Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4350236.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Leprosy_-_Fandom, Leperotica
  Additional Tags:
      leprosy, Anal_Sex, Oral_Sex, Masturbation, Gore, dubcon, Humor,
      leperotica_-_Freeform
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-07-15 Words: 1542
****** Leper Isle ******
by Pattern_against_user
Summary
     I wrote this almost ten years ago and thought it might deserve a home
     somewhere.
     Plot: Innocent, seventeen-year-old Samantha visits Leper Isle on a
     mission trip with her Church. In just one night, she discovers more
     about love, charity, and passion than she's learned in her life.
When Fr. McWhitely first asked if anyone had any interest in the mission trip
to a leper colony, Samantha was the first to sign up—after asking her parents,
of course. She had a thirst for charity, and Leper Isle quenched it. She liked
praying with the widows and preparing the meals, but Samantha’s favorite part
of the day was bathing the lepers. The baths gave great relief to the lepers,
and was important for their hygiene. Bath time was the favorite part of the day
for the lepers too, especially since Samantha arrived. At 17, she had the
womanly curves and bouncy breasts that made even the least perverted of the
church-goers jack off during Fr. McWhitely’s sermons. Sometimes, a quiet fap,
fap from behind the pulpit peppered the sound of old Fr. McWhitely’s religious
rambling, and everyone knew what the minister was up to, except of course for
pure Samantha. She possessed a sort of virginal purity that made the girl all
the more desirable. She was a flower unblossomed, a forest unravaged, a sexy
pitcher of thick white milk too high to reach. Even her boyfriend of four years
had yet to taste her meats and juices.  
She was giving the last sponge bath of the night, when all of that changed. All
the other lepers and volunteers were deep in dreams (which were mostly about
Samantha). She’d never know why she did him. Maybe it was the savage wilderness
of Leper Isle, maybe it was the mysterious powers of the night, maybe it was
just too many years of containing her wild carnal desires behind the tight
gateway of her unbroken hymen, but Samantha liked to think that there was some
force that overtook her that evening, hotter than Satan’s hell and stronger
than Jesus’ love. The name of that force was Sanchez Espinada.
She was lathering Sanchez’s well-sculpted chest when desire first grabbed her
by the bosom. She saw his majestic manhood rise like a soaring eagle, and
dropped the sopping sponge to the floor. She wanted to rub him with her bare
hands, but she resisted.
“I think you’d better get out of the tub now and go to bed…” She was a
responsible girl, a normal girl. This wasn’t how Samantha was going to have her
first time. She was waiting for her wedding night, which would be carefully
planned according to her menstral cycle, so that she could be sure that the act
would be strictly for procreation. The same way any girl who isn’t a slut loses
her virginity. But there was one thing Samantha didn’t know. And that was that
no girl isn’t a slut.  
He emerged from the bathwater, and his dripping erection shimmered in the
moonlight. Her pussy was wetter than the forgotten yellow sponge.
“Samantha,” he whispered in his sexy Leper Isle accent, which sounds a lot like
sweaty, delicious mixture of Spanish, Australian, and Indian accents,  “I need
a towel.”
But there weren’t any towels.
“You’ll just have to use my blouse…”
Samantha began to undo the first button, slowly, teasing the beast that was
Sanchez’s man needs.
With all the speed and force of a powerful jungle cat, Sanchez lept on her. He
tore the thin white garment open, and forced her through the door to the empty
medical office. He slammed her on the examining table. He was wild and
powerful, and the innocent blonde couldn’t resist his animal zeal and festering
flesh.
Soon their clothes lay huddled on the floor, limp and soft, in stark contrast
to his hard penis. His sore-covered chest hung over her pure face. She traced
her finger gently on a large sore, slowly and gently until— RIPPPPP, she tore
the scab off, and shoved into the warm depths of her cleavage. His head dipped
down, his lips opened, and his wet tongue licked her soft enormous breasts. She
moaned softly. He began at the nipples, then made his way to the space between
her jiggly jello-bags, sucking in the scab flake. He was harder than ever.
“Do me, Sanchez, do me.”
His strong Leper Islish hands petted her creamy skin, admiring her beauty, her
sensuality. He thanked the Lord Jesus that he would be the first to know her.
In the Biblical sense. And she prayed to God too, in thanks, as she felt him
enter the moist caverns of her pussy. It was tight and untested, but he ravaged
her with the force of a thousand horses. The rough sores of his massive man
meat scourged her vagina like the stiff bark of a tree branch.
“Jesus, Jesus!” Samantha cried.
He smiled because he knew he was doing a good job.  Suddenly he pulled out. He
flipped Samantha as easily as moist, greasy pancake, and began to butt fuck
her. “Yes! Yes!” A layer of skin ripped from his engorged shaft, such was the
force of the act, but he was a leper, so it didn’t hurt him too badly. Besides,
he was kind of into that sort of thing, and as his penis-blood sprayed the
rigid walls of her poop tube, he realized that, mixed with the residue of pussy
boogers on his dick, blood made the perfect lubrication for ass fucking.
He knew she didn’t want him to stop, but his juicy manhood had a mind of its
own. He came, violently. He was finished. He began licking the rim of her anus,
which was covered in blood from his torn woman-stuffer. He looked down. His
limp penis was smothered in shit, but he was too exhausted to bother to clean
up. 
 He stood up from the table, and she followed.
“Thank you, Sanchez,” Samantha said with a smile.
She pressed her puffy lips to his, but her kiss didn’t linger. She started
sucking scabs from his neck, finally wandering to the wilds of his groinal
region. She cleaned up his dirty sausage with her wet tongue.  Sanchez felt his
erection return as her mouth slid down his magic stick.
The door opened.
“I thought I heard some butt fucking,” said the stranger as he dropped his
pants..
“Who are you?!?” Samantha exclaimed, shocked and ashamed.
“Just call me a new arrival.” She looked into his black eyes, and knew the man
meant business. The size of his penis was mind blowing, and Samantha wanted
him, his chiseled muscles, his torn sore-worn skin. Him, with three fingers
missing and a manhood larger than a steamship. One of his ears plopped off his
head, but he was unfazed. Samantha knew she had to please the poor, dieing,
glorious stallion.
“Move over, hermana,” he commanded. He threw off his shirt, got to his knees,
and began blowing Sanchez. Sanchez closed his eyes, and sighed happily.
Samantha reached between the bulging thighs of the new leper stud and began to
jerk him off. She was unpracticed, but Samantha understood that she had to
experience this deity that was his turgid dick. Somehow her hand knew how to
get the job done—the stranger moaned in pure rapture through the giant stiffie
between his soft moist lips.
Sanchez came again, and he rained on the others with his glorious cum.
Samantha licked the man juice from the stranger’s delicately carved face,
continuing to stroke his shaft. She gave his nose a little nibble and a large
morsel dropped into her mouth. “I need you inside me,” she stated simply.
“I’m—I’m!” the stranger exclaimed. Her hand was moving faster and faster. “I’m
coming!” His penis felt like a volcano, ripe for explosion, and he knew he was
about to climax as he never had before.
He ejaculated with a cry and his penis rocketed from his crotch, soaring across
the room like a small blimp. Sanchez looked at the stranger’s lonely testicles,
dangling through the cascade of dripping blood.
Samantha ran to the corner to fetch the fallen member. She leaned her back to
the wall and shoved it to the hilt. Watching her ravage her pussy with the
enormous organ, the stranger knew he’d be harder than a diamond if he still had
a penis. Even Sanchez, who had ejaculated only moments earlier for the second
time in ten minutes, was already sporting a rather impressive erection. He
pounced on her, and Samantha obligingly removed the make-shift dildo so that
Sanchez could slide in.
He was humping her at top speed, eagerly, desperately. She closed her eyes and
her orgasm rocked her harder than an earthquake—“Sweet Jesus.” She still
clutched the stranger’s manhood.
Sweat and blood and chunks of flesh dripped from Sanchez’s face. He was panting
like a labrador.
“That was incredible,” he said, rolling off her juicy body.
Samantha smiled to him, and Sanchez knew her ectasy was the best present she
could give him. She got up, and walked to the stranger, handing him his
detached penis.
He rejected it, and whispered in her ear, “Keep it. I don’t have much longer.
You deserve it. Consider it a gift.”
Samantha knew the man was too determined to change his mind, but she probably
wouldn’t have argued with him anyways. She knew that, like Sanchez, that
evening she received the best gift she could ever hope for.
 
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