I had been trying to myself get date-raped again for a few months. It had already happened on two separate occasions, both at the hands of my former lover, John. But now John was gone and...well, I wanted to get raped again. I was determined to make it happen again, and for it to feel authentic.
Then, one night, it happened. Just like that.
I was at a comedy club, all alone and dressed very promiscuously in a tiny red dress and no bra or panties (how else am I gonna get myself raped?) and six-inch patent leather stilettos, with more than enough of my huge rack and long legs on display for the world to see.
All evening long I'd flirted shamelessly with a handsome older man across the room, smiling, running my tongue along my full "cocksucking" lips, biting my bottom lip, licking the rim of my cocktail, leaning forward to show him my cleavage. He never stopped watching me. He must've had six drinks sent over to me by the time the show ended. Very stiff drinks.
This was my favorite pastime. At least two nights a week I dressed up like a total whore and went out, hoping to get sexually assaulted. I flaunted my massive titties, wore no underwear, and carried lip gloss and cash in my cleavage instead of taking a purse.
Because how would I keep track of a purse if I was getting knocked out and thrown into the trunk of a car? I'd head somewhere filthy— seedy bars, porno theaters, public parks, truck stops, cheap motel clubs. Any time I found a big group of men, I'd sit down and get hammered, making sure they were watching. I'd leave my drink unattended. I'd walk down all the dark alleys.
Don't get me wrong, I got fucked a LOT. But never raped. Usually the man would kiss me tentatively and I, the depraved little cumslut that I am, would give in and let him suck my giant breasts and fuck my face. I always let them screw my ass. But it was always consensual, and I didn't want consensual anymore. I wanted to scream and cry and beg while a cruel stranger brutalized and violated me.
Little did I know it then, sitting at my little table listening to the comedian tell his jokes and making eyes at this mystery man, that later that night I'd be getting my wish. And then some.
The show ended and the place started to clear out, but I took my time, enjoying all the husbands ogling my expansive chest. I was hoping to meet my mystery man. And it worked! I went to visit the ladies' room, and right as I exited and stepped back into the hallway, I ran headfirst into my flirtatious male friend, and felt positively giddy when I noticed he wasn't smiling.
I blushed as he scowled and devoured my lush body with his eyes, lingering on my natural 36G breasts, which sat high and proud on my chest and accentuated my tiny waist. He made a guttural, growling noise—the sound a man makes when he's angry and wants to hurt and fuck—and grabbed me roughly by the arm, pushing me right back into the ladies' room. He called me a slut, smacked me me hard across the face with his open palm, and pushed me onto the cold tile floor.
My heart pounded and my cunt creamed as he locked the door and returned to stand in front of me. He had an enormous protruding bulge in the front of his pants, and I realized he was going to use it on me. Hurt me with it. I licked my lips and shivered with anticipation.
Having a pair of huge natural breasts has always been a blessing in my life, especially when I'm getting fucked, but on that night, my big titties saved me from getting raped up the ass on a dirty bathroom floor. Don't feel sorry for me though—a thorough, brutal violation of my inexperienced asshole was right around the corner.
On this night, my handsome assailant showed me a taser and told me he'd use it if I screamed. He told me to pull my dress down and get my titties out, which I did almost enthusiastically. Assault or no assault, I always love the moment when a man sees my bare breasts for the first time. They looked even bigger when they were naked.
This man, just like all the others who have seen my beautiful chest, gasped audibly as my young, overdeveloped breasts popped out over the top of my dress and sprung forward to greet him. They protruded more than a foot away from my body, slightly torpedo-shaped with no hint of sag. They seemed to be at attention, nipples fully erect. Huge jugs ready to do their job and please this man.
He regarded me for a little while, gazing from my chest to my mouth and back down again. When he finally spoke, I was almost disappointed by what he said.
"You've been such a fucking slut tonight. And what I'm about to do to you—you did this to yourself by wearing that dress and flirting with me like that. And for drinking so much. You have been asking for it, and I am going to fucking give it to you, bitch. Men can't help themselves, don't you know that? It's up to you to not get raped. It's not up to me. But..." he trailed off.
I found myself thrusting my breasts toward him from my place on the floor. Offering them. My erect nipples pointed right at him, as if in invitation.
