Cara walked out of the store clutching her purchases for the upcoming vacation. She eschewed plastic bags, because Christ surely would have frowned on such cumulative waste year after year. It was ungodly hot outside and her flowy blonde hair bobbed with each springy step, helping to cool her neck.
She was smiling, love of the morning's service still fresh in her mind. She carefully got in her unlocked Geo Metro on the account of the floor-length dress she wore, still smiling, and cranked the engine. It would take a few minutes for the A/C to get going in the Texas humidity and she had a long drive to her small town.
Very suddenly, her smile disappeared. She looked over to her right, and a fat unshaved guy was standing by her car window, his penis hanging outside of his cargo shorts, his hand tugging it fast.
The man stared at her right in the eyes. Cara stared back and covered her mouth in shock. The man looked desperate, he kept stroking it just so. His face looked screwed up like he was in agony, and he kept inching closer toward the glass. Or at least his penis did. Her little car was rather low to the ground so the penis ended up being smack in the middle of the window. His face disappeared as he got closer, blocked by the roof.
In time, the penis made contact with her glass, and as Cara kept staring at it, the man knocked on the window with a knuckle. His penis was becoming hard. She defensively pretended that she didn't understand why he knocked and just watched, frozen in place. Within seconds his penis was now fully erect and he was beating it desperately and morbidly Cara could not peel her eyes off it. Her heart was beating so fast and her stomach felt as if it migrated to her throat. After the second knock she put the shifter in reverse and backed out of the parking spot and drove off.
At first, she told nobody about the incident. That evening she couldn't go to sleep. Instead, the moment kept coming to her mind. That unkempt penis kept pushing against the glass, head flattened against it. She kept trying to diagnose the face, that particular grimace. Was he in pain? What was that look anyway? That was so bizarre and unholy.
Cara didn't know much about sex on the account of her upbringing. She'd taken an abstinence vow since early ages and renewed her pledge every year in a public ceremony, surrounded by her parents and friends. Year after year she was encouraged by everyone to take great pride in it, and she did.
After she graduated from highschool, her parents forbade her from attending college, comparing such places to brainwashing cults, so she was just here waiting for a husband to show up at some unspecified point in the future and so she ended up somehow bypassing dating and sex entirely. There was no husband to look forward to, she thought bitterly at times, not in her small town. Slim pickings. There were no men her age. It was unfair. Raw incidents like this one triggered her in ways she'd never anticipated and brought this up to the surface under which she buried it. She felt unsettled, and she was unsettled.
Next Sunday she told a youth pastor at her church about the incident. He initially sounded disturbed, and then started asking her uncomfortable questions that made it seem as if she did something wrong. As if it was her fault. Why didn't she scream? Why didn't she call for help? How long did she watch?
The pastor shifted positions in his seat several times. Each question made her feel increasingly more uncomfortable. She was asked to describe the penis. She had to repeat her description of how hairy it was. What shape it was, how big. Was it circumcized? Was it erect? The pastor adjusted his pants a few times, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation, and she felt so dirty more he probed. He put his hand on her shoulder to reassure her, his other hand still under the table.
She should have just screamed and ran off right away, he told her and she agreed, and now she felt that guilt square on her shoulders. Hiram's hand didn't feel so comforting to her, especially while he was making her relive the experience. He started stroking her shoulder gently, still asking her disturbing questions about the incident. She wasn't so sure now whether he needed to adjust his pants so much. But then he stilled himself and her release came.
"Sometimes, God wills for one of His daughters to experience wickedness so that she will emerge stronger than ever," he said, "temptation is therefore crucial. Do you understand?"
Cara nodded. Cara did. And what Hiram said made so much sense that the thought of it was purifying. All the same, she was glad that the inquisition ended and it was time to go home. Perhaps she was too old to keep volunteering for him, she thought. She'd talk to her mom about it later.
That Sunday evening, she couldn't fall asleep. She kept thinking about the disgusting parking lot man stroking his penis and pushing it against her window. Curiosity suppressed her guilt. What would happen if she'd rolled it down, she wondered? She still pretended she didn't know why he knocked, but for an entirely different reason now. Hers was an old car without power windows, so she would've had to lean over and would've seen it up close. So close.
Slowly, two of her fingers slipped under her nightshift and made their way into her wetness. Right into the forbidden place that made her feel guilty for every second of touching it. She sighed in anticipation. Then, the third finger was invited to the gathering. She was so wet. Fourth had an invitation but was always late to show up. The thumb never made an entrance unless he was forced to make an appearance. But she was so wet. They got to work. She contorted her hand to make her fingers fit.
Cara gasped when her knuckle cracked gently and her entire fist slipped into her pussy.
Masturbating felt guilty enough but what she needed to get off was so far beyond it and yet it made her feel excited. Long ago, she realized, her virginity became a theoretical matter.
She was limber, and this is what happened when she was that horny. It always shocked her at how nasty her little secret quirk was, despite having done this for years. It's something she could never tell anyone about, she was sure of it but she just could not get stretched enough. It started with fingers and she could not satiate herself until she felt filled up. Totally, completely, filled up. She worked herself up to this size over the years and she was naturally always so wet for it.
She kept picturing the man knocking on her window a third time and wondering what would've happened had she rolled it down. Her wrist and fingers felt uncomfortable in that position, it hurt really, but the sensation they generated made it worth the pain and she moaned softly. Her legs and clenching asscheeks were now doing all the work anyway, making her body slide up and down on it minutely. It wasn't much movement but what made it feel good was the impact of the weight. Her head rolled back and she closed her eyes and remembered the disgusting man stroking his penis. The nastiness of the thought drove her to play with herself furiously with her free hand.
She imagined herself leaning over to roll the window down, and then she almost stopped herself from taking it further in her mind.
But, she was way too curious and way too horny to stop and she definitely knew what penises were for. She fought the memory and changed him to be handsome and in shape, in her mind. Her imagination stepped over that uncrossable line and she imagined him pushing it against the missing glass and instead hitting her face with his penis, stroking it into her mouth. She needed to smooth the edges a little bit so she imagined he was promised to her. In her fantasy, they'd soon be married, it was okay. It was alright. She could go on.
