A snuff sex story isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but it does work for me.
Sometimes I need something a little darker, and sharing a snuff sex story is one of those darker stories of mine. It’s not something I can really do- it’s not a fantasy that can be acted out right? I mean, I’ve written about my forced sex ideas before. The end of a snuff sex story is that I die. No repeats. But that’s why it turns me on as a fantasy when I think about it. I love the idea of being overpowered, of everything heightened with fear. It’s part of my adrenaline junkie nature.
So I picture myself often walking home, maybe a little tipsy. Two problems arise: I need to take a shortcut, and I’m super horny. The shortcut, of course, goes through a construction site. Not really a problem for me, I think, and I hop the fence. I might land a little awkwardly on my ankle, but hey, it’s not broken, and hey, it’s faster to walk home. And as a happy drunk, I might roll around on the ground a little bit, giggling to myself.
I mean, I really get out of it when I’m drunk.
So I keep walking through the concrete structure– looks like it might be a parking garage– and I end up hearing something behind me. I stop, but nothing sounds. Maybe I was just imagining another set of footsteps, I think to myself. But still, just in case, I walk a little faster to appease the nagging feeling in the back of my head.
The footsteps don’t match mine anymore, and I try to walk faster, but my ankle still hurts. I’m almost halfway through the construction site when something lurches behind me. I scream, moving to the side, but my reflexes are slowed by several shots of alcohol. The hands grab my hair roughly, moving down to my wrists and my sides, pulling me in a direction I can’t quite figure out. My hair flies in my face so I can’t even see the person grabbing me.
I’m pulled upwards, up into an elevator, and a man’s voice demands that I be quiet. I’m softly crying now. He tugs on my hair, and to lessen the pain, I move my head backward, trying to quiet my sobs. “Good girl,” he tells me, and licks my neck, giving it a stern bite. I cry out again.
He pushes me to onto a mattress, a single mattress in the middle of an empty, unfinished parking garage. There are a few lanterns and lights like I might find at REI or another camping store, and rope. My face lands on the mattress, and his body instantly falls on top of me, wrenching my arms back and tying my hands together behind my back. I can’t move, not even as he lifts up my dress and makes ugly noises in my ear.
Hands move my panties aside, and I know what’s happening next.
My eyes squeeze shut. Something hard and big presses against my pussy, seeking entrance, and forcing it way inside me. Moving my hips and squirming around only makes his cock go deeper inside. He keeps pounding into me, his hands suddenly grasping my neck. “Good girl,” he says again. I try to inhale, but his hands keep tight around my neck. Not much air can make it through.
I try to roll him off of me, but as I stated earlier, it only makes his cock pound me deeper and deeper. My throat begins to close and my vision begins to spot, black and purple circles dancing over my eyes. My ears feel stuffed full of cotton.
And that’s when my body feels his cock the most, pounding it into me, making me shudder and orgasm around him. Warmth spills into my pussy, but I barely register it.
I don’t register anything soon.
How’s that for a snuff sex story? Want to share your own fantasies?
Then call! We’ll have the best phone sex!
