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(Her Secret Fantasy, continued by Anon2...)
“Do whatever you have to,” you tell Rachel. “I know you really like your job, but neither one of us wants jerking John off to become a full time position. Do whatever you need to so that he cums quickly, and I’ll be okay with it.”
“Are you sure?” Rachel asks. I don’t want to hurt you, but if I don’t keep doing this I’ll lose my pay raise and maybe more.“
“I’m certain,” you tell her. “It’s what’s best for both of us.” You give your girlfriend a tight hug, and before you know it you’re passionately fucking on the couch. Rachel doesn’t even have to use her arm.
Rachel starts to make small changes to her routine with John. Some days she’ll dress extra slutty and give him a quick flash, while others she’ll add some head or a quick tittyfuck to the handie. For a while things seem to be working, and the variety keeps John cumming quickly.
But within a couple of weeks, things are trending south again. Rachel has to blow John far more than she’s giving him handjobs just to keep him from lasting hours. Worse yet, he’s realized that their initial agreement is out the window and is pushing the boundaries. He’s started to grope her, and even try to turn her on by rubbing her pussy through her clothes. You have half a mind to shut the whole thing down, but you have faith. Rachel is having to expand her technique, but she’s still making him cum.
All of that changes about three months after the first fatal day of picture taking. Rachel arrives home, and she’s sobbing uncontrollably. Her clothes are a mess, and she looks like she’s been through a lot. You do your best to console her, and after several minutes she manages to blubber out her story.
“Oh Ross, I tried to resist him for so long. All the innuendos, and the groping, I told myself I wouldn’t let it get to me. But his dick is so thick, and even though it’s shorter I sometimes wondered what it’d feel like what it’d feel like inside of me. And then something snapped. I felt like I was watching myself, but I let it happen. I was giving him a blow job, and he started taking off my shirt. I usually brush him aside, but today I couldn’t bring myself to. Then he unclipped my bra, and started fondling my tits. By now I had stopped blowing him, and I felt like a spectator. He dropped down and started sucking on my nipples and I heard myself moan like some kind of slut. He stripped off my skirt and slid down my panties, and I knew it was coming. He picked me up and put me on his desk, and suddenly he was inside of me. I felt so violated, but yet so turned on. He was so thick inside me, and I laid back and the rest is a blur. He was fucking me and I was moaning, and I even came. I had a fucking orgasm fucking that perv! He lasted forever, and when he pulled out he jizzed all over my face, and I felt so humiliated. I ran into the bathroom to cleanup, and I was already crying. I cried all the way home, and What the hell did I do? I’m so sorry. Ross. I don’t know what else to say.”
The waterworks have finally stopped, but you have no response. Rachel seems to regret what she did, but why tell you so many details? And your agreement was for her to do whatever it takes, but doesn’t this cross a line? You’re a rage of hormones, emotions, and twisted logic, but you’ve got to come up with something. Rachel is obviously waiting for a response.