The Christian woman in the cabin – Part 3

The Christian woman in the cabin – 3

The following hours Rachel reached the pinnacle of sex more and deeper than she ever had her whole life. Although she was in a constant ecstatic rush, she felt a calm in her mind making her able to observe and rationalize in a clarity she had never thought possible. It was like she finally had come into her own and with that there came control.

With almost animal-like passion she assaulted the biker guy all night long. She knew now that she was a phallus worshipper – not only for the biker-guy’s cock as nice it undoubtedly was – but rather of the proud firmness, the soft skin, the pulsating lust, the addictive aroma and scent, and above all for its ability to emanate pure lust. She knew already there were many other cocks she would give herself to.

She also knew now how much she loved her body. Though she always had known that she was pretty, she never had been in peace with her outward appearance. There always had been something that was not good enough. Now however as her body was able to let her experience lust and fulfillment beyond everything she had dared to long for, she adored everything of it. She adored her smooth skin that gave her the ability to feel the depths of passion, her luscious breasts that could both create and receive lust, her willing pussy that could both burn and enflame with a fire of overwhelming lust, her soft lips that could kiss and engulf sensuality and passion, her tongue that could touch, taste and torture, and first and foremost her eyes that could perceive and tell, freeze and melt, control and make lose control. While the guy had been going outside for a quick fag, Rachel lay on the large bed and touched herself all over her body. She felt a deep love for herself and with this peace of absolute self-acceptance she fell asleep.

When she woke up the next day, the first thing she noticed was being naked. She loved the smooth sensation of the linen on her skin. Slowly it dawned on her that she should have been at work by now. Had that dawning happened at any given time in her life, an instant flood of panic would have overwhelmed her. Now however everything seemed to be different. The first thought that came to her mind was: “Do I really need to go to work?” Quickly her mind rationalized her situation. Her divorce hadn’t left her a fortune, but it helped her to build up reserves which, increased by her competent work and bourgeois lifestyle, made it possible to live on them for quite a while. And then there were certain ideas how to make a lot more money. Smiling over the ideas she took her phone and called her boss. The conversation was short. The confused reaction to her curt job resignation she followed up with an even curter “Because I can, and I want to”. Then she bid a polite farewell and hang up with a satisfied smile. The biker guy – she still didn’t know his name – had already gone, probably to work. She lay on the bed stroking her body, enjoying the solitude, enjoying the overwhelming freedom of not having to do anything and of not being denied to do anything. A deep longing started to stir in her. She lay still and let it flow through her whole being. More and more the longing manifested itself sexually. Images of pleasurable fantasies built up in her mind. She stayed still, curious if her fantasies would take new forms in her newly found freedom. And they did. Smiling she observed what kind of excitement had been lain dormant in her depths and she wondered if there was even more to discover down there. An image of a black cock hanging over her stayed with her. Her smooth hand wandered over her full breasts down to her heating-up crotch. Her touching grew more intense, and a moan escaped her lips as she imagined her tongue reaching out to the adorable black cock. She could smell its sweaty lust. She touched it, she tasted it, her tongue little by little wandered up to its completely shaven root. Then she pulled back, and her lips engulfed the pulsating dark flesh, sending a sharp burning through her body, mainly down to her loins. God, it tasted so good. Its skin, its firmness, its pulsating felt so good. It felt so good to lie under it and to succumb to its worship. Oh God, how much she wanted to succumb to it, wanted to be a slave to this glorious piece of lust but be a master to its owner. Yes, she wanted to worship, yess, she longed to submit, even be a slave – but only to lust and its instruments – to people she wanted to be a master.