Note: This one’s a little edgy, and may not be for everyone. It is just fantasy, but if you’ve ever been the victim of violent crime you might not want to read this. Consider yourself warned – I don’t need any nasty letters about it, thanks.
When my apartment door burst open I was sitting at the computer in my underwear. Too late I realized that I’d stupidly left the door unlocked. Now there was a big, strange man standing in my hallway staring at me through a nylon mask. I could hear his heavy breathing. The flashbulb memory is burned into my brain. The man turned to lock the door and then stepped toward me. I was frozen, my heart pounding, but I managed to think, “Don’t faint, don’t faint...”
“Hey, faggot,” the stranger growled. He’d seen the pictures on my monitor. I could make out a sinister toothy grin through the mask.
“Wh-what do you want?” I blurted out.
“Whatever you got that I can carry. And since you’re a poof maybe I’ll just get my rocks off before I rob you. You faggots give the best head.”
I somehow summoned the strength to stand up from my chair. “Take whatever you want, but leave me alone. I’ve got a friend coming over any minute. He knows I’m home, and if I don’t let him in he’ll call the police.”
“Yeah, right. Sit down! If he comes, we’ll let him in all right, and I’ll just see which one of you’s the best cocksucker. You think you can take me? I can snap you like a twig... or cut you up good,” he snarled at me as he moved toward me, flicking his hand at the last to reveal and flip open a switchblade.
Terrified, I sat back down slowly, staring at the knife. The blade glinted blue in the light from the computer. My mind raced. Was he going to kill me? I tried to stay calm and tell myself that he just wanted to rob me and get lost, but I couldn’t know what he would do. I really was no match for him. He was a lot bigger than I. I did a mental inventory of all the possible weapons in my home, but all were far out of reach and there was no way I could make a run for them. For now I’d have to do what he told me. I looked up at him, trying to see his face. Through the nylon I could only see that he had thick dark hair and a goatee.
“So, you like looking at pictures of dick, huh? Here, have a good look at mine, then. Open my pants, ya fudgepacker, you’re gonna love this,” he continued as he moved closer, towering over me and thrusting his big crotch at my face.
“Please, sir, take anything, just–”
“Shut up! I’ll take my sweet time fucking your faggot gob, is what I’ll take, if I want to. And whatever else I want. Now, fish out the pole I’m gonna tear your ass open with, if you’re real good, heh, heh, heh,” he barked, and laughed sickeningly. This sick fuck was really enjoying himself.
Hating him and myself, I slowly did what I was told. I reached up and with shaking hands felt for his zipper.
“Start with the belt. Open it all up so you can get at my balls too.”
I unhooked his big metal belt buckle, memorizing its design as I did so. I was determined to be able to identify him if I ever got out of this. He was wearing a leather biker jacket, a black t-shirt, black jeans, and what looked like combat boots. When I’d stood, it had been partly to see how tall he was, and I guessed about 6’5” by the couple of inches he had on me. He outweighed me by a good fifty pounds, though, putting him at about 225. He probably really could snap me like a twig, and I abandoned thoughts of somehow getting the knife from him.
I slowly unbuttoned the waist of his jeans. I was still hoping that he might just stop all of this and take my valuables and leave, so I moved as slowly as I thought I could get away with. I was sickened by the fact that it was obvious that he was already aroused by all this. It was also obvious that his equipment matched the rest of him in terms of size, by the growing bulge in his jeans. I gulped at the thought of that monster taking me by force. I slowly unbuttoned the rest of his button-fly and pulled his jeans open. He wore cheap white briefs, that were obscenely distended by his now twitching cock, which arced off to the side. The pungent smell of ball and ass sweat wafted out in my face, and I paused.
“That’s it, you little whore, pull it out,” he pushed me on.
I took hold of the waistband of his briefs and pulled it out, over and down. His penis swung free to bob and point at my forehead, and it was huge. Continuing my mental ID inventory, I noted that he was probably about eight inches long, and uncut. There was a freckle or mole on the foreskin on the left side. The head was half-exposed and a bead of precum was forming in the slit.
“What are you waiting for, bitch? Suck it,” he ordered.
I was shaking all over, and I leaned in slowly, then he stopped me.
“Wait.” He put the knife behind my ear and braced it there with his thumb, the way you peel an apple. “You bite me, bitch, and you lose this ear.”
My shaking continued, and he now pulled my head forward by the ear so that I couldn't t help but just open my mouth to take in his dripping penis. The bastard shoved it all the way in and held it there, gagging me, for several seconds.
“Oh yeah. You’ve gotta nice warm mouth, faggot. Suck that big dick. I know you love it,” he growled down at me as he started to thrust in and out of my mouth, holding my head still with the knife held to my ear and his other beefy hand clamped over my other ear. As terrified and disgusted as I was, my mind was churning again, trying to think of what to do. I didn’t want to cooperate, of course, but I hoped that if I did I’d at least get of it all alive. I thought, “I can do this. He’s not hurting me. I can have sex with him, and he won’t hurt me and he’ll leave.” But it just felt so dirty, like I was the whore he was calling me. I’d done it for less in the past, though, for much less than my life. Haven’t we all? So I tried to steel my resolve and strategize, while he pounded at the back of my throat with his monster cock. It was very thick, and it was hard to keep my teeth from scraping him, but with the knife pricking me behind my ear I did my best. All of sudden he pulled out.
