1. The Wolves of Berlin


    Date: 9/17/2015, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Coercion, Consensual Sex, Cruelty, Death, Exhibitionism, First Time, Horror, Lesbian, Monster, Murder, Oral Sex, Reluctance, Teen, Author: BlackRonin, Rating: 0, Source: sexstories.com

    frame a kind of cradle, arms flung around his neck and legs wrapped tight around his waist. Every time his face lowered a little she darted up to kiss him; his lips were almost cool as hers touched them. Her tongue slipped between them and for a second they held on to each other in a long, deep kiss that threatened to untie a knot in her chest she’d walked around with all of her life, or at least all of her life that she remembered and that mattered. She broke off and entwined him even more firmly against herself, encouraging him to go as hard and as fast as they could. His admonishment that they could leave no trace would be spoiled if they broke the cot, but so many other things were broken already that this seemed unimportant. When she came she thought she saw stars in the dark. She was afraid one of them might look like the full moon, sacred to the demon wolves, but they remained stars until fading from view, and that was a comfort. And that was it. They stayed in each other’s arms as long as they dared, and when it was time to go they both knew it. He was undoubtedly off to make contact with some Communist circuit or another, most likely not even in the city. And where was she going? Like an idiot, she had not given it a thought. But naturally there could be only one place: to the Jesuit. If anyone had escaped the roundup it would be him, and he was the only person she could rely on not to turn her away. Besides, she had a sense that he should know about Fontenoy’s ...
    confession. Fabien left before her, so they wouldn’t be spotted together. No time for goodbyes. He paused long enough--half a second, maybe less--to give her a single look, and that was as much of a gesture as either could afford. The room seemed colder once the door closed behind him. She could just lie down here and wait to be discovered. It would be easier. Instead she put her boots back on. She could make it to the church before curfew fell. What would happen then she couldn’t imagine, but at least she had a mission now: Get there. It was always easier with a mission in mind. A light was still on when she arrived, but the church door was slightly ajar. Bethanie wavered at the threshold. Once inside, she saw that precious candles were lit but being wasted on an empty nave. She wanted to call out but her better instincts stopped her. She heard the faint creaking of a hinge. It wasn't the door behind her and it wasn't the rectory door, which meant it came from the confessional. She slid off her shoes and padded over to it. The floor was cold on her bare feet. She put her ear to the wall but heard nothing. The other compartment was open, so she stuck her head inside, trying to get close to the screen without creating a shadow on it. She held her breath; cold droplets of perspiration crept down her face… And then a voice said: "Chastel.” Wood splintered and the booth split apart. Bethanie fell and scrambled away, fingertips struggling for purchase on the smooth floor. Madeline ...
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