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A Stranger That is Me

By: MrPezman



When almost everyone was having sex in high school, I somehow avoided it. It's not that I didn't want to, it's just that I was kind of worried about catching something or getting some poor girl pregnant. Sure I fooled around some, but never took that crucial step. When I finally did lose my virginity, well, seeing as how we were both inexperienced, it wasn't very enjoyable. I was disappointed, especially after hearing all the hype about it for so many years. Fortunately for me, having broken that crucial barrier of getting laid for the first time, I tried it again a week later, with a different, more experienced girl, and even with the rubber on it was amazing! I guess I was hooked. Over the next few years, I had a lot more sex, somehow not getting any strange diseases or being someone's father. It wasn't until the year after that, when this girl I'd been dating came to me and told me that her period was way late.

"Huh?" I was stunned, needless to say. 

"I might be pregnant," the girl, a college girl named Sienna, repeated more bluntly. 

"Oh shit!"

She rolled her eyes, irritated, "Yeah, that's about what I expected you to say. You've already made it quite clear how you feel about it."

Feeling like a major jackass, I recanted, "No, I didn't mean it like that. It's a good thing, really!"

Sienna cried out, "No, damn it, it's not! I can't afford to stay in college and raise a kid, and you probably wouldn't want to settle down enough to take care of us."

Knowing that I'd screwed myself into a hole (so to speak) I pleaded, "Come on, if we both try hard enough, we'll be more than able to raise a child together. We can get married before the kid's born, and I'll get a second job to help support us."

She frowned, "I hope that wasn't your idea of a proposal."

I solemnly proposed to her, and after a hesitation (where her common sense was probably attempting to talk her out of it) she agreed. 

We had to get married in Las Vegas, since neither of us could afford a nice wedding, and thus began the three years of utter hell! For some reason only God knew, Sienna miscarried, a devastating blow for both of us. She took it especially hard, leaping into a deep depression for almost three months, and even when she came out of it, she was no longer the same dainty, twenty-year old girl I'd married when I was only eighteen. Her long, blonde hair, previously shiny and full, began to seem flat, lifeless. Her blue-green eyes lost that shine that she had before. Her body, totally firm or soft in all the right places, stayed the same, but that made no difference, because she denied me access to it. That's right, no sex whatsoever, not even any heavy petting, was allowed. Still, because I'd made a commitment to her, even if for all the wrong reasons, I remained with her for the next two and a half years. Of course, I began jerking off a lot when I had sexual frustrations, and Sienna didn't really care if I watched porn or not, as long as I didn't try to touch her in that way. 

The only reason she would give for this sudden abstinence was, "I had something in my belly, and it's gone now. I don't ever want to have that happen to me again."

I suggested condoms, but she'd made up her mind, "There's still the chance that it'll happen again."

Feeling quite a bit angry, I replied, "How about a fucking blowjob every once in a while then?"

She shook her head, "No more. I'm not going to do any of that. If you need to, you know, get yourself off, then that's fine, but I'll have no part in it."

Getting pissed, I turned and walked out of the apartment before I could blow up and say something I couldn't take back. I was so tempted just to call off the whole marriage and leave her there. I mean, how could she just freeze me out like this? Still, despite my anger, I stuck with her, sometimes jerking off five times a day just to relieve the tension. Any attempts to be romantic failed when I even went as far as trying to stick my tongue in her mouth while kissing her. She about bit my tongue off to halt my efforts. 

"Kissing like that will lead to sex, so no tongue."

I even tried just being romantic without doing anything that she might think would lead to sex, in the hopes that sooner or later, she'd open up and come out of this way of thinking. All my efforts seemed to be in vain. 

I urged and pleaded for her to seek counseling, and she refused. 

"There's nothing wrong with me for not wanting to have sex," she said flatly.

"There is when I'm married to you! Whatever happened to 'Honor and Obey?'"

She replied hotly, "Whatever happened to 'In sickness and health?'"

"See, you're sick, and you need to get help!"

"No, I think you're the one who's sick. Maybe you should be the one to seek counseling."

Then I said one of those things that I could never take back, "Maybe I should find someone who's actually willing to see to my needs instead of their own!"

She jerked back as if she'd been slapped, her eyes wide with hurt. I immediately berated myself for saying something so cruel, but, like I said, it was something I couldn't just take back as if it'd never happened.

Furiously blinking back tears of misery, she abruptly turned and fled into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

I tried for days to reconcile for my hurting her like that, and even after she forgave me on the third day, things were tense, like a piano wire stretched too far, needing only the slightest tweak to snap it. For months after that incident, I did whatever I could for her, without complaint, or trying to get her in bed. My little jerk-off sessions increased to seven a day, and my porn collection filled up an entire movie cabinet, one of those ones that can be closed to prevent people from seeing its contents. I bought it for the reason that I didn't want her to have to see the contents, reminding her every time she saw it of what she couldn't provide me. Near the end of the third year of marriage, I finally admitted to myself that jerking off, no matter how often (about nine times a day, just so you know), did nothing to replace what I wasn't getting. Despite all that jerking off, my sexual frustration increased steadily, until one late night, when I came to a conclusion: either Sienna was going to give me what I needed, or I'd leave the same night and find it elsewhere. After an hour-long argument with myself, I made the decision that I was going to get what I needed from my wife, not some stranger. So, I began thinking of a way I could get what I needed, even if by force.

For a week, I planned and schemed, working it out in my head. I started by going to the doctor and lying, telling him that I was suffering from chronic insomnia. I told him that I'd tried all kinds of over the counter sleep aids, even some folk-methods. According to the explanation of the prescription he planned to write for me, this medicine would be quite strong, and would put me out within an hour. 

"Now, I want you to call me if you think you're developing a habit for taking them. It's been known to do that to people. And don't just think to yourself that you can deal with it, or stop anytime you want. I want you to call me. This medicine is sure to knock you out, but if you start having problems staying asleep, then call me back, and we'll change the prescription to better suit you."

I promised, and within the hour, I held a bottle of capsules in my hand, the little warnings on the orange bottle warning about taking it while operating heavy machinery, that it may cause drowsiness, along with some others warnings. I laughed at the drowsiness warning. Wasn't that why I got them in the first place? I took the bottle home and hid it in the movie cabinet with my collection, because I was fairly certain she never looked in there. After, why would she want to?

On Friday evening, a night preceding a weekend where she wouldn't have to work the weekend, I went into the bathroom and locked the door. Pulling the bottle from my pocket, I shook two capsules out, recapped the bottle, and returned it two my pocket. I had grabbed a small square of wax paper from the kitchen, and proceeded to empty the contents of the two capsules into the middle. Then I folded the paper into a pocket, causing the fine, white powder to collect at the bottom, and I twisted the makeshift packet closed. Upon returning to the small living room, I suggested to Sienna that we order some pizza.

"Oh?" she smiled slightly, "So, Mr. Vanderbilt, are we suddenly made of money?"

Resisting the urge to snap at her, I instead smiled right back, "Well, honey, I've been keeping a stash of money, a few dollars here or there just in case. I'm sure I can afford to raid it for a pizza."

Shrugging noncommittally, she replied, "Alright then, Mr. Vanderbilt, order away."

Maintaining my smile, and knowing inside that she was going to get such a fucking tonight, I looked up the number, and called a local pizza place, ordering a medium pizza, with plenty of toppings, and after a beat of hesitation (perhaps my own conscience bugging me), a few two-liter bottles of soda. I provided them with the address, hung up, and commenced my waiting. My stomach turned during that whole time, wondering if I could do this to my own wife, knowing that it was wrong. I about jumped out of my skin when the buzzer went off, alerting us to a visitor at the front door. I pressed a button, unlocking the front door, as all the rooms in the apartment building were similarly equipped. The pizza guy showed up at our door, and I paid him, leaving a generous tip. After he left, I grabbed some plates and spread the pizza out on the coffee table. Now, for the moment of truth, I asked, "Would you like a cup of soda?" 

"Sure, why not?" 

My heart pounding in my chest, I poured myself a cup of soda first, setting it aside only after dragging my thumbnail down the side, leaving a mark on it to identify it as the un-medicated cup. For her cup, I dumped the contents of the wax paper into the bottom, and then filled it up with soda. The fine powder seemed to dissolve completely, but, just to make sure, I took a straw and tried stirring it to see if any powder remained visible. Finally satisfied, I took both cups, mentally reminding myself which cup was mine, and handed her the spiked soda. 

Throughout dinner, she drank thirstily while she ate, and I refilled her cup two more times, without more powder, of course. I didn't want to put her in a coma or anything. It wasn't until just over an hour after finishing the first cup, she began yawning. I tried not to appear too interested in her sudden onslaught of sleepiness, only mentioning it in passing. 

"Maybe I've just had a long day. I guess I should go to bed before I conk out on the couch."

I shrugged, "Whatever you want. If you conk out on the couch, I can just carry you to bed."

She eyed me warily from under her drooping eyelids, "You better not try anything funny. I mean what I said."

Rolling my eyes, I replied, "Fine, I could just leave you on the couch, for all it matters."

It only took about five more minutes for her to be out cold. I waited another ten to be sure, and then lifted her easily in my arms, taking her to the bedroom, her arms hanging down the whole way to the bed. When I put her down, I checked her eyes. They were rolled up, showing only a bit of that blue-green with which I had once lost myself. I began undressing her down to her bra and panties, both a modest, clean white. I was finding myself sporting an erection already, I noticed, as I looked down at myself. Past this would be the point of no return, and my conscience made a brief argument against what I was intending to do before I ignored it. 

I rummaged through the small closet, and found two scarves that seemed strong enough to keep her bound. I tied her slender wrists, using the legs of the bed frame to keep her from bringing her arms down past her shoulders. With a sharp pocket knife, I cut the other scarf into pieces, using one piece to blindfold her effectively. The other two pieces I would use for a gag if necessary. I set them next to her waist for easy access. Well, I guess anytime before she woke from her drug-induced sleep would be a point in which I could just untie her and abandon my plan. I almost fell asleep myself before I felt her moving, starting to realize that she couldn't move her arms freely.

"Andy?" her voice wavered uncertainly, "Andy? Is this your idea of a joke? Let me loose! This isn't funny, damn it! I'll scream, I swear to God, if you don't let me go! Andy? Are you there?"

I waited for her to begin feeling more fear than anger before I opened the pocket knife and went over to her, standing there for another minute as she called out to me, still thinking this was just some stupid joke. Finally I bent down low enough to whisper, trying to disguise my whisper, "Who's Andy?"

She yelped when she heard me whisper, and shook her head, moaning out, "No-no-no-no..." She was beginning to get really frightened.

Continuing, I whispered, "Is Andy the guy in the living room with the pizza?"

She started to scream out, and I popped her on the top of the head with the handle of the knife, feeling a bit guilty for it. Still, it allowed me enough time to hiss, "You scream and I'll cut you. You got it?"

Her scream died in her throat, and she trembled, her fear deepening to terror. I added, "Don't worry about Andy, he's just knocked out. He won't be bothering us. I knew when I saw you at the bank that I had to get my cock up in you. And believe me, I'm gonna fuck you until you can't walk right for a week."

Her trembling increased when she knew what I wanted, "Oh, God, no, please don't. Please, just leave and I'll never say a word about it to anyone."

Getting into it, I trailed the blunt edge of the knife along the side of her face, and she jerked away from it, whimpering. 

"Don't you worry, you pretty little thing, we're gonna have some real fun. I bet you'll be begging for more of my cock up in that tight little cunt before the night is over."

She continued to whimper, shaking like a leaf. I reached out with the knife, slid it carefully under her bra, and cut it, exposing her pert, pink-nippled breasts. Setting the knife down for the moment, I reached out and began fondling her breasts roughly pinching her nipples, causing her to cry out with pain. Her nipples began hardening under my rough touch. 

I squeezed and rubbed, flicked and tweaked her breasts for a few minutes, my erection becoming a bit larger and beginning to throb uncomfortably against my jeans. I stopped long enough to unzip my jeans, pushing them and my underwear down, freeing my cock, which was two and a half years ready. She cringed as she heard the zipper. I got next to her head, picking up the knife. I whispered, "Open your mouth and take my cock down your throat, bitch, and if you try to bite down, I'll start cutting."

Her mouth sprang open immediately, and I began rubbing the head of my erection on her lips, teasing her for a few seconds before inserting the tip in her mouth. Her lips closed around the head, and I began slowly fucking her mouth. It'd been so long since she'd had my dick in her mouth, but her hopes for survival seemed to help her remember how to suck it. She pulled more of me into her mouth, more and more, until the tip of my dick rested in her throat, and my pubic bush tickled her lips and chin. She sucked like she'd been craving it for as long as I had, most likely trying to get me off so I wouldn't remain hard and stick it up in her. Lucky for me, I could hold it off for a while. Her mouth would most likely get tired before I even got close.

For five minutes or so, she sucked me as best as she could, actually forcing me to pull out of her mouth before I blew my load. 

She pled, "No, let me suck it. You can cum in my mouth. I'll swallow it if you want."

"Oh, really?" I whispered hoarsely, "No, I don't think so. I've got way too much fun planned to go out like that, but nice try." 

I used the knife again, cutting her panties off of her, and she begged for me to stop. Of course, when I saw the trimmed pubic hair above her long-unused cunt, it fueled my lust more. I bent down and smelled her, inhaling her muskiness, seeing that despite her protests and pleas, she was becoming moist. I touched her pubic hair lightly, making her jump, and renewing her begging for me to stop. Ignoring her, I stroked her pubic hair, lightly with just my fingertips, and she became even moister. Bending down, I flicked my tongue over her thighs, and she squeezed them shut tightly. Figuring that she'd try that, I poked the tip of the knife at her leg, just enough for her to know what it was.

"If you want to keep your blood inside your body, I suggest you spread them pretty legs open."

She whimpered, but her legs opened a few inches.

"Further, you dumb cunt. I want to see that delicious pussy of yours."

Obeying, her legs opened wider, and her pussy lips opened slightly, revealing the pink, wet inner lips. I got between her legs, my face only an inch from that waiting entrance, and began snaking my tongue out to lick at her sensitive flesh. She gasped, and clearly wanted to close her legs, but she thought she knew what would happen if she did, so her legs stayed open. I licked and sucked at her cunt, tasting that sweet-salty wetness that I hadn't had access to for so long. In spite of her voiced pleas for me to stop, her hips began lifting, pressing her cunt more firmly against my mouth. I dipped my tongue inside her, and she literally began humping my face, her juices slathered generously all over my mouth, chin, and nose. A few minutes was all it took for her, her moans becoming loud, wordless cries, and then her body froze, her ass a few inches off the bed, her feet flat on the bed, her mouth open slightly, for a few seconds, and then her hips jerked as she came all over my mouth. I tried to lick as much up as I could, but was quickly overwhelmed by the amount that flowed from her. 

I gave her a minute to settle, and then whispered huskily, "Now it's my turn."

Jerked out of her post-cum daze, she shook her head side-to-side, helplessly yanking at the bonds that held her wrists. I positioned my waiting cock at her drenched entrance, rubbed the head up and down her pussy lips for ten seconds before pushing it in an inch. She cried out at the intrusion, but the protest in her voice was mixed with something else...desire, maybe? I inched my way inside her slowly, giving her time to stretch to accommodate me. Once I bottomed out inside her, I withdrew it to the head, and slid it back in, proceeding to fuck her with long, agonizingly slow strokes. For a few minutes, she was still, neither trying to stop me nor moving with me. Then, to my happy surprise, she began to match my rhythm, lifting her hips as I sank into her to geto more of me in her. Her legs began lifting, and gradually wrapped around my waist. Whether she was just eager to get it over with, or she was actually enjoying it, it didn't matter to me. I was going to take my sweet time. 

My tempo increased a little, and I began thrusting a little harder. Her breathing was getting a bit quick, and her legs tightened around me. I raised up a little higher before plowing into her, and she gasped, "Oh God, fuck me, please, fuck me! It's been so long!"

My thrusts became yet faster and harder until I was really going at her, and her urging became quite frantic. She was getting close, and closer. Then, for a second time, she locked up, managing, "Unnh!" before a torrent of her cum bathed my cock, and she jerked noisily under me for more than a minute before she subsided. She panted and puffed for a little bit, but once she caught her breath, I grabbed her hips and turned her onto her stomach. I had to lift her hips until her round, pale white butt was thrust up at me. I stuffed my cock back in her pussy, and the sound of my hips and thighs slapping against her beautiful rump was loud, but her moans were louder as she breathlessly begged me to fuck her harder. I complied, the slaps getting faster and faster until she came again, noisily, whimpering, trembling in her orgasm. 


A Stranger That is Me



I hadn't cum yet, but I was already getting tired, and I figured I had reamed her cunt enough. I moved back up to her face and popped my soaked cock back in her mouth, forcing her to clean it and suck me off. More eager than before, I began fucking her mouth almost as ruthlessly as I had her pussy, but in her mouth I only lasted a minute or two. I could feel it building, my balls feeling swollen and heavy, all that sexual frustration that had built up, all that tension escaping. Finally, stifling a long overdue groan, I let loose spurt after spurt in her mouth, feeling as if I were unloading gallons of the spunk in her used mouth, and she swallowed as much as she could, managing most of it. When the last agonizing splash was in her mouth, I let her head go, and my already softening dick popped out audibly. Dribbles of cum oozed down from the corners of her mouth, and I used my dick to scoop it up and back into her mouth for her to swallow. Suddenly exhausted as I hadn't been in years, I lay down next to her, gasping, remembering that I still had to play the rapist.

"I told you, you sweet little slut, you'd be begging for it. Hell, I might just have to come back for more some day. You'd like that, wouldn't you? You love my big cock stuff up in that little cunt of yours, don't you?"

As obvious as it was that she had enjoyed it and would again, she didn't answer, only turned her head away.

Giving her something new to think about, I hissed, "Shit, maybe next time, I'll stick it in your ass, too, fill up all your holes. Have you ever had a big hunk of man-meat in your little brown-eye before?"

She shook her head, scared that I might want to do that now.

"So I'd get to pop your ass-cherry? I'd do it now, but you went and sucked all the spunk out of my cock. You'll just have to wait until next time." 

Having successfully achieved my goal, I cut the bonds about a few inches from where I'd tied them at her wrists, leaving just enough intact to keep her bound for a few minutes while I "escaped." 

"Maybe you ought to tell your man how much of my spunk you swallowed, and how much you enjoyed my cock up in your honey pot. You never know, he might like it. Later, you little slut, and remember, next time, I'm gonna fill your ass up with my dick. Keep that in mind."

I grabbed my clothes and left the bedroom, hurriedly washing myself off as much as possible in the sink before dressing. In order to be convincing in the role of the knock-out husband, I had to rough myself up a little. To make sure she wouldn't question my injury, I steeled myself for the pain, and slammed the back of my head against the corner of the movie cabinet, barely resisting the urge to scream in pain. I almost did knock myself out. Somehow I struggled to my feet, went to the front door, opened and closed it just loud enough to be heard, and then collapsed on the floor, exhausted, my head throbbing in pain. Reaching back to feel the knot that was swelling nicely, I was a little surprised when I looked at my hand and saw some blood. That was good.

For almost ten minutes I waited for Sienna to free herself and walk out of the bedroom. When the bedroom door finally opened, I pretended to be barely conscious. She rushed over to me and knelt in front of me. 

"Andy, wake up!" she grasped my shoulder and shook it. I moaned in pain, only half-faking. 

"Andy, please wake up. He...he took the money out of my purse. Please wake up."

Her words almost made me cry out, 'What? That's not what he did!' I kept my mouth shut and pretended to struggle awake. 

"Sienna...what happened...are you okay?" 

She burst out in tears, "He threatened to kill me. He said he killed you. He...he took the money out of my purse."

I almost laughed when I saw that she was dressed again. Of course, I would have bet anything that she was wearing a fresh pair of panties and a new bra, since the ones she had been wearing before were cut off of her. 

'Where'd you hide them?' I asked in my head. She was hiding her 'rape' from me, but why?

For three weeks, she was uncommunicative, except for one or two-word answers. The only time she spoke at any length was the same night it had happened, to beg me not to report the rapist to the police.

"He knows where we live, and he said he'd kill us both in our sleep if we got the police involved."

I wondered in my head, 'If he had claimed to have killed me, then why would he worry about killing me in my sleep?' I wisely kept my mouth shut, letting her think that I believed her, reluctantly promising not to call the police.

Then, at the end of that three weeks after the incident, she looked me in the eye and admitted, "I haven't been a very good wife, have I?"

Playing the sympathetic husband, I asked, "With such a bad beginning, how could you be? You did the best you could."

She wasn't hearing it, "Don't lie to me, Andy. For almost three years I refused to make love to you. That's not being much of a wife."

"Marriage isn't ever perfect."

She rolled her eyes, "Right, but I made it miserable for you. I saw all those movies in your movie cabinet. You wouldn't need all those if I'd just snapped out of this stupid funk I was in." Tears began flooding her eyes, and she wiped them away angrily. "I've been so damn selfish, making you resort to watching movies and getting yourself off. It's not fair to you. Now, I can't promise that I'll just change overnight, but I can do something about it."

With that, she began rubbing me through my pants, making me hard in less than a minute. Then she unzipped my pants, pulled my already throbbing erection out and began sucking it greedily, not hesitating to plant the head in her throat, squeezing the base of me with a hand while her mouth sucked me furiously. So surprised was I that I lasted maybe a minute or two before groaning loudly and shooting a good-sized load down her throat as she milked me for all I had. When I was done, she let go of my withering erection and looked at me, licking a few remnants of cum off her lower lip. 

She asked, "How is that for a start?"

Because I wanted to return the favor, I replied, "That's amazing! Now, would it be alright if I went down on you, or anything like that?"

She smiled, "I think I can handle that."