You Can Cry A River Literotica

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You Can Cry A River Literotica
I was on my way home early one morning from my part time job when something terrible happened to me. A week ago I got myself a job as a waitress at a diner a few blocks away from my apartment in the Bronx. I needed the money really bad. The owner was looking for someone to work the third shift. He was looking for a waitress to work from 10pm to 6am Friday and Saturday nights. I asked him if he had any other hours. He told me that's all he had available. I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to handle that shift especially on Fridays. I still had my full time job to deal with. I thought that if I worked my normal hours at my full time job on Friday, which was from 8am to 4pm. I figured I could go home and get a few hours sleep before I would start my night shift.

The reason why I had to take this job was because of my ex-boyfriend. About two months ago I got sick at work and came home early. When I walked into my apartment I found my boyfriend Robert with his cock buried deep into my girl friend Sally's pussy. The two of them didn't even know I was standing by the door. He was fucking her hard and fast. He was telling her how much he loved her and how he can't wait till she leaves her husband so they can be together. My eyes filled up with tears as I watched the man who I thought loved me, fuck a woman who I thought was one of my best friends. John pulled his cock out of her and exploded all over her. Cum shot out of his cock like a rocket. It landed on her breast, her face and then all over my brand new sheets. The both of them were lying their panting and gasping for air.

“ Hope it was worth it.” I said to the both of them with tears running down my face.

I couldn't believe that he could do this to me. Especially in my own bed and especially with a friend of mine. I always new Sally was a fucking slut, but I never would have thought she would stab me in the back, especially after all I've done for her. I lost count of the number of times I lied to her husband when he called looking for her.

“ Oh…. Shit…Lorraine… It's not what you think…I…I…I.” He said as he tried to explain.

“ Get out!!…The both of you…Get the fuck out of my house!!!” I screamed.

Sally didn't say a word; the bitch couldn't even look at me. The both of them looked shocked. Sally grabbed her cloths and started walking toward my bathroom.

“ Where the fuck do you think you're going bitch.” I screamed at her.

“ Umm…Um...I was going to clean up.” She said, embarrassed with Robert's cum all over her body and dripping down her face.

“ I told you to leave NOW! Get your cloths and get the fuck out of my house you fucking slut…You find some other place to clean the cum off your face bitch!”

I was furious, the bitch had the nerve to think she could use my bathroom to clean my boyfriends cum off her body with me standing there crying. Robert had an old set of golf clubs in the closet by the front door. I turned around and went into the closet. I grabbed the biggest one I could find and started swinging. I don't know if I really wanted to hit them or just scare the shit out of them. I first swung the club at Sally. She ducked and I hit on old lamp I had sitting on the dresser. Glass went flying everywhere.

“Both of you better get the fuck out of hear… RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!”

Sally grabbed her dress and her panties and ran out of my apartment naked and screaming. Robert looked like he had seen a ghost or something. He grabbed his pants and a T-shirt and ran behind Sally. I slammed the door behind them and feel to the ground. I cried like a baby for about 2 hours before I could get myself to my feet. I called the superintendent of my building, and told him that I needed my locks changed immediately.

I haven't seen them since that day. Now that he was gone I was having a hard time paying the rent and keeping up with all the bills on my salary. I found out a few weeks later that Robert had charged a bunch of things on my credit cards. I was instantly in debt. The owner of the dinner had told me that late Friday and Saturday nights was a good time to make money at the dinner. He said that the last girl he had, easily made anywhere from $75 to $100 bucks in tips each night. I figured if I could make an extra five or six hundred dollars a month, I could make it until a found myself a decent roommate.

The first weekend on the night shit went pretty good. I was able to go home and get a few hours of sleep before I started my shift. I made $87 dollars the first night. And on Saturday I made $110 dollars. It wasn't easy, I was on my feet all night long and I wasn't able to take a break. People poured into the dinner all night long. I had forgotten how hard waiting tables was. Except for a couple of rude drunk kids and one black guy who stiffed me on the tip, my first weekend on my part time job went well.

Last night didn't go so well. I had to work late on my regular job. It was the end of the quarter. The guys in the warehouse were doing inventory. I had totally forgotten that it was my turn to stay late and enter the new data into the computers. I tried to get someone to cover for me. But it was too late and my other co-workers had plans. We didn't get done until 8pm that Friday night. I had just enough time to get home and take a quick shower before I was to start my shift at the dinner. By 2am that night I could barley see straight. I was exhausted. The customers didn't give a damn. They wanted service.

It seemed like it was twice as busier then it was last Friday. As the night went on, the plates of food got heavier and heavier. I was looking up at the clock every five minutes. My legs were getting weaker and my feet ached. I felt like I had been awake for a week. Even after drinking three cups coffee I still couldn't find any energy. I prayed that the girl that comes on for the morning shift would be on time. About 15 minutes later Rhonda came in. She was actually early. She walked up to me, and immediately she could see how exhausted I was.

“ Damn girl… you look like you're about to fall out…. was it that busy?” She asked.

“ Yeah it was busy…. plus I came straight from my other job. I've been up now for about 23 hours.”

“ You better get home and get some rest…I'll take over for ya…I can handle it.”

I thanked her from the bottom of my heart. I prayed and God delivered me an angel. I couldn't stop thanking her. I went into the back room; I took of my apron and grabbed my purse. It took only 60 seconds before I was out the door. I only lived about 6 blocks away from the dinner. Last weekend when I walked home I had to walk by one of the projects. There were 4 or 5 mean looking black guys standing on the corner. I was sure that they wear either gang members or drug dealers. I was scared to death when I walked passed them. It was early in the morning and the there were no other cars on the street. I walked pass them as quickly as I could. They didn't even pay attention to me. Even though I was tired and walking past the projects would have been my quickest way home. I decided to avoid that area. I decided to walk 2 blocks over pass the white neighborhood. I was afraid that one of the black kids might try to rob me or something. I had cashed my check Friday during lunch. In my rush to get to my night job I had forgotten to take the money out of my purse, and I also had the money that I made waiting tables on me.

I made my decision and started walking home. My entire body ached as I walked home. The only thing on my mind was my bed. I was actually walking and dreaming about going to sleep. Then out of nowhere something grabbed me on the shoulder. My first instinct was to scream. Before I could make a sound the guy pulled on my jacket and slammed me against a concrete wall.

I was terrified. The guy that grabbed was a tall thin white man. He had to be at least 6 foot tall. I tried to scream again but before I could make a sound another guy slapped me across my face. Things were happening so fast, I didn't know what to do. The one thing that was clear to me at the moment was that I was in big trouble.

“ Hey… shut the fuck up and give me your purse Bitch.” The taller man shouted.

The shorter guy didn't say a word. The tall man reached for my bag. I held on to it. “ No…No,” I screamed as I tried to fight the men off.

I had worked so hard for that money. A weeks pay and the money I had made at the dinner was in that bag. I had to use all the strength I had left to hold on to my bag. My life was in that purse, money that I needed badly.

“ Give me the bag bitch,” He shouted at me.

The tall guy was getting angry. He was so close to me that I could smell the alcohol on his breath. Then with one hard pull he snatched my bag from my hands and started laughing. I was furious.

“ You fucking bastard,” I screamed at him.

Then I don't know what possessed me. But I lunged forward and kick him as hard as I could in the nuts. He instantly hit the ground. The other guy grabbed me slammed me against the wall and smacked me hard across the face again.

“Are you fucking crazy Bitch…? You really done fucked up now Bitch.” He whispered into my ear.

“ John…. John…Are you OK man…Yo!!!…Are you all right?”

“ Yeah…. Yeah…I'm going to kill that fucking bitch.”

When the tall guy whose name I guess was John got up, he was in a rage. When I looked into his blood shot eyes, I knew that I fucked up and the reality of what I had just done hit me.

“ Say your prayers cunt!” He shouted at me.

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a big Black Gun. My mouth, fell to the ground at the site of the hand cannon. My whole world was flashing before my eyes. It seemed like my world had turned upside-down within a few seconds.

He jammed the gun into my rib cage. I thought for sure that my life was about to end.

“ No…please don't kill me…Please don't kill me.” I cried.

“ You should have thought about that before cunt… You should'a thought about that before you kick me the nuts.

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Wow, this is a pretty horrible story. You should have at least used grammar and the correct forms of words. Horrible grammar...
They should have been shot at the end......maybe by some good-hearted gang members or something.
I loved this story. Don't let the ultra politically correct trolls get you down. This story was great and I especially liked the last paragraph beautifully worded. Most rapes do go unreported. All that being said it would be nice to see a part 2 where she buys a handgun or rifle and hunts down the rapists vigilante style. I guess i'm really just a sadist at heart but I love a good hardcore non consentual, film noir, type story. A rightous vigilate story would be nice and tie everything together. Just a thought.
How fucking depressing. Not a turn-on at all. I just feel really bad for the girl in the story. Normally I think rape fantasies are kinda hot, but this was just sad. Anyone who thinks this story was sexy is just a demented and broken person.
you should seek help for your fucking crazy brain. You are really sick my frined and need to be put away. Seek help before it's to late. Maybr it already is!!!!!1
Why are people even bothering to read non-consent if they don't like it? the story even has a disclaimer, everybody knows that rape ain't right but IT'S A STORY. I loved it i thought it was hot and it turned me on, because i know it wasnt real. good for you blackzilla for pushing the boundaries.
Would have made it more credible if they had fucked you once and let you go. Thrice was a bit too much. However the story was pretty fast paced and it did evoke sympathy for the girl. The rape part was pretty ordinary. Nothing original.
i havent read nonconsent/reluctance for awhile and you have made me interested in it again, keep up the good work. A few parts were maybe a little overdone (third time), but it was a pretty good story, and ignore the person that told you to "seek help for your fucking crazy brain." hes a moron who if he thinks anyone who writes a story as good as this is mentally sick, then maybe he shouldnt be reading a story under Nonconsent, ive read other stories written by you ("Gates Of Incest", "Incestual Shrapnel") and also enjoyed those. hope you come out with more work soon.
Mediocre writing with numerous grammatical blunders and typographical errors. The prose isn't stylish nor attractive and punctuation is haphazard. This dialog is average and uninteresting.
The character descriptions are thin with only the main character receiving any treatment from the author. The rapists are foils only and we're forced to rely on stereotypes for them.
There's little plot to speak of. It's rather like a first person newspaper account of a rape. There's no central conflict to be resolved, only an abused woman who suffers one misfortune after another.
The sex scenes are distinctly average but I suppose the rape will provide some amusement for those who get off on abuse, degradation and humiliation.
Excellent fiction this is not. 25 it is and thank you for your effort.
The spelling and structure of the story was horrible. Some rape stories can be hot, but this was degrading and not erotic.
I thought the story was awesome! it's the kind of fantasy I think about when I need to get off. any story that makes me cum w/o even touching myself, is a well written getter offer!!!!!!
This grossed me out. Ew! My rating above 00 only indicates I recognize a fair degree of writing chops. Put the guns down and teach your characters how to use their cocks with sexual threat, which is male lust at its most vehement. And when you have figured out how to do that, teach your male characters how to make love.
normally in the nonconsent stories the woman ends up loving it and the wonderfull experience she's had. this is a bit more realistic, nice job.
Writer is practically illiterate ...
Oh man, maybe it's the mood i'm in but this story depressed me. The girl reminds me of my gf and i just feel really sorry for her. JT
The spelling and grammar errors are so rampant they actually take away from the story, the writing is unimaginative and violent.
The story itself can't be described. Fantasizing about reluctance in sex acts is one thing, this story is quite another. If it was just the sex it would be different, but the description of her losing her boyfriend, the hardships she endures by working, the robbery, the rape, then the culmination of her being fired... All this is over the line.
I found the theme a little too personal, the story itself was depressing, honestly, reading this didn't make me aroused as much as it made me horrified.
This story made me really hard. I checked out your other contributions and they are all very good. I've written some too, but they aren't as good as yours.
You can polish a pile of shit but it'll still be shit
Great story. a rape story that is actually about rape and not some "turns out she was into it all along" rubbish 5 stars
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A flash story of just walking away. No BTB. No reconciliation. No happy ending.
Carol had been pushing me to marry her. We'd been together for five years and I had been dragging my feet. I loved her to death. She was everything a man could want in a wife.
The problem was mine. I was afraid of getting married. We were both 27 at the time but I had seen so many of our acquaintances and their marriages blow up in the last 6 years I was shell shocked. Couples we knew who married with the best intentions were divorced now. Some of those guys I had long talks with about what went wrong. It wasn't really cheating or sex stuff. Well, some of it was, but most of it was after living together for a couple of years these people who married in their late teens and early twenties matured a bit and didn't like their partner anymore.
I suppose since everyone is so use to living in a disposable society, the idea of repairing their broken marriages seemed like too much work. It was easier to forget why you married that person in the first place and divorce, than to repair it.
That's what I saw and that's why I was gun shy about asking Carol to marry me. Those guys I met suffered some really tough times. Heartache and financials. Really nasty stuff. I finally figured it out my problem. I was afraid of getting divorced before I even got married.
And honestly, Carol's request to get married was not unreasonable. We had been together long enough and she had all the decent qualities of a good wife. She was kind to others and I never really heard her speak bad about anyone. She was sweet and thoughtful. Most of all she was easy to be with. We never had any real drama in our relationship. At least until she started hinting that we should get married. Then we had some drama, but in truth this woman was correct. Either get off the pot or move along. Problem for me was, a fellow likes to think he's doing the asking.
Anytime I was thinking of approaching the subject, Carol as if reading my mind would start talking a marriage and getting engaged. For some reason that sort of threw me off. I should have just followed along and agreed. What the hell did I know about weddings anyway. But, I wanted to be the one to ask her. I wanted to surprise her. In my mind, I wanted my asking to be something special. I had some old fashioned screwy idea that I would ask her parents permission first and then ask Carol.
I thought that it would be a romantic thing to do. Her parents knew my family, they liked me, and would say yes of course, but in my mind I wanted to give them the additional memory of their future son-n-law asking them permission to marry their daughter. I figured we could take some pictures and have that as a memory we could share as a family forever.
I decided to be bold and beautiful and admit to myself Carol was right and I was wrong. It was time to get married and so I decided I would buy her an engagement ring. We were not living together but I had a key to her apartment and she had one to mine. I went to her apartment knowing she was not home. I know nothing of ring sizes, so I went to her bedroom, opened the jewelry box on her dresser cabinet, and pulled out one of her favorite rings she wore often. I would take it to the jeweler to get her ring size. I left with it in my pocket and head straight to the jewelers.
At the jewelers I to
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