Red Confession: Ravished by the Farmhand in the 1965 Summer Heat

Summer 1965. In-laws’ house in Kabylia. Thick night air clings like sweat. Seven months without a man. My husband’s gone to France. Sidi too. Only Lala sleeps, snoring deep. The worker haunts me. Tall. Muscled. Eyes downcast. But that bulge. Yesterday, I flashed him. Opened my robe. Breasts bare. Cunt exposed. His hand on my tit. He fled. Heart pounding. Tonight, I burn.

Bed sheets stick to my skin. Pussy throbs. Wet already. Fingers slip inside, but no. Need his cock. Twenty cm? More? Like my husband’s, but savage. Farm-strong. Risk death. Sidi would slit our throats. Family honor. But desire devours reason. Legs shake. Heart races. Nipples hard as stones. I rise. Robe falls. Naked under Kabyle dress. Door creaks. Lala snores. Hallway black. Guest room door. Hand trembles. Push.

The Fever Builds

Candle flickers. He sits. Awake. Eyes devour me. ‘Knew you’d come.’ Voice rough. I strip. Dress pools at feet. Naked. Breasts heavy. Cunt dripping. He stands. Pants tented. Huge. Like the donkey’s prick I glimpsed. Pulse hammers. Air electric. Skin fever-hot. He grabs. Mouth crushes mine. Tongue invades. Hands knead tits. Pull nipples. I gasp. Legs buckle. Urgency claws. Now. Fuck me now.

He shoves me down. Bed creaks. Legs up, over shoulders. Cockhead presses slit. One thrust. Fills me. Stretches. Burns sweet. Guts deep. I scream. He pounds. Skin slaps skin. Sweat flies. Heart explodes. Cunt clenches. Waves crash. Orgasm rips. He grunts. Doesn’t stop. Deeper. Brutal. I claw his back. Nails dig. Blood scent mixes sweat.

Consumed in Flames

Pulls out. Flips me. Edge of bed. Legs dangle. Rams in. Pummels. Balls slap ass. Tits bounce wild. Another peak. Body shakes. Convulses. He growls. ‘Beautiful tits. Perfect ass.’ Fingers dig hips. Bruise tomorrow. Don’t care. Lost. Possessed.

Rebands instant. On knees. Levrette. Ass high. Cock spears. Fucks like beast. Hips crash. Guts churn. Sperms floods. Hot. Overflow. Drips thighs. I collapse. Tremble. Skin scorched. Breath ragged.

He strokes hair. Cock softens. But eyes promise more. ‘Go now. Tomorrow, late. Say work. Sleep here. Bring olive oil. Fuck your ass. Or don’t come.’ Knows I’m hooked. Cunt aches empty. Already crave. Slip out. Door shuts soft. Lala snores. Bed welcomes. Body hums. Marked. Owned. Danger lingers. But this blaze? Worth every risk. Skin still burns. Heart races on. Unique. Eternal.