She pointed the hunting rifle at me and cried out, in an American, street pimp type voice, “Don’t move, you chickenshit, honky ass motherfucker!”
It was sort of weird being called a “chickenshit honky ass motherfucker” by another white person, but I was too freaked out by the gun she was pointing at me to really ponder this.
Prodding me up to my feet, with the icy tip of the rifle, she ordered me to turn around and place my hands on the edge of the couch.
It took a second to register, but soon enough, especially when she undid my jeans, I realized this crazy bitch was about to rape me.
Everybody, I'm sure, thinks about getting raped at some point. It's the worst fear of many women. But for most men, aside from maybe prison, the Catholic Church, Penn State, or the backwoods of Mississippi, we don't really think about that shit happening to us.
But here I was, pants around my ankles, gun to my head, soaking wet, drunk and high and staring down at a Dr. Phil book cover, about to take it in the ass from some crazy poetry bitch. It was the kind of moment that really leads one to serious introspection...
I guess she'd lubed it up, because it slid in my butt fast, the strap-on dildo. It didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would. Just felt like a big piece of shit going back into my ass rather than out. By and by, it wasn't nearly as awful I'd imagined, the few times I'd pictured getting assraped in a prison shower or accidentally wandering into a gay bar, drunk, wearing a kilt or something.
Speaking of prison shower rape, the scene in the film “American History X” totally fucking scared me, but this wasn't nearly that bad. It was a big breasted woman, after all, raping me, and not some heavily muscled, tattooed, white supremacist. Yeah, I'm sure it could have been a lot worse. As far as assrapings usually go, mine wasn't so bad, actually.
After about 20 seconds, my ass just went kinda numb. I pretty much stopped noticing the raping and focused my attention more on the quotes from Dr. Phil that adorned his book cover. I wondered what ole' Dr. Phil would say about this whole situation or how he might react to getting raped. I didn't think he'd like it very much. I also wondered what it'd be like getting raped by Dr. Phil. I think that definitely would be worse than this poetry bitch, or even the prison nazi.
The crazy poetry bitch seemed to be enjoying herself and was making strange monkey type sounds and every few minutes was yelling something about “gimmie that choon choon, you white bitch!”
Her chants were suddenly halted when I heard the front door to the flat open. Into the room walked a jaw droppingly beautiful girl in her late teens, around 18 or so. She looked exactly like the crazy poetry bitch, tall, monster tits and all, though much slimmer, and without the disheveled hair and messed up makeup. She did also have that one of her eyes looking bigger than the other thing, however.
“Oh, mum, not again!” The young girl screamed in apparent disdain at the evening's proceedings.
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