-------------------------------------------------------------
The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.
The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Title: Day at the beach
Author: Trio
-------------------------------------------------------------
Day at the beach
— The old version —
The sun blazed down on the crowded beach, a golden hue that painted everything in a warm glow. Sandra, an adventurous soul with a secret thrill for the illicit, lay on her back with her eyes shaded by a wide-brimmed hat. Tom, her husband, sat beside her, his eyes hidden by mirrored sunglasses, a knowing smile playing on his lips. They had a prime spot, tucked behind their oversized beach windscreen, next to the old seawall, offering all the privacy they desired.
Their two kids, oblivious to the covert intimacy unfolding beside them, were absorbed in their task. With meticulous focus, they built a sandcastle, their tiny hands sculpting moats and turrets with the precision of miniature architects. The older one, a girl of about seven, directed operations with an air of authority, while her four-year-old brother added the finishing touches with a plastic shovel.
Tom had been applying sunscreen to his wife's body, enjoying the feel of her skin under his hands. As he worked, his thoughts drifted to the passionate moments they often shared in secret, the thrill of almost getting caught adding a spicy layer to their love life. Tom had his fingers glide over Sandra's thigh, his touch a silent declaration of his intentions. Her breath hitched as his hand moved up.
As the children's giggles filled the air, Tom's touch grew bolder, hidden by a small towel, his fingers exploring Sandra's folds with an ease that came from years of shared passion. The warmth of his hand against her skin sent shivers down her spine, and she bit her lip to stifle a moan that threatened to escape. She could feel her arousal building, a sweet crescendo that matched the rhythm of the waves hitting the beach.
Her eyes flicked to the side, watching her children play, ensuring they were still engrossed in their sandy world. The girl, with a head full of curly hair that matched her mother's, paused in her task to squint against the sun, her expression a perfect replica of Sandra's concentration. The boy looked up briefly, his cheeks red from the heat, and called out something unintelligible before diving back into his work. Satisfied, Sandra turned her attention back to Tom's ministrations, her breath hitching as his thumb found her clit and began to circle with maddening slowness.
A burst of laughter from a group of nearby teenagers shattered the momentary serenity. Tom's hand froze, and his eyes darted to the side, a flash of panic crossing his features. Sandra chuckled softly, the sound a blend of amusement and desire. "It's fine," she murmured, her voice thick with passion. "They're too busy with their own games to notice us."
With a deep breath, Tom composed himself and pulled his hand away, wiping it on the small beach towel, licking off what still remained. He glanced at the kids again, who remained oblivious to their parents' clandestine activities. The girl's tongue stuck out in concentration as she placed a tiny seashell on the highest turret, while the boy slapped wet sand onto the base with the enthusiasm of a miniature engineer.
"Maybe you should take them for some ice cream," Sandra suggested, her voice a mix of mischief and practicality. The idea served two purposes: it would give their children a much-desired treat, and it would offer a convenient break to let the tension between her and Tom simmer without boiling over in front of innocent eyes.
Tom's eyes lit up with understanding. "Great idea," he agreed, his voice low and gruff with restrained desire. He leaned down to give her a quick peck on the cheek, his hand lingering on her shoulder. Sandra felt a jolt of electricity run through her, and she had to fight the urge to pull him back onto her.
With a sigh, she rolled onto her stomach, feeling the heat of the sun soak into her back. The coolness of the breeze against her exposed skin made her shiver, and she felt Tom's gentle touch as he untied the strings of her bikini top. The fabric slipped away, the sensation was intoxicating, and she let out a small gasp of pleasure that she hoped was lost in the symphony of beach sounds.
Tom looked at the kids, standing up with an ease that contradicted his eagerness to return to his wife. "Alright, you two," he announced. "Ice cream time!" The children's heads shot up, their eyes lighting up with excitement. They didn't need to be asked twice. They jumped to their feet, brushing sand off their little bodies and allowing Tom to lead them away from the temptation of their half-finished sandcastle.
Sandra took a deep breath and closed her eyes, savouring the peace and quiet. The sun on her back was a warm embrace, and she let the tension melt away from her muscles. It was a perfect moment, the kind of stolen serenity that made her feel alive. She listened to the laughter and muffled conversations, not that far, but far enough to create a bubble of privacy around her. She drifted into a peaceful daze, the sound of the waves soothing her.
All that was shattered abruptly as she felt a firm push, a weight pressing her into the sand. She opened her eyes in alarm to see a shadowy figure looming over her, a hand clamped over her mouth. Panic set in as she realised she was being held down by a stranger. She tried to scream, but only a muffled sound came out, her voice trapped by the rough fabric of the towel he'd used to silence her.
Her attacker's other hand was busy at her waist, jerking her bikini bottoms aside. The soft fabric scraped against her sensitive skin, sending a bolt of fear through her body. She bucked and twisted, desperately trying to throw him off, but his weight was too much. His hard cock pressed against her back, hot and demanding, and she realised with a cold horror that she was still soaking wet. The sound of people and children playing nearby grew distant, swallowed by the thunder of her own fear.
The man's breath was hot and sour on her neck as he whispered something, but she couldn't make out the words over the roar in her ears. He pushed inside her in one swift, brutal motion. Sandra's eyes rolled back, and she let out a muffled scream, her body tightening around the intrusion. The shock was so intense that for a moment, she thought she might pass out, but the pain kept her conscious, a stark reminder of her reality.
He was rough, his movements erratic and desperate. Sandra's mind raced, trying to find a way to escape, to call out, but his hand was like a vice. She felt the tears squeeze from her eyes, and she could taste the salt of the sea on her lips. The scent of his sweat and the faint odour of sunscreen mixed with the briny air, making her stomach churn.
The man was relentless. His free hand played with her, squeezing her breast, teasing her clit in a parody of the gentle caress she'd just experienced with Tom. Each touch was a violation, a mockery of the pleasure she'd been on the brink of moments ago.
Against her will, she felt her body start to respond. The fear was still there, a cold, heavy weight in her stomach, but it was being overwhelmed by something else. Something primal. The heat of the stranger's body, the pressure of his cock inside her, the way he filled her completely, it was all too much to ignore. The fire Tom had kindled was being fanned into a full blaze by the intrusion of this unknown man.
He noticed the change in her immediately. His thrusts grew more deliberate as he felt her pussy twitch against him. His breathing more heavy now, and he murmured something into her ear, a question or a taunt, she wasn't sure. He slowed down, savouring the way she tightened around him. Sandra's mind reeled. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. She was supposed to be fighting, to be terrified, not...this.
Her orgasm hit her like a sledgehammer, stealing her breath and making her body arch. She couldn't stop it, couldn't fight it. It was like a storm that had been building within her, and now it had crashed over her in an explosion of lightning and thunder. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she bit down hard on the hand that covered her mouth, muffling the cry of pleasure and pain that wanted to escape.
The man groaned in satisfaction, his grip on her tightening as he drove himself deeper. The waves of pleasure were almost too much. It was wrong, it was all wrong, but her body didn't care. It responded to him, to the violence and the passion in his movements, and she could feel herself slipping away, lost in a sea of sensation.
He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back, his breath hot and ragged in her ear. His hand left her mouth to clamp around her neck, not too hard, but enough to remind her that she was his to do with as he pleased. The pressure grew as he began to fuck her in earnest, the slap of their bodies echoing in the quiet space around them.
The air was forced from her lungs with every thrust, leaving her gasping and choking. She could feel his cock sliding in and out of her, the sand acting as an abrasive lubricant that only heightened the intensity of the sensation.
Suddenly, he stiffened, his grip on her neck tightening almost painfully. He groaned, and she felt his hot seed spurt inside her, filling her with a sense of revulsion and, inexplicably, satisfaction. She bucked against him, her body reacting as nature intended, betraying her mind's horror. As the tremors of his climax subsided, he whispered in her ear, his voice a gruff taunt, "Thank you for letting me finish what your husband started."
With a swift, cruel motion, he reached around and yanked at the bikini bottoms. She heard the fabric tear. Sandra's eyes went wide with realisation and fear. He stuffed the flimsy fabric into her mouth, effectively silencing her. The material was hot and salty, tasting of her sweet arousal with Tom and the horror of the rape by a stranger . Her jaw clenched around it, her teeth digging into the softness as she struggled to form words, to scream for help. But all that came out was a muffled cry, lost in the cacophony of the beach.
The man had come prepared. He pulled out a small roll of duct tape from his pocket, the silver glinting in the sun. With a practiced efficiency that spoke of experience, he tore off a strip and slapped it over her mouth, sealing the fabric in place. The sticky tape clung to her skin, and she felt a brief panic as she struggled to breathe through her nose, the material of her bikini pressing against her tongue.
Sandra's mind raced as he held her down, his weight heavy on her back, his cock still buried deep inside her. How could he be so calm? So methodical? He was like a predator, finishing his meal before moving on to the next kill. The realisation was a cold, hard punch to her gut, stealing the last of her breath away.
With surprising speed, he reached for her wrists, his grip unyielding as he held them firmly against the sand. She felt the cold, sticky embrace of the duct tape as he wrapped it around her wrists, securing them together with a final, cruel rip. The sound echoed in her ears, and she realised with a sinking feeling that she was truly at his mercy.
With his both hands free now, he grabbed both of her breasts, the sudden pain of his pinching her nipples sending a jolt of fear through her. Her eyes watered, his grip was unyielding, his fingers digging into her flesh.
"I still have some spunk left," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot and moist. "Let's see if we can't plant it deep inside you, hmm?" His voice was a sickening blend of excitement and entitlement.
Sandra's instinct was to fight, to do anything she could to push this monster away from her, but his weight was like a boulder, crushing her into the sand. His laugh was low and malicious as he leaned in even heavier, forcing her to take his cock as it grew even harder.
The moment she felt him pull out of her pussy, she braced herself, but it was too late. His cock found her tight ass, and with no warning, he thrust inside her, ripping through her resistance. The pain was blinding, stealing her breath away in a sharp, piercing scream that was muffled by the fabric and tape. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she could feel the tears burning tracks down her cheeks.
Tom, where are you? The thought pounded in her mind, a desperate mantra. Her body felt like it was being split in two by the invader's brutal force. The children, oh God, the children. Panic flooded her chest, a cold, heavy weight that threatened to crush her. She couldn't let them see this, couldn't let them know their mother was being taken by this monster.
The man's thrusts grew more powerful, his grunts a rhythmic counterpoint to the sound of the waves. He was plowing into her ass with the relentless force of a jackhammer, each thrust a searing bolt of pain that made her vision swim. Sandra's mind was a maelstrom of fear and anger.
But amidst the chaos, there was something else. A memory, a ghostly echo of Tom's gentle touch, his tender kisses, and the sweet agony of his cock sliding into her ass. They'd done it countless times before, in the quiet of their bedroom, the darkness their only witness. He'd always been so careful, so attentive to her needs. He'd whisper sweet nothings into her ear as he penetrated her, his hands soothing her, his body worshiping hers. The contrast was stark, like a beautiful painting defaced by a vandal.
And as the stranger's cock invaded her, she found herself comparing. The pain was the same, but the pleasure... it was different. Deeper, more primal. It was as if her body was betraying her, responding to the brutal intrusion in a way she'd only ever experienced with Tom. Each time the man's hips met her ass, she could feel her orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure and pain that seemed to feed on her fear. Her body tightened around him, her muscles clenching and releasing, trying to expel him even as they pulled him deeper.
He noticed her response and chuckled, his teeth digging into her shoulder as he whispered, "That's it, baby. Take it all." His voice was a dark symphony of desire and control, and Sandra hated herself for the way it made her wet. She could feel her orgasm approaching, a tsunami far on the horizon, and she knew she had no power to stop it.
With every thrust, she felt her body respond, her body dancing to the tune of his depraved symphony. The pain was unbearable, but so was the pleasure, a treacherous mix that had her hips moving against his willingly. His breath grew heavier, his movements more erratic, and she knew he was close. The thought of him finishing inside her, leaving his mark, filled her with a mix of fear and dark arousal.
The pain in her ass was exquisite, a symphony of agony and ecstasy that seemed to resonate with every nerve in her body. She'd never felt so alive, so alive and so terrified. Each time he plunged into her, she felt a jolt of pleasure that was almost too much to bear, her muscles tightening around him, her body begging for more even as her mind screamed no. Her clit throbbed, a beacon of pleasure that seemed to be in sync with the rhythm of the ocean.
He must have read her mind as his hand moved to her clit, his rough touch setting her nerve endings alight. The pleasure was intense, a stark contrast to the pain in her ass. Sandra's body was a battleground of sensation, her mind screaming in protest while her body betrayed her with every whimper and moan.
The man's grunts grew louder in her ear, his thrusts more erratic as he approached his own climax. Sandra could feel her own pleasure building, a crescendo that seemed to be reaching for the heavens. Her breath was coming in short, ragged gasps, and her body was trembling with the effort of holding back the screams that wanted to tear free. She knew she should be disgusted, should be fighting him with every fibre of her being, but the raw, primal need was too strong.
Her eyes squeezed shut as she felt her orgasm build. Each stroke of his cock in her ass was a bolt of lightning, sending shockwaves through her core. She could feel the muscles in her stomach tightening, her toes curling in the sand. The pleasure was so intense, so all-consuming, that she could hardly believe it was happening to her. It was as if she'd been struck by a divine hand, her body responding with an intensity she'd never known before.
The stranger's grunts grew louder, his breath hot and heavy in her ear. His hand released her neck, and she gulped in a much-needed lungful of air, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. He leaned down and whispered, "You're going to come for me again, aren't you?" His words were a dark promise, a challenge she couldn't resist.
Sandra felt her body respond, her ass clenching around his cock in a way that she never had done with Tom. The pain had morphed into something else, something dark and delicious that she craved like a drug. Her orgasm grew closer, this one threatening to shatter her into a million pieces. She didn't know if she could take much more, but she didn't want him to stop. She needed this, needed to feel this alive, this free.
With each powerful thrust, the stranger brought her closer to the edge of oblivion. The pain in her ass had transformed into a white-hot pleasure that seared through her body, setting every nerve alight. She could feel herself losing control, her mind a haze of sensation. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she arched her back, pushing her breasts into the sand. The pressure grew, a tight, coiling knot deep inside her that threatened to unravel at any moment.
And then it happened. Her orgasm hit her like a freight train, stealing her breath and making the world go dark around the edges. The pleasure was so intense, so overwhelming, that she could hardly believe it was possible. Her body bucked and convulsed, her muscles contracting around his cock in a vice-like grip. She could feel the man's excitement grow, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he pounded into her with renewed vigour.
The sound of the ocean was a distant hum, the cries of seagulls and the laughter of children playing, a haunting reminder of the world outside this bubble of pain and pleasure. But she couldn't focus on that. All she could think about was the cock inside her, the way it filled her, the way it made her feel. It was as if her body had been designed just to fit around it, for the brutal claiming of a stranger on a beach, surrounded by the scents of the sea and the warmth of the sun.
And then she felt him tense up, his body going rigid with the force of his climax. He groaned, a low, guttural sound that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, and she felt his cock pulse inside her. His cum shot into her, filling her up in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating. She'd never felt so full, so used, and she hated it. But she also loved it, the dark thrill of it all. The feeling of being claimed, of being taken, it was something she hadn't realised she'd been craving.
As he pulled out, she felt a strange sense of loss, the emptiness inside her like a cold void. The duct tape was sticky on her skin, the fabric in her mouth wet and salty with her saliva. She lay there, bound and helpless, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her own orgasm. The man leaned down and kissed her neck, his breath hot and moist, and she could feel his smile against her skin.
He used the tape to bind her ankles and her knees, leaving her totally immobilised. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice a dark caress. "That felt great." His words were a knife twisting in her gut, a reminder that she'd enjoyed what he'd done to her. She didn't know how she could feel anything but horror and disgust, but the truth was undeniable. Her body had responded to him, had craved the very thing that was now tearing her soul apart.
"I know where you live," he said, his tone casual, as if he were discussing the weather. Sandra's eyes went wide with terror as he held up her wallet in front of her, her driver's license dangling from his fingers. "Maybe I'll visit you again," he continued, his voice low and threatening. "Would you like that?"
Her heart raced, the panic setting in. He knew her name, her address. She was no longer a faceless victim on a beach. She was a conquest he could claim again. The realisation was a cold, hard slap in the face.
With a final, brutal slap on her ass, he stood, tucking his cock back into his shorts and adjusting himself with a smug smile. She tried to get a good look at his face, but his back was already turned, the sun glinting off the sweat on his broad shoulders.
Sandra lay there, her body still quivering from the assault, and watched as he casually strolled away, leaving her behind the large screen. His movements were unhurried, as if he hadn't just raped a woman in broad daylight in a very public place. The sight of him, walking away as if he hadn't just destroyed her. She felt a rage building within her, a rage so intense it threatened to consume her.
As the minutes ticked by, she could feel the sand sticking to her wet skin, the sun beating down on her, cooking her from the outside while the horror of what had happened seared her from within. She lay there, listening to the muffled sounds of the beach, the occasional giggle of children playing just at the other side of the windscreen.
Then, she heard footsteps, and her heart leapt into her throat. She recognised them instantly, the familiar shuffle of her husband's flip-flops in the sand. Tom's voice called out, "Honey, I left the kids with ... " His cheerful tone was a stark contrast to the fear that had taken hold of her. She struggled against her bonds, desperately trying to get free. But she was too late.
Tom appeared in her line of sight, his eyes wide with shock as they fell upon her. The colour drained from his face, and he dropped the ice cream cone he had brought her, the sound of it smacking on the sand a sad, pathetic echo of the moment. "S-Sandra?" He stuttered, his hand shaking as he reached out to help her. She could see the fear in his eyes, the disbelief. "What happened?"
------------------------------------------------------------
Someone had fun at the beach. Looking forward to summer.
This is the updated version tell me what you think.
I am using her as my muse for many of my story ideas. My ex was angry when I made her come, then she had lost control ... wonder why she is my ex 
Same with the orgasms, I think once you get past the first one and you are multi orgasmic you can probably keep going. I will comment more specifically on this story later when I actually read it, just wanted to reflect on the comments as I saw them while scanning forum