TW: This story contain depictions of non-consensual sexual activity, manipulation, and coercion. It explores themes of dubious/non-consent, psychological conflict, and complex emotional responses to trauma. Reader discretion is strongly advised. If these themes are triggering or distressing for you, please consider whether this story is appropriate for you to read.
Please note: While this is a work of fiction, it includes explicit content that some readers may find disturbing. The story does not condone or glorify non-consensual acts or sexual violence in any form.
Author's Note: This is part of a series that can be read together or separately. I would highly recommend reading Part 1. However, please be aware that the style and content of Part 2 is quite different, and quite a bit darker than Part 1. That said, I hope you enjoy it!
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It had been a long day, and Caroline was tired. These were her favorite festival days, so full of emotional acceptance and, occasionally, sexual fulfillment. So full that you didn't recognize exhaustion until your body staged a full-scale rebellion.
She'd spent another evening on Hedon Hill, only this time, she and her musician festival-fuck-buddy had found a private place amongst the trees. He'd placed her hands on a tree trunk, hiked up her skirt, donned a condom, and was inside her in moments. She wasn't the kind of woman who had to be romantically interested in a man to sleep with him, but she had certainly developed a fondness for him in recent days. There was something about him she found calming, safe. He allowed her to explore all her desires and more. That they also had great sexual chemistry was just a bonus.
She smiled to herself at the memory of their more thrilling... exhibition... the day before. Fucking him against the side of her car barely pulled off the side of the road. Anyone could have seen them, but therein lay the thrill. She'd not really thought herself an exhibitionist before, but his unflappable sense of acceptance encouraged her to push her own limits.
High on life (okay, more like high on a little bit of pot and booze...), she weaved down the dusty path to her campsite. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't even notice the lone figure leaning against one of the sheds, his steel-toed boots propped against the side of the structure, the brow of his hat pulled down low over his eyes, and a half-smoked cigarette hanging from his smirking lips.
But he noticed her. Oh, he noticed her. In fact, he'd been waiting for her.
He'd been waiting for her since they were ten years old, when they terrorized everyone at the festival alongside their gang of fellow rapscallions. He'd noticed her at fourteen when she'd started to gain her womanly figure and had begun flirting with his younger brother. He thought his time had come when she'd reached college age. A few beers had led her to third base with him in the bed of his truck, but the next morning brought artificial amnesia and things returned to how they always were. Him pining and her ignoring.
He watched her continue down the hill to where they all camped together. Once she was sufficiently ahead of him, he pushed off the wall and began to follow her.
She finally made it to her tent, unzipping the door and nearly tripping over the lip as she stumbled inside. She closed herself in, but much to his enjoyment, she neglected to do up the tent windows before stripping off her crop top and letting her magnificent breasts fall free. God damn. He'd thought they were perfect ten years ago, but his memory was nothing compared to the fully matured woman in front of him. She bent down and he could tell she was removing her shorts, but all he could focus on was how her tits hung free, their full weight and size evident now that they were pointing directly at the ground.
He could feel his erection growing, and with the heel of his palm, he pushed at it through the coarse denim of his jeans. Fuck, he was so ready for her. Little did she know. But patience was a virtue, and he was a VERY patient man. So he found a tree, resumed his statue-like shrug against its trunk, and waited.
She pulled a sleep shirt over her head and climbed into her cot. He didn't have to wait long before her tossing and turning settled and she was asleep. He approached silently as a panther. Every movement was slow and deliberate. The camp was quiet, everyone long since having retired, but he didn't want to risk any interruptions to his plans. A soft zzzzzzzzz of the tent door and he was inside.
He eyed his prey. She lay on her side in the narrow camp cot, one arm tucked under her pillow and her nightgown bunched up around her thighs. It took a significant amount of self control not to simply take her immediately, but he'd been planning this for too long. He owed it to himself to do this right. To savor her.
Before allowing himself his reward, he quickly closed the tent windows, ensuring their privacy. He returned to her side and hovered over her like a specter. Where to begin? He bent over her, placed one hand on her slim ankle, and drew his work-worn fingers up her silky skin in a light touch. He was silently grateful that she was one of those women who maintained smooth legs while camping. He'd never been one for hairy, hippie chicks.
His touch stopped at the hem of her nightshirt and his breath caught in his chest. He was nervous - not about what he was about to do, for he had absolutely no reservations on that front. But there was a thrilling anticipation at finally having her in his grasp. With a shuddering exhale, he delicately pushed the fabric up and exposed one of her creamy, round ass cheeks. She wasn't wearing any underwear!
Holy shit, he thought to himself, cupping her ass and reveling in how perfectly it filled his palm. This was going to be even easier than he expected, with no panties to negotiate around. Gently pressing her torso away from himself, he encouraged her to turn over even more fully onto her stomach. Her left leg hitched up even higher as her right leg stretched out the length of the cot. Her sleepy movements unintentionally exposed her center to his hungry gaze.
His fingers drifted from the soft cushion of her ass down toward the slit beckoning to him from the juncture of her legs. The brief brush of his thumb over her forbidden hole caused her to shift in her sleep, and he froze. He waited, motionless, trying not to breathe, but she stayed sleeping. After a few more frozen moments, he proceeded with his exploration.
Finally, he was less than an inch from the true prize. When he reached her center, he was thrilled to realize her legs weren't the only thing she kept groomed. There was nothing hotter than a bare pussy! He pressed one digit into her warmth and was forced to revise that notion.
There was nothing hotter than a bare, WET pussy.
His cock, already fully hard, grew steely and threatened to burst through his Levi's. He used his spare hand to free his dick and began to stroke himself in time with his finger, strike that - fingers! - that were sliding in and out of her dripping pussy.
Any guilt he may have felt vanished. Her mind ensconced in sleep meant her body couldn't lie. And her body wanted this. Well, he thought, so did his! And he was tired of waiting.
