There is always a moment when violating some dumb, young thing, fresh-faced and innocent, when they sober up and realize what trouble they are in. That things have spun out of control and their preconceptions of right and wrong and how the world works shatter. It’s a beautiful moment if you manage to catch it, like a meteor streaking through the sky, white-hot and then fading to nothing. I live for those moments and those dumb, soon-to-be-broken, girls.

I’ve always liked music festivals for that reason. Great sounds, easy access to drugs, barely legal girls and toys partying the night away. There is always plenty of freaky girls who want to let loose but if you can’t find one of them, there are dozens upon dozens of virgins about. Now, I don’t mean literal virgins, most have had a cock in their mouth or cunt. I mean festival virgins. Dumb cunts excited to try all manner of drinks and drugs, freely taking what is given to them, and mixing shit that shouldn’t be mixed. Just delicious.

Often they’ll be protected by friends, but there will still be plenty stumbling about. In tight clothes, miniskirts, or micro dresses, reveling in freedom as they dope themselves to oblivion. Hot skin needing to be touched, glazed eyes, their mouths ajar. Lost in the crowd, left behind and waiting for a shark to devour them. It’s always fun to help those lost girls and direct them to a better place, where they can be safe. Safe from prying eyes that is. I’ll always help myself to their bodies as I walk them to my van, feeling their ass, cupping their perky chests, listening to their soft moans. No panties, no bra, just a wet cunt and a vapid mind.

Once there, I’ll lead them into my van, an air mattress handy for them to crash on. Most happily take a pacifier to suck on, coated and flavored, drugging them more to make them even limper. And then, music blasting, I take my prey, stripping them. They mutter about the camera flashes, but I bat their hands away. The customers need to see the merchandise. And then I start the webcam, using just a bit of lube. Their cunts are almost always soaked but their asses are usually virgin unless they are one of those closeted Christian girls trying to stay pure. It doesn’t matter. None of them are pure after I’m done with them.

I push my cock inside their ass and that’s when the fun begins. I always try to make sure the cameras record that. Some are so wasted they don’t know what’s happening, but most sober up at that moment. The moment their bowels feel like they are being ripped away, hazy, doped up, drunk, but their wild animal eyes struggle. It’s too late by then. I’m in. They cry, they beg, as they realize how wrong the world suddenly is. They don’t know where they are or who I am, but most realize what is going on. I try to make them bleed. I’m not gentle. I want to feel their every twitch and spasm. But they are so tight, I can only last so long before I cream in their shit hole. I wipe my cock on their exhausted body, naked and hurt, taking more pictures and uploading them. Some beg or try to run, but most just lay there, little rabbits frozen by the light.

Most nights, I just kick them out about making them take a handful of pills. They’ll know they were raped, but not by who. I didn’t romance them, I’m just one man in a sea of strangers. Some even get dragged off by other men, not caring if it’s sloppy seconds that become sloppy thirds and fourths. One girl, I found her the next day in a urinal, her body covered in piss and cum. I made sure to follow her progress and when her belly swelled, I smiled.

But for some, a select few on certain nights, an offer comes that I cannot refuse. They really sober up as I handcuff and gag them. When I drive off into the night, kicking and struggling as the adrenaline kicks in too late. Just another girl that disappeared at a festival, maybe with a handsome musician. No one will notice me or her, just a couple of strangers among thousands. Online there may be found, weeks or months later, pictures and videos of someone who looks just like them. But they are doing acts those festival virgins would never do, wearing fake smiles the entire time. And me and my bank account, well those are strangely richer.