me so. In my sexual frenzy, being told by a rapist that I was a good lay seemed like the highest praise I could receive as a woman.
We fucked so hard that we rolled out of the gutter and into the middle of the street. The rough pavement was scraping into my flesh, but I didn't care.
All I cared about was fucking with his huge cock in my tight, wet cunt. The orgasms had built and built and built until I was coming so hard I felt like I was soaring through space.
'Play with my tits while you're screwing me,' I urgently requested. 'Suck my nipples.'
When he started doing it, I immediately became greedy for even more action. Taking one of his hands, I shoved it down to where our crotches met and guided the longest finger between the sweaty cheeks of my ass.
He immediately got the idea. After rubbing the anal ridges into flaming sensitivity, he plunged inside and began reaming me out.
'Finger-fuck me,' I moaned. 'Finger-fuck my ass.'
He was an expert at it. Or at least it seemed that way to me as a woman who had never had anything more exciting up her asshole than a rectal thermometer. Almost immediately I began coming in my spasming anus almost as hard as I was doing in my cock-filled pussy.
The thrills had been maximized far beyond what I would have dreamed possible before this moment. With my tits, cunt and asshole being serviced, I was certain that I was orgasming in three places at once. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before.
There was only one thing left to make it complete. If I was going to come this hard, the man fucking me in the street had to produce with equal male intensity.
'When are you going to come?' I asked him. 'I want your hot jizz flooding my pussy. Running down my legs into the crack of my butt.'
His hard-on grew that extra tell-tale inch I had previously experienced when I was taking it in my mouth. My heart jumped to my throat and stuck there from the excitement of anticipating his gooey explosion.
I swore I could hear the muffled hissing of his prick when he began spurting his cream within me. It felt like I had a garden hose shoved up my snatch the outpouring was so wet and continuous.
The spunk was already leaking from the sides of my twat and his ejaculation hadn't stopped. Realizing my cunt had all it could handle, I decided to give another of my deserving erogenous zones a break.
Pushing his head from my chest, I pulled his prick from between my legs and had it spurt the remainder of its load all over my heaving tits. Then I smeared it all over. The excitement when I massaged it into my tender nipples with my fingertips was exceptional.
When I was through with my tits I began to suck some of the leftover goo from my hand like a kid tasting jelly from the jar. Now that I was used to it, his cum was sweetly delicious. In another world, I started wondering if it was possible for him to come a third time.
I was so up that when the blue light hit my face, I just assumed it was an orgasmic effect. I had already experienced so many sensual fireworks that anything was possible.
However, such was not the case. Seeing the sudden azure cast to my face, the rapist bolted upright and blurted, 'Shit, the cops!'
I was hit with instantaneous fear. Confronted by the unexpected presence of the law, I was more terrified than I'd been when I'd first realized I was trapped in a phone booth by a rapist.
'I… I thought you said the police never came around here after dark?' I muttered in shock.
'I did,' he said. 'But I didn't get to be a three-time loser by always being right.'
With that, he sprang from on top of me and fled into the night, trying to keep from tripping over his drooping pants. I still couldn't believe it was over. It was like being jolted awake from a wet dream.
Then headlights illuminated the night. Brakes screeched. Doors opened and slammed shut. Somebody yelled, 'Halt or we'll shoot!' Gunfire followed. I held my breath, wondering if any of the bullets were accurate.
'Goddamn it, you missed,' I heard somebody curse. He'd gotten away safely.
I breathed a sigh of relief, but any good feeling was short-lived. Looking straight ahead, I gazed into a reflection of myself in the shiny grill of the police cruiser. My gaping cunt seemed to be winking at me as though it had just played a joke on me. In addition, it was drooling with fresh, white cum.
Seeing the image of my sopping, newly fucked pussy had a devastating effect on me. For the first time the true meaning of what I had just done hit me.
I had been raped and enjoyed it. Attacked by a stranger, instead of resisting to the end like a respectable woman, I had experienced orgasm after orgasm.
Even though I closed my legs before the two cops finally walked over to me, I still had f-u-c-k written all over me. Although the rapist had escaped unscathed, I had the terrible feeling that my punishment was yet to come.
CHAPTER TWO
'Why didn't you scream?' one of the cops asked as I huddled under a blanket in the backseat of their cruiser.
'I did,' I lied. 'But nobody heard me.'
'That figures,' the other one said. 'In this neighborhood a cry for help is like an invitation. If she'd screamed, there probably would have been a line of hoods waiting to get in on the action.'
'True,' the first one agreed. 'But what were you doing around here in the first place? You hardly find any decent woman walking the streets around here. Talk about your invitations.'
'I told you,' I protested, 'my car broke down. I was on my way home to the suburbs from a PTA meeting.'
'All the way across the city?' one of them asked skeptically.
'Busing,' I explained. 'My kids are bused across the city.'
'What did he look like?'
'Who knows. The night was dark, and so was his face. If he bumped into me on the street tomorrow, I wouldn't recognize him.'
'Never mind his face.'
'I don't understand,' I said warily.
'Don't play with us, Mrs., uh… what did you say your name was?'
'Mrs. Randall.'
'Don't play with us, Mrs. Randall. You know it wasn't his face we expect you to remember.'
'I beg your pardon.'
'His cock, lady, his cock,' one of them said with exasperation. 'What did his cock look like?'
'Oh,' I whispered in a small voice. 'Well?'
'It was long and big,' I improvised the obvious.
'We know that,' one of the cops snapped impatiently. 'Did it have any distinguishing characteristics? Could you pick it out in a line-up?'
'A line-up of men's cocks?' I blurted incredulously, realizing too late that my gutter language was most inconsistent for a woman who maintained she was a respectable middle-class wife and mother.
They both turned around to face me and slowly nodded theft heads. They were both smiling knowingly.
Nervously I suggested that they return me to my car. When they reminded me that I'd said it was broken down, I asked them to take me to their precinct station so I could call my husband.
But the police cruiser didn't move. Apparently my performance had satisfied neither cop.
'Mrs. Randall,' one of them finally said, 'I don't think you understand our position. As police officers, we can't leave the scene of the crime until we've verified what happened. You say a man raped you – but you don't seem to want to tell us anything beside the fact that he had a long, big prick.'
'But I don't know what else to tell you,' I protested. 'It's all I remember.'
'Maybe we can jog your memory.'
