Sherry: All Night Long
R.R. Ryan
Sherry: All Night Long
By R.R. Ryan
Description: Sherry seeks solace by the ocean, desperate to escape the clamor of her boyfriend’s relentless demands and the confusion that swirls around their relationship. But as the waves crash against the shore, her moment of reflection turns into a nightmarish ordeal. After indulging in some escapism with the aid of pot, she finds herself trapped by two evil men whose intentions are darker than the moonless night. What starts as a drug-enhanced contemplation swiftly devolves into a harrowing experience. Sherry wanted someone more exciting than Sam, and what she gets is two demented men who rape and torture her physically and emotionally. She grapples with her identity, stripped of choices, liberty, and virginity. Sherry’s used for her captors’ pleasure. With time slipping away, her spirit wanes as she fears for her life. As a storm blows in from the ocean, an equally violent one rages on her body and in her mind. She is determined to have revenge. If she lives long enough to do so. Sherry: All Night Long isn’t for the faint of heart. Transgressive Fiction focuses on what evil men do to hold power over women. WARNING: This is a rape story, do not purchase if you expect something else.
Tags: NonConsensual Rape,Heterosexual gangbang crime,rough sadistic men,forced anal sex,double penetration,forced oral sex,transgressive fiction,violent abuse
Published: 2024-09-27
Size: ≈ 6,075 Words
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Sherry:
All Night Long
R.R. Ryan
© Copyright 2024 by Rapits Ryan
NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic, sexual nature. This tale is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously-any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, real events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Sherry:
All Night Long
Miami, Florida - September 1975
It was a hot, humid day in Miami. Then again, almost every day was hot and humid in Miami, even in late September. It was the kind of heat where every argument was explosive. The sort of heat that gets under the skin makes husbands curl their hands into fists and hit their wives. A heat that inspires wives to consider bashing their husbands’ brains out with frying pans.
A heat that boils in the blood of violent men and stimulates them to hurt others and search for someone to enjoy. A hot, sticky heat of perverse passions where a lovely body can be all some fellows need to set them off.
It was Miami’s wet inferno that started it for Stan & Sherry. Sherry and Stan got caught up in their argument, and Stan said things he’d wanted to tell Sherry for years. Stan saw no need to wait for a marriage he knew was never coming. Sherry had no desire to lose her virginity to a milk toast like Stan. In fact, the only thing Stan had any manliness about was wanting to fuck her.
She wasn’t taking shit from a man who was bullied his whole life. At this point, she wished she’d never met him. Stan was a selfish, self-centered, weakling of a boy when she wanted a real, loving, caring, and giving man.
Sherry’s footsteps on the scorched sidewalk mirrored the erratic rhythm of her speeding heart. The afternoon sun bore down on her. The heat and humidity amplified the discord of their argument. A disagreement which still simmered in her mind. She drew a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady the tumult within.
Stan’s words-sharp, insistent, hateful-replayed like a broken record. His anger scratched at her resolve. He didn’t understand. Stan, couldn’t comprehend the sanctity she placed on her virginity, the commitment it symbolized for her.
She needn’t save herself for marriage, but she wasn’t giving her pussy to just any tom, dick, or harry that came along.
She peeled away from the chaos of downtown, the thrumming energy of the city now clashing with the confusion in her soul. The ocean beckoned her with its promise of serenity, waves whispering secrets of escape and renewal. As she passed the hotels that ran along the path between them and the beach, she was greeted with open skies and the tang of salt in the air.
Sherry felt a modicum of relief.
An hour passed. A period of silent solitude as Sherry paced alongside the shoreline where the world seemed to fall away. Miami has a lot of sun and sand to lose yourself in, and she did. Sherry’s one-piece swimsuit clung to her body. A garment chosen earlier that day when her innocence had yet to be challenged.
She passed a lot of parks, but suddenly, she noticed one. The park appeared almost as an oasis, a swath of greenery unfurling against the backdrop of blue sky and the blue-green sea. It was 2:00 PM, and the world around her was absorbed in the day’s responsibilities, leaving the beach nearly deserted, save for the seagulls’ indifferent chatter. With a grateful sigh, Sherry ventured into the park. Her eyes scanned the scene.
A perfect spot of tranquility.
Finding solace under the canopy of palm trees, she spread her towel with care. Each step taken in the ritual was one toward reclaiming her calm. She lay down, the shade a balm to her overheated skin, overwrought nerves, and rattled mind. If the semi-shade of palm leaves couldn’t cool her in the shelter of nature, then the ocean’s embrace awaited her. But for now, she sought refuge in the dappled light, alone with only the company of her swirling thoughts.
In the quietude, dreams began to drift in, unbidden. Dreams of a man, a partner, someone who would hold her convictions as dearly as his own. Someone who wasn’t Stan. Despite everything, her mind betrayed her, painting his image in the corners of her imagination. Stan, with his earnest eyes and crooked smile, somehow found his way into her vision of a future husband.
Her chest tightened, nostalgia warring with newfound doubt.
Sherry closed her eyes. Willing her heart to let go. To untangle the knot of emotions that Stan had unwittingly or purposefully woven. Here, amid the sighs of palm leaves fluttering overhead and the distant waves of the Atlantic rolling over the sand, Sherry sought the clarity to understand her desires. Separating thoughts of Stan from the expectations of others.
Stan, at best, was an inferior specimen. Fearful of shadows in the night, he constantly caved to the bullies at his university. Didn’t even have the balls to protest to a man cutting in on them when they danced.