JOHN'S STORY:
I was working at a resort in the Mojave Desert -- the middle of nowhere. The nearest town was an hour away. It was a popular destination resort, especially for Europeans and Asians. I was a bartender and made good money -- that's why I was there. It was the kind of place where you were happy to be working at night because there was nothing else to do anyway. There was a golf course that the employees could play for free, so at least I had something to do during the day.
The 'season' ran from October to May. It was just too hot in the summer to remain open for business. If you've never worked at a resort, you'd be amazed at the kinds of employees they attracted. There was a small group of hard-working, faithful people who loved the outdoors, and returned year-after-year. Then there were the rest of us.
Meth heads, alcoholics and loners. I was part of the last group. Sure, I'd drink on my nights off, but never too extreme. I was trying to save money and it was too expensive to drink in the bars.
I'd broken up with my girlfriend and read about this place in the newspaper. I had nothing to lose so I applied online, and was pleasantly surprised when I was offered a job. I drove 1,500 miles to get here.
I hadn't been laid in months, but it didn't bother me: I considered myself something of a 'non-sexual'. I wasn't attracted to guys, and it was too much work to hustle women considering what you got out of it. So I took care of my sexual needs myself.
Don't get me wrong: I'm not an asshole, if anything I'm a pretty shy guy -- an introvert. I've been told that I'm cute, but at 5'8", 140 pounds, I'm not in big demand with the ladies. I always seem to lose out to the taller guys. It's just easier to not even try, and it's better for my ego.
I play golf every day with a couple guys, and we've become pretty close, about as close as you can get with people at these places. I just prefer to be alone most of the time.
Quite a few gay guys work at these places. I don't mind. When they drink at my bar they're generous tippers. One of them tried to pick me up one night, but I told him I didn't swing that way. He didn't seem convinced, but he's left me alone.
Some of us live in a two-story building that has motel-like rooms. Two beds to a room. Everyone has a roommate. My roommate is one of the guys I play golf with. He's a good looking guy and has a nice personality. We get along; we make each other laugh. We have fun. His name is Jeff. He's an ideal roommate.
By the way, my name is John.
Anyway, I was doing laundry one day, and I was waiting to use the dryer. Sandra had her clothes in there and they were done. She's a pretty girl with a great body, but had a questionable reputation. Jeff called her the 'community cum slut'. When she finally showed up to get her clothes she ignored me. She was a stuck-up bitch! She didn't even apologize for keeping me waiting. She scooped up her clothes and left. I threw my clothes in the dryer and went back to my room.
Thirty minutes later I went to retrieve my clothes. One of the gay guys, Don, was there waiting to use the dryer. I apologized for his wait and put the clothes in my laundry basket and went to my room.
I was putting away my clothes when I noticed a pair of sexy, frilly pink panties. They obviously belonged to Sandra. I was going to return them to her, but something stopped me. To hell with it, I thought. She'd made me wait so long for the dryer. I decided to throw them away.
Later in the day there was a knock on my door. It was Sandra. She asked if I found her underwear in the dryer, I said 'no'. She seemed confused, but left me alone.
A few days later it all started. Sandra sat at my bar after she finished work. She was smiling and flirting with me. I thought it was strange but I enjoyed the attention. We talked and laughed and finally she invited me to her room after I got off work. I told her I'd be there.
When I knocked on her door and she opened it she was wearing a flimsy negligee and red bra and panties. My penis instantly became hard. She offered me a glass of wine and we sat on her bed and talked. I put my arm around her. We kissed deep, passionate kisses. She was becoming aroused.
I don't know for sure, but I think she spiked my wine with some sort of drug. I was becoming disoriented; dizzy. I gently pulled her panties down her smooth legs. She removed her negligee and bra. I stripped off my clothes. I stood at the end of the bed staring at her luscious pussy. She inched down the bed and threw her legs over my shoulders and begged me to eat her pussy.
I was driving her wild with desire. My lips kissing her pussy while my tongue teased her clit.
Suddenly I felt someone behind me. A pair of strong hands grabbed hold of my hips. I was bent over with my face in her pussy; I was in a very vulnerable position. Then I felt something poking at my bottomhole. I knew it was a hard cock. I tried to stand but Sandra clamped her thighs around my neck and held me in place. The hard cock popped through the opening of my hole and entered me. It slid further and further inside me. I tried to scream but I was mute. The drugged drink had stolen my voice. Sandra rolled out from beneath me. She threw on a robe and walked out the door leaving me with my rapist.
The pain was unbearable. In-and-out he fucked my ass. My own hard penis went soft. He fucked me for a long time. Finally, he came inside me. Jets of his hot cum burned my hole. He seemed to cum forever. When he was finished with me he pushed me onto the bed and wiped his greasy, soiled penis with my hair. I was vanquished. He left the room. It took all my strength to get dressed and go to my room. I fell asleep immediately.
When I awoke the next day I wanted to cry. My bottomhole ached from the brutal ass-raping I received. I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know who it was that raped me. I had a headache from the drug I was given.
I decided to stay at the resort. No one claimed responsibility and I never found out who it was. I avoided Sandra. I went to work; did a good job; still played golf with Jeff and Don; but never associated with anyone else on my free time.
I left the resort in May once the season ended. I was able to save a handsome amount of money with my forced isolation. I would never, ever go back there.
SANDRA'S STORY:
I was interested in John the moment we met. He's really cute, and at that time he seemed funny, and, well, normal. That changed rather quickly though.
The more I tried to get closer to him the more distant he became. He started making crude comments about me and my sex life. He didn't know anything about me or my sex life. In a short period of time, he became nastier and nastier. I thought he was mentally ill. He went so far as to tell people I was the 'community cum slut'βthat did it. I told him to stop spreading lies about me and never speak to me again.
Then one day I was doing laundry and John was there, too. He was waiting to put his clothes in the washer. I didn't speak to him. He was his usual sarcastic and crude self. I noticed my favorite panties were missing. I decided not to ask him about it.