Date: Fri, 27 Jun 2008 04:38:59 +0000
From: holdon2@comcast.net
Subject: Unexpected Visitors

I opened my eyes to darkness.  "Strange," I thought, "I couldn't have slept
that long."  I had gotten up early to clear some brush on my property, and
had worked hard for several hours through the morning and into the early
afternoon as the temperature and humidity rose.  I had finished the work
outside by one o'clock, put the tools away, guzzled two beers with a light
lunch, took a quick shower and flopped onto the bed to nap for an hour or
two.  Had thought of jerkin' off, but was too beat to beat it.  Would
revisit that idea when I woke up.

I was awake now, and even in those confused few seconds between sleep and
wakefulness, I pressed my hard-on into the mattress, and the resulting
ripple of sensuality caused me to remember that pre-nap need for a JO
session.  But the flexing let me know something else, and I was immediately
more than wide awake.  I couldn't move!  While I normally slept sprawled
out across the bed, I now became frighteningly aware that the spread eagle
position in which I found myself was not a natural one.  Only when I tried
to bolt upright did I find that my ankles and wrists were tied, stretched
and somehow attached to the corners of the bed.  Panic set in, but no
amount of thrashing about loosened the restraints.  It was through the
jerking movements of trying to free myself that I also realized my head was
covered with some sort of cloth sack.  Yelling and cursing did nothing but
perhaps relieve some of the incredible tension I was feeling.  I knew the
noise wouldn't draw my neighbors' attention.  They lived too far away.  Who
did this?  How did it happen?  WHY did it happen?  And then suddenly the
rather obvious thought hit, "Someone's in the house!"

I talked to the anonymous presence, placing all the bravado into my voice
that I could muster under the circumstances, but got no response.  My ears
became my only receptors for external stimuli.  I became very still and
simply listened, but could hear only my own pounding heart and rapid
breathing.  I could not hear or sense the presence of anyone else in the
room.  I tried to breathe deeply, sought a least a level of calm that would
allow me to think.  Whoever did this must have entered the house through
the sliding glass door.  I had left that open to catch whatever breeze
wafted by, and I knew the other two doors to the house were locked.  Had I
been watched as I worked on the property?  Was this planned or random?
Just as I was facing the possibility that I might die, I felt it.  At first
I though an insect had landed on my back.  As I twitched and jerked to try
to get rid of the pest, my heightened senses brought an awareness of the
metallic nature of the beast on my back.  It felt like the point of a
knife.  Amazing how quickly a cold sweat can break out!  Still I heard
nothing.

As lightly and deftly as the legs of a ladybug, that knife point moved
between my shoulder blades, across and down my back, up along the right
side of my rib cage and into my arm pit.  The situation was at once
desperate and dangerous, yet the soft caressing--even with that metallic
blade--made me aware that my cock was throbbing, partially from the need
to get rid of the two beers I had with lunch and partially from the
eroticism of the caressing.

Without a sound, the knife left my upper body and next made its presence
known on my left foot.  It made its way up my calf, lingering and tickling
the insides of both thighs before, like butterfly wings, working its way
across the globes of my ass.  By this time, I was so turned on, I was
unashamedly humping the bed, even as I tried to push thoughts of death from
my mind.  As quietly as it had arrived, the knife point left.  Within
seconds, however, a hand gloved with latex, I think, reached up between my
legs and pulled my very hard cock down so it was pointing toward the foot
of the bed.  Another hand pulled my balls away from the base of my cock and
began to wrap a length of rope tightly around the upper part of the
scrotum, stretching the sack and making my dick even harder.

Then nothing.  For what seemed like half an hour, nothing happened.  I had
almost begun to hope I was now alone, when a warm stream of liquid began to
cover my back, ass and legs.  The smell told me I was being pissed on.  My
mind told me I should be disgusted, but my body reacted with renewed
passion.  The latex gloved hand returned and began to feel my ass muscles,
fingers gliding down the valley to the opening.  Still wet with piss, spit
was added and a finger was inserted, rotated and removed. A weight moved
onto the end of the bed.  I braced myself, confident that I knew what was
coming.  There was no finesse.  There was no easing in.  The weight settled
onto me even as he rammed his dick into my ass--his pubes against my skin
in one swift move.  I tried to wrench away, but held by ropes and the
rapist's weight, that effort was pointless.  As my body adjusted to the
invasion, as I stopped fighting and clenching, as I relaxed--dare I admit
that I started to enjoy the feelings I w as experiencing?  My cock was
still rock hard.  The thrusts continued, increasing in intensity, until
with a grunt---the only verbal sound I had heard during the entire
afternoon--my attacker unloaded his balls into my gut.  He pulled out and
got off the bed.  I didn't hear him leave the room.  After a few minutes a
weight again depressed the foot of the bed.  With no preliminaries, a hard
dick was embedded in my ass and pounding.  Back for seconds?  But then,
unexpectedly because I thought there was only one person involved, a tongue
was licking my throbbing dick and balls and licking between my balls and
asshole which was again being fucked.  The second fucker was doing a job on
my prostate, which when combined with the tongue action, set me off.  I
exploded and my ass muscles clenched, sending fucker number two over the
edge.  Before he pulled out, this second fucker emptied his bladder in my
ass, giving me a full, warm feeling.

I felt both of the other bodies leave the bed, but did not hear them leave
the room.  Suddenly the knife point was back.  Again---panic.  This time it
did not caress.  The point rested on my upper right ass cheek.  The
pressure increased, and as the knife broke through the skin, I screamed.
The cuts were painful, but not deep.  I had only begun to dare to hope that
I would live through the day, when a liquid soaked rag was clamped over the
cloth sack in front of my face.  As I was fading out, I realized that my
attackers had probably used the same liquid to enable them to tie me to the
bed.  I went to sleep in a warm embrace as I released the beers I had been
holding for too long.

When I woke, I was no longer tied.  My body ached from straining against
the ropes, and my ass hurt.  Hobbling to a mirror in the bathroom, I saw
that a one inch Greek letter, lambda--symbol for homosexuality, had been
incised on my upper right ass cheek.  It was already scabbing over and
would leave a scar.  Why was it done? Why had the rape happened?  No
answers.  Looking back on the experience, parts of it had definitely been
erotic!

I returned to the bedroom to change the bedding and noticed a printed
business card on the nightstand.  It contained only the word, "Later," and
a Greek lambda.