I almost got raped by a foreigner

That day, I went to Sanlitun with my husband and two of his friends. Sanlitun was much more innocent back then; everyone went there to get drunk.

I remember it was early autumn, a bit windy and chilly.

I wore light makeup, but with a matte red lipstick—not tacky, but alluring enough.

I wore a short skirt, nude-colored lipstick, and high heels, and sprayed on some perfume. My husband especially loves this scent; he says it makes him hard.

Speaking of which, I particularly admire Beyoncé; the bright colors she wore at her concerts were stunning, even for a woman like me.

Perhaps because we were going to a nightclub, I wore a slightly shimmering jumpsuit. Under the neon lights, it was very bright, and the men's lecherous glances made me feel embarrassed, but also a little excited. In the bustling Sanlitun, a little ambiguity was nice.

My husband said he just wanted to find a secluded place to do it with me.

I enjoyed this feeling, occasionally deliberately seducing men I found attractive, casually lifting my skirt to reveal my inner thighs, and sometimes I'd get a little wet.

The three of us, men and one woman, played games and drank for several rounds, gradually getting a little tipsy.

There were no booths that day, so we played at the bar. Perhaps we were too engrossed in the game, because two foreigners came over and politely offered us drinks, asking if we could join in. Bars are places where people are close, and after a few drinks, we readily agreed.

We chatted for a bit; they were Americans, one quite handsome named John, the other average-looking named Kev, both university students visiting Beijing for vacation.

It was a very crowded day, and the bar was cramped, so my husband gave them some space. I was next to John on my left and my husband on my right. We played games, sometimes winning, sometimes losing. Sometimes I was on John's team, and when I won, we'd hug to celebrate. At first, the hugs were just polite, but later they became quite forceful. He was very tall, a head taller than me, and I could feel his massive pectoral muscles through his t-shirt. Combined with the alcohol, it made my heart flutter.

John lost a round and downed a whole glass of snail milk, spilling it all over himself as he drank. I reached out to wipe him, intentionally touching his muscular physique, and I actually felt his hard abs! I was instantly smitten.

I go to the gym regularly and am completely powerless against handsome guys with abs. Of course, many have tried to chat me up, and there have been some little stories, but that's another story.

That touch, combined with the alcohol, made me instantly wet and sticky. I involuntarily squeezed my legs together, stimulating myself.

Women are always prone to daydreaming. Even though I have a good relationship with my husband, I couldn't resist this physical attraction. I imagined that beneath those muscular abs, there must be a thick, hard penis, and two shapely thighs. If I were to caress those thighs and tease that penis, the scene would be quite something. Thinking about this, I became even wetter and excused myself to go to the restroom.

The restrooms here aren't separate by gender; they're all small stalls shared by both men and women. Actually, I wasn't holding my pee; I just wanted to calm down the arousal I'd been experiencing—or rather, I was arousing myself, since no one else had made any move.

I lifted my skirt, pulling down my pantyhose and underwear together, and touched them; they were completely soaked. My other hand fiddled with my right nipple, sending jolts through my body as I fantasized: if John came in right now, I'd lean against the wall, arching my back so he could penetrate me. The more I thought about it

, the more excited I became. The music and lights were almost making me lose myself. If any random man came in at that moment, I'd be overwhelmed.

But John didn't come in.

After a brief moment of clarity, I got dressed. In front of the mirror, the woman, flushed and aroused by alcohol, exuded a seductive charm. I was very satisfied with myself. As I walked out of the restroom and back to the bar, a man leaning against the aisle took the opportunity to touch my thigh. I wasn't actually bothered; I glanced at him, but he pretended it wasn't him and turned his head away.

"So you don't want the chance!" I thought to myself.

Back with John, my husband asked why I took so long. His concern, combined with the fantasy of cheating on him, thrilled me. I made up an excuse about waiting in line for the restroom.

John also asked with concern, and my husband, speaking excellent English, told me not to worry, she was fine.

This prevented me from whispering in John's ear.

The drinking continued, and we became more and more relaxed. John's hand would intentionally or unintentionally touch mine, and I would sway slightly to the music and rub against him.

His gaze became increasingly suggestive. I knew he wanted me, but with my husband present, he had to restrain himself. I didn't know if it was out of fear of being in an unfamiliar place or out of politeness, but I could sense he was suppressing his desire.

Finally, one table left, and we got a booth. My husband, John, and I sat on one side, and they sat on the other. I was quite nervous that John would sit opposite me, not facing me.

The more we drank, the more dizzy we became, and the more excited we got. The lighting was dim, and the music was deafening; you had to whisper in someone's ear to be heard.

I leaned in and asked, "Have you been working out?" He was a head taller than me even when he sat down, so my chest naturally rested against his arm. He seemed surprised that I asked such an ambiguous question, and immediately turned to whisper in my ear. Before I could turn back, we almost kissed face-to-face—it scared me to death! I glanced at my husband; he was drinking with KEV and hadn't noticed me at all, especially since my back was to him.

Time seemed to freeze. In that instant, I believe John also saw the desire in my eyes. We turned away, pretending nothing had happened. He didn't say anything, but secretly took my hand and placed it on his arm. My god, what amazing muscles! I wanted to lick every muscle on his body.

He seemed to have mustered his courage and leaned in to say, "Damn, you're hot." I lowered my head; his breath from before was intoxicating, and the cologne was just right. I started daydreaming again.

I was a little taken aback and hadn't thought of how to answer him. Thinking I might tease him a bit, I said, "You either." He grinned mischievously, clinked glasses with me, and became less reserved. His hand kept brushing against my thigh, which I enjoyed, even experiencing a kind of exhibitionist thrill. I wished his hand would move higher and deeper.

Seeing that I wasn't averse to it, he became bolder and leaned closer, saying, "Ifancy about those hypopity hose." When no one was looking, he quickly licked my earlobe, sending a shiver down my spine; I was practically soaking wet.

I was secretly pleased. So foreigners like bright colors too! I really dressed right today. I pulled my skirt up a little more, so in this corner, only he could see.

The lighting was dim, and I secretly placed my hand on his thigh, scratching his jeans with my nails. My husband can't stand me doing this; it always makes him feel aroused.

John was clearly getting aroused too; the bulge under his pants was getting bigger and bigger. I didn't dare touch it; that would be too blatant. I was confident it wasn't just one.

I was really desperate to pee this time. I got up and went to the bathroom, staggering in, feeling dizzy. Just as I was about to close the door, a pair of large hands blocked my way. I instinctively wanted to scream, but a huge body squeezed in

, pressing its lips to mine, and lifted me up with one hand while locking the door with the other. I didn't know if anyone saw. In the chaos, I recognized John. Instantly, all my defenses crumbled. I closed my eyes and wrapped my legs around his waist.

He slipped his tongue in, long and sharp, licking me until I felt completely lost.

I panted and responded with my tongue. My husband said that what moved him most was my sweet breath. I don't know what it felt like, but he always needed to kiss me to ejaculate properly.

As my breath hit John's face, he clearly became even more aroused.

He held me with both hands, stroking my legs forcefully. He pulled one hand out and slipped it under my dress, squeezing my breasts. He pulled the dress down, looking directly into my eyes, and suddenly lowered his head, taking most of my breast into his mouth. I'm a 32B; he could easily have taken the whole thing in. His tongue teased my nipples. I couldn't take it anymore, but I couldn't scream; I was so uncomfortable. I could only cling tightly to his back.

Then, while supporting me with one hand, he used the other to undo his belt. I suddenly panicked, but also became much more aware. What if he had a disease? What if I got pregnant?

But curiosity and pleasure prevented me from stopping him. He slowly lowered me, and oh my god, I felt something huge. I reached down and touched it; it was hot and hard, at least 25 centimeters. I was almost captivated, kissing him while stroking it back and forth. The hot shaft throbbed excitedly in my hand.

John couldn't take it anymore either. He rubbed his hands hard against my inner thighs. The texture of my skin and his strong, large hands almost made me... I felt him trying to tear me apart. I pulled my tongue out and grabbed his hand to stop him.

He was stunned for a moment, then like a wild beast, he put me down and pressed me against the wall. He reached inside, his middle finger sliding in. I went limp and almost gave up resisting. His fingers were almost as long as my husband's. He bit my earring and murmured, "Give it to my baby, I want you." I could only gasp for breath. Seeing that I didn't react, he pulled off my pantyhose and underwear, turned me around so my back was to him, and put his arm around my hips, making me erect.

This position aroused me the most. I even wanted to close my eyes and enjoy him, but the last bit of reason told me that this was not right, not safe.

I turned to him, giving him a seductive look, and told him no. "I want to be your boyfriend, besides, I know you." I pulled up my shirt, and his was still firm and imposing, veins bulging, making me swoon. I was afraid he'd force himself on me, and afraid he'd be disappointed. "Not now, not today, I'll call you." He was still a gentleman; seeing my insistence, he didn't force me anymore, saying disappointedly, "Sorry, miss, my bad, just can't help it." He then painfully tried to tuck his penis into his jeans.

I wanted to too. Seeing his real discomfort, I grabbed his. "Let me help you," I said, lifting his t-shirt and biting his nipple while stimulating him. The unexpected turn of events made him cry out, "Oh, fuckie...jerkthatck," his erection still throbbing.

A foreign man, as strong as an ox, was teased by me like a child, which made me very proud. It also gave me a sense of accomplishment to make a man feel good. I asked him, "Do you want more?" He nodded. I lifted my skirt, squatted down, spat, and grabbed his penis with both hands, quickly stroking it. He was so excited that he was muttering something to himself.

Although his veins were bulging, and his penis was thick and large, it was white and looked exceptionally clean. I suddenly had an urge to taste it, so I secretly licked it. He immediately lifted my head with both hands, trying to put it in my mouth. I pushed him away, saying, "Slowdown baby, too damn big." He didn't force it anymore, and I decided to give in to him. I tried to open my mouth wide, but my teeth still hurt, which only excited him more. After several attempts, I finally managed to take the head of his penis into my mouth, but I couldn't get it in. I licked the coronal sulcus with my tongue in circles, and my hands kept stroking it. He was obviously unable to take it anymore, and his body was trembling uncontrollably. Suddenly, I felt him. I thought he was going to ejaculate in my mouth. I thought that since I had already made him feel good, I should let him feel good to the end. But then he pulled me up, turned me over so that my back was to him, lifted my skirt, and inserted it into my inner thigh, forcefully.

The folds of his penis, even through the fabric, gave me a great stimulation. I whispered, fantasized, and enjoyed the pleasure brought by his massive erection. After four or five minutes, he turned me around, kissed my lips, lifted my left leg, and said, "It's 'smgit'smg..." Thick white semen shot all over my thigh.

I wiped myself clean with a tissue. He lowered his head and kissed me, apologizing repeatedly like a lover. I didn't blame him.

I took out my phone and saw two missed calls, both from my husband. He didn't know that I had almost been penetrated by this foreigner, and that his beloved, sweet-smelling lips had almost been filled with his semen.

We left one after the other. I told my husband that I hadn't felt well, had vomited for a while, and had gotten semen on my penis.

He didn't seem too suspicious.

When we left, we hugged each other goodbye and exchanged contact information.

John glanced back at me. I pointed to the semen stain on my leg, gave him a wink, and said goodbye.

Of course, I kept his number. There's more to the story later.

[The End]

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I almost got raped by a foreigner

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