South African rape
South African rape
Sex Story Author: | peter gilbert |
Sex Story Excerpt: | I kept watching Ally because I knew she must be thinking what might happen to her. We came to the |
Sex Story Category: | Anal |
Sex Story Tags: | Anal, Black, Humiliation, Rape, True Story, Young |
It was a typical hot sultry South African day in the outskirts of Johannesburg where we lived at the time. My mother and father, me nearly 17 and my sister Alison who had just turned 18.
Mum and Dad were at work in the furniture store they owned in the centre of Johannesburg. Ally and me were lazing around the large house as we were both on vacation, me from school and Ally from college. The house was hot because the windows would not open very wide because of the bars. With the amount of murders, rapes and burglaries every house in our district was like a fortress.
I was dressed only in shorts and Ally was only just covered in a pair of sawn off, thin denim shorts which showed everything and a cotton bikini top which just about covered her nipples. She was one hell of a looker and she knew it. It was hard to keep the local lads away. We had a good relationship for brother and sister and got on well.
I was sitting in the kitchen having a drink and Ally had gone outside to put some rubbish in the bin. Suddenly I heard a scuffle and looking up saw Ally being frogmarched into the kitchen by a large black man. He had his arm around her pinning her arms to her sides and a hand over her mouth. Following them were two other black men, one as tall as the first and the other smaller, but very powerfully built. He was the one obviously in charge.
‘Don’t make a sound’ he said to me and I saw he had a large knife in his hand, the sort used to slash undergrowth. He motioned me to remain seated as I had started to get up. Then he looked at Ally and said, ‘If you scream or shout that will be the last, understand?’ and lifted the knife. Ally nodded. The man who held her took his arms away. My mind was racing but I knew there was nothing I could do.
‘Where’s the money?’ demanded the spokesman.
‘I haven’t much, just a few rand,’ I replied.
He smiled. ‘You rich,’ he said, ‘Where’s the money?’
‘It’s locked in the safe and my dad has the key’.
‘Show me’ he said.
I showed him the safe and surprisingly he accepted my word. Taking Ally and me from room to room they began to search the house picking up small articles of value and putting them in a carrier bag from the kitchen.
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