The Man who Can Only Get Off on...

The Man who Can Only Get Off on Rape Fantasy and the Woman who Loves Him and They Both Love Each Other

“What do you want from me?”

“I want the money in your purse. And your vagina.”

Peter threw Sally onto the bed, lights turned low and the air conditioner set to a chilly sixty-two degrees. He pulled the layers of clothing away from her sweet flower slowly, as there was only one, her lace Victoria’s Secret™ underpants. He scuffed his knees on the carpet, hard, until he could convince himself that he was in a back alley or behind a bar somewhere. Then could he become aroused.

Sally lay face down on the mattress, waiting for Peter to enter. As she felt him move closer she stiffened, feigning the slightest of resistance. The intercourse proceeded for over a minute, Sally slowly unfreezing and joining Peter’s rhythm.

“Do you think you could move a little to the left? It’s not getting me in the right spot,” Sally said quietly.

“Oh. Sorry,” Peter apologized.

Their love-making continued until Peter was exhausted. Sally continued with a vibrator and help from Peter until she was finished as well. As they gathered the sheets off the bed to take them to the washing machine, Peter leaned over to Sally and kissed her lightly on the lips.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, honey.”

Peter walked back to the bedroom, removing his Hamburglar™ mask and placing it in his bottom dresser drawer, behind his collection of old but ultimately valueless baseball cards. There was also a plastic knife, and a slightly-realistic looking water pistol that broke when he had jammed it with K-Y™ Liquid Lubricant.

“Peter, I’m going to get in the shower. We need to hurry; your mother is going to be back with Rachel in half an hour.”

“Whoops! Ok.”

Peter bathed in the guest shower while Sally was in the master, and after they had both dried and dressed themselves they saw a forest green Toyota™ Sienna pull into their driveway. A girl of approx. thirteen ran up the sidewalk, followed slowly by a woman of over eighty with dyed auburn hair. Sally opened the door to welcome them in.

“Hi honey! How was your time with Grandma?”

“It was fun! We watched Murder She Wrote and ate flavorless cookies.”

“That’s nice dear,” Peter said, and walked his mother back to her car. He thought that she probably shouldn’t be driving at her age, but not so much that he wanted to make personal sacrifices because of it.

“So Rachel, are you ready for your big soccer game today?”

“I’m not playing soccer anymore. I’m trying to date Grayson now. He’s on the travel soccer team.”

“But wouldn’t you playing soccer too make him like you more?”

“No, he says girls that play soccer are dykes.”

“Oh, well that is not very nice. Maybe you don’t want to date Grayson.”

“But he’s soooo dreamy.”

“Young woman, I did not play five years of intramural tennis in college so that a daughter of mine could throw away her passions and opportunities over some boy!”

“But he’s not ‘some boy’ mom-”

“You are going to play in your soccer game and that is final, I don’t care how much of a dyke it makes you,” Sally said, slightly angered. “Peter, start the car, we’re going to be late.”

Fifteen minutes later, Peter parked the family car in the parking lot of the local public park and athletic complex. Rachel exited the car, still grumbling, in her soccer jersey and shorts, carrying her cleats. Peter and Sally wished her luck and sat down on the bleachers. Rachel flipped them off when they weren’t looking. Sally got up and walked over to talk with the coach and make sure Rachel got enough playing time. A man walked up behind where Peter was sitting and clapped him on the shoulder.

“How’s it going, Tom?” the man said.

“My name is Peter,” Peter said.

“Oh, yeah. Well, beautiful day today, isn’t it? Angelina’s been really looking forward to today, she’s been training hard. I bet she’ll score three or four goals today.”

“Doesn’t your daughter play goalie?”

“Anyway, good seeing you, I’ll be in the bleachers on the other side of the field, ready to look you in the eye as I shout in victory while you and your daughter go home to a consolation pizza party. See you ‘round, Tom!”

Rachel scored the only goal for her team by accident. They ate pepperoni pizza.

After dinner they drove to the local outdoor mall and window shopped, sitting in overpriced massage chairs and dreaming of a lifestyle where they could dedicate wardrobes to black and white color combinations. They were possibly going to stop for ice cream, but decided against it as they did not want to encourage Rachel’s delinquency at soccer and Rachel didn’t want any anyway so she could stay pretty for Grayson. After they returned home, they turned on the TV in the family room and watched it. Rachel went to bed at nine thirty-two PM after watching her favorite TV show, as a growing girl needs her sleep. Lying in bed, she swore to never play soccer again, and tried to think of how she could circumvent her middle school’s dress code to seduce Grayson.

Down the hall, Peter and Sally were also now lying in bed, having changed into their respective sleepwear. Peter read a chapter of the small business self-help book he kept on his bedside table, and Sally watched HGTV™ and fantasized about re-landscaping their backyard. Peter, done with his book for the night, went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and remove his contacts. Sally soon joined him, brushing her teeth as well and taking two antacids for the pizza they ate earlier. After they turned out the lights, but before they got back into bed, Peter grabbed Sally and pulled her close, turning her to face him. Sally, initially startled, soon responded, looking up at Peter’s face despite the darkness.

“Are you trying to steal a kiss?”

“That’s the only way I want them.”