Exploring my Male Rape Fetish, Part II

Male rape fetish – time to carry on with part II of my forced sex male rape adventures!

As you read, male rape had been one of my fantasies for many, many years… I mean let’s face it  role playing in the bedroom can only do so much after a while.

So one evening, I headed to a local, classy lounge named Speakeasy and sat down at the bar next to an attractive stranger.

The man on first glance gave the impression he was traveling for business. His broad shoulders were sculpted in Armani, and he drank his vodka martini with an air that told me he probably wasn’t American. Yet when I heard him speak, he had mastered English perfectly, though I could hear faint traces of a German accent in his voice.

I lifted my gaze from my smartphone and pivoted his way to face him.

He was even more attractive than I thought. If I had been wearing panties, I’m sure they would have moistened upon observing the victim of my male rape fetish.

Instead I raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

His thin lips stretched themselves into somewhat of a smile. “It seems you are from here, yes?” I nodded. “I’m afraid my flight has been delayed and I am stuck here for the night.”

Again I stayed silent, although as my eyes traced him, I began to wonder how I’d manage to make my male rape fetish a reality.

He had a broad frame, looked sturdy and strong, and I could tell he worked out daily. In fact he reminded me a lot of one of my hot neighbors – specifically the one from my husband wife group sex adventures.

He leaned in with his seductive cologne. “May I ask you a question?”

I cocked my head to the side. “Why not…”

“Why is it that you are not wearing any underwear?”

I was surprised he’d picked on that so easily, but I didn’t let him catch me off guard. “Should I be?”

He took a sip of his martini, perusing my face. “In my country,” he began, “a woman who doesn’t wear any undergarments is open to… many possibilities,” he finished with a sly smile.

This was the tone of the conversation for the next hour. Finally, after a few more martinis, I decided I had set the stage well enough for my male rape fetish fantasy.

I was right. The stranger let me know he was staying at the Ritz Carlton next door and I followed him back to his room.

It worked like magic. I made us martinis and laced his with a strong dose of Rohypnol. We sat on the bed as he caressed my smooth thigh with his masculine hand and leaned in for a deep kiss. He was a phenomenal kisser; the perfect balance of lips, tongue and movement.

“Was I right about the no-underwear statement?” he then asked.

“Like you wouldn’t believe it.”

We toasted to the evening and carried on with flirtatious chitchat on his bed. I watched him slowly lose his composure as he finished his Beluga Gold Line martini. Soon enough he was on his back at my complete mercy, naked from the waist down.

As I pulled up my dress to my waist and put one knee on each side of his crotch, I smiled. He’d definitely been right about why I wasn’t wearing panties.

Let’s make up our own male rape fetish story and call me at 1-888-413-5974 for the hottest, most creative roleplay phone sex!

French Whore Carmen