I hope you don’t think I’m some kind of a pervert after you read
this. I mean, I consider myself to be more or less a normal girl.
Well… actually, I consider myself to be a little above average.
After all, I’ve been a straight A student all my life and am in one
of the finest universities in the country on a full scholarship.
I’ve never been the kind to sleep around. But that wasn’t
because I didn’t want to. It was more because I didn’t want to get
a reputation as a slut. I had too much dignity for that.
Unfortunately, along with my dignity comes a much higher than
average sex drive.
I lost my virginity very early in my teens. I wasn’t forced, or
convinced, or drugged or drunk, far from it. I made a conscious
decision, picked out the guy I wanted to deflower me, and set
Unlike most girls, I didn’t lose my cherry in the back seat of
a car under a grunting, groaning idiot. I lost mine in my own
living room in front of a crackling fireplace with a guy who knew
his way around a girl’s body.
Maybe that was why I became so fascinated with every aspect of
sex. Also, the guy was much older than me, and much, much bigger,
which may be where I developed my love of big, muscular men.
I know a lot of girls don’t think much of the big muscular guys,
you know, the ones that really work at it and bulge with muscles
all over. They like smaller, slimmer guys like Mel Gibson. Not me.
I’ve always had a thing for big guys with lots of muscles and few
Of course, being as smart as I am, most guys are dumber than me,
and being as small as I am, most of them are bigger. That’s been
mostly enough until lately, but after I entered college and began
studying my major, which is the European dark ages, my fantasies
about big muscled men became stronger and stronger.
I suppose I should describe myself at this point. My name is
Julie Conners. I’m just over five foot two and weigh about ninety
five pounds. I have a really nice body, with a really nice tight
little ass and big round breasts that despite their size(38DD),
don’t sag an inch.
I have a sweet little heart shaped face with a small upturned
snub nose and big blue eyes. My hair is a bright golden blonde and
I keep it straight, and shoulder length. I part it on the right and
sort of toss it back across my forehead just above my eyes.
Now don’t get me wrong. I like my body. It’s attractive, fit,
and healthy. I kind of like the attention I get most of the time,
especially when I’m on the beach in my bikini.
But I’m no dumb bimbo. I have a hundred and seventy IQ, I can
read, speak and write four languages and know more about the world,
its geography, history and politics, then ninety percent of the
Unfortunately, with my looks, very few people who don’t know me
well treat me with much respect, just because of the way I look.
Because of that I’ve learned to be aggressive when I want
Anyway, I thought, fantasised, and dreamed about being a kind of
slave girl to some big monstrous barbarians, you know, the Conan
types, for a long time. In my fantasies I gave up the aggression in
favour of a meek, servile sex slave who was used and abused by
these big horny men…
The thick stone echoed with the screams and clashing steel of
many swordsmen as the barbarians ran through the castle. I
flattened myself against the wall, then hurried further along,
heading for my father, the King’s secret tunnel escape.
Then there was a scuffle and I sensed movement behind me.
Something caught my long hair and yanked violently. I screamed,
dragged backwards by a huge, laughing man. He was bulging with
muscles, his face a twisted ugly mask of hate and lust, a dark,
nasty scar running across it.