Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.
This is how my confession would have to start if I ever intended to make one.
It’s been 2 months since it all started, but to be honest, it’s always been there. Deep inside me, and waiting. Waiting for that one opportune moment when I’m careless and can’t resist. Or don’t want to resist.
It’s always been there—the feeling, the desire to give in to my instincts and simply do what they want me to do.
You probably know it too. In a bar, at a party in a restaurant. You see a person you want. You devour him or her with your eyes and have trouble concentrating on anything other than pictures of sex with this person. No matter whether you are there alone or with a partner, the stranger’s power of attraction is enormous. Your field of vision narrows, your body reacts, and you get hot.
Once, it was a man in a restaurant. I was gripped by an absurd desire, and no sensible argument penetrated my body from my mind.
My cheeks turned red, there was so much sexual desire in my stomach that my pussy became wet, and my table neighbors looked furtively at my breasts because I suddenly wanted to drill my small nipples through my T-shirt like pinheads.
Other men and women in the room became white shadows, and only the object of my desire was still there. I suddenly heard his voice as clearly as if he were sitting at my table and understood everything he was saying to his tablemates.
My mind tried to get me out of this trip, but I only saw images of his body above mine, his hands kneading my breasts, and felt his cock penetrating deep inside me. A stupid comment from a fellow student asking if I was cold snapped me out of my daydream of sex and lust.
Since that day, I have wondered if he would have laughed at me if I had gone to his table to start a conversation or if he had felt the same but had better control of himself. I regret to this day that I didn’t, because I still want this man.
I live alone because I don’t have the time or desire to get involved with another person, and I’m quite good friends with my vibrator. So it rarely happens that I absolutely need a cock inside me, and when it does, I go get one. I’m never horny, as long as my vibrator is charged.
Two months ago, I went to the neighboring town to see a medieval market. I mainly wanted to look for handmade hair ornaments. Sometimes you can find beautiful pieces there that put the plastic stuff from China in the shade.
I tried on a barrette with a beautiful eagle design only to find that it couldn’t hold my hair because it was too small when it happened.
I felt warm, no, I felt hot, and I’m still far too young for menopause. I took a deep breath and put the barrette away.
Someone was watching me.
The feeling was strong and I looked around. It was as if someone was standing in front of me and touching my naked body, and I couldn’t do anything about it.
In my mind’s eye, I saw my body covered in sweat, lying on a stone like in a sauna.
My knees were bent, and my mouth was open as if to scream. I felt the heat of the sun and the pain in my body and looked at the man standing over me, taking off his long robe. I knew he was the next and that it was about to start again.
The vision passed quickly, but I still felt the heat, the desire in my abdomen, and his greedy eyes on me.
A man, around 40, maybe older, stand with a steaming cup on his lips on the other side of the square.
His concentration on my person was touchable. He looked at me and into me. His gaze was the touch of groping hands, possessive hands. Hands that hold their prey and won’t let go until they’ve had their fill.
I felt the unwanted, animalistic desire for this man like I wanted the man in the restaurant, but this time I knew it was mutual.
I didn’t want to go to him, talk to him, take him home, and have sex with him.
I wanted, what he wanted.
And it was exactly that knowledge that scared me now.
If I go stright to my car, I would have to walk past him, and I was sure he would stop me.
That couldn’t happen. My desire for him was far too great. I would do anything he wanted. That wasn’t in my nature at all.
I felt the moisture between my legs, and my breasts seemed to be growing. I had to get away from him before I did something I would regret forever.
This man was dangerous.
I decided to run. I am fast and run whenever I find the time. It’s an almost sexual experience when my body screams for air and I push it further and further.
If I ran into the grove behind me and made a turn, I would be at my car before he realized I was gone, and I could drive away.
I rounded a stand of scarves and gathered my long skirt. Running in a skirt wasn’t my specialty, but it would work. It would have to.
I ran.
Into the small wooded area and quickly deeper in so that I couldn’t be seen from the festival.
My nerves calmed down a little, and I slowed down. It was quiet here in the forest, and suddenly I felt stupid.
Why was I running away? I would regret it again. I wanted the man like hell. Now I’ll never know what it would have been like with him.
The feeling of impending danger kept me running.
I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye, and when I turned around to look, it was already too late.
All I felt was the impact of a body against mine, and I flew to the side and crashed painfully into a tree. His body crashed into mine and squeezed the air out of my lungs.
Then everything happened almost simultaneously.
Something was forced into my mouth, and my hands were held painfully by my wrists. Like in a vice. One hand grabbed the back of my neck, and then he wrapped my braid around his hand. I wore a long braid for the festival, as was customary in the Middle Ages, as well as a wide, long skirt, which now prevented my every movement.
I was laid over a large tree stump like a sack of potatoes, and then he let go of my hair.
He put my hands behind my back so that I could almost touch the elbows of the other hand with my fingers and grabbed them with one hand. I was motionless and could only kick with my legs, which were no longer touching the ground.
I tried to scream, but the rag in my mouth made it hard to breathe.
Then I felt his other hand on my legs and between them.
My skirt was lifted up and my thighs rubbed painfully over the tree bark as he pushed his knees between my kicking legs.
He pressed himself against me, and I felt his hard erection.
“A wildcat to my liking,” he whispered in my ear.
“You want it, don’t you? You want it as hard as you can. Show me how wet you are.” His hand tugged at my panties and pushed them aside. His finger went to my wet middle, and I felt ashamed. I was wet.
I screamed into the rag in my mouth with anger, shame, and lust. But no longer with fear.
“I’m going to fuck you now, and if I like it, you will be allowed to come here again,” he said, sliding a second finger inside me.
His fingers moved slowly and deeply, and he seemed to have all the time in the world. But he was completely crazy.
Come again?!!!
I would kill him if I only got the chance. This bastard was raping me, and there was nothing I could do. His fingers left my hot center, and I heard him moan.
“That’s how I like my whores. Wet and struggling.” I tried to squirm away when I felt his cock at my opening, but he just spread his knees wider, and my pussy lay open for him. My thighs had a few new scratches.
His cock pushed into me, and I had the impression that it was huge. He kept pushing it in deeper and deeper, and I was sure it should stop already. I felt fuller than ever before. My pussy contracted automatically, and a harsh laugh rang out behind me.
“Too much for a little cunt? You’re going to love it,” he said, starting to move.
“You want to fight? You’re going to beg me to do it again. I’ll fuck you until you come. Then you’ll see what kind of whore you really are. A whore who lets a stranger fuck her and enjoys it.”
I expected him to get it over with quickly, and since there was nothing I could do, I stopped struggling. His cock went so deep inside me that it was painful. I closed my eyes and decided to wait until it was over.
And then my body betrayed me again.
My pussy was getting really wet, and I heard a smacking sound as his balls slapped against me. I got hot again, and my abdomen opened willingly for him.
“Yes, enjoy it, little cunt. You want it more than any man you’ve ever wanted before. I fuck you here in the forest by a tree, and you want it. You want it more than anything.” His cock moved faster but no less deeply and the pain turned to pleasure.
It was all I could feel. I didn’t care where I was, and I didn’t care that he was raping me. I wanted it so badly that I could only hear his words through the fog.
“You’ll come here next week. Right around this time. You will wear a blindfold and stand here by the tree. Then you’ll do everything I want.”
Now his cock was ramming my pussy so hard that I felt tears in my eyes. And then I felt something else.
I started to drip.
An orgasm, hard and violent, approached quickly with each of his thrusts, and I felt my pussy pouring onto his balls as if I were peeing on him. I couldn’t control it, nor did I wanted to stop it. I came explosively and jerked under his pumping cock.
“Oh, that much juice for me, little cunt? You want me that bad? Let me see you drip.” The orgasm continued to shake me, and I didn’t quite understand what was happening as he pulled his cock out of me.
“Your pussy really gives everything. I like that,” I heard him say, and felt that I was really pushing small amounts of fluid out of me as I was still twitching.
Then I heard him moan, and his cum shot onto my butt and legs as he milked his cock behind me. It took a while, and then I heard him walk away.
My panties and the front of my skirt, on which I was partially lying, were completely wet.
I picked myself up and walked in the direction where I thought my car was.
When I got home, I threw my clothes in the wash and got in the shower.
I didn’t even realize when I had started masturbating. I relived every moment of the afternoon and savored it fully. His hands, the bark on my thighs, his cock inside me, my orgasm. As I came under the warm jet of water, the words echoed in my mind:
“You’ll come here next week. Right around this time. You will wear a blindfold and stand here by the tree. Then you’ll do everything I want.”