To end the tale, Sidra now told Reg, “So you see that your stabbing last year had some good come of it. One mention of you and these teenage boys go... scared; and quite rightly too.”She added, “Aunt Fiona and Aunt Prudence put the fear of death into them as well: they were magnificent! Aunt Fiona told them to beware of any woman with a baby, as well. That should help all women in the borough.”Reg’s face went through several emotions before settling on amusement. He grinned.“Good for Prudence and. " Forget it," she barked. "What a stupid idea! We both know you can't get me off. What are you thinking? Another chance? You had plenty of chances, two years worth and you never came close, not once." I tried." Look," she said, "you were never any good at it. I can't believe I put up with it for so long. It didn't even feel good. All your clumsy thrusting and grunting. And what was up with all your girly moans and squeaks? But it's no crime, girl. Everybody sucks at something. You. There’s the obvious ‘what if something really fucked up happened’ kind of fantasy, but there’s also a related ‘what if I could live out my kinks and have it be morally OK’ fantasy. My suspicion is that the latter fantasy is the reason we see so many rape stories where the victim comes to enjoy their violation. The idea that a rape victim ‘wants it really’ could be a very comforting one, allowing rape fantasists to have their cake and eat it. It’s a fantasy where a deeply fucked-up thing. When I stopped pulling her at all, shescooted her ass on the desktop until her soft mound was pressing against my rigid cock. Sliding my hands up her body, I cupped one of her tits in each hand, and began making circles around her nipples with my thumbs. Jennifer’s eyes closed, and she moaned softly, seaming to get lost in the sensations. Pinching her nipples hard, I kissed her neck softly, just under her ear and whispered, “I can feel the heat from your pussy through your dress.” She spread.