In my case he was (thank God) pretty much silent apart from the heavy breathing. When my mind decides to torture me by revisiting it, the thoughts that disturb me most relate to the way I was forced to cooperate. It's crazy - he had a knife so I had little choice - but I still get a surge of self-loathing at the the memory of having to do most of the work. I keep imagining what it would have looked like if someone had seen me there on my knees servicing him - would they have thought for a even second that they were witnessing a rape?