professional Massive Cock Experience

I was a college student around eighteen, very young and was just awakening in my awareness of my sexuality as a whole. I had had some experience with girls and some playful encounters with two male friends. I began to feel the urge and sexual need for BIG penises. It was like I could get horny for girls and have that taken care of, but I needed to see and have a huge cock to appreciate and experience. But I was watching porn at that age, and I so much wanted one so big, immense, fucking...

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