(4)Obey!..the priest and the whore. by SandyC

A literotic sexstories: (4)Obey!..the priest and the whore. by SandyC ,

Nothing is as it seems. Is it more fun to fuck a priest than a cop?

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“I’m sorry to spring this on you, but I didn’t see any other way to talk to you undisturbed. I also don’t want us to be seen together for the time being.”

„Yes, walking through the village hand in hand with a priest would probably not go down well here.“

„That’s not what I mean.”

„Then, what do you mean?”

„I am here for a reason.“ I can’t suppress my laughter and can only get my words out between bursts of laughter.

„Yeah, I felt the reason pretty clearly.” He pulls me closer to him and laughs along with me.

„I’ve been reading up on you.” A few alarm bells go off in my head, but I don’t panic just yet. There’s not much he could find out about me, so I wait to see what he says.

„You’re new in town, you bought the house less than two months ago, and you’re single.” OK, I think. Obvious and generally accessible facts.

„You’re beautiful, you’re sexy, and you like medieval markets.“ I play with the hair on his chest with my fingers and snuggle closer to him. “And you’re the perfect prey.” My fingers stop playing, he has my full attention.

“There have been alarmingly high number of brutal rapes across the country, especially in rural areas. As always with such cases, the number of unreported cases is very high because only a small percentage are reported, but this series is different.” My alarm bells slowly change to a slightly shrill tone that is hard to ignore.

“What’s different?” I ask, hoping my voice sounds neutral and interested.

“None of the women reported their rapists.”

“None?” I ask.

“Not a single one.”

Images of my own “rape” arise in my mind, and I feel the longing deep in my belly to experience it again and again. There is still a small scratch on my thigh from the tree bark that my rapist pressed me against when he fucked me so hard. Only now do I realize that I was watching the spot when my horny priest licked me.

The images don’t want to leave my mind. I have to force myself away from it because it wouldn’t be good if my priest realized how wet I am again right now.

I have to concentrate fully on him.

“How do you know that?” I ask and add before he can answer. “And who are you?” It is obvious that he is not a priest. The information he has is not read out as announcements at mass.

“I’m investigating undercover and trying to find the rapists.”

“There are several of them?”

“At least two.” My brain switches back to head-cinema, and I remember the warm liquid flowing from my fucked pussy and how incredibly good it felt. Yes, there are definitely two.

Maybe more. How about three of them? What would they do to me? How intense would it be then?

I realize that my heart is beating faster, and I try to calm myself down.

“And why are you here? To warn me?”

“Yeah, that too.” He remains silent, and I look up at him. His face has taken on a tense expression, as if he’s thinking about what he can tell me. I decide to ask questions because if we’re both silent, my brain has too many opportunities to go back to my “rape” and get me even hotter.

“How do you know about the rapes if they weren’t reported? Are the victims dead?”

“No, all the victims we know of so far are alive.”

“And what do they say about the rapists?”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.” That sounds interesting.

“Can’t they remember? Are they being threatened? Tell me something that makes me understand. What makes you think there have been rapes if nobody reports anything?”

“There are videos of it on the net.” My heartbeat is racing, and I can’t think of anything else but watching my video.

To relive it all and see for myself that it really does look as beautiful as it felt.

Did I present myself correctly?

Was it to see my rapist’s cock passing down my throat and him cumming in my stomach?

Was the camera on a tripod, or was it operated by a third person?

No. I would have heard or felt a third person sooner or later. These were all questions I had to ask myself later.

Now, with difficulty, I returned to reality.

“If there are videos, then surely you have lots of clues about the rapists and the victims.” I don’t want to ask too specifically. I can already imagine his expression when I ask, Is his cock really that long, or does it just feel that way?

I find that funny and suppress a chuckle.

“The videos are well edited. You can see the rape with all the gruesome details, but the faces are either not visible or completely pixelated.”

“So you have victims that you can’t identify and rapists that you also can’t identify. No reports, nothing? Maybe it wasn’t rape, maybe it was just an act? At whose instigation are you investigating anyway?”

“Your question is justified, but you haven’t seen the videos. There are many, and they are clear. It doesn’t look like an act. The women really do suffer pain, humiliation, and sexual violence. I’ll spare you the details, but even if a couple of women would get involved in something like this volountairly , there can’t be that many.”

I want to tell him that he has no idea, but maybe he does, and we’re talking about completely different people. Maybe the man I like to call the rapist in my mind isn’t my throat-fucker at all.

“The videos are long. The women are obviously held captive for hours and raped over and over again.”

The thought that arises in my head is: Or do they keep coming back because they can’t get enough? Just like me.

It’s getting dangerous because I can feel how wet I am.

“You say they all survive. How do you know that? Do they go to the doctor afterward? To the emergency room?”

“I can’t give you details like that. I just want you to be careful. Above all, don’t open the door like you did to me today. I could be one of them. Do you realize that?”

He has no idea how clear that was to me when I saw him in the doorway and how happy I was to let him in.

“What’s your name anyway?” I ask, trying to distract myself.

“Sam, my name is Sam.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam,” I say with a grin and stand up. “Thanks for the warning. I need to go to the bathroom and take a shower.” Yes, I really do need to shower.

“Mind if I shower with you?” I grin at him and get up.

The shower is full of steam very quickly, and that’s just fine with me. The hot spray hits my neck and breasts as he soaps my back. When he turns around so I can do the same.

I just have to do something else roo.

The thought occurred to me as we got into the shower, and it wouldn’t let me go. Slowly and pleasurably, I let urine escape from my bladder and flow down my legs. The main jet of the shower is directed at the man in front of me, and I can enjoy the warm feeling and the memories associated with it while I work on his back.

I hope he fucks me right here, but first I enjoy pissing myself in his presence.

I can’t and don’t want to explain it; I just feel it, and it makes me hot.

Then I press my body against his from behind and squeeze my bladder empty.

I reach around him and grasp his already hard cock. He turns me to the side and lets the water splash down on both of us from the side while he presses himself against me from behind. I let him slide into me and press my hands against the cool tiles of the shower.

He’s aroused, but not just because he loves fucking me so much.

I know for a fact that he’s also thinking about the videos he mentioned. He wants to fuck me the way he saw it there, and I stand with my legs a little wider and move my body further down. As he thrusts harder, I start to moan. He fucks me hard, and I have to use a lot of strength to hold my position.

“Yes,” I moan loudly, and he grabs me hard around the waist. Then he pumps into me with a force and speed that quickly turns the pent-up excitement into an oncoming orgasm.

“Fuck, yes!” I hear him moan, and I can’t imagine that the men in his videos can fuck a woman harder from behind then he is fucking me.

Now all he’d have to do is piss inside me, and we’d have the exact replay.

The thought is too much for me, and I come hard. He keeps pumping and pumping until my orgasm subsides.

Then he pulls his cock out and squirts on my ass. His cum washes right off, but I know he’s staring at it.

Has he raped me now? I find the thought both funny and absurd.

I leave the shower with trembling legs.

“How did you get a job like this, Sam? Tell me something about yourself.”

“I actually wanted to be a priest. Then my older sister was raped, and it really affected her. That’s when I changed my mind and joined the police. Now I’m here, traveling after the criminals. They leave few traces, but sometimes you can see the surroundings in the videos. Most of the rapes take place outdoors, and, as luck would have it, one of our technicians is an amateur botanist.

He recognized a type of moss that is very rare and was able to narrow down an area for us to search.

That’s why I’m here.

We went downstairs, and I made coffee.

Should I tell Sam that it wasn’t rape? Or was it just not me?

How do you explain to a man you’ve just slept with that it was great to be slapped in the face and that I only swallowed the spit of an unknown man to achieve exactly that effect?

Because that’s exactly what I realize now. I did it to make him punish me, and I will do it again.

I would like to help Sam.

If the other women really were raped, then I have to help him. But I also need to be sure.

“How did you even get on the rapists’ trail if I obviously didn’t complain?”

“The videos are posted on a site we monitor, and since they not only show the rapes but also have the title “Another whore to rape,” we had to investigate.

I don’t even try to get him to show me the videos. Not yet.

My own won’t be online yet. I assume I have a few more sessions to go before the men are done with me. Now that I know I’m being filmed and that it’s going to look like rape, I’m going to get even more pleasure out of it.

“Can you at least tell me what the men look like? Black, white, fat, thin, with wooden legs?” I ask casually, as if to keep the conversation going. Maybe Sam’s de***********ion will confirm or disprove my guess.

“One is an average guy like me. About my height, a little overweight.” I have to laugh.

“You’re an average guy? That’s good to know.” He grins, flattered.

“The other one is a bit more striking. When he’s not raping women, he probably spends all his time in the gym pumping up his muscles. His whole physique is an advertisement for anabolic steroids.” Cold shivers run down my spine and are immediately replaced by a wave of excitement.

That’s them! These are the men who have fucked me.

I know I’m doing the wrong thing, and I should tell him everything. But I can’t. I can’t tell a man I’m interested in what I’ve done. I can’t tell him that I thought it was hot to be called a whore and that I want to do it again. He wouldn’t understand. I don’t understand it myself.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask, even though I know how I could help.

“Just be careful and call me if you suspect anything. I mean it seriously. If they get their hands on you, it’ll be too late.”

Yes, Sam, I think as I lock the door behind him.

It’s already too late.

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