Foreword: To my fans and new readers:

Before you jump into Chapter 5 of this saga, I thought I would take a minute to tell you a few things about myself, this story, and Chapter 5. If you are a fan and have read the ongoing series and don't give flying fuck one about the history or the author of this story, then by all means skip ahead. However, if you are one of the people who have sent me feedback or public comments, and would like to know more about how this story came about, then read on.

First let me say "Thank You" to you all. Your feedback has been appreciated and wonderful. I have even gotten to know some of you 'virtually' and really appreciate the kind words of encouragement. Keep reading and sending me email both positive and negative. It is all appreciated.

Now some answers to questions. Yes my name is really Sara. And yes some of the things in the stories I have had happen to me (although some artistic license has been taken). Yes there really is a Michelle and a Rachel although those are not their real names. Ron is very real.

And yes to that one reader who asked, Michelle is single. She is my best friend. We have had sex, and she is almost as freaky as her character in the story. She is as you put it, "one cool chick".

Now about the Chapter you are about to read: It was the hardest I have written to date. It started out as an idea I had noodling around in my head from an event in my far past. I have made some changes to make the story flow, but it is much more a metaphorical story than the others. (Robin you will appreciate this Chapter or you will hate it. Please let me know which).

If you are looking for a lot of fucking and sucking action with detailed descriptions of the plumbing of sex, then I fear I may disappoint with this installment. (Don't worry there is a lot more of what YOU are looking for in Chapter 6).

However this story is very intense and somewhat darker than the others. It deals with some very real issues my character 'Sara' has been facing these past few months. It was unexpected the direction this story took and many of you ask what is going to happen next. Unfortunately I don't know. When I write the characters take on a life of their own and I really have no more control over them than the reader does. In many ways, I feel like a voyeur who spies on my characters and then reports back to you, my readers, about their activities.

This is a pivotal chapter in 'Sara's life". It is a diversion from the last few chapters in that its primary objective is to resolve a conflict that the character in the story can no longer deal with, rather than to titillate you with her sexual exploration. As I said, it was the most difficult chapter to write, and I hope I do not alienate my fans for letting "Sara" find more than a big dick or wet pussy in this chapter.

I hope you enjoy it, but either way email me your thoughts.

And now...

Chapter 5 – Rachel find a room mate and Sara finds herself

Saturday of Memorial Day weekend was hot and sticky as the temperature topped out at 87 degrees. I spent the majority of my morning cleaning my downtown Chicago apartment. Rachel had called me that morning at 8:00 as she left from her rural home in southern Illinois and traveled north via train toward Chicago.

Rachel was my 18 year old niece who had artfully conned both her mother and I into moving in with me and foregoing college for a year (see Chapter 4 for full details). She would be arriving sometime in the early afternoon, and I was wondering how my life may change due to the result of living with a kid like her.

She really was no longer a kid. I had to keep reminding myself of that. She was not the child I remembered when I last lived close to them, and I vowed that I would treat her like a room mate and not a child. She was coming here to learn to grow up a little and also to educate herself in her chosen field of photography, not to be "babysat". I am sure my sister (her mother) expected me to take care of her, but I didn't sign up to be anyone's keeper here. But of course I would try to keep her out of too much trouble.

What a fucking tightrope I was walking.

And then of course there was Ron and The Game.

The Game was on hold for now. We both had decided to take a month off after our last adventure. We were both a little freaked out by the intensity of the experience and each had our own feelings to deal with. I sighed and thought, "Well I guess you can't let 6 guys jack off on you while your boyfriend ass fucks you without spending a little time thinking about it.".

I shivered as my mind flashed on the moment on my couch when the men emptied themselves on us. I felt a rush of emotion ranging from embarrassment/guilt to excitement. I giggled at myself nervously and went on with my cleaning.

I was not sure how Rachel moving here would affect Ron and I, but I wondered if putting the brakes on The Game might not be a bad idea. It had started as a way to get to know Ron, and then it had morphed into a way to get to know myself. Now I wondered if I even knew the person I was getting to know.

I never considered myself a slut or a whore or whatever label you wanted to put on a woman who had done some of the things I had done, but there it was. I still did not think of myself in those terms, but I had certainly done some "slutty" things. I even thought of the person who played this Game as an alter ego, "Slutty Sara". I wondered if this was healthy.

I was not losing my grip on reality. I knew it was me who had done everything, but when I was participating I thought of myself as playing a role that was outside the scope of my normal personality.

It was time for a break to digest this idea and make some decisions about if this was a good idea or not.

But then there was the "forbidden fruit" effect. Knowing that we were taking a break and I would not be giving a letter this month made me horny as hell. I missed the excitement of the game. I missed the anticipation of what would inevitably be an amazing sexual experience.

Not that we gave up sex. We definitely didn't. Knowing Rachel was coming today, we made sure to have "fun" last night. We spent the whole evening drinking wine, naked, watching movies (and a porno) and alternatively talking and fucking. It was a great night and amazing sexually, but it was not the same as playing the game.

Part of me wondered if I could give up the game now that I had started playing. What if I couldn't? A shiver of fear rippled through me at the thought. I struggled over and over with the control The Game was exerting over me. I often felt terribly guilty about the things I had done, but I also loved doing them on a very fundamental level.

I thought about that day in the gas station often. There was a moment when I was pinned against the counter taking that boy's cock where I could not move. I always shivered at the remembrance and honestly did not know if it was from excitement or fear.

My mind returned again and again to that moment when I could not move, could not stop, and could not control the situation. The thing I always fixated on in that experience was not the cock inside me, or the girl watching me being fucked, but the feel of the hand on the back of my head holding me firmly bent over the cheap Formica counter top. Did I like that?

No.

Yes.

I don't know.

How could I like it? I shivered again. I knew I had to stop this game. But I also didn't want to. I wanted the game desperately. Why? What was happening to me? This was wrong, wasn't it? Or was it right? Did it matter?

I finished cleaning my apartment and took a shower with my thoughts. As I was drying my hair there was a knock at the door. I smiled and slipped on my robe and ran to get the door.

I pulled the door open and Rachel stood beaming at me with two suitcases and a million dollar smile. We hugged briefly and she came into my apartment obviously excited.

"How could anyone not LOVE it here?" she gushed as soon as the door was shut. "Those are the biggest damn buildings I have ever seen."

I laughed at her first impression of the Chicago skyline that I had long since taken for granted. It was fun to witness someone so excited about the everyday sights and sounds of the city. It was like being here for the first time all over again for me, and the nostalgia was a wonderful feeling.

I showed Rachel to her room and she quickly dropped her suitcases on the bed along with what looked like thousands of dollars of photography equipment. "Aunt Sara I am going to love it here. Thank you so much for letting me come to stay with you. I promise not to be any trouble." She hugged me fiercely and I smiled again at the genuine feeling of raw excitement that seemed to radiate from Rachel.

We sat together on the couch as she recounted to me again her journey from southern Illinois through the suburbs and eventually to the heart of the city.

I watched her with amusement as she told me about seeing the Sears tower and the other sights and sounds of the city. She was particularly fascinated with the train station and the fact that millions of people used public transportation every day.

She was animated, enthusiastic, and absolutely beautiful as she sat with her auburn highlighted hair, t-shirt and skin tight jeans that rode low on her hips. When she had finished telling me about her trip, I told her that I had a surprise for her tonight. I was taking her to dinner down on the Lake and to see Navy Pier and the fireworks show they did every night in the summer.

I thought she would burst with joy. Her eyes lit up like diamonds and her smile could have illuminated a room. I smiled at myself for providing her with such joy and looked forward to a night spent with my niece and new room mate.

******************************

Dinner was at a trendy restaurant that overlooked the Chicago skyline. The awe that Rachel tried impossibly to hide as we were escorted by the waiter dressed in a tuxedo was an enjoyment to watch. We were seated across from each other at a casual table for two next to a large window that reflected the lights of the harbor on a serene Lake Michigan. God Chicago in the summer time is wonderful.

Rachel for her excitement never stopped talking about her new job, the city, how great it was going to be living with me. I listened quietly and offered small tid bits about the city whenever it seemed appropriate. I both enjoyed and envied this beautiful young woman who had come to explore the possibilities that life had to offer.

We shared a lobster cake and then an intimate dinner. For my part I had the Tilapia while Rachel tried a grilled Sole for the first time in her life. All in all it was an excellent meal.

Afterwards we took a walk down the pier and I pointed out the building that Oprah lived in and Rachel thought it was the "coolest thing ever" that Oprah was a real person and had a home like regular people and at this very minute may be looking out of her window and down on the pier that we walked on.

The fireworks were dramatic and spectacular and Rachel and I watched them in silence enjoying the night and the brilliant display of man's ability to control fire. When it was over I suggested we head home, but Rachel was too in love with the city and the potential excitement to call it a night. So when she turned to me and said, "Come on Aunt Sara, show me more. I couldn't sleep now if I had to." I relented and agreed to take her on a cab ride to Wrigleyville to see where people her age spent Saturday nights partying.

The cab ride alone was entertainment enough for Rachel. She stared out the windows watching the throngs of people moving about their lives. When we went by Cabrini Green Rachel looked on in awe. I detected a shiver of fear that justifiably went through her as she watched two men stand next to a burning trash can in the middle of the vast wasteland that was Chicago's public housing system.

And just like that we were two blocks further north and the city was once again the city. The stark contrast never ceased to amaze me and I could only imagine the impact it had on my niece.

The cab let us off near a small strip of nightclubs and we planned to walk down several blocks and just take in the night. Rachel was still underage so the bar scene was off limits, but the "people watching" should be as good as ever on a warm Saturday night in Chicago.

We walked six blocks before we came to a bar called Mulligan's. It was an Irish pub as the name suggested, but it was not a quiet pub but rather a full on party that raged over three floors. The dance floor occupied most of the third floor, while a sports bar and "living room" bar occupied the first and second floor respectively. It was currently one of the hot spots for the twenty something crowd.

Rachel grabbed my arm and said, "Oooh let's check out this place."

I smiled knowing that the bouncer at the door would no more let Rachel in than he would pick his nose in front of the scantily clad women that were still young enough to think that bouncing was a cool career choice.

"Alright" I said figuring she might as well learn that this was not a small town where laws like the drinking age were somewhat more relaxed.

I let her lead me toward the door, but as we approached we inevitably got separated as several people pushed toward the entrance. I was three people behind her when she reached the door, and I watched waiting for the large black bouncer to point her back toward the street.

The bouncer spoke to her briefly and she fumbled in her purse for a second and then produced her ID. God she was naïve. Didn't she know that the bouncer was looking for proof of age? It was then my turn to be amazed. He opened the door for her and let her pass without a second glance at her.

I followed quickly now that she was out of my sight and a tingle of worry went through me. The bouncer checked my ID with a cursory glance and let me pass. I pushed my way through the crowd and into the bar. The first floor was a very large sports bar. TV's hung from every corner and a large projection model broadcasted a Bull's Game over the main bar. The waiters and waitresses were dressed in Bull's Jersey's as part of the uniform.

I looked around the packed bar for Rachel who I had somehow managed to lose. The bar was filled to capacity with excited, cheering fans all in their mid 20's. The game was in it's final quarter and the Bull's were up by 2. The crowd was roaring with every free throw and missed shot of the game which prevented almost every attempt I made to move through the crowd to find my niece.

Worry was really hitting me now. Shit she had been here less than 1 day and I had already lost her in a bar in downtown Chicago. God damn it, I was going to kill her if I ever found her again.

And then just like that I felt someone familiar take my arm from behind. I whirled around to find Rachel standing there, obviously pleased with herself, holding two drinks.

She handed me one and said, "Here Aunt Sara. I thought the least I could do was buy a round after that dinner."

I just stared at her as both relief and frustration filled me. The sad part was that the frustration was with myself and not Rachel. Why the hell was I so worried? I knew she would not leave me and how much trouble could she really get into in less than 10 minutes. Jesus she's 18 not retarded.

After a moment I smiled and said, "Thanks, but what exactly did you say to that bouncer that convinced him to let you in?"

"I told him I would blow him in the bathroom later." Rachel replied grinning with a twinkle in her eye.

"Very funny." I said with both mock and genuine irritation.

"Well one of my friends back home gave me this as a going away present." she said handing me a genuine Illinois driver's license with Rachel's picture on it; The only discrepancy was the name, which read Angelina Moline.

"My friends name is Angelina and our first road trip together was to Moline, IL. It was her goofy idea so that I would think of her when I was in Chicago. I have no idea how she got the ID." Rachel responded to my confusion.

"You're not mad are you?" Rachel asked observing me closely.

She was testing her boundaries already, and I had some tough choices to make all of the sudden. "No I am not mad." I said tentatively. "You are not the first girl to get a fake ID at your age, however, there can be some negative consequences. I am going to assume you are mature enough to make smart choices about things like this, but as the saying goes, 'You aren't in Kansas anymore'. Don't call me if and when you get arrested."

She considered me for a minute and said, "Deal."

I smiled and said, "Okay now how about we get a table and see what this place is all about."

Rachel beamed at me and was off through the throngs of people in search of a place to sit. I followed her and eventually joined her at the end of the bar where we could stand and watch the final minutes of the game.

We both nursed our drinks as the Bull's eventually defeated the Pistons 108 to 103. The crowd was really into the game and it was fun to watch Rachel take it all in.

There were two very cute guys standing next to us and I was not surprised at all when Rachel drew their attention. I stepped slightly away from her to order another drink and let her enjoy the attention of these two bar sharks.

When I returned Rachel was engaged with the two men so I stood aside and watched with amusement. The guys were working it hard and Rachel was obviously enjoying the attention of these handsome sharks, and I wondered how much she was aware of their obvious objective.

I handed Rachel her drink and she politely disengaged from the two guys and returned to our little alcove at the end of the bar. "Looks like you made some friends." I said tentatively.

Rachel laughed and said, "I don't think those two wanted to be my friends, but I am pretty sure they would have fucked me on the edge of the bar if I would let them."

I laughed and was pleased to see Rachel was not as naïve as I may have thought.

"They wanted me to dance on the bar in some contest they are having at midnight." she explained.

I laughed with her and we drank our beers. As the night progressed we watched the crowd and drank more beer and were both getting a little giddy. Occasionally the DJ would break in between songs and encourage the female patrons to enter their "Thong Dance Contest" at midnight. All through the place groups of girls giggled about possibly entering and the roving males encouraged each and every one.

At around 11:50 a bar manager with a clip board and headset came around and went table to table signing up the contest participants. They reached us and I politely declined, but Rachel asked what exactly the contest was. The bar manager smiled lecherously at Rachel admiring her stunning body and said, "Well it's basically a dance contest to the 'Thong Song'. We let girls dance on the bar for 4 minutes and then we judge them on crowd noise. The winner drinks free all night."

Rachel considered for a moment and leaned to me and said, "Aunt Sara do you want to? It might be fun."

I considered her for a moment and replied, "I think I am a little old to be dancing on a bar, but you go ahead if you like."

She considered for a minute and looked around the room at her competition and then back to the bar manager. "I'm not sure I would be any good, I don't dance much."

The bar man laughed and said, "Honey I am sure you would do just fine as he admired her curves. So you want in or out?"

Rachel smiled and said, "Out I think. Not sure I am up for that tonight."

I smiled thinking of the night in the hot tub where she was embarrassed by being naked with three family members and imagined her up on the bar being ogled by half of Chicago.
The bar man moved away writing Rachel off and moved back into the crowd.

At midnight the bar lights came up and glowed like spotlights as the contest was about to begin. Rachel moved closer to watch and I followed her. She was clearly torn about her decision to experience what was going on and her embarrassment of dancing on the bar. I am sure the alcohol we had consumed had weakened her inhibitions because she was not normally interested in being the center of attention. I was confident that she made the right decision and would agree after she saw the mindless ogling of the women that was about to occur.

Two minutes later 12 women stood side by side on the bar and the 'Thong Song' started. The women began swaying their hips and those that were friends were grinding against each other much to the satisfaction of the men.

Rachel was at the end of the bar where the two men that she had previously talked to stood. The greeted her with smiles before their attention was drawn by the woman on the end that had unwisely chosen a skirt to wear while dancing on the bar.

Rachel giggled as she got a flash of panties from the woman in front of her. I stood behind the scene letting her get close to the bar. Suddenly one of the men spoke in her ear and she laughed and shook her head yes. The next thing I knew Rachel was being hoisted onto the bar and a wave of applause broke through the crowd as she pranced next to the girl in the skirt shaking her butt.

Her mom would shit if she knew that her daughter was dancing on a bar less than 12 hours after her arrival in the Windy City, but I figured what the hell. Let her get it out of her system.

After some encouraging cheering the girl next to Rachel lifted her skirt to display her 'Thong' underwear as the song suggested she should. The guys went wild as she spanked her own ass. The women let her skirt fall back into place, but she had raised the bar for applause and the other girls were not to be outdone. One in the middle of the bar lifted her skin tight t-shirt to reveal her 32A tits that apparently did not require a bra. The guys once again went wild. This was getting out of control now and all the girls were flashing either their underwear or tits. The girl farthest from Rachel gave up and hopped off the bar knowing she could not win without showing skin.

A chant slowly rose out of the testosterone laden room. "Skin to Win. Skin to Win. Skin to Win..."

The other women on the bar seemed emboldened by the attention and a kind of group mentality overcame both the men and women that can only be described as "The Spring Break Effect".

Within seconds the women were beginning to show more and more skin for more and more applause. One woman in the center of the spectacle actually took off her top and threw it into the crowd.

I watched Rachel. She was no longer dancing, but watching the spectacle with flushed cheeks and an uncertain look. I thought it was time for her to call it a night and hoped she would before the crowd turned their attention to her.

Before the thought left my head someone in the throng yelled, "Girl on the end, let's see some tits!".

Rachel realized they were talking to her, and the two guys who had hoisted her up on the bar began chanting "Tits! Tits! Tits!" Their chant was soon picked up by the rest of the bar.

Rachel stood there absolutely stunned as if time had stopped. She was bright red and just stood there for several seconds. Then she half heartedly began to sway her hips hoping clearly hoping to redirect the crowd from her top half to her bottom half. This was a losing strategy and the booing began almost immediately as the crowd realized that she was not moving in the direction of flashing them.

Rachel blushed harder as the chant for her tits increased. For a second her hands moved to the bottom of her shirt. She paused and looked out at the crowd at me. Almost every guy in the place was focused singularly on her. "Jesus either do it or get off the bar" I thought.

And at that moment Rachel shook her head as if clearing it, and then hopped off the bar and pushed her way through the crowd and back to me. I took her by the hand and guided her to the back of the room ignoring the booing from the horny mass of men we passed.

We made our way through the crowd and up the stairs to the second level bar which was much more sedated. We found our way to the couch in the corner and sat down. Rachel was sweating and flushed. She grabbed my beer and downed half of it in one gulp.

"Shit. That was insane." she said.

"Yeah you gotta be careful what you get into up here." I replied.

Rachel sat quietly reflecting and sipping her beer. After a few minutes we decided to leave and made our way back through the bar and out into the street. I hailed a cab and we were on our way back to my apartment.

Twenty minutes later we were in my living room. Rachel asked if she could have something to drink. I headed for my room to change and told her to help herself. When I returned, she had also changed into shorts and a t-shirt and had a large glass of wine in front of her. She had also poured one for me and I joined her on the couch.

"Thanks for taking me out tonight, Aunt Sara. I had fun and I am sorry if things got a bit out of control at the bar. I guess I got caught up in the moment." She said.

I smiled and told her, "Don't sweat it honey. I had fun and you are not the first girl to get caught up in the moment. Do you regret dancing on the bar?"

She reflected for a minute and said, "Yes and no. It's hard to describe. It was fun at first but then when the crowd wanted me to flash them, it was kind of scary. But it was also exciting. I don't know... Its just that..."

She paused sipping her wine speculatively, and I waited for her to continue.

"I guess it was strange. When I was up there part of me felt like I was someone else. It was like I was playing a role kind of. It was surreal. For a moment I didn't think of myself as whom I am, but more of someone more like the other girls that were up there. Part of me wanted to go crazy like them. Part of me wanted to flash those guys. Sitting here now I can't believe I even considered it, but in the moment... I almost did it."

My whole world tilted and my head spun. I knew exactly the feeling she described having experienced it over and over during The Game. Rachel had just articulated my own feelings over the last several months. My mouth went dry at the realization that she had experienced that rush I felt while playing The Game, albeit on a much smaller scale.

"So why didn't you do it?" I asked in a whisper. My mind reeling. Rachel was hitting too close to home without even realizing it. I felt both a tidal wave of relief that I was not alone in my feelings, but also a wrenching worry of what might happen should Rachel decide that she enjoyed the feeling of the rush I understood all too well.

"Honestly, I would have except I saw you in the crowd and reality came back to me. If you had not have been right there, I probably would have at least flashed my tits. Maybe more. I don't know." She replied honestly.

I sipped my wine contemplatively lost in my own thoughts.

"You probably think I am a freak." Rachel said.

For the first time in moments I looked at her and saw the worry on her face. I immediately realized the courage it must have taken her to share her feelings with me. My own epiphany had blocked any empathy I should have had for her. I thought of what it was like to tell Michelle about my experiences and realized how strong this young, beautiful woman was. I was not her girlfriend. I was her Aunt and she was only 18. Jesus I was being insensitive.

I went to her immediately and hugged her fiercely. "You are not a freak." I told her and meant it.

She hugged me back, but she was obviously confused by the intensity of my reaction.

When we parted she looked much more at ease, but very curious. I smiled at her and she smiled back both of us sharing a moment of camaraderie. I giggled and said, "Hell Rachel I've flashed my tits once or twice before. It's not the end of the world. See." And then I lifted my t-shirt and flashed my 34 B's.

Rachel's eyes went wide and then we both started giggling.

"Ohhh Aunt Sara you naughty girl." she said giggling. "Look I'm naughty too, but not quite as big as you." And then she flashed me her boobs.

We both giggled the ice broken and just like that I had a room mate.

We drank wine the rest of the night talking like the old days.

Sometime around 2 AM it was time to call it a night. I told Rachel I was going to bed and she followed me on drunken legs. As we separated in the hallway she paused and turned to me as if remembering something.

"Aunt Sara?" she asked.

"Yeah Rachel."

"So when exactly did you flash your boobs and to whom?" she asked.

I considered her for a moment, my mind flashing on the vision of myself grinding on a stripper pole. "That is a story for another night." I said.

She seemed to accept this and turned to her room until morning. I went to my own room and climbed naked between my cotton sheets.

As I lay there, my thoughts once again returned to the game. I had thought about nothing else recently and as I lay in my bed slowly drifting toward sleep, my mind relaxed and I realized that I was truly afraid of The Game. It was not just nervousness or guilt although there was plenty of that, but true fear. It was all too clear in that haze of thought between wake and sleep; something dark and sinister swimming in the deep pool of subconscious. I couldn't see it, but it was there.

It was like a memory of that person you went to high school with but have not thought of in ten years. You can picture the face, and you know the name, but you just can't come up with it. It swims under the surface of your mind. You can see its shadow, but never reach down and pull it out into the light of consciousness and say, "His name is Mike."

My fear was like that and as I drifted ever closer to sleep, my fear swam further toward the surface so that I could almost see its scaly reptilian body below the black waters of my subconscious mind. It was something deep down, which was now just out of reach. There was something I was afraid of, and The Game was making me go fishing in those dangerous waters of the soul.

I finally drifted off and my last conscious thought was an image of me standing on a diving board over a dark pool and stepping off. I fell and fell toward whatever waited for me in the dark water below...

**********************************

... It was dark. That was the first feeling I had as I climbed the steps to my apartment. Somewhere in the back of my mind it was the first indication that something was wrong. Usually the stairwell was well lit, but tonight both the lights at the top and bottom of the stairs were out as I made my way home. It was late and although I had no real indication of time, I knew it must be somewhere well past midnight. My heels clicked with an ominous metallic sound against the staircase as I climbed.

I reached my door and fumbled for my keys. I retrieved them in the darkness and inserted my key into the lock and as I pushed it home, the door gave way with no resistance. "That's odd." I thought realizing my door was left ajar.

Any sane person would call the police at this point, but I did not. I was transfixed by the oddity, and although I didn't feel fear yet (although I was only minutes away from a terror that was unimaginable), my whole body tingled with anxiety.

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and told myself, "I'm in control here." I didn't believe it, but I forced myself to. It was all about control. I had to be in control. I thought of my mother's stern face and resolved to be strong.

I pushed the door open gently into the darkness of my familiar apartment that at this moment did not feel familiar at all. The door squeaked on that one hinge I have been meaning to oil for months, but instead of sounding familiar and comforting, it sounding like the voice of a predator stalking me in the dark.

"This is my apartment. I am in control." I told myself again. I shivered at the thought but did not know why.

My apartment was like an alien landscape of shadows that I barely recognized. Everything appeared outwardly normal except the feeling I got standing there in the doorway. There was something deeply wrong here.

I cannot describe the feeling in words, but it was as if my own home no longer felt like my refuge from the world, but a dark and foreboding place where I was trespassing. It was as if the place itself was trying to tell me, "Get out. It's bad here. Don't come in."

But this was about control. I knew that on a deep level. I felt it. I would not willingly give it up.

I desperately wanted to run away, but instead found myself taking the first tentative steps into my apartment. I could control my fear. I was in control of everything.

I felt to my left to reach the light switch and flicked it. Nothing happened.

"RUN!" my brain screamed.

But I didn't. I was in control.

I took another step into the darkness. Why was I still here?

"RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN!" the mantra of my mind continued.

But I could not run, scream for help, even use my cell phone, or any other reasonable thing that I should have done. I was being stupid and I knew it, but I was unable to stop. I took another step and was now inside my apartment. The door stood open behind me. I was only a few feet from the kitchen lights. Two or three more steps separated me from the light and I became obsessed with the idea that if I reached it I would be safe.

Loss of control? No. Not here. Not me.

Tingles ran through my body. I could feel the tension in the air. My anxiety turning to fear, but I was unable to leave. I was drawn into the darkness like a moth to a flame. I took another step toward the kitchen and away from (control) the door.

The door slammed behind me. My apartment had just become a cell. Control was fading. Someone was here with me. I could feel his (its) presence.

I started to turn toward the door when someone from behind me wrapped a gloved hand over my mouth and pulled me hard against his body. Another arm wrapped around my waist immobilizing me. I was suddenly deprived of the basic freedom to move.

My control dissolved around me. I grasped at it like smoke, but it was fading.

I fought in vain to be free until the man slapped my face with an open hand sending stars through my brain and rocking my head back. I tasted blood in my mouth, but not much. The slap was not meant to hurt, but to send a message: You have lost control to me.

NO

The stinging pain sent tingles of anxiety through my whole body. My mind raced although my body could not move.

Out of Control...

My attacker pinned me against the wall and I felt his hot breath against my face and neck. I was pinned between him and the wall. My breasts flattened against the large man. I kneed at him hoping to get his balls and missed. He slapped me again, harder this time.

"Stop it bitch. I'll teach you what sluts get" He growled at me in the darkness. Our faces inches apart. I could smell him. He smelled like old spice and sweat. But I could also smell his arousal and satisfaction at taking control from me. I can't describe it, but I could smell his need tangibly. My fear multiplied 100 times. The smell was reality for me as much as the hands that held me.

I could barely breathe and could not move.

I was dying in my mind. My brain was screaming for sanity in an insane situation.

I felt my attacker's hard cock against my crotch. It was big, hard, and thick.

The man dragged me from my living room to my bedroom. It was a blur of grunting darkness as I struggled to free myself from him.

He pinned me face down on my own bed, furthering his dominance of me. I felt like a butterfly on a stake.

I knew what was coming. He would rape me and take all control away. I knew this deep in my soul and shivered at the violation that was happening to me.

The loss of control was wrong. I was supposed to be in control. I am in control. I could make it stop if I was good enough.

But I am out of control. My mind could not process this fact and even in my current predicament I held on to the belief that my rape would not happen and I would be able to assert my control once again.

I was pinned face down on my bed. The soft smell of fabric softener that was normally so comforting filled my nostrils. A knee was pinned squarely between my shoulder blades and my arms were bent behind me. My cheek was pressed against the bed and I screamed my frustration at my situation, "Get off me you fucking pervert." I spat at the man pinning me.

A face came close to my ear. "Just take it bitch. This can go easy or hard, but its going to go, so just shut the fuck up and take it like the slut you are."

I shivered. I would not regain control. I knew it in that moment and something inside of my mind shattered and I traveled back in time...

********************************

... To when I was twelve. When Sara was twelve and she had a bad sister who did bad things. But Sara was the good one. Sara was always the good one.

I remember sitting on the stairs listening to my parents fight. They were scared and frustrated and that scared me on a level I was too young to express. My sister was already a problem and Mom and Dad were fighting over her.

"She's a nightmare," my mother ranted. "And a complete slut. You know she fucked that Jansen boy while his brother watched. I am ready to disown her. What will the neighbors think?"

"Calm Down Margaret. She is out of control, but she is still our daughter." Dad replied.

"Not my daughter. You keep her. She's a fucking whore and let her fuck the whole world for all I care. I'm done. And what about Sara? How will she turn out with that whore of a sister around? She's only twelve for God sakes and I swear if she turns out to be a slut like her sister I will literally kill her and her sister both."

My mother stormed out of the room, my father following her saying, "You don't mean that..."

I sat on the stairs stunned at what my mother said about my sister and I shivered in fear at the threat she had made. I curled up wrapping my arms around my knees and put my chin on my knees and rocked slowly back and forth feeling sick to my stomach. What if she found out about what I sometimes did to myself lying in the dark when everyone else was asleep?

I shivered cold imagining her face if she knew I touched myself there. At that moment I vowed never again lose control like that. I would stop touching myself. I would stop having those tingly feelings about boys. I would stop. I was in control. Control. Control. Control. I would not disappoint her. I was good and in control.

And then days later as I lie in bed doing what I vowed I would never do. The guilt was overwhelming...

*****************************

I had not thought of that night in 15 years or more but there it was now. The image of childish self and the illusion of control I created stripped naked before me. The wall of illusion that I had built over my entire life came crashing down around me. My whole reality was an illusion. My whole world was gone in an instant of comprehension. I was NEVER in control. Not once in my whole life. No one ever was in control. It was all a lie I told myself.

My clothes were stripped violently from my body as the fabric of my reality was also stripped naked. First my shirt and bra (and illusions) were torn away from me leaving red marks where the fabric bit into my flesh. Then my skirt and finally my panties pulled way, ripping. I lay naked under this man as my reality was equally stripped.
A man raped my body as memories raped my mind.

The illusion of control that I held on to tightly was gone. My life flashed across the screen of my mind. All of my experiences good and bad, painful and pleasurable, happy and sad, were all there in an instant.

Deep regret filled me as I reacted to the images of spending my time with emotions that were the product of an illusion of control I built for myself. I saw my own psychological pathology and the stupidity of my illusions. I saw the pain my blindness to reality caused myself and in some cases others. I saw the stupidity of all those pointless human emotions that I had invented to convince myself I was the "good one".

Guilt was the biggest. And in my epiphany I let go of it. I let go of it all. Guilt, worry, fear, all left me. I let go and for the first time found freedom in my own heart. I no longer needed control, and to find that remarkable gift was the most important moment of my life.

My eyes were wet with joy of being able to let go of it all. The irony was that I knew I may be living the last moments of my life, and I was filled not with fear or regret, but with joy. The joy of being able to finally let it all go was overwhelming. The joy of being able to see the beauty and joy of my own life, of all life even the most dark and painful was stunningly wonderful. All of my struggles, triumphs, and failures all a part of life was there in that moment and the context of life had changed for me. It was the most spiritually uplifting moment in my life that came at what most people would find the darkest, violent violation. There was even beauty in that.

I was rolled over onto my back by the man on top of me. Strong hands found my throat and I let go relaxing; allowing my arms to fall to my sides as I prostrated myself to him and myself. I spread my legs widely and let him take me. A hand found my pussy and smeared me with wet lubrication.

The feeling of his touch was incredibly unexpected and gentle given the reality of the situation. Fleetingly I thought 'what kind of rapist lubes his victim so as to not hurt her?' and then I was lost in the feeling of freedom. I was no longer in control. I was never in control. This was happening and I had given myself the freedom to just experience this without trying to think or feel or judge or evaluate the "rightness" of it. I completely let go and submitted to life, both the good and bad.

I lay spread open before this man who would take me regardless of how I felt about it. My arms flat against the bed. I could not see him, but I could see for the first time in my life and nothing could destroy the sanctity of that.

He entered me hard and fast, and I groaned at the sudden and forceful intrusion of him into me. My body reacted and my pussy flooded with my own lubrication as I was able to experience this moment fully. I came as he entered me and cried out my pleasure. I gave into him, the moment, and life, all in this act of violent contrition.

He fucked me like an animal. Thrusting inside me, he slammed his cock in and out of my wet pussy, but it was no longer rape. Rape could not happen to my body in this moment for I had given myself completely over to the situation and willingly submitted to the experience without the guilt I had carried with me for years.

My mind was raped, but that was not an act of sex, but an act of control from which I was finally able to set myself free. The rape had ended with my epiphany. This was about my submission and acceptance of reality. It was no longer about what I let happen or what was forced on me. It was about accepting reality. I now not only accepted the reality, but bathed in its freedom. I submitted to both the man inside me and the woman I was without guilt or fear.

I wrapped my legs around the man fucking me and pushed hard against him. Feeling him inside me and loving it. I came again harder this time. I could not stop. Orgasm after orgasm washed through my body. Each time I came I erupted in a geyser of fluid and cried out over and over again. My body flailed on the bed. My pussy sprayed like a hose uncontrollably.

I felt him cum then. Deep inside me he came, filling me with hot cum. I came again knowing my experience was reaching conclusion. The man above me was panting as he finished using my body. He was inches away from my face and I pulled forward slightly and kissed his mouth passionately.

He seemed shocked, but then kissed me back. There was something familiar there as our tongues passionately caressed each other's mouths. In that moment I loved him more deeply than anyone I had ever known for he had given me freedom by destroying my own illusions and opening my mind to a deeper reality. I no longer needed the control that I had clung to for more than half my lifetime. It was like waking up for the first time and discovering a world of beauty so intense that it is indescribable.

Now the man who had fucked me reached over and clicked on the bedside lamp, and I stared into Ron's face...

************************************

...I came awake immediately with a scream and sat up in my bed with my dream dissolving around me.

I sat naked and alone in my own room. It was all a dream. I was naked and sweaty. My nipples stood like erasers and my bed sheets were soaked with my own secretions. I had cum more than once in my sleep.

I took deep calming breaths and lay back in my bed. The intensity of that dream was incredible and it left me singularly out of phase with my waking reality.

I was crying softly. The moment when I was twelve was still printed upon my mind. How could I have forgotten that and the guilt? The overwhelming guilt that I had carried with me like a burden across the years seemed so heavy now that I wondered how I had managed it for so long. But it was no longer there. I was free.

I felt cleansed. The guilt was gone as I understood why I was afraid of The Game. I was losing the control I needed for so long. The fear was gone with the guilt and for the first time in a long, long time I was able to enjoy the passion and intensity of my own sexuality without guilt.

I felt I could finally have my cake and eat it too. The Game could continue and it would continue, and I would allow myself to drink in every new and unique experience it brought without fear, regret, or guilt.

And in that moment I was happier than I had ever been in my life. I did not know where Ron and I were heading. I did not know if I would lose him. But although I cared what happened, I no longer feared the possibilities.

I had found myself somehow, and I was in awe beauty of my life that I had been blind to.

I had found a new context for my life, and I chose to live in it, not in fear from it.

Life is wonderful.

*********************************

Rachel knocked on my door and I threw my sheet over my naked body an instant before the door cracked. "Are you okay, Aunt Sara?" she asked with genuine concern on her face.

I smiled as best I could and said, "Yeah, just had a bad dream. I'll be out in a minute. Make some coffee would ya."

She looked at me uncertainly and said, "Sure thing." And then she was gone.

I got out of bed and showered quickly. The dream and its intensity faded quickly, but not my resulting view on reality. Something about me had fundamentally changed. I felt very peaceful about my life and everything about and around me. I know it sounds strange, but even though it was only a dream, the transformation of my reality was very real.

After I showered I felt refreshed and alive. I put on a robe over my naked body and met my niece in the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Rachel was wearing a pair of white cotton panties and a t-shirt she had obviously slept in.

She handed me a cup of coffee and sat at the table across from me.

"Are you really okay, Aunt Sara?" she asked.

"I am absolutely wonderful, hun. Really. I just had a dream that scared me a little bit." I said truthfully.

"Oh okay, it sounded like someone was killing you in there." she said still concerned.

I did not realize that I was actually screaming in my sleep, but it did not surprise me. I reached across the table and took her hand, "It's okay really. I just had a dream. I am fine. Sorry if I scared you."

Rachel smiled as she saw the sincerity in my eyes and accepted that I really was okay. She smiled and said, "What was the dream about?"

I stared at her and said, "Well that is kind of personal." I could not lie to her, but I was not sure she would want to hear that I dreamed of being raped. It might scare her and I was not sure she was mature enough to understand the context of my dream without more background than I was ready to give.

Rachel smiled interpreting my answer incorrectly, "Well I hope he was good. It sounded like you were sure enjoying it. I was afraid of what I might see when I opened the door." Her eyes twinkled at the innuendo.

She thought I was masturbating. I laughed at the thought of her sitting out listening to me pleasuring myself. I decided to let her have her illusion for the moment. "Well you know a girl's gotta be able to take care of herself when she has to. I must have forgotten I don't live alone anymore."

Rachel turned crimson at my acknowledgement of her hearing me cum. The fact was she probably had even though the context was wrong. I was sure this is the first time she had ever talked about such a taboo subject and I was enjoying watching her squirm a little in her obvious discomfort. Where she came from good girls didn't talk about such things, even though they all did them.

I laughed again and said, "Lighten up Rachel, everyone does it so why pretend it's not true? There are only two types of people in the world: Those who masturbate and those who lie."

She laughed at that and caused coffee to spray from her nose. I laughed at her as she coughed and wiped coffee from her face also laughing.

When the laughing stopped, I told her seriously, "I am sorry if I embarrassed you. It really was a dream. I can't promise it won't happen again, but it was the first time it has ever happened. I doubt there will be a repeat anytime soon."

"You didn't embarrass me, its just I have never heard anyone else, well you know, do 'that' before." Rachel admitted flushed. "I thought you would be embarrassed."

"Well, maybe I should be, but I have a new outlook on life today and things like that don't bother me anymore." I said.

"That's cool. I would be really embarrassed. I wish I was more like you." Rachel said smiling.

"Well be careful what you wish for young lady." I replied jokingly.

We then spent the rest of the morning having coffee and chatting. This became our daily tradition on the weekends. We started calling it girl chat, but it quickly became renamed "panty chat" because neither one of us was big on wearing clothes early in the morning on the weekends.

Ron and I had not been spending as much time as we usually do together since Rachel had moved in so he called early on the second Saturday of "Panty Chat" and invited both of us to his house for a barbeque.

After Rachel found out he had a pool, she would have gone without me. What a day that turned out to be...

To Be Continued...

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