When my (F 44) Temple-visit turned into a slut-venture [MF]

This happened a few years ago–when I was in my late 30s. This account is one of the few things I still feel guilty of.

It was around the time when I was suffering from a mental breakdown owing to work pressure and emotional pangs of attack. As a woman whose life steeped deeply into matters of religion and spiritualism, it didn’t take long before my colleagues and my family suggested me to take some time off and devote to acts of spiritualism. Of course, a more scientifically inclined man reading this would have said consulting a psychologist or a therapist would help better, and I second that person. However, the emotional scar I faced was to do with a miscarriage I had. It was an accidental pregnancy, but the sense of motherhood being snatched away from you, accidental or planned, is painful, and therapy had no scope in alleviating the pain. So, I submitted myself to the many Gods of my religion.

It was that period of my life where visiting temples was something I’d do every other week, but I wished to make a trip to a temple in a small hamlet in South Karnataka. It’s a temple I always find peace at, and a place that is my safe haven. But the work schedule of my husband and mine then was such that it was impossible for both of us to even make a trip, thanks to the contrasting work schedules. My daughter had her coaching classes and final exams, so she couldn’t come, and my mother-in-law never lived with us then. So, it was decided that I’d travel on my own, and I didn’t mind.

I made the necessary preparations for my accommodation at a decent hotel there and had a ‘pooja’ scheduled for the day after I reach the temple town. What one needs to know is that the temple town is a place that is nestled inside a forest, and the hotels and rooms aren’t as classy as one would expect. I was in a state where spiritualism was the only thing on my mind, and sex must have scored at the bottom tier.

After driving for several hours on a lonely road, and being on phone on a routine basis with my anxious husband, I reached the town at around afternoon. I checked in and freshened up and was proceeding to go to the evening prayer at the temple when I chanced upon Rahul, a colleague of mine, a family friend, and a man with whom I have had sexual encounters before. He was there with his elderly parents and his cousins. Interestingly, even though I had met his wife before, it was the first time I had met his entire extended family. After the evening ‘darshan’ (basically prayers), we stayed in close company. When I told this to my husband, he was relieved, because atleast, I now have some company.

I do not know when the sparks of lust creeped up its sultry head in me, but it was sometime between being in close contact with Rahul and our way back to the hotel. There was a sense of burning desire in me that wanted me to hold him and kiss his neck while I stroke the familiar bulge in his trousers, but I held back. I reminded myself why I was there and how much it meant for me to be remain in spiritualism. Rahul and his family stayed in a different hotel, so our interaction ended the moment I stepped into mine and got in my room. Or so I thought. Around the night time when I was planning to turn in for the night to wake up early for the pooja scheduled next day after talking to my husband, someone knocked at the door. It was Rahul.

What followed then was a blur of memories. I don’t remember the sequence in which things happened. It just happened too fast, and in a manner my mind today can’t grasp. He struck some casual conversation perhaps. I might have joked about the inappropriateness of time, place and context. He must have made an equally objectionable comment. One thing led to another, the door closed, the distance between us reduced, the hands touched, bodies entangled, my pussy flooded, fire raged from my holes, I felt his crotch, and I was pining for him.

Is Rahul my weakness? Or is men, in general, my weakness? I say a resounding no. My weakness is my self. All those months of depression and sadness had me repress my own desires and identity so much that I hadn’t even fingered myself then. A woman going from having 3-4 times a week to absolutely none is a tough act, and controlling her urges only leads to the dam burst open one day. And it did. With Rahul.

I was an animal that night. Rahul still says how I devoured him, and it was perhaps one of the first times, I genuinely showed my true nature. Of merciless, cunning, thirsty, relentless, insatiable bitch in heat. We fucked the whole night, and we slept for a few hours, and then fucked some more, and some more. By the time it was 8 or 9, we realized, we both had several missed calls on our phones. I had a few from my husband, and he had from his family, who were worried about his wherabouts. And that was when I realized I was riding a man, moaning and orgasming when I should have been dressed prudely and taking part in the temple prayer that I had asked the priest to conduct.

The temple timings usually are till 10 AM in the morning, so I thought of immediately jumping into the shower and atleast making my presence felt, and I did. I dressed up in a saree quickly while Rahul busyed himself to meet his family (after making outrageous lie about him making a short trip to a mountain nearby), but something in me snapped and before I left, I ended up kissing him. The kiss turned to him squeezing my boobs, which led to me caressing hic hard-on, and he squeezed my ass and soon, the saree came down, and his trousers disappeared and yet again, the two of us were naked, my legs spread wide, my pussy glistening with lust and greed and my asshole puckering as he pistoned me for the next few hours, and I spent the time moaning, screaming, and talking dirty as if I were chanting.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/jujqm5/when_my_f_44_templevisit_turned_into_a