[FM] My buddy’s little sister wanted me to take her virginity—and she wanted me to break into her house and take it by force. How could I resist making her fantasy come true? (CW: CNC)

(CW: This story features consensual-non-consent play and light race-play. If you have problems with either, maybe skip this story.)

"Please!" Genevieve squealed, her little tanned body quaking beneath me. "Take it out! It hurts too much!"

I clapped my hand over her mouth, feeling her shudder around my cock as I thrust into her recently virgin pussy. She closed her eyes tight, tears flowing freely now, and shook her head no beneath my hand as I took her.

Now, any reasonable person reading this should be thinking "Jesus Christ, you monster! You raped that poor girl!"

But what if I told you Genevieve had planned this all out, that she wanted it—that her fantasy was to have her virginity raped away by one of her older brother's friends?

Let me back up.

Genevieve was the younger sister of my friend Tony. We all went to the same high school but Genevieve was a year behind us. I barely knew her when we were in high school—our paths simply didn't cross, and the most I knew of her was her little round face looking up from doing homework at the kitchen table when Tony and I would emerge from his basement after long Halo 2 sessions. This was back in 2007-2008, after all.

Their family was mixed Filipino-Taiwanese, and so, while the food was always amazing at their house and I loved when Tony would raid the fridge for leftovers for us in the middle of the night after we'd given the Covenant back their bomb (if you know, you know), I understood that both siblings faced a certain amount of parental pressure not unusual for their culture. I'd grown up in an Irish Catholic family, and as long as I didn't end up a drunk or a bank robber, it was understood that I was doing well, but that wasn't the case for Genevieve and Tony.

Thus, it was a bit of a scandal when Tony didn't get into any Ivy League colleges after high school. He ended up going to our state university (one of the best in the country, but try explaining that to his parents) and then the pressure was on for Genevieve to get into a better school. Unfortunately, Genevieve buckled under the pressure and not only did she not get into an Ivy League school, she didn't even get into our state university. Instead, she ended up doing her first year at a community college while living at home, with the understanding that she would transfer after a year or two.

This is all to give some context for how, when I was twenty or so and Genevieve was nineteen, me a sophomore and Genevieve a freshman in college, she messaged me on AIM, which we were still using if you can believe it, to ask me questions about my own college. I wasn't at an Ivy League school, but a prestigious private university in our home city that I understood would be acceptable to her parents, and a step up from where Tony was going (in their eyes, at least—Tony is a very successful oncologist now, so his parents are finally somewhat pleased with him).

What started off as questions about my college quickly transformed into a long, ongoing conversation about everything under the sun. Genevieve, I was pleased to learn, was actually pretty funny and quirky—not the timid, shy girl I'd assumed she was, based on how her parents browbeat her and how she'd never uttered a word to me when I'd been over at their house.

She was also, I quickly learned, extremely horny.

"dude," I remember her texting me. "im totally ovulating this week. i had to go rub one out in the bathroom after class."

I can't quite say how this all started, how the casual sex talk started. I remember she'd asked me about dating on my campus, and I'd explained that hook ups were more common—that I had a couple of girls I "hung out" with on the regular, and this seemed to intrigue her. She complained about the dating at her community college, or lack thereof. Most of the other students were also commuters, and working, many with kids, and no one wanted the kind of carefree college sex that Genevieve wanted, and which she seemed to be imagining me having.

"do guys just not like tiny asian girls?" I remember her messaging me once. I think by this point, we'd switched to Facebook messenger or Gchat. I know these different platforms will be foreign to younger readers, but you have to understand that the decision as to which platform you chatted with a person on was very important back in the day. "i feel like im never gonna lose my virginity. sometimes i wish a nasty homeless guy would just rape me and get it over with."

It being the mid-2000s, I did not feel the need to have an elucidatory discussion with Genevieve regarding the problems that unhoused people face in this country, or how sexual assault is vastly more likely to occur in the context of established relationships, and that "stranger rape" is often a dog whistle used to justify increased policing of vulnerable populations.

No, I just responded with "lol nah you're hot, you'll definitely get laid next year in college."

"but i dont want to be a virgin sophomore," Genevieve persisted. "a virgin freshman is hot. a virgin sophomore tho? theres something wrong with you."

Now, I was already savvy enough to see where this was going, and what Genevieve was angling at. Or so I thought. I figured I'd just offer to take her virginity, as a friend of mine had done for me once upon of time—but Genevieve had a much more twisted idea.

"honestly…," she messaged, and then she was typing for a very long time. We all know that feeling.

The wait.

The ruminating as you wonder what the other person is typing…

The anticipa…

"you should just rape me next time you see me."

…tion.

"just to get it over with," she added.

"lol," I replied. (is this recreation of early instant messaging getting tired yet? I promise Genevieve and I will meet up in person soon, so bare with me if this isn't nostalgic for you) "i don't wanna go to jail so…"

"i mean, it wouldn't really be rape," Genevieve persisted. "Cuz I want it. i wouldnt tell anyone."

As we discussed, Genevieve's fantasies came pouring out. As you might have guessed, the idea of being forced was a huge fetish for her. She'd been fantasizing about this, and especially about one of her brother's friends forcing her.

Especially me.

"sorry if this is weird. telling u i want u to rape me," she wrote. I, back in my dorm, had my cock out in my hand and I was stroking it, so excited at the possibility of some truly twisted, kinky sex with my buddy's little sister.

"no it's good to be in touch with your desires," I wrote, or some bullshit like that.

Eventually, we agreed that we'd do it over Thanksgiving break, which was coming up in a few days. Genevieve would go to church with her parents, and then they would go out to lunch with relatives—they always did this on Sundays. Genevieve would claim she wasn't feeling well, and hang back at the house, and I would "break into" the unlocked house, and have my way with her.

By this point in my life, by virtue of having unfiltered access to the early internet, I'd learned something of BDSM practices, which is all to say that I explained safe words to Genevieve, and we agreed that "pineapple" would be her safe word, and that I'd stop whatever I was doing if she said that. Likewise, if she couldn't talk for whatever reason, we agreed that she'd open her eyes wide and rotate her face. I remember I asked Genevive to practice this for me and she sent me a video taken at her laptop of her performing the maneuver before dissolving into giggles.

We also agreed that we wouldn't use condoms, and that I'd bring Genevieve a Plan B dose to take once we were done. She was excited about the idea of actually having my cum inside of her and, well… It may not have been the wisest choice, but I think it was the most fun.

As you might imagine, I was immensely excited for the day to come. I remember coming home from college on the Saturday before, and unable to decide if I should jerk off in preparation for our meeting—if I wanted to have more cum saved up for her, or if I wanted to last.

Finally, the morning came. I told my parents I was going over to Tony's—which was true, even though Tony was still down at state—and set out. I parked across the street and half a block down and watched Genevieve and her parents pull up. Genevieve got out of the car, waved to her parents, and then I saw her look around, notice my car, and head inside.

Let me give you a sense of what we both looked like back then. I was your standard dirty late 2000s hipster, with a beard, an obscure band t-shirt, tight jeans, and glasses. Beige emo is what I've heard the style described as, and I'd say that was accurate. I had a copy The History of Sexuality, vol. 1 with me (homework over the break!) and I thought I was very cool for reading Foucault before setting out to have kinky sex.

Genevieve, meanwhile, was looking very classy that day, as would befit a girl going to church with her parents. She wore a sort of taupe colored dress and stockings, hiding her shapely little body. She was well under five feet tall (four-ten, maybe) and petite, with a plump ass and little cup cake sized boobs. She had a bit of muscle on her, beneath a thin layer of baby fat, from playing volleyball in high school, which had only helped the development of her butt. She often expressed jealousy of her taller, boobier and blonder friends, but I thought she was perfect.

Especially today. Her hair was in a bob and I noted that she had a bit of make-up on, including lipstick. She looked great, and much more mature and grown-up than she usually acted over text. I couldn't wait to break her down.

Once I'd given her a few minutes inside the house, I walked up to the front door, eased it open, and closed it behind me, locking it. I'd never been to her room, but I knew it was across from Tony's, and so I crept towards it, forcing myself to walk slowly. I heard her in there, emptying her purse, and saw the door was open a crack.

I watched as she reached behind her back to undo the dress, pulling the zipper down, and as she stepped out of it, her underwear-clad body came brilliantly into view. She wore a matching set of lacy pastel yellow lingerie, and when she turned around, I saw that the panties were a thong, giving me an incredible view of her ass cheeks. The color contrasted well with her dark brown skin—Genevieve always joked about naturally having the kind of tan that the girls on Jersey Shore only wished they could get—and I had to give her props for picking out something hot to wear to be raped in.

And, in a sign of the times, she had a dangly piece of belly jewelry in her navel. I knew it had been a huge scandal in the household when she'd gotten her belly pierced, because she'd kept it hidden from her parents for a week until she managed to pull her piercing out while asleep and needed her mom to drive her to urgent care. No trace of the damage seemed to remain, though, and the fake jewels, yellow and blue, glittered at me invitingly.

I took a deep breath and, as Genevieve turned around, starting to undo her bra, I stepped into the room. I towered over her, well over a foot taller than her, and I only managed to take a few steps towards her before she spun around, clutching her loose bra to her chest, and screamed.

"What are you doing here?" she cried, taking a step back as I advanced on her. I grabbed her, and she dropped her hands, letting her bra fall but it was pinned to her belly between us as I forced a kiss onto her lips. Genevieve allowed herself to kiss me back eagerly for a second, our tongues dueling, and I imagined I could still taste the wine from communion on her lips and tongue before she writhed her mouth away from me and cried out.

"Stop, stop!" she gasped. She cried out my name as I forced her face back towards mine and kissed her again, rougher, biting her as she yelped into my mouth. Her perfume made her smell all the more inviting, something musky and sensual.

Instead of stopping, I seized hold of one of her tits, gripping it hard as she gasped again. She batted at my hands and pounded on my chest as my fingers dug into her soft skin, before finding one of her hard tiny dark brown nipples. I twisted it as she squealed and I saw that she already had tears in her bright brown eyes.

"What are you doing?" she groaned. "Please, please, stop—I won't tell anyone—"

"I can't control myself anymore," I snarled, bringing my lips close to her ear. "You've been asking for this. You know it."

"No, not like this!" she cried out, and her words dissolved into gibberish as I forced a hand down into her panties and found the soft, downy bush covering her soaked slit. She tried to writhe out of my hands but I forced her down on her bed, and slid her panties to the side, revealing her glistening pussy lips—dark brown glazed labia and a tangle of black the softest black hair you can imagine.

"No, no, no," she whimpered and then cried out when I slapped her pussy. Hard.

"You're already so fucking wet," I hissed. "What would your parents say if they saw you like this?"

That pushed her over the edge. Genevieve let out a sob and shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as I forced my fingers inside of her, deep, her hole all but gushing juice—I don't know to this day that I've ever felt a girl that wet before being fucked.

I held Genevieve down by her throat while I reached for my jeans and undid my fly. I pulled my cock out, and Genevieve's eyes widened when she craned her neck up to see it, thick and angry, pink and purple, gliding towards her hole.

"Oh my god, oh my god," she kept repeating, panting. I pressed the tip of my cock against her wetness. She was on the edge of her bed, and I reached for her legs, pulling one up and then the other so that I was holding one, my hand right below her knee, and the other pressed against my shoulder. In this way, when I forced myself inside of her, I was able to skewer her all the way through, driving my cock as deep as I could push it while she arched back and howled.

"No!" she squealed. "I was a virgin!"

"Just shut up and take it, Genevieve," I snarled, and slapped her—lightly, but sharply enough that it got her attention. I slapped her breasts harder and she cried out. I felt her tighten around my cock, and so I slapped her tits again and again, till red welts began to form on her smooth flesh.

Genevieve was sobbing now, but the fight had left her and she whimpered as I fucked her, twitching and shuddering as I drove my cock into her. She was impossibly wet, absolutely soaked, and even though she was so tight and so tiny, her pussy seemed to suck my cock inside.

Every once in a while, she'd beg me to stop, usually when she'd start to moan in pleasure—and then remember that she was supposed to be pretending that she wasn't enjoying it.

"Please, take it out! It hurts too much!" she begged. And I did what she said—I slid my cock out of her, dripping with her juices and shimmering, and grabbed her by her hair, forcing her face to my cock.

"Suck it."

"No," she exclaimed, shaking her head.

"Suck it and I'll leave you alone."

Her teary eyes widened as she looked up at me.

"You mean it?" she whispered hoarsely.

"I do. Suck it and I'll leave right now."

Genevieve made a show of hesitating, licking her lips and sniffing at my cock.

"It smells," she said. "It stinks like my… down there."

"Then clean it off."

She swallowed hard. She was really dragging this out, and I loved it.

"And you'll leave?"

"I'll leave."

She took a deep breath.

"Okay."

She opened her mouth and took me inside. She gagged almost immediately, and I put a hand on the back of her head, forcing my cock further into her mouth. She shook her head, closing her eyes—crucially, not out safe gesture—and I knew I was good to push it deeper into her. I felt her teeth scrape my cock but there was something about her inexperienced mouth suckling me awkwardly as I forced myself on her that nearly made me cum right then and there.

But I knew I wanted to finish inside of her pussy for her first time, and so when I felt like I couldn't take it anymore, I slid it out of her mouth, leaving a long rope of spit trailing from her lips. Her lipstick was smeared around her face now, partially from my rough kisses, and now it was on my cock too.

"Okay, now leave!" Genevieve said, her voice even more hoarse.

Instead of leaving, I pushed her back down, holding my hand around her throat as I forced myself back inside of her. Genevieve gritted her teeth and writhed, shaking beneath me as I pumped into her.

"No, you said you'd leave, you said you'd stop!" she squealed. "Stop, stop, stop! It hurts!"

"Take it like a good girl, Genevieve," I hissed into her ear. She shook her head, pulling away from me when I kissed her, and so I spat on her face—this seemed to break something in her, and I can still see her going limp, my spit splattered across her plump, flushed tear-stained cheeks, her makeup smeared over her pretty face, my spit in her eye and her nose and everywhere, and when she went limp and just let me do whatever I wanted—that's when I came.

"No," Genevieve whispered softly as my cock exploded inside of her. Stream after stream of cum flooded her and she shook her head weakly, starting to cry again but no longer trying to push me off of her. It was an amazing orgasm, an amazing release, and I moaned into her ear, still thrusting into her as I came.

We lay there for a moment, me on top of her. I was still hard—I was all of twenty at the time, after all—and I figured I still had a bit more left in me.

"Okay, you got what you wanted," Genevieve whimpered. "Now get off me and leave."

I slid out of her, admiring her sloppy, dripping pussy. I reached down to touch her, spreading her lips, and she gasped.

"Does that hurt?"

"It's sore," she snarled. "You raped it, after all."

"Take your panties off, Genevieve."

"No."

I grabbed her hair and pulled her to her feet, but she refused to stand and so she was just on her knees—but that put my cock near her face. I smeared myself over her face, over her make up, and then into her hair. She started sobbing hard when I wrapped her hair around my cock, leaving it slick and sticky with our cum.

Then, I pushed my cock against her lips and into her mouth. Now, she was sucking again, eyes closed, and I suspected she was really enjoying it, because she hummed softly as she did it, slurping at my cock eagerly all the while pretending that she was being forced. When I pulled away from her, she had a glassy look in her eyes.

"Take off your fucking panties."

Slowly, Genevieve nodded.

"Will you leave then?" she asked, starting to stand. My cum was running down her thighs and her hands were trembling as she stepped out of her yellow thong.

"No."

She let out a sob as I pushed her onto her bed.

"On your hands and knees," I ordered her. She obeyed, and then I turned her, so that we could see ourselves in her mirror across the room. She started sobbing harder when she caught sight of her face, sloppy and defiled, and her hair, sticking out at angles because of the sticky fluids in it.

I grabbed her by her hair, then, and forced myself into her. She wailed as I fucked her, taking her hard. Her pussy somehow felt even tighter now, from this position, and Genevieve gasped and moaned and sobbed as I rode her. I felt her walls all but massage my cock as I drove into her, and I suspected she was enjoying this even more than her first fucking, despite what she was performing.

"No," she wailed. "It hurts! It doesn't fit! I'm too little! It's too little down there!"

"Admit that you like it. Look at the slutty faces you're making, Genevieve."

"No!"

"If you admit that you like it, I'll leave after this."

She took a deep breath, and for a moment, the only sound was the slapping of my hips against her plump ass and the squish of my cock plunging into her wetness.

"I like it," she gasped. "I like it a lot."

"Tell me what a slut you are."

"I'm a slut."

"Say it again. Say it like you mean it."

"I'm a slut!" she groaned. "I'm a rape slut! I love white cock! I'm a little yellow Asian rape slut and I fucking love big white cocks!"

That part kind of threw me for a loop—Genevieve occasionally made jokes about being a tiny Asian or being ashamed at not being smarter or better at piano or stereotypical stuff like that, but it had never been a sexual thing. But I leaned into it, and leaned forward, whispering into her ear.

"Your little Asian pussy was made for big white cock. You deserve to be raped. This is your purpose!"

"Fuck!" Genevieve squealed, and I didn't try to make her talk anymore after that—she was going through something, and really enjoying herself, clearly, despite the charade. I grasped her hips and pounded into her, harder and harder, spreading her ass and running my finger over her butthole. That made her gasp, and I pressed my thumb inside, into her ass—I had warned her before that I might do that, and I know that she had experimented with fingering her butt in the shower to get ready for it.

That seemed to push her over the edge. I felt her begin to spasm from the inside and I knew she was cumming.

"Holy shit, holy shit," she whispered over and over, not even pretending to dislike it as she pressed herself back. "Fuck, that's good." Then, gibberish and moans.

Genevieve slumped, no longer holding her upper body on her hands, just letting me pounding into her hips as she lay, ass still raised to receive me until I finally came inside of her.

After that, we ended the scene—but that didn't end the sex. For aftercare, we cuddled for a while, with Genevieve snuggled up with me, burying her face in my chest hair, giggling through her dried tears. We talked about what we'd done, made out, I tickled her, and before long, she ended up straddling my hips and riding me nice and slowly while we kissed, until I came inside her once again.

And then—we showered together, and struggled to find an angle in the shower where I could comfortably fuck her, considering the disparity in our heights. We ended up fucking on the floor of the shower, in a position similar with how I'd first "raped" her, with her legs on my shoulders, doubling her over so that I could pound into her deep.

I managed to get out of her house literally minutes before her parents returned home, and no one was the wiser. I made sure she took her Plan B and took the packaging with me so her parents wouldn't find it.

Early  next morning, I got a text from Genevieve that alarmed me.

"so I have a problem."

Of course, she didn't elaborate until I replied.

"What's wrong?"

"i woke up really horny thinking about yesterday and i want to touch myself but you raped my pussy too hard n its really sore now ;_;"

"i guess i'll have to come pick you up and kiss it so it feels better."

"yeah u better make it feel better," Genevieve replied.

And, reader, I did.