If you just stopped crying, the night would be so beautiful. The moon is so bright, the air is warm but not humid, the sound of the river is so relaxing... Or it would be, if you weren't crying like a bitch. Thank God nobody can hear you, it's really embarrassing how loud you're being... especially because you keep fucking cumming. As I inch closer, trying to find the best angle at which to spear your insides, I grip your face in one hand and turn it to one side, then the other. I'm trying to find your prettiest angle, your makeup running down your cheeks with your tears, glimmering in the moonlight.
I almost can't believe you came with me here. I mean, you had to know it was dangerous. How many times have you heard not to be isolated like this? Yet here you are. I guess I should be thankful you're stupid enough to trust me. Otherwise, I wouldn't be balls deep inside you right now, and I wouldn't get to hear how sweet you sound when you cry.
I wonder when our friends are gonna come look for us. We've been gone for quite a while, I'm sure they're suspicious... But everyone knows we're into each other. Everyone sees the looks you shoot my way. I'm only doing this because you tempted me. I don't think anyone suspected that I'd rape you tonight, in the middle of the woods, in the middle of a bonfire with so many of our friends around... Of course, none of them can hear you cry. Nobody else gets to taste your tears. I'm the only one who gets to feel you squeeze around my long, thick inches, cumming over and over again, making such a mess in the dirt beneath this tree. Just me.
And when I'm done, of course, you'll follow me back meekly, won't you? You'll make something up about your makeup. You'll come sit next to me at the fire and feel the ache between your legs and pray that nobody notices the dark spot between your legs where my cum is leaking from your stretched out holes. Naturally, you want this. I might be your rapist but only because I know you need to feel me impale you. I'm doing you a favor, don't you see? Why would I be sorry?
So stop fucking crying, or you'll find something a lot sharper than my hand at your throat.
