I like rough sex. There, I’ve said it. And not just a bit of slap and tickle and then all kissy-kissy and lovey-dovey, I mean the most disturbing and extreme home-invasion, mock-assault fantasy. Break in like you’re a real intruder and take me rough and raw as I struggle and fight and pretend to resist. 

You think I’m sick? Need help? Counselling? Therapy? Locking up? Fuck you, asshole, I just don’t care.

The trouble is, men just aren’t up to it. They talk the talk but can’t walk the walk. When push comes to shove, they bottle it. Maybe I’m just too good at playing the victim.

Even when they do start off with an air of violent menace and have built up a thrilling atmosphere of arousal and terror, the cunts invariably stop and ask me, ‘Are you ok?’, ‘Is this too much?’ or some such soppy shit, and the vibe is dead.

So, it’s the last refuge of the desperate in our modern world: online dating. Or, more specifically, the niche kinks catered for on the X-Treem-Dreams.com fetish contact website.

My advert was short and to the point. I tried to make it easy for the dickheads to understand.

‘Red hot Thai slut wants to live out twisted CNC fantasy. Break in and take me by force as I struggle and fight. No limits, no safe word, no comeback. Don’t reply here; WhatsApp me.’

And I put my burner number.

The reason for me not wanting replies on the site? Then I’d inevitably look at their profile and know that they were young, old, tall, short, black, white, or whatever. Forewarned is forearmed, and I wanted to be defenseless when the mystery attacker came a-calling.

Within the first few hours, I’d had a dozen callers and a dozen losers.

Shallow breathing and a shuffling noise? Wankers.

A hundred stupid questions? Fantasists

Suddenly gets cut off? Wifey’s come home early. 

Finally, a potential. A well-spoken Englishman. After confirming my requirements, he dropped his voice an octave:

“I know exactly what you want, you whore, exactly what you crave. I’m going to fuck your brains out and make you live to regret your ‘no limits’ boast but by then it’ll be too late. Get ready to be brutally taken against your will and left for fucking dead.”

He’ll do, I thought to myself.  

I WhatsApped him my address, clarified my consent in writing, and told him that he had until midnight the next day—36 hours. I sent a single-view selfie in my slutty yellow thong bikini, just to get his juices flowing. 

That night, I left the front door unlocked and waited for a while face down, ass up, imagining footsteps on the staircase, the creak of doorknobs, or the squeak of a hinge—but they never came.  

I woke up the next morning with a tingle of excitement in my belly. I’d started something I couldn’t finish, lit the fuse on a time bomb that could detonate at any time.  

I walked around the house quite naked, curtains open and on full view. Was he lurking in the bushes or in a nearby car? The thought that he was out there planning it made my clitty pulse with pleasure.

Gradually, things became more normal, and I went about my daily rituals: breakfast, then the gym. 

I walked there today, little scrunch-butt hotpants and a minimal bra top, barely decent, phat ass wiggling as I tottered on my heels and my nipples standing out like chapel hat pegs. Asking for it, really, just fucking asking for it. 

Three workmen were fixing potholes down the street, but their banter stopped as I walked past, their eyes brazenly undressing me—two Latino guys and one as black as coal. I gave them a waggle of the booty and a breezy “Hello, boys” to brighten up their day. Their girlfriends would be getting fucked tonight for sure.  

The whole day was an erotic blend of anticipation and trepidation. All eyes were on my tits and ass; no man could resist a glance or just a wanton, shameless gawp. There were wolf whistles from passing cars and anonymous voices calling out obscene remarks. 

I loved it.

Every man was my potential attacker. In the gym, a random guy watched me working out, checking out my well-developed glutes. Was he planning on how he'd spread them as he fucked me from behind?

In the coffee shop, a biker’s eyes were hidden by his mirrored shades, but I could feel them boring into me. Would he later launch a rampant onslaught?

A burly brute in the supermarket whispered ‘fucking whore’ as he brushed past me, and it made my pussy tingle at the thought that he might be the one. 

Footsteps behind me on the pavement. A car that slowed as it drove past; my cunt was permanently molten, every stranger my potential assailant.

What for some girls was a nightmare had, for me, become a walking wet dream.

I made it home just as the workmen were packing up, sweat-soaked biceps emerging from their hi-viz tunics.  

“Hey rica, do you want to taste my taco?” One of the Latino guys catcalled crudely as he grabbed his bulging crotch. I dropped my shorts to flash him the top of my g-string, then gave him the middle finger.

“Fuck you, hombre.”

I grabbed a quick shower and changed into my thong bikini for an hour by the pool.  

Lying back in the warmth of the evening sun, my mind ran over the day's events. I must have seen him at some stage but when, where? I closed my eyes and thought back to the posh English voice that I’d heard on the phone and wondered who from today that could belong to.

He must be stalking me, secretly watching, planning, imagining taking me by force, thinking of my screams and struggles, his cock throbbing at the taboo excitement of being able to live out his forbidden fantasy with somebody who shared it with him.

Suddenly, I was startled by footsteps coming across the patio, quick but quiet. I turned my head, but he was already upon me, a muscular black man, shaven-headed and with a full beard, completely nude and bearing down on me with a look of manic lust. I jumped up and tried to run, confused and suddenly frightened at this unexpected turn of events, but he was too quick and grabbed me, his massive hands encircling my wrists and throat. 

My mind was a whirl… He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him, but before I could speak or cry out for help, his hand clamped over my mouth and he frogmarched me into the house, his penis, alarmingly thick and fully erect, pressed into my bottom as he kept close behind me.

As he pushed me upstairs, I realised with astonishment that he was one of the three workers who’d been fixing the road. Barely recognisable without his hard hat and orange overalls, but it was definitely him.

It was like a bomb going off in my brain. What an absolutely brilliant disguise to hide in plain sight like that. How on earth had he managed to arrange it all? Perhaps he’d bribed the Mexicans to play along with the charade.

It was hard to believe, by looking at hi,m that he'd sounded so well-spoken on the phone. He stayed silent now, and when we got to the bedroom, the first thing he did was to make sure that I did too, covering my mouth with duct tape so that my ‘cries for help’ were no more than muffled moans.

He pushed me down onto the bed face-first, grabbed both my wrists behind my back and pushed his face between my butt cheeks, his thick beard delicious against my pussy as he tongued my asshole for a minute or two before greedily feasting on my dripping cunt.

Fuck yeah, this was what I’d always dreamt of: being taken by force by an aggressive bull who does what he wants without asking. Soon I was cumming as his tongue slobbered over my clitty, and when he felt my spasms starting, he came up behind me and slammed his monster meat into my tight Thai hole.

The size of him and the force of that brutal first thrust made my head snap back, and but for the tape over my mouth, I would have screamed so loud the whole town would’ve heard.

This seemed to only further inspire his lust, and still holding my wrists behind my back, he hammered his thick pipe into me with such venom that I almost lost consciousness.  

We were long past the point of arrangements or plans; he was using me in the way he'd always dreamt of, and I was powerless to stop him.  It dawned on me that if I'd asked him to stop now, he probably wouldn’t have, the realization of which made me cum again, my whole body shaking as his thrusts increased in violent intensity, and with a dark grunt of bestial rapture, he emptied his balls into my farthest depths.

We stayed like that for a moment or two, still no words, only gasps for air after our exertions, and a faint wet clicking as I squeezed his giant weapon with the muscles of my cunt.

He started to get hard again; I felt it swelling and throbbing. But instead of fucking me again, he pulled out and came around to face me.  

Kneeling on the bed, he ripped the tape off but as my mouth opened wide to scream for mercy, he grabbed my ears and rammed his cum-covered ebony pole into my little mouth, fucking my skull, his wet balls banging into my chin and his swollen bellend in my windpipe.

I struggled to breathe, such was his girth and the force of his strokes. Crude quacking and gurgling were all the sounds I could make, and great globules of drool shot out of my nose in a degrading display of this disgraceful abuse.

At some stage during this oral onslaught, I was dimly aware of a noise on the nightstand, the shrill little bleeps of a WhatsApp message that I was hardly in the position to look at, given that my eyes were bulging as my throat was pounded and my hands were braced against the muscular thighs of my ruthless attacker.

His pumping thrusts and bestial grunts were becoming louder and more frenetic, but just as I braced myself to be flooded with cum, he withdrew the Black python, pushed me onto my back, grabbed my ankles, and spread them impossibly wide, exposing my red-raw vagina in a brazen and shameless display.  

With my hands now free and my mouth uncovered, I was able to scream and try to fight him off as we’d agreed, but my little fists had no effect on his massive biceps, and my cries for help only seemed to further provoke his twisted lust as he let go of my ankles, clamped one hand over my mouth, and gripped my throat with the other.  

His eyes widened as I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him ever deeper into my gaping hole.

The stench of him was overpowering. Evidently, he played his part as a member of the road crew to perfection, as his sweat was pungent and his breath quite foul. A method actor, I thought in a brief moment of lucidity before losing my mind again to this wild kink. 

As his gargantuan penis plunged in and out of me like some giant ebony piston, I put my arms around his thick bull neck, hanging on for dear life, the abandonment so thrilling and the submission absolute.

His magnificent physique tensed and flexed, and I knew that another copious load was about to be injected into my sacred cavern. Had we even discussed using protection? I couldn’t remember but was long past caring. All I knew was that I wanted his seed inside me as a permanent reminder of this unforgettable assault.

From his first eruption to the last pulsing of his massive meat must have lasted two full minutes. Finally, I released my arms and legs and lay there prone and lifeless.  

Fucked. Totally and utterly fucked.

It had been ten times more intense than I ever dared imagine and being on the edge of terror had exponentially magnified my orgasms.

Fuck he was good at this. Almost too good. I wondered where he’d learned his craft. Other willing bitches on X-Treem-Dreems, or—and this thought shocked and excited in equal measure—out there in the real world?

I prayed he wouldn't spoil it now by coming out with some lame bollocks like all the others had before. 

Did you enjoy that, hunny?

Did I play my part ok?

Would you like to go on a real date? 

But he didn't disappoint. When he eventually withdrew his outsize penis from my battered cunt, he slapped me once around the head and spat out a viscous threat. 

“You fucking asked for that, you bitch, teasing me all day.”

Suddenly, I was confused. Something was wrong. Something out of place. The voice. The voice was wrong. Instead of the dulcet tones I’d heard on the phone, his words rumbled gruffly out, cloaked in a thick West African accent.

“Don’t breathe a word of this, you slut, or I’ll be back, and next time, I’ll split your asshole open.”

I was limp and mute. Fuck, it was so real. How had he done the fucking voice? Some AI tool, no doubt, but even then, so fucking clever.

And then he spat in my face. Right in my fucking face, a thick, wet wad of drool right into my eyes. I screamed in disgust and was about to object when I remembered how I’d phrased my advert.

No limits, no comeback.

He saw the words of protest die on my tongue and with a smirk, got up and turned to leave, back to wherever he'd left his clothes, his cock still dripping with our juices.

As I watched his muscular buttocks disappear through the bedroom door, my phone pinged again to alert me of another WhatsApp.

I opened it. It was from him.

Sorry.

Sorry? What the fuck? For what? And anyway, he hadn’t had a phone with him… With a racing pulse and pounding heart, I scrolled up to the previous message that had come in twenty minutes earlier while he was skull-fucking me.

Hey babe, I can’t go through with it. It’s always been a fantasy of mine, but when it comes to it, I’ve got cold feet. Hope you find what you’re looking for.

For a second, I was completely discombobulated, dumbfounded and bemused.

I almost called out to him as I heard him going down the stairs but then penny slowly dropped. Like cylinders turning in a mortise lock, everything clicked into place and the truth hit me like a runaway train.

He wasn’t him.

Even as my blood ran cold, my hand dropped down between my legs and feverishly sawed at my swollen cunt as I realized that my twisted fantasy had become unspeakable reality.