Ravaging Fantasy - Brent's Tale

The story Ravaging Fantasy posted by amyyum in the Loving Wives section on October 21, 2017 really hit a chord with me. I actually dreamt about it. With amyyum's permission I have drafted a story from the perspective of one of the male characters in her story, namely Brent Lebel, her daughter's ex-boyfriend at the start of the tale. In order to understand this story you have to read Ravaging Fantasy first, otherwise it probably will not make sense to you – or even if it does you won't get the entire feel of the story.

I asked amyyum to review this so that it was in her style as much as possible.

Here goes.

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

My name is Brent Lebel, nineteen years old at the start of this tale. Since I became sexually activate at eighteen I have developed an appreciation for women of almost any age. While my only dates were with women roughly my own age, there were a few MILFs that I beat off to on occasion. Only one of them really rang my chines, however – Amy (for this story I will use "Jackson" as her last name).

Shortly after I turned nineteen, in the summer of 2014, I met a girl my age named Sybil Jackson. Sybil has a haughty look and regal bearing, although her personality is super sweet and she has no pretenses and doesn't put on any airs – it's just that her "look" can initially be off-putting. She is also stunning, particularly her ass and thighs which are as nice as any I had ever seen – that is until I met her mother Amy.

I dated Sybil a few weeks before I met Amy. Despite how friendly Amy was toward me – including insisting that I call her "Amy" instead of "Mrs. Jackson" – I was almost at a loss for words when I first encountered her. Even though I estimated that she was in her mid-forties, she was even better looking than Sybil, with a perfect ass and thighs. After I had interacted with her over a period of a few weeks, however, while still just as awed by her, I was able to relax around her and found her to be just as kind and pleasant as Sybil was.

Of course I met Sybil's dad Jim, too – although him I called "Mr. Jackson" and he never offered to have me call him "Jim." He was kind of intimidating, probably because he was protective of his daughter, but not mean. It was much better for me, however, if he wasn't around so that I didn't feel as conspicuous when I ogled Amy's body.

Unfortunately, things with Sybil didn't work out, and we broke up right around Christmas of 2014. I'm still not sure exactly why. Sybil said that it was because I had a wandering eye; "even for my mother, you Bozo," was one of her lines. I didn't think that I did, and really was happy with Sybil, but since we went to different colleges and it probably wouldn't have worked out long term anyway, I didn't fight it.

Then the strangest thing happened in early June, 2015. I had just come home from college for the summer when I got a call on my cellphone from someone I had never even heard of before.

"Hi – is this Brent Lebel?" Came a melodious voice of what sounded like a middle-aged woman.

"Yes...who's this?"

"My name is Dr. Mary Ross. I'm a psychologist in practice a couple of towns over from where your parents live. I wonder if I could interest you in a project."

I was startled, but intrigued.

"What kind of project?"

"Initially it will just require you answering a few questions, and if your responses are desirable for my purposes I will disclose a confidential activity I would like to enroll you in. There will be no money that you will be required to put up, and all of your expenses will be paid. However, you won't get any monetary compensation either – but I think it is something that you will find a very rewarding experience."

"Pretty vague, but strangely interesting, Dr. Ross," I laughed.

"Please call me 'Mary,' and I like your attitude," she laughed back. "Are you intrigued enough to come to my office at your convenience in the next week. I'll reimburse you for any expenses you have in getting here – probably about sixty miles from where your parents live – and I take it that you're with them for the summer."

"Yes, and yes," I chuckled. "How about Saturday morning, somewhere around 10 or 11?" I asked.

"11 a. m. on Saturday would be perfect," Mary responded. "I'll text you my address, bio, and directions."

"See you Saturday," I chortled.

I have to say that I was very intrigued by the mystery of the situation; it turned out to be even more bizarre than I could have anticipated even if my imagination had run wild.

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

I got to Mary's office right on time. There was another guy there, a six foot tall muscular dude in his early thirties who introduced himself as Clayton. He had apparently just finished up talking to Mary and he had a big shit-eating grin on his face. "Must be a good deal," I said to myself after seeing Clayton's shit-eater.

The waiting room in Mary's office was the weirdest room I had ever seen in my life – I can't really describe it and do it justice. Anyway we didn't linger there long, but went into her more standard inner office which had all sorts of degrees from prestigious universities hanging on the wall – much better schools than the one I attended.

After some initial small talk Mary got down to brass tacks. "In my job I help out people who have unusual problems, and I help them in equally strange ways. Their problems might be fears, phobias, fantasies, delusions, or non-drug-based hallucinations. What I will be talking to you about will be assisting me with one of my patients in a way that will be pleasurable for you in many different ways, including really helping that person out. Interested enough to go a little deeper?"

"You bet," I smiled.

"OK – here is a list of people that you may or may not know. I want you to tell me if there are some people on that list that you like, and would be willing to help if it didn't cost you anything; OK?" she said/asked.

"OK," I replied, taking the sheet of paper from her. On the sheet were names of about twenty people, at least a dozen of whom I knew. Some were my age, some older, some my acquaintances, some those of my parents, some neighbors, some that I knew from sports, about half women, half men. The one name that jumped out at me was Amy Jackson.

After I looked over the list for a good five minutes – Mary said "Take your time" at least twice while she was shuffling or marking some papers on her desk – I looked up and said, "OK, I reviewed this completely."

"All right, which people on that list would you be willing to help out?"

"Of course it depends a lot on exactly what you want me to do, but for Amy Jackson and Don Hurley I'd probably do almost anything; and for Patricia Snow and Shirley Ames, and maybe even Tim Wilson, I'd be willing to do many things," I replied.

"Go over each of those names and tell me what your relationship is with them and why you'd be willing to help them," she said.

"Uh...I'm not sure that I want to do that for all of them," I stuttered.

"I can guarantee you that what you tell me is confidential. In fact here is a document to that effect that I'll sign right in front of you," she continued, as she put her John Hancock on a sheet entitled "Confidentiality Representation," and handed to me.

I'm no legal expert, but it looked kosher to me.

"OK – what order do you want me to tell you about them in?" I shrugged.

"The same order that you said them."

"OK – well; this is embarrassing, but you're a doctor, right?"

"Psychologist," she smiled.

"Whatever. Amy Jackson is the mother of a girl I dated last year. There's something about Amy that I can't put my finger on, but she makes me tingle just looking at her. She's the most sultry 'older women,' if I can use that term without any negative connotation, that I've ever seen. Also, she's super nice and friendly, and in her case I'd do almost anything to help her even though her daughter broke up with me."

Mary nodded, mostly expressionless although I did detect a small smirk.

I went on and described the other four people I mentioned like I had for Amy, although with a noticeable lower level of enthusiasm.

"That's great, Brent," Mary smiled when I finished. "Before I tell you who the person is – and it is one of the five you mentioned – I need complete confidentiality from you. Here is an agreement that you need to sign – I already have," she said, handing me a two page document. "If you don't feel comfortable signing right now you can take it to someone you trust, or an attorney."

I looked it over – it did seem complex. "Can I call Carol, my next door neighbor and one of my Mom's good friends – she's an attorney – and ask her some questions about it?"

"Sure – take it into the waiting room and make your call, and just come back in my office when you're done, no need to knock," Mary responded.

I went over a couple of the provisions with my Mom's friend Carol – who fortunately was in and had a few minutes to talk. She thought the agreement was strange, but didn't put me in any jeopardy, "Unless you violate the confidentiality provisions – you do understand that you can tell no one the details once they are revealed to you, not even me or an attorney you might employ – you can't get into any trouble or incur any expense," she said.

"I understand," I replied; "but after I hear what Dr. Ross wants I don't have to go through with it, right?"

"Right," Carol replied, "but whether or not you go through with it you still have to keep it secret."

Carol and I talked a couple minutes more, I thanked her, walked into Mary's office, and signed the document. She took a photo of me signing it, and emailed a copy to me.

"OK – I can now reveal in confidence what I want you to do; ready?" Mary said/asked.

"Ready," I replied.

"The person involved is Amy Jackson. She has a ravaging fantasy – not really a rape fantasy, a ravaging one – that is interfering with her normal life. I want you and another guy who she has identified as fantasizing about to ravage her in such a manner that she doesn't know who you are, that is who ravaged her."

I literally fell off my chair, and I must have turned white because in a concerned voice Mary said "Are you all right? Do you need some water? CPR? Oxygen?"

I regained my composure once Mary helped me back to my seat. I still felt a little light-headed, but I finally got out "Could you repeat that...please?"

She did, and I almost fell out of my chair again.

"Uh...well...uh...what exactly...do you mean...uh...by ravaging her?" I stammered.

"Let me be blunt. I need you to handcuff her, probably to a bed headboard, gag and blindfold her, and then you and your compatriot need to eat her pussy, suck on her tits, and fuck her multiple times."

I almost lost it again. When I did regain my composure I asked "Isn't that illegal?"

"It would be if I wasn't a professional authorized by her in writing to do anything necessary – including having her fantasy fulfilled – in order to treat her. If you want to continue I'll show you her signature on documents to that effect, and also play sections of a video of her telling me about her fantasy, including naming you as one of the people who she has fantasized ravaged her."

After a couple minutes of delay where I was trying to organize my thoughts I said "Let me look at my cellphone a second."

Mary nodded agreement so I took out my cellphone and pulled up a candid photo of Amy which displayed her world class ass and thighs. I gulped and said "OK – tell me more."

Mary went over the contract that Amy had signed, pointing out the relevant parts. Then she played for me a video of Amy describing her typical ravaging fantasy. I got so hard from the video I was sure that I would either split my zipper or spontaneously cum in my pants, but fortunately did neither. Then she played a video of Amy reluctantly saying that I was one of several guys she fantasized had ravaged her, and that in her fantasy she never reported anyone to the police or her husband Jim.

I asked to see the video segments twice. Then I asked "Why a two person ravaging, not one person."

"Amy is strong for her size – she works out a lot, and has a feisty personality. Even though you and the other person I have in mind are strong men, I don't want the chance of something happening and her exposing the ravager's identity, or of her getting injured. Also, I sense from her body language and words – I think that you might even have been able to see it in the video – that the two person fantasy is the one that is most rewarding for her."

I nodded my head.

"Are you in, Brent?"

"I have two more questions; who is the other guy, and how and when do we set it up?"

"The other guy you just met – he was the first one I interviewed, you are the second. His name is Clayton Thorne, he is a neighbor of Amy's, single, and a professional hockey player. He is enthusiastically on board, which doesn't surprise me because Amy truly is a fox. As for how and when, some time in about the next month; I'll do all the set-up. All that you and Clayton have to do is have a meeting with me to go over everything, and I'll do all the rest including getting the necessary equipment."

"Can I have some time to think it over?" I asked.

"Sure – but don't wait more than 48 hours, because I need to sign up the second person shortly."

I shook Mary's hand goodbye, stumbled out of her office, and drove home almost in a trance, very happy that I didn't total my car because I was so pre-occupied.

Saturday evening my buddies asked me why I was so distant. I chalked it up to the end of the school year, and said that it was nothing – obviously I couldn't tell them anything about it. As I lay in bed late Saturday night and early Sunday morning, all I could think about was fucking Amy senseless. I beat my meat three times in the wee hours of the morning, some of my best masturbation sessions ever thinking of what it would be like to pork her pussy and ass.

Early afternoon Sunday I realized that there was no way that I could pass up this dream opportunity, so I called Mary's cellphone and said "I'm in!"

"I had no doubt but that you would be," she cackled. "I'll be in touch shortly. Eat right and exercise regularly – you're going to need all your strength to do her fantasy right. And by the way, you're going to need an STD test since there will be no condoms. The lab I recommend is..."

She gave me the name and address and told me to get tested shortly "And don't stick your wick in anyone without a condom until Amy is taken care of," she ordered.

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

It was hard getting my mind off of my upcoming event with Amy, but after a couple of days I was successful – somewhat, at least. About the middle of July Mary called. "I've got the information that I need. Can you and Clayton meet me this Saturday morning, about 10:30?"

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away," I snorted.

Clayton called me Friday and asked if he wanted me to drive him to Mary's, and so that we could talk on the way. I thought we should get to know each other too, and he only lived three or four miles from my parents' house so I said sure. We had a nice talk driving there. He was very cultured – for a hockey player (ha, ha) – and likely was just as excited as I was about fucking Amy. "She's one of the sexiest women I've ever seen," he must have sighed at least a half dozen times.

Mary was no nonsense in filling us in and instructing us. "It will be the weekend after next at her summer house. She'll be alone. It's about a sixty to ninety minute drive from Clayton's house on Route 10, and then county road 621. Here's everything that you'll need."

Mary provided us with several sets of fur lined handcuffs, some sashes, two blindfolds for Amy, some hoods for us, some non-descript dark clothes, duct tape, and a wide variety of other things. We viewed Amy's video description of her fantasy three times (each time I got harder), and then shockingly Mary pulled Jessica in from her waiting room, her summer intern. Jessica was twenty two and getting a master's in psychology, was bigger than Amy, but would do for our practice session. We were able to handcuff Jessica's hands to a mock headboard in Mary's office, duct tape her mouth, and blindfold her – three times – while she struggled, without hurting her.

As we concluded the session Mary said "I'm happy with the dry runs. I suggest that the two of you get to the area where her summer house is on Friday, stay overnight in a motel, get the lay of the land, and find the perfect opportunity. Here's a key for her back door that I pilfered from her purse during one session and had copied. I know that I don't really have to say it because you both are very fond of Amy, but she is not to be injured in any way – just fucked comatose."

We all smiled.

"Also, remember the provisions in the confidentiality agreement about no pictures, videos, or recordings of any kind – you violate that provision and I'll see that you're castrated," Mary barked. There didn't seem to be any levity in her voice. Clayton and I vigorously nodded our heads "Yes."

"I'll be on vacation at the time you ravage her, however here's my emergency cell phone number," Mary said, handing a piece of paper to each of us. "Call me when the job's complete to report, or if there are any emergencies – but make sure that they're real emergencies – not that you can't get it up again," she chortled.

"With Amy that won't be a problem," Clayton laughed, and I joined him.

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

The Friday before our big day came all too slowly, but finally did arrive. I made some lame excuse for my parents' benefit of why I'd be gone Friday night – they didn't keep tabs on me and only said "Have a great time."

"If they only knew," I chuckled to myself.

Clayton picked me up and we did recon of the neighborhood where Amy's summer house was, and unobtrusively observed her as best we could. Being a professional athlete, Clayton was really into visualization and preparation, so we went over everything both mentally and physically at least a dozen times before it was "Showtime."

When we saw a tired and sweaty, exercised-out, Amy drag her ass into her house a little after 4:00 p. m. on Saturday, we let ourselves, with our equipment, into her house using the back door key that Mary had given us. We heard the shower running in the master bath, and a few minutes after it stopped we snuck upstairs and peeked into her room. She had flopped naked and face-first onto her bed her consummate ass sticking up and causing us both to immediately harden. We waited a couple of minutes until we heard her lightly snoring; we wanted her as docile as possible to minimize the chances that she would be injured by what we were about to do.

Both Clayton and I were hooded when I clicked one fur-lined cuff of a pair of handcuffs to the sturdy metal headboard of Amy's bed, and then the other cuff to her right wrist. She started to stir when she heard that click. Before she could react, just as we practiced, I wrapped my left arm around her neck from behind her while with my right hand I simultaneously slapped a pre-cut piece of duct tape over her mouth.

Once the tape was over her mouth Clayton's strong hands held her left arm while he snapped another fur lined handcuff onto her left wrist, and then to the headboard.

Amy screamed through the duct tape but it did no good; there was no way anyone could hear her. She undulated her entire body and pulled at the handcuffs while wildly swinging her head from side-to-side once I released her neck. She couldn't see me, but she seemed to stop when she got a glimpse of Clayton, although there was no way that she could recognize him with the hood over his face, and black clothing covering his entire body.