Real rape

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

These might just be fictional plots or fantasies for others, but for me, they were real experiences. I think the "green mom" issue was mostly psychological, at least that's how I felt. Actually, my psychology underwent complex changes before, during, and after that incident.

Before that, in my eyes, my mother was just an ordinary, virtuous, and kind woman with a relatively stable job. She loved my father and doted on me. Besides work, she took care of the family. She wasn't stunningly beautiful, but she was decent-looking. My father was also an ordinary, conscientious employee, rather introverted and not very sociable, but he and my mother were very loving. At work, some business trips or other tasks that others didn't want to do often fell to my father. That time was no exception. Because my father was away on a business trip, my mother's company had a dinner party. She felt it was unfair for me to eat leftovers and instant noodles at home, so she took me to the dinner party. Other people also brought their children, so we had some company to play with. Who knew that something like that would happen?

At the beginning, those people surrounded and verbally abused us. My mother fought back and tried to protect me, but it was no use. Fists rained down on her, and she was slapped across the face every now and then. At that moment, I was just extremely scared, terrified, thinking that my mother and I would be beaten to death. Later, when they started tearing off my mother's clothes, she clearly realized what was going to happen, so she fought back desperately. Seeing my mother like that, I tried my best to help her, but I was too weak and powerless to resist. Coupled with their punches, slaps, and verbal threats, my own cowardice and fear made me give up on helping my mother. My mother's dress was quickly taken off, leaving her only in her underwear. She struggled almost frantically, crying hysterically, but her underwear was quickly torn off too, and she was completely naked. I didn't realize what was going to happen to her; I was just afraid that she would be hurt, afraid that I would be hurt. Fear completely consumed my heart. My mother was curled up, covering her private parts with her arms and hands. It wasn't until those men started pulling at her hands while verbally abusing her with obscene language that I vaguely realized what was happening. Then, her hands and feet were held down, her legs were spread apart, and her breasts and genitals were wantonly groped. My mother's cries mingled with the lewd laughter and insults of those beasts. Strangely, at that moment, the fear in my heart began to subside, but I was still terrified. Soon, a man who looked a little older, probably in his forties, pounced on my mother, venting his lust. The others helped him hold down my mother's body and limbs. While they did this, they threatened to kill us, telling me not to move, and occasionally punching me. After that man finished, another, slightly younger man pounced on my mother and vented his lust on her. The man next to her pressed down on my mother's body, his hands occasionally roaming over her breasts. At this point, whether from exhaustion or something else, my mother had stopped resisting desperately, and her cries gradually subsided. Soon, that man was finished too. When the next man took his turn, my mother offered no resistance, only sobbing softly. Thinking of the insults she and her classmates exchanged during conflicts—like "fuck your mother, fuck your mother's cunt"—a vague feeling began to creep in. It was an indescribable feeling, but it gradually lessened my fear.

After the third man finished, my mother seemed to have completely broken down. She lay on her back on the ground, her legs spread wide in the position of being violated, not even knowing how to close them. Her entire genitals were exposed, and she cried and breathed heavily, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. Another man approached my mother, kicked her as she lay on the ground, and ordered her to roll over, lie face down, and stick her buttocks out. My mother, who had been fighting to the death moments before, somehow complied in a daze, kneeling and prostrate on the ground, her face and head almost touching the earth, her buttocks facing backward. Upon hearing the instruction to stick her buttocks out, my mother shamelessly spread her legs and raised her buttocks high, her entire genitals completely exposed, almost directly facing me as I lay on the ground. What I saw was a wide-open vulva, overflowing with semen, and dark pubic hair and swollen labia covered in white semen. My fear vanished instantly, replaced by a strange excitement that surged through my eyes, and I became erect. At that moment, the woman before me was no longer my dear mother, but a female dog, a sow, waiting to be mated. I don't think any man could resist such a situation, and that man was no exception. He shouted excitedly, rushed behind my mother, and thrust into her without restraint. He then gripped her buttocks and pumped like a piston, his body slapping against her buttocks with loud slapping sounds. After a moment of intense release, the man stood up. He told my mother to stand up, but she didn't respond, whether from exhaustion or still reeling from what had just happened. The man suddenly became enraged, grabbing my mother's hair with one hand and yanking her up from the ground. With his other hand, he slapped her face several times. My mother seemed to be jolted awake, or perhaps awakened by the pain. In her haste, she disregarded her breasts and genitals, using one hand to protect her face and the other to protect her hair. Perhaps realizing her mistake, she hurriedly tried to cover her breasts and genitals with her other hand, though it was futile. Her comical actions drew laughter from the men. The man grabbed my mother's hair with one hand and shook her, while pulling at her hands that were protecting her body with the other, demanding that she bend over, put her hands on the ground, and stick her buttocks out. My mother, almost exhausted, couldn't do this at all. Helpless, he had to make her bend over while the other men supported her upper body. This man stood behind her and continued to vent his lust. The men supporting my mother would also occasionally reach out and fondle her breasts. Lying on the ground, I couldn't think about the fear I had before. I only felt incredibly excited, my face burning hot, and I even felt that death didn't matter. At this moment, the man behind my mother let out a low growl and left my mother's body. The last man immediately came up and, after a few thrusts, forcefully ejaculated inside my mother.

After the men released her, my mother couldn't hold on any longer and fell face down to the ground, limp there. Her entire lower body, buttocks, and inner thighs were covered in sticky liquid, which my mother was too weak to care about. After letting my mother rest for a while, they forced and helped her put on her dress. The dress was loose, and although it was torn, it wasn't seriously damaged.

My mother was still crying. They made me support her and then took us to the place where they had abducted us. It was late at night, and although there were a few pedestrians on the street, they were all quite far away. I helped my mother home, and we didn't run into any neighbors. Once home,

my mother collapsed onto the bed and cried loudly. I cried along with her. After a while, my mother calmed down a bit. Suddenly, she grabbed my hand and begged me, crying, that only the two of us should know about this, and not to call the police, and absolutely not to tell anyone, including my father, or she would have to die. Seeing her like this, I felt ashamed for having felt excited while witnessing her being raped, so I vaguely agreed not to tell anyone. I don't know if it was because I hadn't recovered from the excitement or because of shame and embarrassment, but I felt my face burning. Perhaps my mother saw my blushing, because she comforted me, saying it was okay. Later, she went to the bathroom to wash herself. I went back to my room and drifted off to sleep with mixed feelings, only to wake up the next day. My mom had taken the day off work; her eyes were red and swollen as she cooked. Seeing her, and recalling everything from yesterday, I felt a strange sadness, as if my beloved toy had been broken.

A few days passed, and my mom's appearance wasn't as bad as before, but she hadn't smiled once. After my dad called to say he was coming back from a business trip, she told me not to say anything, afraid I'd give it away, and she even forced a smile. A while after my dad returned, she wasn't as cheerful as before, but my dad probably didn't notice anything. As for whether she was pregnant or not, I didn't pay any attention at the time. Later, my mom gradually returned to her usual self. But I developed a liking for her. I've recalled those moments countless times and then masturbated. I know it's immoral and against human nature, but I just can't control myself; I just feel excited.

I was young then and didn't understand many things, but looking back now, some things are clear. First, there's the saying, "There are only oxen that die from exhaustion, not land that's been overworked." My mother was raped by five men in succession, and apart from swelling in her genitals and bruises on her breasts, she didn't suffer any fatal injuries. Some people say that violent gang rape can cause vaginal tears and blood loss leading to death, but at least my mother didn't. Second, some women really do become submissive through sexual intercourse. There are chaste and virtuous women, but my mother wasn't one of them. At first, she fought to the death, but after being raped by the informant, she would disregard all shame and follow his instructions to assume positions, even the most shameless ones. The positions, and not too forced—I now even feel that although my mother was initially required to kneel and bend over with her buttocks raised, the standard of her execution was too high; her buttocks were raised high with force, almost as if she was deliberately trying to show the men her vagina. Thirdly, women can also experience pleasure when forced into sex. Similarly, when my mother was being fucked, she initially cried out and resisted loudly, then turned into sobs, and finally, when she was being penetrated from behind while lying on the ground, it became sobbing. Especially towards the end, when she was bent over being fucked and her breasts were being stimulated, the sounds she made were essentially suppressed moans.

You can laugh at me, you can look down on me, you can despise me, but this is my true experience, psychology, and thoughts. Maybe I have a perverted masochistic tendency, who knows? Anyway, writing it down makes me feel much better.

[The End]

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