Shadow of Doubt

by Sir Nathan

  Anyway, it makes me wet just thinking about that.

  I also have a fantasy where I am taken roughly by a group of men I don’t know. The idea of being gangbanged and treated like a slut by strangers makes my cunt spasm. In my fantasy, I try to talk them out of it but they are ruthless and unstoppable. I submit and can’t help myself, soon becoming their willing, insatiable whore. There are usually three, but often more. Sometimes it is many more. Sometimes they are black. Sometimes there are spectators who yell abuse and humiliate me. My fantasies usually involve men with huge cocks, but my gangbang fantasy always does.

  My pussy is creaming again, baby, back in a sec. Okay, back again.

  Johan, as you know, my last fantasy is a rape fantasy. I don’t know if this is a common fantasy. I’ve never asked any of my friends about it. I’d be too embarrassed to ask them. It makes me feel queasy thinking about it and it was the hardest one to admit to you. I can’t reconcile it. I don’t want to be raped. I really don’t. The thought of being actually raped scares the crap out of me. It would be a horrific experience that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. But what if, in the back of my mind, I knew it was ‘play-rape’? If I ‘knew’ I was safe?

  In my fantasy I’m surprised by someone or caught doing something I shouldn’t be doing, and then force-fucked. I don’t want to like it, I fight and try to stop it happening, but I am overwhelmed, and before long my body betrays me, and he knows it and despite myself, I can’t help it and I cum and cum and cum. The whirlwind of force and being able to do nothing ... God. The thought is so frighteningly erotic.

  But Johan, please, this is important to me, baby ... If you see fit to fulfil this particular fantasy, I would need you there. I would need to be able to see you, so I knew I was safe. In fact, I would prefer it if you were there for all of my fantasies. The thought of you being there, seeing it, seeing me be a slut, a dirty slut, makes me even wetter. Oh, God ...

  All I know is, when I fuck myself, it is usually one or more of these fantasies that I have. As you know, I love to cum, baby. I just love it. And when the thought of these scenarios passes through my mind, I cum so hard. Asking you to make them come true ... God, Johan ... my tummy flips, and my pussy is so wet. But Johan, I love you. Nothing will change that. My crazy thoughts, dreams and fantasies don’t change the fact that I love you with every square inch of my heart. If nothing comes of this, then I won’t be unhappy. I’ll only be unhappy if it changes us.

  So baby, that is the confession of my fantasies, and I give you permission to do with them what you wish. Whether that is to make one or more, or a combination of them, come true, or to ignore them altogether. As I submit to you, that is your choice. And one last thing: I trust you, Johan, but baby, please don’t lose this letter. I trust you to look after my secrets as well as you do me.

  Your loving wife,

  Shannon

  xxx

  ps. You know the amazing thing? I don’t have any secrets any more. Not one. I’m scared and hot about what might happen, but I’m also strangely relieved.

  I’d been sitting cross-legged on our bed, either looking down or watching Johan read my words. I blushed when he looked up from the pages to smile into my eyes. When he looked at me like that, I always felt like I was naked. He looked down again to finish reading. Finally he sighed and straightened the pages, shaking his head. “You are such a naughty girl, you know.” He looked up at me, lust burning in his hot blue eyes.

  Godddd! I thought, as my pussy clenched involuntarily. I bit my lip. “I’m sorry, Sir,” I said, blushing madly. He turned around and placed the pages on the bedside table. I watched him as he stood and moved around the end of the bed, like a huge cat.

  Suddenly he was over me. He’d flattened me on my back and had my hands pinned over my head in an instant. Her held my wrists tight down on the bed while his other hand moved my legs apart. I pushed them back together again as soon as he reached for the buttons down the front of my thin, floral dress. He slapped me on the inside of my thigh and pulled my legs apart again. “You are my slut, and my slut has her legs open whenever I want her to have them open!”

  I shuddered and kept them open, but it didn’t stop me trying to get my arms free. “Y-Yes, Sir.”

  “Or perhaps you ‘want’ me to rip this pretty dress from your body.” He took hold of it in his fist between my breasts. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

  I swallowed and stopped struggling. “But it’s one of my favourites, Sir,” I whined. Surely he wouldn’t.

  “You don’t think I would?”

  I looked at him imploringly. I needed fucking. I didn’t need my second favourite dress torn to shreds. God ... I could feel how wet I was getting. I’d put my panties back on earlier. They were getting wet and it felt cool as the moisture evaporated from the tight fabric covering my pulsing, wet little cunt. I started squirming again but he held my wrists tight. “Please ...”

  “Please what? Please rip your dress to shreds and fuck my ass off, or please let me go?”

  “That’s not ...”

  “Choose, slut!”

  “But!” I tried one more time to wrestle free. In the struggle, he took the neck of my pretty dress in his big hand. Without warning, he tore it from neck to hem. “Nooooo!” He took my exposed left breast in his hand and crushed it firmly, my flesh bulging between his fingers. I clenched my teeth, trying not to moan. Fuck! I loved that dress!

  “My stupid little slut ... your wet pussy just cost you that dress you know ...” He released my breast and I sighed with pained relief, before suddenly feeling his fingers gathering the material of my panties into his fist, then stretching them tight up my ass. “All you had to say was ‘Let me go’, but your wet fucking cunt just wouldn’t let you, would it?”

  “Noooo! Donnn’tttt!”

  RRRRIPP!

  He tore my bikini panties from my body like they were tissue paper.

  “Open your dirty mouth, my little slut,” he said, chuckling. He brought the shredded garment to my lips and pressed it between my teeth, pushing more and more of it into my mouth. As it was pushed in, I pressed my tongue against it to stop myself from choking and immediately tasted myself. He prodded the last strip into my mouth and lifted my chin with his finger, closing my mouth. I had a pair of my own wet panties in my mouth. I’d never done that before. I was startled and had become still. Swallowing instinctively, I felt like I was on another planet. My pretty little blue panties were being used as a gag to shut me up. I moaned softly and my eyes rolled back into my head. Spreading my legs wider and arching my back, I lifted my pussy into the air in search of sensation. God, I so wanted it. I was on fire!

  SMACK!

  My eyes flew open and the air whooshed from my lungs as pain radiated out from my pussy. He SLAPPED my CUNT! I thought, fighting to take a breath. My chest shuddered as two of his thick fingers drove straight up my slick tunnel, and the scream that had been building burst straight into the back of the gag, muffled against the fabric, now sodden with my saliva. He clamped the pad of his thumb over my clit, stretching and retracting the hood in time with his thrusting fingers.

  I didn’t want to moan and I was trying so hard not to, but my treacherous hips had already betrayed me. “MMMMMMMM!” I moaned uncontrollably, fucking back at his fingers and tossing my head from side to side. Stars exploded behind my eyes as ropes of crackling electricity snapped my limbs taught. I gritted my teeth and held tight to the sheet I’d fisted in my hands. Rebounding back to my clit tenfold, the electricity slammed into me and I shuddered completely out of control. Juices shot from my clenching cunt, drenching his hard fingers, my hips driving my pussy against the base of them as hard as I could. “MMMMMMM MMMMMMMMM! I cried into the gag, feeling then twisting and fucking my spasming pussy as I came.

  While I was weak with aftershocks he unexpectedly pulled his fingers out of me and wrapped his hand around my thigh. I was unceremoniously flipped over and found myself face down, flat on the bed wit
h my arms twisted and my wrists still pinned over my head. I could barely move. My muscles were limp and I could feel him pushing my legs apart. He slid those maddening fingers deeply back into me, then he roughly lifted me onto my knees by my cunt.

  “MMMMMMM!” I cried, my muffled protests now pointless. With me now on my knees, her pulled his fingers free and I sighed. Then I smelled the heady scent of myself as the same fingers fumbled for the cloth poked into my mouth. I started panting through my nose. Suddenly the gag was gone and I slipped my tongue around my mouth, wetting it before swallowing. Eyes blazing with need, I gasped, “Fuck me, you bastard. Please Johan, just fuck me!”

  “You can beg better than that, my slut.”

  SLAP!

  “Ohhhh!” I yelled out, blinding heat radiated from my ass, and echoes of the hard slap ringing in my ears.

  “Come on! Beg!”

  “Please ... please, oh baby, please ...” Another hard slap peeled back my wantonness and I wallowed in it. “Fuck me, please baby,” I whispered hoarsely, saliva drooling from the corner of my mouth. “I need it baby, I need it so bad. Your baby’s cunt needs your cock so bad ... please baby ... please ...” I groaned as my wrists were suddenly freed and I got up on hands and knees, looking back at him. He climbed on the bed behind me and took my hair in his fist, pulling backwards and making me look straight ahead. “Ooohhhh!” My back arched and he split me wide open, stretching and impaling me with his big cock in one mighty thrust.

  “Ohhh FUCK! YESSSSSSSSSSSSS!” I hissed, pulling against my hair. He buried the full length in me, and my cunt gripped him and twitched, sending trickles of juices cascading down the insides of my thighs.

  With my mouth open and gasping, and my hair pulled back tight, time seemed to stand still. Sounds were muffled and a knot coiled in my belly. The relentless pounding of his huge cock in my cunt drove me higher and higher, the feeling tightened and grew larger and larger. Tingles broke out like wildfires across my skin. It was gonna be a big one! I couldn’t even hear my own voice as I screamed. “FUCK MEEEE!”

  He yelled out what I so desperately loved to hear. “I’MMM CUUMMMMIINNNGGGGG!” He drove hard into me and shuddered against my ass, his cock head mashed against my cervix, blowing his hot cum deep into my cunt. I trembled, impaled deeply, moaning constantly, eyes closed and body tight as a drum. My pussy gushed as I came hard, gripping and releasing his throbbing cock over and over and over. Our moans mixed together as he released my hair and collapsed on my back. We were both exhausted, but I couldn’t even move.

  “Mmmmm, baby ...” he whispered as he kissed my shoulder and softly bit my neck, “such a naughty girl ...” Tremors wracked my body for minutes and I shuddered again as his thick length slowly withdrew from me. I rolled up into a ball beside him, tucking my head under his arm and trying to catch my breath. He played with my hair while we listened to the sound of each other breathing. I was afraid to open my eyes in case it had all been a dream. Johan got up and turned out the lights, before sliding back into bed behind me. He kissed me behind my ear softly and gently licked the lobe. “Tomorrow’s a whole new day, baby.”

  I swallowed and snuggled back against him.

  Chapter 3

  Mornings are wonderful on ‘our weekends’. Not having to jump out of bed at first light to feed and keep our children occupied is such a blessing. Perhaps I should feel guilty, but when our two little ones are at Grandma’s house, Johan and I get to be and act like we always have with each other. For two whole days a week we can relax and be two horny people who both enjoy sex, having fun, playing with toys, and all kinds of other ‘regular’ things too. ‘Our weekend’ stretches from Sunday night until Tuesday afternoon when one of us picks up the kids from Grandma’s. The intervening time we spend as we wish. Or perhaps I should have said as Johan wishes.

  You see Johan is my ‘ideas man’. Or at least, that’s what I call it! He likes to decide what we are doing and when we do it. I love that, because during the week when I’m making dinners and breakfasts and lunches and getting people ready, I feel like everything revolves around me. I have to do things and organise people, and I make meals and I clean and wash. I relish my responsibilities and I adore my children. But nurturing, feeding and providing entertainment for two children under four is no mean feat. Add to that a sexually demanding husband and I’m out on my feet most nights, not to mention sore each morning! And no! I’m not complaining!

  I appreciate the time we have alone together so much. We are fortunate to be in the position we are. Johan’s mother adores our children and loves to have sleepovers at her house. And Johan has been able to arrange to work only four days a week, even though he does spend a fair bit of time in front of the computer, such is his job. We are not super rich, but we want for little. I thank Johan and his shrewd investments for that, every day.

  In fact, I thank Johan for a lot. I thank him for rescuing me from a life of boredom in a small town. I thank him for seeing in me everything he wanted in a woman. I thank him for the love and care he shows our children and the love and care he shows me. For the things he’s shown me and taught me, and for the things we share and learn together, I thank him every day of my life. Johan is not just responsible for what I have, but also for where and who I am.

  I mean, here I am, an ‘unsophisticated, average, small-town girl’, married to a ‘sophisticated, well-above-average, experienced city man’. I live in a luxurious house in one of the best parts of town. Our street was one of the prettiest, with its large houses perched on spacious lawns surrounded by leafy and manicured gardens.

  I know it was borne of insecurities that existed before I met him, but I’ve often had the vague feeling that it was all a dream, and one day I would wake up back in ‘Hellsville’ (that’s what I call Hallsville, where I grew up) and none of it really happened. Perhaps strangely, I felt like I didn’t deserve my life, like I must have cheated somewhere along the way. It was like an echo, just a shadow of a doubt. Like it could all be taken away one day when Johan woke up and finally realised I was still just an ‘unsophisticated, average, small-town girl’. Of course, these thoughts were fleeting and I always brushed them away as nonsense.

  Every day that we’ve been married, he’s told me how much he loves me, and usually more than once. He touches me all the time whether it’s simply caressing my ass in passing, or a quick kiss in the kitchen while I’m cooking. He pays such attention and he never seems to interrupt me at the wrong time, which my girlfriends say happens to them all the time.

  When he wants me, it’s rare for me not to submit gleefully. I love him so much. He is so dominant and so passionate. And God, he’s so big! And I don’t just mean, ‘down there’! He’s tall and blonde and muscular and fortunately he can handle himself in a scuffle, so he doesn’t get into many. And of course I’m tiny by comparison and weigh less than half he does, which means our sex is kind of one-sided. Like, he does what he wants, and I do as he says! I prefer it that way actually. I mean, he does what I want as well, but I usually have to ask. Or beg. Johan loves me to beg.

  But I’m getting off track. Like I said, I love everything about him and everything about being with him. I don’t know what I would do without him. Which makes what I’ve done so exciting, and at the same time so terribly scary and almost crazy. It’s like tempting fate. On the one hand, I’m excited by the prospect of a fantasy actually coming true. I mean, God, when I think about it, I can feel myself getting wet, and my hands start to tremble!

  On the other hand, anything could happen. I might not like it. Or I might even get hurt, but Johan promised me I would be safe. But he also said in some cases, I might not know if he was there or not. That prospect made me shiver. I could really be at someone else’s mercy! That’s what made it both exciting and scary. But also, I wondered, what if I liked it too much?

  I rubbed my thighs together as these thoughts flitted through my mind on Monday morning at 6:23 a.m. Johan was snoring softly, and after checking the ti
me, I put my head down and closed my eyes for a few minutes more.

  I wondered if Johan had a hard-on. Sometimes he got them in the mornings. “Mmmmm,” I murmured quietly, imagining his cock in my mind, hard and straining. I’ve had a long-standing affection and curiosity about cocks. They’re just ... they’re amazing! Some girls think cocks are just weird and funny looking. I bet that’s because they’ve never had a good look at a nice, hard, throbbing cock up close. They are just beautiful. But I think the best part is they get hard all because of me. I think that’s my favourite thing about them. They’re just so direct.

  Johan gets hard because of how he sees me and what I’m doing, and the pleasure I give him. I guess that’s why sucking cock feels so natural to me. ‘Pleasure from giving pleasure’, you know? I love it. I love everything about it. And I mean everything! God, just the thought of sucking Johan’s nice hard prick makes my mouth water. I love being on my knees, looking up at him and watching his face, his cock getting harder and harder in my hand or mouth. His loving fingers running through my hair and his sweet words of encouragement. Or sometimes, the nasty words that make my nipples harden and throb.

  I love that with my mouth, I can make a cock hard and straight and strong, wanting to fuck me. I love that I can make a man’s eyelids flutter and make him grit his teeth with the sensations provided by my lips and tongue alone. I love that I can make him moan and groan with pleasure. I love that I can make him crazy and that with my mouth, I can give a man the most intense pleasure he can feel.