Penance

What follows is a true story. Names have been omitted to protect the anonymity of those involved.

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The details of my experience with X have never come into full and sharp focus, so deep was the pool of alcohol and despair I had immersed myself in at the time. Moments of specific memories penetrate through that flat cloud here and there with obvious gaps in time. Who knows what happened in between or lead up to what? Maybe he does...

Those memories are like brief movies I can play over and over until I squirm in my seat, cringing and suffocating under the burdening and repeated question: Why?

There are no excuses someone like me can offer to counter the things I've done. Only explanations, and don't take them as apologies because they're not. I can't even say that I'm sorry for what I've done. I can't say that I regret any of it, no matter what it's done to someone else.

Now I'll tell you that above all else, I feel guilt. Is it possible to feel guilt but not regret? I feel guilt the way a pervert feels bad for reaching up a pretty girl's skirt. Sure it was wrong, but I enjoyed it so much. I stalked my prey and he was a sacrifice to the coming transition in my life. For five years I had felt more and more powerless in my life. I weeded him out as a weakling in the group of men at my cold disposal.

In the nights preceding my depravity I would lie in bed alone and feel the rising pressure inside. I had no desire to control that chaotic energy that would surely suck in any hapless person who came too close. Looking back I feel ashamed by how easily I found him, cornered him, and dangled the bait until he reached out to me, within reach to be snatched up and devoured.

It took very little effort and no time to draw him in. The first night we watched a movie all the way through and then his mouth found mine. Wriggling away, I stretched out on the floor in the dark. Soon his hands were all over me, spreading my legs and plunging his fingers into my dripping cunt. I screamed out over and over that night as his hand worked furiously inside me, pulling out to rub open palmed over my erect clitoris. I humped my hips back against his hand, gripping his shoulders tight and tossing my head from side to side. My mind exploded with need, I thought I would set the whole city on fire, but I did not cum.

The night was such a blur. He wanted me to suck his cock but I refused, laughing. "Why should you get what YOU want?" I teased. He had refused to penetrate me with his cock. Deciding to remain sexually celibate, he hadn't been with a woman for over ten years. He wanted a romantic relationship before sex. Yet he wanted to fuck my mouth. The idea was laughable. I bared my teeth in a sadistic grin that was invisible to him in the darkness of his house.

I stayed at his place that night but slept alone on the couch. I refused to share his bed. I wanted to be alone. I told him I didn't like sharing the space where I slept.

I didn't see him until days later. I spent the night again and we woke up in bed together, naked under the sheets. Relatively chaste despite our nudity, he had only used his hands on me the night before. In the morning sun he stirred and gazed into my eyes for a while before slowly rolling over and positioning himself between my legs, mounting me without saying a word. Reaching down he grabbed his cock and placed the head of his erection against the entrance of my pussy.

I watched his eyes as he thrust his hips forward tentatively. I saw the reflection of his morals and the deep meaning he felt was present between us as his cock sank deeper into my cunt. His eyes widened as I gasped and spread my legs wider, giving way to his penetration. I couldn't bring myself to hold him as he started to thrust, his shaft dragging past the lips of my vagina. Abandoning his resolve and morals, he began to fuck me, needing the wetness of my cunt and the gasps that were forced from my lips with each thrust. I was fascinated feeling this unknown cock nestled inside my body, pushing deep with a sigh from his lips and pulling out slowly, as if he had forgotten sex.

He stopped before he came. I knew he would expect more from me now. He would want love and romance.

I sucked his cock in the darkness of his office that night. Illuminated by dimmed computer screens he stood while I gripped his shaft in one hand and sucked, dragging my lips over his length and head. He groaned about how good it felt and I suppressed a laugh. He sounded so polite. "Suck my cock. That feels so very nice." Vulgar and dainty at the same time; I thought about raising a pinky while I fucked him with my mouth.

I stared forward into the blurry darkness of his pubic hair, my tongue flattened to lick the length of his penis as I bobbed my head back and forth. It wouldn't be until later in the daylight that I would see the deep pores at the base of his curled hairs, or the odd crooked head of his cock.

He kept tensing and nearly shuffling his feet as I sucked and pumped him harder. I knew he was afraid to cum. He was afraid to be rude even as he ached to grab a fistful of my hair and pump his hips into my face, choking me with his cock as he exploded hot cum down my throat.

I pulled my mouth off of his swollen cock and stared up into the glittering of his eyes. I squirm now recalling my voice, tortured and low, the stereotype Venus begging like a whore. I told him I wanted his cum. His eyes widened at my words "Really?" he breathed. The quickest way to a man's jugular is through his cock.

Without another word, I seized his shaft in my hand and sucked his length into my mouth, pumping and licking. His moaned longer and louder, his breath coming in gasps as he tentatively reached out to put his hand on the back of my head. Carefully he gripped my hair. I moaned. He thrust his hips, emboldened by my demands for his cum. He jackhammered his cock into my mouth in short rapid thrusts. My lips felt numb. "I'm coming." He choked through whimpering gasps. I pulled my mouth away and pumped hard with my wet hand. His cock began to jerk and spasm as I arched my back. Arches of jism splattered against my tits as I pumped him, milking every last drop from him before he shuddered with overstimulation and pulled away.

The next night he sat underneath me as I gripped the back of the couch, shoving my breasts in his face as I fucked him. Over the top of his head, I looked around the room as his tongue licked at my hard nipples. I ground my pussy on him, jerking my breasts away from him to arch my back and spread my legs wider, sinking as far down on his shaft as I could. Harder and faster I whipped back and forth on his lap as he held on to my hips, staring down at my crotch under the thatch of hair where the base of his cock could be seen in glimpses, glistening with my juices. He seemed unable to look away, unable to stop watching a woman take his body for her own pleasure. As if I was putting our sex on display, I rose off of his shaft and plunged back down the whole length, letting him see his cock splitting open the entrance of my hot pussy. My skin flushed as my stretched pussy lips tugged the hood over my clitoris each time I pulled off of him and sank back down.

His face was red and he glanced at me quickly before looking away. I knew it was too intense for this seemingly pious man. It was like fucking a priest. I laughed and groaned at the idea, sinking down hard and grinding against him again, feeling his penis rock back and forth against the walls of my cunt. My fingers were like talons as I gripped the fabric of the couch, gasping as my pussy began to spasm, my over stimulated clit rubbing hard against him.

He watched me with wide eyes as I fucked myself to orgasm on his cock. As I came down, I couldn't relax; he had to nearly pry me off of the couch. Lifting me off his erection, he directed me to lie down on the floor.

I lay back and let him spread my legs. Kneeling before me, his erection bobbed before he grabbed it and pushed deep into my cunt with one thrust. I raised my knees up against either side of him and felt the roughness of the carpet burn against my skin with each thrust from his hips. He began to pound harder and harder, the juices from my cum letting him slip rapidly in and out of the folds of my pussy. Through the haze of alcohol and breathless gasps for air as he rested his weight on me, I felt a sharp pain inside me.

His hard thrusts began to slow but deepen and I cried out each time. Lowering himself to rest on his elbows, he grabbed my face and thrust deep into me again "Look at me." He demanded. I did. Wincing, I watched his face contort as he pounded his orgasm into me, his cock swelling and spasming in release into my body. I gasped for air and blinked away a stinging in my eyes I later realized was his sweat. He pulled out and I had bled on his floor. I stumbled to the bathroom to clean myself up.

He cleaned the spot on the floor and dressed me in a bathrobe. He seemed worried and I was embarrassed.

The guilt increases when I recall those moments and his genuine concern for me. I felt so in control and yet without even the weakest grip on life, knowing how he felt and resenting him for abandoning his own morals in an attempt to change mine. He wanted to fuck me into loving him. I wanted to control something in life.

I had to heal for a day or two, and he satisfied himself by rubbing my clit having me suck him off. One morning he held my legs open and made me cum again and again with his fingers. I squirmed against him or kneeled before him.

One of our last nights together I was on my knees, my chest pressed into the cushions of his couch as he sank his cock into me from behind. It felt good. It hurt. He was so much longer than I was used to.

I took each thrust like a deserved punishment for my wickedness. He plunged in, pressing hard against me as if he wanted to restrain me with his cock alone. I swear that night he knew that his tactic hadn't worked. He knew I wouldn't love him and I wouldn't stay. The grip on my hips felt cruel. My mouth gaped as I cried out each time it hurt. I stared blindly forward at the seat of the couch until he pulled me back towards him, up against his chest. Still thrusting in and out, he licked my shoulder and gripped my breasts hard in his hands. His stubble was like sand paper against my neck as he licked my skin and hissed against my ear "You like this?" He seemed to demand it more than ask. My head dropped forward as I tried to escape his hot breath, I weakly nodded as he thrust deep. He gripped me hard, almost shaking me as he pumped in and out. Reaching around he roughly pinched my clit "You like feeling my dick up in you, don't you baby?" Between my legs his cock slid easily in and out, drenched in my wetness.

"Yes!" I cried as if it was a confession. Guilt. Admission. I was his whore. He should have paid me for this fuck, for how much it meant in my heart. He pounded against my ass so hard and fast my repeated cries became one near scream. Unable to escape his punishing thrusts, I took each one, vaguely wondering if he would make me bleed again. As my pussy tightly gripped his shaft, I could feel the detail of his penis as he pulled almost all the way out before plunging back into my dripping pussy. With his cock slamming into me, he dug his nails into my hips and roared an orgasm into me as I screamed in pain. The head of his penis pressed hard against my cervix, grinding against my tender flesh as he gasped and whimpered behind me. I stayed still, almost obedient, accepting every drop of his cum as its heat washed my sore insides. He continued to pump his hips slow and slower until he came to a stop, hinging his hips against my ass, his cock curved and twitching inside me as I trembled.

My jaws had snapped down, clamped down on him. It was barely a chase. Barely a challenge. This pious man who wore pants so tight it was suppression in itself fucked me like a whore on the floor of his house. This man who liked to be in control of a quietly lived life had knelt on the floor and buried his face between my legs, licking my pussy to orgasm and would do it again if I demanded.

I reached out to him. Held him close. Kissed him. Fucked him. Laughed as I snapped the neck of his resolve. Conquered and left. And again now I squirm in my seat.