#cncfantasy

I’m so desperately horny

him asking subtle questions for more details and im so out of it that i dont seem to realize how strange his questions are. i dont even notice when his body shifts in weird ways. i dont notice when he starts staring at the chest i left unbinded after my rapist ripped it to shreds. I don’t notice how seductive I must look to a real man with an unfathomably high líbido. i mistake the occasional silent grunts and noises as his way of reassuring me that he’s listening. before i realize it hes much closer to me than he was when i started talking. his breath is so heavy, and his arm is twitching every now and then beneath his hoodie. i pause and stare at him in a questionable state. and just as i piece together what hes doing— just as i escape my dazed state, he pins me down and continues to jerk off over my body. he laughs as i struggle underneath him, holding my hands above my trembling body. im kicking and screaming for help, though i know no one can hear me. i chose to tell him at his apartment because i knew no one could hear me. I didn’t want to be heard as i recalled my rape. i was ashamed of being a victim. ashamed of letting someone take advantage of me. ashamed of being called all the names that made my cunt throb with excitement. ashamed of how wet i seem to be once i realize he’s getting off to this.

when he fucks me and bathes in every scream i give, i try to ignore the endless amount of slick pouring out of my cunt with every thrust, or the way my clit aches and begs for stimulation. finding myself going silent when he grunts in my ear, “yeah, just like in your story.”