The Sinner

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Erotic Horror  |  House: Booksiesilk Classic Group

Francine is drawn to the stranger that comes to the cafe each morning. There is something creepy but exciting about the man in a dark suit. He looks like an old fashioned preacher but what he offers Francine is not godly.

The Sinner

The dark suited man watched the passers-by from his small roadside table.

It was a sunny morning, the sunlight glinting off the stainless-steel cutlery beside his plate. The sunshade was available to him, but he preferred it hot.

The pastry lay uneaten alongside his now cold coffee. He often sat here, on the metal folding seat. The same waitress came out every morning to serve him. A pleasant young woman who always offered a smile as he ordered the same food and drink each day but never ever ate or drank any of it. He had a look of a preacher about him, the black suit, black shirt, even his shoes and socks were black. Francine decided that she should give him some respect. There was something about him, something appealing. Maybe it was the hat and the dak glasses that appealed to her. She had seen this look before, maybe in a movie.

But the dark suited man wasn’t here for food. He had arrived in the area on a mission. He had something to offer people, something alternative, and from this roadside café he would often make his choice. It also gave him the best view of the building up ahead. The magnificent church was his ultimate goal. One day he would walk in and deliver his own sermon. Show the people an alternative to this Christian nonsense. Show them what the real world could offer them.

But first, it was time to move on. 

But maybe not yet. The waitress arrived at his side.

‘Monsieur. Can I do anything else for you’.

The man looked up at he with a smile. He knew she was ready. He looked up at her youthful face, rounded, pale, her long brown hair tied back but hanging over one shoulder coming to rest on her left breast. The man turned his gaze towards her full breasts, struggling to be controlled by her white cotton blouse. She was breathing hard, her breasts pushing harder against the small plastic buttons. There was a gap which gave him a view of her black lace bra underneath. Moving further down he saw that her black skirt covered only a small part of her upper legs. It was very short indeed.

‘Perfect’, whispered the man.

‘Excuse me’, replied Francine.

The man took reached up and took hold of her hand, gently pulling her toward the vacant seat.

Francine gasped at the man’s touch. She tried to withdraw her hand from his but couldn’t. She found herself being pulled towards him, the seat opposite also being drawn in towards his own.

He wasn’t touching the seat, but it was moving.

The man smiled at Francine, now sat alongside him. The smile made her relax, her body at ease, comfortable in his presence.

‘Thank you Francine’.

‘For what…How do you know my name?’.

‘I know everyone’s name’.

‘What do you want from me Monsieur?’, asked Francine.

‘You know what I want Francine’.

The man reached out under the table placing a hand on her thigh. Stroking, massaging, reaching up to her mound.

There was a surge of excitement that ran through her whole body.

Francine gasped, the sexual buzz overwhelming.

‘We can’t, not here’, gasped Francine, opening her legs to accommodate the man’s roaming hand.

The dark suited man knew she was his as he found her wetness and probed expertly with first one finger, then a second.

The young waitress threw her head back with another loud groan that caused an onlooker to stare at them. The man, a customer entering the café, was concerned and began to walk over. The dark suited man sensed the intrusion, turned towards the good Samaritan, and growled like a wild animal protecting his kill.

The Samaritan, his face drained of blood, felt fear like never before and fled.

Francine writhed next to the preacher, or whatever he was. She had not been aroused like this before. Her one and only previous sexual experience was all too brief, and she had taken to using her own hands for pleasure recently. But this was so much better. She could feel the man’s fingers expertly pushing against her wet pussy, hen inside, rubbing her clit to the point where she felt faint with ecstasy. As the feelings grew inside her, her juices flowed. Thrusting against the preacher’s hand, her hips were moving in tune to his own probing. She could hardly contain herself and was about to come.

‘Oh god, I think I’m going to come’, she cried.

The preacher smiled, tore her blouse to reveal her breasts housed in their fine lace bra and squeezed Francine’s breast with his free hand. As he did so he spoke.

‘He can’t help you now Francine’.

‘Please, more, squeeze me, bite me’.

The preacher tore at her underwear to reveal her naked breasts and took a nipple into his mouth before biting down hard.

Francine opened her eyes and cried out as she orgasmed in floods of ecstasy, coming over and over again in waves of pleasure she had not seen before.

The preacher removed his mouth from her breast. A trickle of blood slowly seeped from the deep bite marks. He removed his hand from her vagina and wiped the moisture with a table napkin.

Standing, he brushed himself down, ensured his hat was perfectly placed and was about to walk away when a voice behind him spoke.

Francine looked exhausted, slumped in the small seat at the table, her clothing torn and dishevelled. But there was a mischievous, satisfied look in her eye.

‘You’re the Devil’.

‘Yes, I am’, he replied.

He laughed as he walked along the road. He loved Paris. Up ahead was the Sacre Coeur, and today was the day.


Submitted: August 15, 2022

© Copyright 2022 francine mayes. All rights reserved.

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