But nothing happened.
There was no cum.
It got to be like a kind of a contest as I accelerated my efforts time after time and the rapist stayed completely stiff, refusing to yield a drop of precious sperm. He let me take any position I wished to try to make him come, but my wildest gyrations and acrobatics produced nothing.
In desperation, I pulled his cock painfully from my ass and banged my cunt down on it, filling my pussy once more with the mammoth male tool, hoping the change might fulfill my yearning wish to be inundated with buckets of thick male cream. But my pussy was no more successful than my asshole, his stubborn cock standing stiffly aloof as it filled my snatch.
How could this be happening to me? It was like a pit with no bottom. I begged for an eruption of come, the fluid that I was sure would finally anoint me. Without his jizz pouring in me, I'd have failed. I would have failed to tame the rapist, failed to bring his cock down.
"My God, you freak!" I blurted as an insight suddenly hit me. "That's why you rape women when you could get anybody you wanted with no trouble with a cock like yours. You hate all women because no matter how big and how hard you get it up, you still can't come. So you're going to get even with them by raping them, by blowing their minds with that monster prick, by stuffing in their pussies and asses and getting them all turned on in spite of themselves, and then punishing them by not coming. You won't be satisfied until you've humiliated every woman in the world."
I looked toward the leather masked face for a response, but saw the same impassivity as before, no hint showing of the person inside all that shimmering black leather.
"That's it," I screamed in frustration, furiously pulling myself off his massive cock, its length coursing so long out of my cunt that it looked like an obscene magic trick.
I leapt on him, beating him with my fists, screaming, "Admit it, admit it, you lousy motherfucker, that's why you're doing this. You hate women, you're trying to get even with them because you're not man enough to come. Show yourself, you rotten degenerate."
I pounded on his chest, feeling my fists surprisingly striking something softer than I had expected. My blows brought results, the rapist reacting in pain from my striking fists and mobilizing himself to defend himself. His arms crashed against mine, sending my hand up toward his neck with the impact. I moved my hand, but felt a drag and realized that my fingernail had caught in something. A zipper! As I shielded myself from his flailing with my free arm, I grabbed hold of the zipper and ripped it downward, the parting of the teeth screeching beyond proportion in the night. My eyes gleamed as I anticipated what was beneath the leather – the rapist's flesh.
The gleam turned into a glaze as my eyes bugged from my ashen face, my head reeling with abject shock as severe as pressing a hot wire to my clit.
The chest was bare, soft and smooth, almost glowing in the dark because of its pinkness. What? Could this be, my mind screamed to me as I grabbed the leather flaps which the zipper had opened and pulled them fiercely apart, exposing the full chest and confirming my desperate suspicion.
Two shimmering tits rose throbbingly on the rapist's chest, twin globes of erotic perfection with exquisite crimson nipples standing stiffly like whips of red frosting on a birthday cake. They were compact, hard tits of the kind one dreams about in one's erotic lesbian fantasies, when you're lying alone in bed some Sunday morning wishing you had something fine to wrap your legs around and fuck and suck.
"What's going on?" I blurted like the fall guy in some comedy sketch as I straddled the now still figure, unable to take my eyes from the pulsing tits heaving in the night air, framed by fog and black leather.
Burning with frustration I reached down and tore into the leather costume, madly searching for any buttons or zippers so I could find an answer to this insane riddle. Near the waist I found the button that cinched the waistband of the pants, the zipper open to accommodate the still twitching prick, as long and as hard as it had been from the beginning. I grabbed the waistband and pulled with all my might, feeling the button rip off and squirt up through my fingers before it sailed off into the grass.
The pants were open! I couldn't believe it as I pulled down on them, pushing them frantically past the groin.
The cock was still as big and hard as ever, but suddenly it looked completely different to me.
Elastic straps were fastened to its base and circled the loins. An elastic belt around the waist secured it from the top. The balls looked flat and sterile because they were plastic. I put my hand tentatively around the long stem of the prick and looked askance at the bulging head, realizing with a shock that the legendary Mad Rapist's mythical cock was a fake.
"You've been raping these women with a dildo!" I shrieked.
I grabbed the fake latex cock, my grip transformed from timid to tenacious now as I scoffed at the feature of the artificial prick which only a few minutes earlier had me coming in waves. The detailed attempts by the manufacturer to make this thing look like it was real seemed pathetic to me, as I reveled in the increasing tide of what looked like my total triumph. I ripped contemptuously at it, pulling vigorously at it until the straps snapped and it tore away from the body.
I threw the dildo haughtily to the ground and focused on the quivering groin before me.
It was a cunt! A beautiful, rounded mound of uniquely female flesh, a crimson cleft forming between the lips, all totally visible because it was hairless. The owner abruptly parted her legs, bending at the knees to stretch in the fallen trousers, spreading her thighs so wide that the pussy breath steamed from her pared cunt.
"You're one of those Goddamn sex-change freaks, aren't you?" I brayed, desperately trying to keep a grip on myself. "You were tired of being a fag, so you got one of those perverted operations, and now you're getting even with your female competition because you still can't make it."
But the words rang hollow in my ears. Something told me that what I was saying was just hot air, that I was talking just to hear myself talk so I wouldn't have to face the truth.
The revealing evidence was right there in front of me but I resisted letting myself recognize it, fighting to remain in control of the situation, clinging to the belligerence of my cop instincts.
But, ultimately, my resistance crumbled, becoming defenseless under the onslaught of my impulses. I reached out for the bare cunt and felt it, recognizing the familiarity of its soft open lines.
I looked again at the bare tits and felt them with my other hand, instantly recognizing the swirl of the nipple as my probing finger scraped the sensitive ridge around the puckering knot.
My God, I knew these tits, this bare cunt! My closest confidant, the person – the woman – I respected most was the so-called Mad Rapist!
"Professor Higgins!" I exclaimed. "It's you!"
The hands went to the face and began wriggling the mask from the head. Finally it was off, the face fully exposed. The smile that had beckoned me so many times across the mahogany desk blazed at me incandescently, cutting through the mist of the fog with its gleam.