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adventureahead1: Macleay island, qld. left at bowl club, then past fish club down track 6pm 7pm 8pm. c u there. enjoy.
3 Years Ago
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Dairy Man 1: Looking for Beautiful Women for Sex Betwen the hours 10.am To 12.00pm Monday - Thursday
11 Years Ago
horny1463: Hi, my name is Tom, I am a mature male offering free sensual / relaxation massage to women Monday to Thursday in Murwillumbah. I am very experienced and discreet, can make myself available during the day if required. Age doesn’t matter.
Shower and fresh towels are available for before or after if you desire.
I’m curious and playful, I love sensual touch and giving long slow massages.
Always learning and open to exploring whatever feels good. Seeking quality experiences over quantity.
Happy to meet in town for a coffee or a drink first if it makes you feel more comfortable. Can also send you some photos if needed.
If you’re feeling stressed and tired or would just love a full body massage, please call or text me on 0447 096 116 to arrange a time.
Don’t be shy, please take me up on my free offer :)
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budah69990: Im horny and need someone who will sneak out to my house and fuck in the shed in the back yard or meet me at matt 25 on Thursday mornings
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Thursday-Island Horny Women QLD AU
Thursday Island
Dtf - Thursday Island
Help Meat (A Dystopian Tale part 1)
Help Meat (A Dystopian Tale part 1) · Fetish · There’s something in the bible I heard preached when I was very young, back when girls were still allowed to go to school. It described Eve as Adam’s “help-meet,” and went on to add that just as with the world with all its animals, women were put upon the Earth to benefit men. The reading came again a few weeks later after there had been rioting in the streets. The monotone voice again repeated that women were intended by God to be the perfect servants of men, a resource to be used and enjoyed—even harvested as sustenance to feed hungry bellies. “Let the woman return to her original purpose,” the speaker had said. “She is made for recreation, for procreation, and above all else—to nourish and sustain men.”
I was twelve when I was taken from my family. I have no idea what became of my mother and two younger sisters, for they had vanished like so many women and blemished girls. My older sister still lives, as far as I know, doing one of the many things attractive girls must do. As for me, my name is Dani, and at fourteen years old I’m almost to the age of usefulness. This camp that I am staying at is actually meant to deprogram boys and teach them God’s will. Each camper is assigned a girl as his project on the first day. For one month that boy is expected to work with his girl, doing his best to ready her for service. This involves a lot of coaching, as our thoughts too, were in need of correction. My boy is Pete, a tall lanky youth with thin hands. Once Pete had played the piano, but now I’m his instrument.
The first part of each day I must spend in the tank. For three hours I’m required to swim without resting—never touching the sides unless absolutely necessary. I am of course naked as all girls are. We can wear robes when we get chilly. But if a male staff member should cross our path, we are to uncover ourselves for his inspection. For we females are lowly creatures. Such things as privacy or pride are a male privilege only.
It would not be so bad, except for the blistering summer heat. The men are never too concerned, since girls are not to live long anyway. But at least most places around the park are protected somehow. The tank where I swim has a wooden overhang. Even the walkways we girls take to get to our meals have covers overhead.
It is a Tuesday and I have finished my swim. I towel off my chilled body, and then I await the arrival of my coach. At age fourteen my breasts are now at last showing promise. I suppose I would be into a C cup by now, if such a thing as bras still existed. Pete will focus on my breasts first in his obsession to make them larger.
I pad into the empty gymnasium beside my tank, starting on the bench press to strengthen my pecs. After this I do my sets of push-ups, followed by cable flies. Pete enters the gym and quietly watches me as I work, his gaze on my chest as I separate my arms. “Done pullovers yet?” he asks, and I shake my head. “Pull downs?” No. Another negative. “You’re behind, Dani.”
I nod, and as I stand, he gestures me over to the freestyle weights. We work together for about an hour, and Pete makes me repeat the sets he missed. “Now stand before me,” he commands in his bossiest voice. I obey at once, my head turning sideways as his hands massage my breasts.
I tense when he takes my nipples and pinches them gently, rolling them thoughtfully between his fingers.
“Your sister’s tits are huge,” Pete says, “So I know we can get you there, too.” He cradles my right breast, rubbing it firmly between his palms. “She’s a swimmer, isn’t she? That’s the work I want for you. It’ll keep you cool in the summer. During the winter they heat the water so it’s no big deal.”
I nod, thinking of my many long hours each day in the smaller tank behind the aquarium, away from the public’s view. The large glass container had once held salt water and fish, but now the water was pure, slightly warmed and clear. All the girls in the performance pool out front are at least seventeen, with thin waists and jewelry adorned breasts that sway and bob as they move. Some are costumed as mermaids, while others crouch before the underwater glass, spreading their legs for the men on the level below to see. It is a millionaire’s club—or a billionaire’s club. I’m not sure which and I guess it doesn’t matter. Though now I see the police in the parking lots, too. The elite who run this club favor the town’s sheriff, a greasy fat man who supplies them with the prettiest girls.
Pete is crouching before me, his knees spreading my thighs where I stand, then pulling apart my girlhood with his fingers. I continue to look away, my eyes closed as I feel one finger find the wet spot between my legs. He rubs gently, a slow circular motion that spreads my fluids out, making me slippery in every crevice. Then he slides one finger slowly in. I open my mouth, licking my lips as the finger crooks and explores my interior. Pete pulls it back out and shows it to me, flecked white with my juices. He returns to his work, separating my folds and spreading them flat. Two fingers sink in, reaching upward as far as they can. Pete is holding my buttocks close to his chest, his arm cocked as more fingers glide in. Four fingers now, clamped together to form a funnel.
“What are women for, Dani?” Pete asks. He is up on his knees, his strong arms around me.
“To . . .” I am panting. “Please men!”
“Exactly.” Pete tucks his thumb into the funnel of his half-inserted fingers. “Slow and easy,” he croons. I feel the skin around my opening stretch wide almost to tearing.
Remembering my previous sessions, I breathe slowly, deeply, and relax my legs. “Good girl,” Pete observes. His strong arm holds me steady as he works. “Now what is God’s will?”
“That I should please men,” I answer. I lean over his head, my fingers grabbing his hair. He is tilting his hand slowly from side to side, softening the mouth of my pussy even more.
“Dani,” he admonishes. “You’re trying too hard. Shall we give you your pill?”
“Y-yes!” I cry. Smiling, he reaches into his pocket and produces the tiny tablet. I swallow it quickly, gratefully, and then droop forward again, my soft breasts draping over his head.
He continues to smile, his hand maintaining the gentle rocking. His four fingers are half inside me, with the added girth of his thumb. He rotates his hand in a circular motion, tilting it up and down, and then side to side. I am feeling the heaviness begin in my legs. My tongue goes dry, cottony. I feel my eyelids drooping. He removes his hand and lowers me onto my back, his hands separating first my petals, and then my opening. I hear the pumping sound as he squirts lube through a tiny straw directly inside me. “Gently now,” he breathes.
I close my eyes. The fingers are stretching me more with every movement, and I feel them pushing, working their way in. Pete has my pelvis lifted—pillowed on his thigh. My legs are up and flopped to each side, my feet dangling close to my shoulders. The pressure continues as the fingers twist, as more of the thumb makes it in. I feel my muscles submitting around his hand, the tight sensation easing somewhat. There is one more hard push, and then he is in me, embraced by my flesh, his entire hand delving inward.
I am drifting with the currents of the drug, feeling his hand pressing me out, the fingers turning to expand my interior. He progresses until his knuckles touch my cervix. I let out a gasp, though my sleepy eyes are closed.
“Now listen to my voice,” he says. “This camp is about preparing you girls to be women in this new world. Proper women—not like what you were before. The grownups can’t do it. There are strict laws against pedophilia now. But they can watch if they want to, because they are men, and men can do whatever they want.”
“Whatever they want,” I repeat dully.
“This is the first time I’ve had my whole hand inside you,” he tells me. “You’re so amazing, Dani. I am proud of you.”
I nod as his hand glides in and out, exits and re-enters my body. I feel fluid dripping down, the feathery touch of his fingertips on my clit. With every stroke my body submits more, my muscles softening under the pressure and pull of his hand. He seems tireless as he works, his muscles rippling in his arm as he changes angles, sinking deeper than before, touching places no one’s been. He motions me to cross my ankles, then lifts my legs over my belly, holding them aloft with his hand behind my knees. He rolls into a crouch, and now uses the weight of his arm to drive quickly in and out. I grunt rhythmically with each penetration. More liquid dribbles where I can feel it. I can see his hand glistening as it withdraws, his tanned smooth skin flecked white with my juices. He enters again and pauses, then speeds up his tempo, the hand barely entering before snapping back out. I am loose now around his wrist, my flesh yielding as he turns and angles and stretches. Then once more he resumes the deep plunges. A whole hour passes and still Pete works. He is panting hard with exertion, sweat trickling down his neck. I climax twice and still he continues, his face sprayed with my fluids.
“You’re a good girl, Dani,” Pete soothes as he works. “I’ve made a device I want you to wear to bed tonight, and every night. It’ll be uncomfortable at first, but you’ll get used to it.”
“Okay,” I mumble groggily.
“As much as I’m loosening you right now, in an hour you’ll be tight as a drum again, maybe even more. We need to keep training your body. It must remember how to open, be readily accessible whenever men want it. Most men want to fist, but rarely are willing to do the work. So you must do it for them. Understand?”
I close my eyes as Pete lowers my legs. Now he raises one to his shoulder, my other one dangling free. He rolls again to his knees, and lifts my pelvis with him. The hand is gliding in and out, so effortless I barely feel him.
Then finally he withdraws and sets me down, wiping me out gently with a warmed washcloth. I feel him strap something around my waist. Then something firm and cold slides in. There is a pull and click of a buckle in front, and then another behind. “There,” Pete says in satisfaction. “That’ll hold it in place. Wear this for the rest of the day, ok? And to bed tonight. Over time we’ll swap this out—graduating to larger sizes. But this is good to start.”
“You do nice work,” an older voice said. “Keep track of her depth from now on. Vagina and rectal both, if or when you get that far. You can pass the info on to the next boy assigned to her. I was wondering.” The doctor eyed Pete speculatively. “If you’d like to stay on after next week. Work part time here while you’re going to school.”
“What would I do?” Pete went to the sink to wash his fingers. I climb to my feet, staring at the length of black leather around my waist. I could feel the object hard within me, and the trickle of fluids down my leg.
“Help train the new boys coming in,” the doctor said. “You could also measure these girls and keep a spreadsheet. The measurer’s in your kit. Have you used it yet?”
The doctor turned and I lost track of the voices. My insides were warm and pleasantly achy, the area between my legs throbbing.
“It’s a deal then,” the doctor said in a hearty voice. “Good. I’ve been watching you work and I recognize your skill. It’s not just about getting as much as you can to fit. It’s an artform—as you know. A kind of dance.”
I like to think I’m helping her reach her full potential.”
The doctor coughs. “That’s a great way to see it,” he says. “The value of the woman depends entirely upon her usefulness. Even those we harvest for food—even they have more purpose in life than a woman left on her own.”
There was a pause as the doctor sauntered off. Then I felt Pete’s hand on my bare shoulder. “Think you can walk with that thing?” he asks. I nod slowly and take a few steps.
***
“Get your holes nicely stuffed?” Breanne glares at me across the aisle. The barn is chilly today, its high rafters filled with the chatter of small birds. I sprawl sideways on my bunk, the highest of a stack of three. The barn has been styled in the manner of the Auschwitz prisoner barracks, with long narrow rows of bunks. There are three rows altogether, with the capacity to hold ninety girls in one barn. We have numbers assigned to us, too, like the residents of the Nazi camps. Only ours are hidden—tiny microchips beneath our skin.
I shrug. The blond girl hates me intensely. “Just the one,” I respond.
“She’s jealous of Pete,” another girl quipped. This was Diane, a fiery redhead that the men favored.
“I am not!” Breanne returns hotly. “I just hate how she just lays there. Like she’s not even alive! And look. He’s put a spacer inside her. Gonna stretch her nice and wide!”
I glare at the rafters, my arms pillowing my head. “We’re supposed to stay open, aren’t we?"
“No, we’re supposed to fight!” snarls Breanne. “We are human beings, not livestock. How dare they?”
Another girl peeks out from under my bunk, her raven hair swirling down her arm. “They are following God’s word,” she says. “Have you read it? Women were made for the happiness of men; it’s very clear in the bible. Adam was unhappy, and so God made him a help meet. That’s us. We are here to help however we can.”
“Help the men?” Breanne growls the words. “By letting them torture us? Have you heard the cries from the barn on the hill? Or letting them harvest our bodies as if we are cattle? They have women attached to machines for at least two years. All those women do all day is hang there and produce milk. That’s slavery!”
“The men rule over us.” Helen replies, her blue eyes meeting mine. I like my bunk mate. She is a year younger than me. And just like Helen Burns her namesake from Jane Eyre, she is a calming influence, and very smart. “They decide where we fit the best—where we can be the most useful.”
“And if the men decide you’re best at being ground into hamburger—”
Helen shrugs. “I’m not ugly, so I doubt that would happen.”
I tune them out and return my gaze to the rafters. The dildo inside me isn’t so uncomfortable if I stay on my back.
The girls go on talking around me, Breanne expressing her outrage over my docile behavior.
“She’ll live longer,” Helen says from beneath me. “But with that attitude, Breanne, you might find yourself at the torture barn.”
The torture barn. My innards writhe at the thought, for like everyone else I hear stories. Some men like happy things to do with women, appreciating the beauty of our form, or even our taste alongside beans and potatoes. But not all men have the same needs. The torture barn caters to a gentlemen’s club, and the unfortunate girls carted off into the forest are never again seen. But they are heard. Late at night if I happen to wake, I can catch the sounds of the far-off screaming. Not all the girls cry out. But when they do, the terrifying cries echo in my ears, haunting my thoughts for days to come.
***
I hear the bell for dinner and jump from my bunk, wincing as the dildo bruises me inside. The food is good here. They feed us as though we are prized pigs. Everything is organic and healthy—superfoods to keep us tasty if or when they decide to harvest our meat. I attack my meal with gusto as I do every night. It is a plate of peeled carrots, topped with chickpeas, pumpkin and sunflower seeds, and hemp hearts. Added to the mix is ginger powder, a splash of apple cider vinegar, and nutritious yeast. It is delicious and I eat every forkful, washing it down with a glass of iced mushroom coffee.
Doctor Burns appears behind our tables and saunters slowly, his hands behind his back, to the dais up front. The boys from the camp appear in his wake, each carrying a chair that they place beside our tables. The doctor plugs in the microphone at the back of the dais, then gives it a tap to call the room to order. “Pete Jennings,” he calls in his ringing voice. “Has your girl finished her dinner?”
Pete stands slowly and glances my way. “She has, Dr. Burns.”
“Excellent!” the doctor exclaims. “Bring her forward along with your tools.”
I tense as I stand, the skin prickling behind my neck. The doctor continues to address the entire room. “This boy performs in ways that outstrips some of our best full-time trainers; hence I have asked him to stay on as part of our staff. I thought it might benefit the rest of you boys to observe his techniques. Peter,” the doctor gestures to the table being wheeled onto the dais. “Do you have everything you need for a demonstration of your skills?”
Peter frowns at me as I step to his side, then turning his body in such a way as to hide his right hand, he passes me the little pill to help me relax. I turn away, gulping it down quickly as I climb shakily onto the table. He gestures me onto my back, then nods toward the doctor.
“What now, Sir?”
The doctor seats himself in front of our tables. “Pretend we’re not here. Consider this another session. Business as usual.”
I close my eyes and will myself to sleep. Pete’s hands are on my breasts, kneading them firmly. He pauses as he works, leaning over to finger my clit.
I breathe deeply, a wave of fatigue creeping down my limbs. Pete takes his time with my breasts, his fingers digging through the tissue to find my muscles.
“Why do that?” One boy calls from the left side of the room.
When Pete fails to respond, the doctor speaks for him. “It gets her juices flowing. You should be doing this, too—all of you. A lot of men still get off on the breasts. Better to have our girls ready for whatever comes.”
I float with the effects of the drug, my legs raising up as Pete slides them into the stirrups. He lifts me to the point that I feel a breeze between my buttocks and the cushion I am on. The design of this table is alien to me, appearing to have been created for this purpose. It has a light that Pete switches on to shine between my legs, fully illuminating my groin.
He loosens my belt deftly and slides out the dripping dildo, setting it aside on the bench beside the table. His fingers glide up inside me, two and then three, turning slowly as he applies a slight pressure. He takes his time, bending low to explore my interior and gaping me as he has done before. He adds lube to his hand, then twists in effortlessly, his elbow turning this way and that as he expands my interior. I let my head droop to the side, feeling the drool running down my cheek. The fisting continues for what seems like forever. Pete glides slowly in and out, focusing fully on his objective. His fingers form a fist at my core, his knuckles rubbing against my cervix. Then he draws out his hand with a squelching sound, his fingers glistening.
“If she was a year older, he could double it now,” the doctor says. “Have any of you boys gotten to that part in your books?”
A few raise their hands. Smiling, Peter glances at his fellow campers hurrying to gather around the table. “She’s not fighting you at all,” one observes, staring down. A boy moves next to Pete, his fingers reaching in to spread my folds back, making the entry and exit of Pete’s hand more visible in the light. A few boys trade places with Pete, their hands penetrating me as Pete’s had done, so smoothly I barely notice. I am aware of hands holding my buttocks, lifting my pelvis even higher. Pete’s arm is in me again, the elbow rising and falling, the wet sounds filling my ears.
“She’s a good girl,” Pete said. He is rotating his fisting hand carefully, massaging my sore interior.
***
That night I sleep without the dildo. It is Pete’s idea, since I worked so hard today. I watch a girl braid Breanne’s hair as sleep eludes me. The girls are the rebels in our group, but tonight they seem subdued, as if Diane’s threat of the torture
barn still lingered in their heads. Horror stories abounded of the torture barn. No death was easy there.
“If we’re dead, we can’t fight back,” I hear one of the girls say.
“We can’t resist them,” whispers the other. “Christianity has taken this country completely. It’s worse than Afghanistan now.”
“I don’t know about that,” Breanne says. “They’re probably just as bad. They don’t have red meat, either, right? And real men can’t live without it. Show me a man who’s vegan and I will bet you my last penny he’s gay.”
Pete eats meat, I think as I drift off, dreaming obscurely of men wearing dresses and swimming in the tank with mermaid tails.
***
The new day brings a blast of chilled air onto my face as I jerk awake. The barn doors are open, the bell ringing us girls to breakfast. I stop absently for my shot as I leave the barn, then trot naked, the third in a long line of sleepy nude bodies. The boys and men pause grinning to watch us, and I avoid their eyes as a proper girl should.
Our breakfast is oatmeal, with raisins and honey. Once again it is the best oats money could buy—seeded organic oats with fresh moist raisins. We top this with cold milk and drink it down with mushroom coffee. Dessert is an orange, thin skinned and bursting with juice.
***
I sink into the water of the tank and breast-stroke to the other side. Watching me, Pete frowns. “What have I said about shaking loose first?” He crouches beside the pool and I swim to a stop below him. “Your muscles support your breasts,” he said. “But they are separate. To be a swimmer your breasts must move freely with the water. They cannot be tethered to your muscles. Now go on; assume the position.”
I nod and reach downward with my arms, my legs beneath me as I pretend to crawl on my hands and knees. I hold my arms away from my body and jerk my knees forward and back, the motion of the water catching my breasts, dragging them to and fro. I double my speed until my breasts are flopping back and forth. Then I change my movement, scissor kicking my legs to make my flesh jerk upward and down. Pete is nodding above me.
“It’s good practice letting them hang. This is the position the milkers take. The breasts dangle from your ribcage, the weight of the milk drawn away from the rest of your body. Used to be a girl could produce twenty-five ounces to thirty ounces daily. That was three years ago. Now most of our women pump out fifty ounces per day, with some coming close to a half gallon. The eventual goal is a whole gallon. A carton’s worth per woman. And who knows? With drugs they might pull it off.”
I flip onto my back and swim where Pete can see, the tissue over my ribcage bobbing easily in the water—rippling with the waves. I turn back, pivoting toward Pete.
I start when I find him treading water beside me in his loose red swim trunks. “All girls become milkers eventually. You need to get used to it.” He turns me in the water, then grasps my nearest breast and pulls it downward, squeezing it hard. “Being handled by men, I mean. Once you are a swimmer, you’ll be given the Somatotropin to help your breasts grow. Milkers get huge, you know, which is why they hang from slings. They cannot walk anymore. Or at least not far. Which is why we need to make your muscles stronger for all the weight you’ll support one day. Here,” he says, and hands me over a pool noodle. Seeing my confusion, he gestures. “Tuck it under your arms so it supports you from behind. I’m going to try something new before you swim.”
Mystified, I obey, and Pete pushes at me until my head bumps the wall. “Hold onto the ladder. I don’t want you drifting.”
I grip the rungs, and lay back. My breasts float and point skyward, jiggling under the sun. Pete turns my body, gripping the edge of the pool with one hand—then twists his other into the softness between my legs.
I tense at the coolness of the water entering me. Pete works his hand inside me, the lube making a patch of oil on the water under his chin. “Spread your legs wide. I can’t do it for you.”
I obey as best as I can. The arm pushes in past the wrist, and turns, and I shiver at the water that is sucked in with it, a chillness he pushes deeper before drawing his hand out. He catches one of my legs and slings it over his shoulder. Then he fists me steadily, the water entering me again. “A good washing after yesterday,” he says with a grin. “Does this feel good?”
“Yes,” I gasp, eyeing the white haze forming about me, my fluids snaking around us both.
“I thought it would ease some of the burning. All that work yesterday.”
I recline as far as I can, my one leg bobbing in the tank’s current. With every stroke, Pete angles his wrist deliberately to invite more water in, the coolness filling my depths along with his hand, easing the heat I didn’t realize I had.”
“You’re a good girl, Dani,” Pete croons as he works. “I’m giving you the rest of today off after your swim. Keep the dildo inside you if you can. Even when you’re not in bed and walking around. We need to keep your body open until the men want it —teach it to be accessible at all times, like I’ve said. Most men want to fist, but rarely want to do the work. Do you remember what is most important?”
I nod. “Pleasing the man.”
“Or men,” Pete corrects me. “Sometimes there’ll be men. No matter what they do, or how roughly they do it, you need to always look for ways to please—however they want you to.”
“What if they want to kill me?”
There is a strained pause. Pete stops his hand, his knuckles gently massaging my cervix. “That, too,” he says finally. “A woman with uses is a woman fulfilled. If they kill you for their pleasure, then your life has not been wasted. You’ll be processed into meat and you’ll serve a second purpose—to fill their bellies. Not many women get to have multiple ways to find meaning for their life. That’s why the girls who go up the hill are the luckiest of all.”
I gape at him. “But they’re tortured!”
He sighs, and his hand resumes its work. “It’s just foreplay, Dani. Just a different kind. Those women pleasure the men first, and then feed them. Compare that to an ugly girl who gets carted off from her home, never to be seen again. She serves one purpose only. Just one. Do you think she’ll be remembered for that? No. But you will, and so will the girls on the hill. You represent a pleasant memory for a man. Or perhaps for many men. Isn’t that lucky?”
I nod, genuinely believing it after he puts it that way. But Pete is not finished. He wrinkles his brow, as if trying to remember words he had read. “God created men,” he recites slowly. “We are his creations, and in following our creator’s example, we made women from our rib. You are created from men. We are your gods. Don’t you want to please us?”
I raise my leg from his shoulder in response and cock it high over my chest. Pete, grinning approvingly, turns slightly to drive in his fist.
“So . . . it’s a good thing to go up the hill?”
Pete pats my hip. “All women die young,” he says gently. “Seems to me the more useful the death, the better. The men in that club aren’t so bad. They simply have different tastes than other men. I’ve heard it said that their methods are creative, but for the woman there is always a lot of pain. I think you should try to be like your sister. In a year or two your breasts will be strong and big. You will bring lots of pleasure to the men who visit us here. It’s a good club. Even when you enter your last phase and become a milker—you’ll see. I hear they even have movie nights for the dairy girls.
Useful. The word echoes in my ears as I stare beyond the buildings.
I go the rest of the day with the dildo inside me. I have the belt around my waist to hold it in, and I have to be careful when I sit on the bench for dinner. I can feel my fluids leaking onto the seat—a trickle I try discreetly to wipe with my hands.
***
The next day I wake early and tiptoe out to greet the sun. The road into the foothills has mist covering its base. During the night I had roused to the familiar sound of the old truck’s engine. A girl had been taken up to the barn in the hills. All night
I had stayed awake listening for sounds of screaming. But this death had been a silent one.
I ask Pete about it during my swim. He sits on a chair working on his computer. He is a junior in High School, and though he is at camp, he still has several projects he needs to finish before the fall quarter begins.
“Oh, did they?” Pete glances at the forest behind our heads. “I didn’t hear it. But your barn is closer to the road than our cabins.
“Did they give her something?” I asked. “Like you give me?”
Pete shakes his head. His blue eyes are fierce as he glares at his computer. “Drugs taint the meat, so no they wouldn’t. They just haven’t . . . done her yet. They might be collecting several girls for something. They do that, you know. Work on more than one per night. If it’s a weekend thing they usually have a barbeque after. They do if it’s sunny, that is.”
I lick my lips, punching the water rapidly with both fists. Pete glances down at my jiggling breasts and grins. “Does this really make them grow?” I ask, wanting to change the subject.
Pete laughs. “Nah. I just read a lot so I can sound smarter than I am, and some of this stuff I make up as I go. But it does make sense. Weight lifting makes muscles bigger. Whether or not it makes your tits grow, who knows? But I do know they’ll end up huge eventually. Your owners will see to it in their quest for more milk. I’m surprised you’re not getting the shots yet.”
I nod, and hearing the chime of the clock go off, climb shakily up the ladder. I stand beside Pete, water sluicing down my legs. He gestures approvingly at the dildo still strapped inside my body. “Good girl, Dani. Way to take the initiative.”
“You said I needed to open easily.”
He stands and sets down his laptop. Taking me by the shoulders, he stares into my face. “You really mean it, don’t you? You do want to please.”
Tears burn in my eyes. “More than anything. I want to do what’s right,” I manage. “I thought God created women, too. That’s what my mother said. But—” He was emphatically shaking his head. “I know better now, Pete. And I’m sorry if I ever angered you or did anything disrespectful.”
“Hush now; you’re fine.” He smiles at me, genuine affection on his handsome face. “Come, let’s get you on your table.”
I follow him into the grooming room with its black and white checked floor and big basin sink. There are six tables in a row. What had once been chiropractic tables had been modified so a girl could lay face-down on her belly with her breasts poking through. I settle myself, hearing the squirt of oil from a bottle beneath me. Pete massages the liquid onto my cooled skin. My breasts follow his touch like magnets, the nipples clinging to his hands as if begging for more. He kneads deeply for a time and pulls, sliding the nipples between his fingers. “I do think you’re bigger. Not as big as your sister yet, but there’s definitely some heft here.” He cradles each breast—testing their weight. “How old are you?”
I think about my birthday. “What month is it?” I ask.
“It’s August,” he said. “August third.”
“My birthday was July 31st,” I tell him. “I’m fifteen now.”
“Fifteen. So, we’re now just a year apart in our ages.” He reaches up over the table and presses my back hard against the mat. “Strain down to me,” he commands. “Fill my hands.”
I obey, turning my head to press my cheek into the bed. He grasps each breast one at a time between his hands and tugs downward, the contours of his palms grinding into my tissue. Then he presses up through the flesh, his fingers massaging my muscles.
“I do get some kind of shots,” I tell him finally. “They’re just vitamins though. That’s what they tell us in the barn. Do you think—”
“No, that’s either the Somatotropin for humans I told you about, or something like it.” His heavy breathing pauses beneath me, his knuckles grinding into my breast. “I’m glad they’ve started you on it early. You’ll get big very soon. Bigger than your sister, probably. You should see the ones in the milk barn. They’re actually kind of ugly,” he muses, “by the time they get so big. The slings keep the girls from having to see how bloated they are. And their nipples are as fat as this or bigger!” He brandishes his thumb. “All purple and swollen. As long as my thumb, too!”
Sighing, I close my eyes. The knuckles are mashing into my tissue, my own nipples growing sensitive and hard. I feel the fluid welling again around the dildo. It dribbles onto the table, dripping to Pete’s head.
“God, you’re wet! Here.” Rising to his feet, he reaches around my waist to release the dildo. It jettisons out with a rush of warmth to land with a thump on the floor. “Nice!” Pete exclaims. “See Dani, this is exactly what the men want to see. A female dripping and ready for work, begging to be opened inside. Here.”
He raises the table to his waist. Then standing beside me, slides one whole hand in past his wrist. “Oh!” he exclaims. “Look at you!” Delighted, he moves between my legs, cocking my knees up until my toes touch my rump. With gusto he fists hard into my depths. Then grinning, he shows me his hand, the pale liquid dripping. “Should we try to double fist?” he asks as he resumes. “You’re fifteen now. I bet you’re ready. You’re certainly wet enough.”
I draw a deep breath, eyeing his hands. “If you think I can.”
“Absolutely.” He reaches into his pocket, then hands me a pill. I quickly shake my head.
“I want to feel it as much as I can,” I told him. “I like how it feels. Please, I’ll relax.”
He studies me briefly, then again takes position. I feel his hand gliding in deep, then slowly withdraw as more fingers hug his wrist. “Dani, I want you to think about opening yourself,” he says. He enters cautiously, the new fingers forming into the palm of his fist, sliding gradually in as he twists. The skin around the entrance to my cunt springs tight, painful to the point of tearing. I feel his every movement, each tiny adjustment making me hiss. “Easy,” he urges.
I breathe deeply as I fight to relax, imagining the mouth of my opening yawning wide to meet him. I feel a sudden stabbing pain just inside my vagina, and then another on the opposite side. I have the sensation of being poked three more times around my entrance, but there is numbness now. “Just a little novocaine,” Pete is saying. “There, that should help”
I feel the twisting continue, the pressure deeper now, as if the tightness at my threshold has ceased to exist. The hardness of his hands is rotating slowly, sinking down into my core. There is a sucking resistance as he pulls his hands outward, and I gasp in pain. Then I feel a pricking deep inside, and spot one of his hands between my legs. He is holding a syringe with a very long needle—guiding it carefully in. Another prick I barely feel, followed by another further in. “I know we’re cheating,” he says. “But I want this done right.”
Once again his hands penetrate my body, the walls of my numbed flesh yielding. He groans in delight, his entwined hands twisting hard and fast to loosen me up. “Let’s get you soft while the novocaine lasts,” he mutters. “I didn’t give you very much.” His body rocks as he fists; he is grunting softly in his throat.
“You’re doing so good,” he says, and before I can react, he plunges again, twisting eagerly to reach my cervix. Then he is out, and back in, his hands glistening. He pauses to turn me onto my side. “Can you hold your left foot over your head?”
I obey, holding my leg as far forward and up as I can. He cocks back my right leg with his knee, then drives into me steadily, his two hands as one gliding effortlessly in and out. Fluids are trickling down my right thigh as I writhe on the table. I am starting to feel it, the wide-open stretch and the massage deep within. He pulls out as my fluids gush, then wipes his face with his arm briefly before resuming his work. With my hypersensitive skin it feels incredible, every nerve on fire as his hands punch deep. The sound of my wetness is loud in the grooming room. The world is spinning around me. And still the pounding continues, the sliding of my body up and down on the table.
I pass out at some point, yet dimly I am aware of Pete turning me onto my back, raising my knees to secure them to the rings above the bed. My legs are opened and tied, so widely spread I can feel the tendons at my groin stretching. His two hands enter me again, alternating one and then the other, the hands inside no longer entwined, one sliding in as the other glides out. It goes on like that for what seems like hours, but then, abruptly, it stops. I feel Pete’s hands stretching the entrance of my pussy, pausing just inside and pulling me apart.
“What are you doing?” I mumble.
“I’m gaping you,” he tells me. “Something else men like to do. To see inside after they work. I can see very clearly inside you, Dani. You’ve done very well today.”
I feel my face flame hot. “Do I have to be a milker?”
He pats my thigh, then opens me wider as he bends for a long look. “Don’t be embarrassed now. Pleasing the man, remember?”
I nod, breathing deeply.
“Dani, milkers live two years longer at least. Don’t you want that? You’ll get to have a baby, too. If you’re really lucky, it’ll be a boy!”
“But I won’t get to raise him. They’ll take him away.”
“Girls cannot be trusted with such important work,” he agrees. “The church raises babies for you now. Besides, you’ll be too busy providing milk. For him, and everyone else. Girl’s milk goes into everything, you know. You drank some this morning.”
“I don’t want purple nipples,” I pout. I glare at the ceiling, feeling Pete’s hands deep within me, the entwined fingers holding still, as if feeling my body’s pulse.
“You won’t see them,” he says. “The breasts hang out of your sight, with bracers to support the weight. You forget they’re there after a while, or so I’ve been told by a reliable source. But think of it, Dani. All the healthiest food you can possibly eat. And movies! You get to watch movies!”
I close my eyes. The hands are turning within me, pressing me out. “If I don’t become a milker,” I venture to say. “What then?”
He sighs and the hands stop. “Well,” he says slowly, “if it turns out you can’t have a baby, you’d come to the end of your journey, wouldn’t you? They’d either take you up the hill to entertain those men, or you’d go to the processing plant, which is much more likely. I haven’t seen how it’s done, but I’ve heard there’s some kind of machine that does it really quick. You wouldn’t even feel it.”
I lick my lips. His hands are moving again, gliding slowly in and out. I try to relax despite my raised hips and widely spread legs. He is fisting me with his hands entwined, pumping me vigorously with loud squelching sounds. I am drifting again, my feet going numb from the straps under my knees. I see two men enter the grooming room and stop to watch Pete work. They are talking in low murmurs, their voices appreciative—praising his efforts. One shines a light in when Pete stops to gape me, the two faces rapt as they peer between my legs. My guts squirm as the men take their time, scrutinizing my interior and taking pictures as they talk to Pete.
“Have you done anal yet?” The taller man asks.
“Yeh,” his companion says, leaning down so I see his face. “First, why not tell her everything, boy? We work at the plant, little Miss. Wanna hear how it’ll go down? A knock on the side of your head to stun you first, see?” He taps his temple. “Then we’ll pop you into the D, D and D device. As in decapitate, dismember, and disembowel. All done by one machine. Thwack, thwack, thwack it goes, and It’s very quick, as your coach boy says. Then someone like old Jake here will get to wash out your torso and cut it in half, then a quick acid dip to loosen breast tissue and skin. And then what, Jake? Scraping, the stamp on the rump, and then the freezer?”
Jake’s mouth twitched. “Something like that. But it’s one big chunk, not three. The head and limbs come off simultaneously.” He stares at Pete. “I hear you’re talented, boy. I want to see your hand up her ass.”
“Not yet,” says Pete tightly. “One new thing at a time. I’ve been vagina fisting her for two straight hours and my hands are tired. I had to numb her up to get two inside. I’ve had enough for one day.”
“Then there was the time the machine wasn’t calibrated right,” the shorter man says. He leers at me, waggling his eyebrows. “Cut her head cleanly in half—it was something to see, I’ll tell you.”
“We’ll come back tomorrow to watch,” the man called Jake says. “We’re not allowed to work on these girls. We only ever see them in pieces.”
Pete clears his throat. “It’s a date. Though I warn you gentlemen, I doubt I’ll get my hand in. She’s never done anal before.”
The two men start for the door. “Oh, you’ll get it in,” the shorter man calls. “We won’t leave tomorrow so easily as today.”
I lay still as the door clicks shut. The cold air wafts between my legs, my fluids chilling my naked skin. Pete is squirting something soothing inside me, using one hand to push it deep. He wipes my exterior with a warm washcloth, clicking his tongue as he releases my legs. “What did I say is most important,” he asks.
I try to swallow. “Pleasing the men.”
He takes my hand and helps me sit up. “Exactly, Dani. Pleasing men. Those men in particular are very dangerous. There’s nothing I can do; as men they have the right to watch. So, we need to get you ready for tomorrow. Do you know what anal is?”
I draw a quick shaky breath. “A kind of fisting?”
“Yes.” Pete sets a pillow on the table, then gestures me onto my stomach. He raises my hips from behind, moving the pillow until it elevates my pelvis. “Only from the back. From here.” He taps my rosebud, as my mother once called it, the one private place I still have. “This is another thing a lot of men like. In fact . . .” Pete slathers on a thick lubricant, using one finger to poke some in. “Men like to see both holes fisted at once. A girl being fully utilized. If they could, they’d stick their penises in your mouth, too. But that kind of thing’s not allowed at this club.”
I accept the drug Pete gives me. Laying on my stomach, I wait as Pete stands beside me. Gradually I feel the weight of my head compressing my cheek on the table. I am drawing deep breaths, sinking rapidly into slumber. Vaguely I am aware of pain as my anus stretches, feeling oddly embarrassed like I’m going to the bathroom. I feel a hard object at first, something small graduating to big, making a pumping noise beside my head. The object is turning within me, straining my anus at different angles. Then it is gone and I feel Pete’s fingers.
Motionless, I try to sleep, relaxing my body as much as I can. The fingers twist slowly in and out. Then there is the object again, with more pumping sounds and the pain of stretching. Now it is Pete’s whole hand working its way in. Fingers are gaping me from behind, then the hand Is pushing inward, slimy with lube. Pete is inside me now, his hand a firm pressure as my tissues guide his way. He leans into me as he turns his arm. I feel the ball of his fist pressing my innards. His other hand enters my vagina, and begins to fist very gently. Groggily I splay my legs, lifting one from behind to give him room.
“You still in here?” A boy asked from the doorway. “It’s past dinner time, you know. I saved you a hot dog.”
Pete pauses in his work, breathing hard. “Trent. Can you help me with something?”
“Sure!” The larger boy hurries to the table. I am aware but not aware, drool soaking the table under my cheek.
“We have a problem. You can’t tell anyone, promise?”
“Promise!” Trent exclaims. “What do you want me to do?”
I blink, feeling the hand in my rectum slowly draw out. “Have you done anal?” Pete asks.
“Not yet.”
“Let me see your hand.” Another pause. “Good, we’re about the same size. Now cover your arm with lube to the elbow. Ease it in, like you saw me doing. Don’t force it. Let her body tell you what to do.”
“Oh God!” Trent groaned, as I feel the hand sliding in. “How far does it go?”
“You’ll feel a soft resistance; once you do, explore around a bit. Go in as deep as you can.”
“So what’s the problem?” Trent leans against my buttocks. His fingers are open inside, stroking my interior as he feels his way.
“Two men are coming tomorrow and they want to see anal on her. I figured it would be better to practice first. Lift her leg with your free hand. Pull the foot behind you and up.”
I feel Pete’s hands at the mouth of my cunt again, the two hands twisting themselves in. The skin is tight—painful to the point of tearing. “Easy,” Pete whispers to me. “Dani, relax!”
I try to sleep, to let the drug carry me back down. Three hands are inside me now, moving and twisting within.
“Three!” Trent exclaimed. “Wait, let me get my phone.” There is a pause as the larger boy makes his video. “Look at this! We’re at camp and he’s double fisting?”
Pete is pumping steadily now, the two hands entering my drugged body easily as I come and go from awareness. This lasts for some time, the double fisting below Trent’s deeply imbedded hand.
“Do you have a light?” Pete asked abruptly. “Oh good. Dani, we’re going to try this again.”
I nodded groggily as the arms inside me slowly retreat.
“Gonna gape?” Trent asked.
“Absolutely. Here, if I stretch the sides, can you get a few fingers in to press out the bottom? Just . . . that’s it. Straight down—firmly. Now hold.”
There was a click, followed by sounds of amazement. “That’s great! I’ve never seen that before.”
“That’s her cervix.” I hear a few more clicks, and then the fingers release. “I want copies of those,” Pete says.
“You got it. Ready for your hotdog? I put it in foil so it should still be warm.”
I am laying where the boys leave me, the two of them sitting on a bench as Pete eats. My stomach twists as I think of the ingredients.
“These are actually better for you than the old pork variety,” Trent is saying. “At least with girl meat there’s nothing disgusted added. Besides, pigs were smart. It was pretty terrible that we killed them for food.”
“Nope, just girl.” Pete makes a face as he stares at his food. “This makes us cannibals, you know?”
Trent shrugs his broad shoulders and grins at me. “If it was made out of men, then maybe that’d be true. But what’s wrong with cannibalism? Pretty sure there’s a verse in the bible that condones eating your children. Besides,” He gives me a wink. “Don’t forget what women are for. To be our help-meets. Get it? Help MEATS?”
Pete rolls his eyes. “You ok there, Dani? Want some food?”
“Sure she does.” Trent approaches my table. “Here, let’s clean you up first.”
I submit as the larger boy washes between my legs with the now soiled cloth. “There.” He helps me sit up, and I shakily climb off the table. “Hungry?”
I glance dubiously at the bag on the bench and nod.
“Good, because I brought something from the kitchen for you. They were very clear on the matter that this is for you.” He lifts out a cardboard box and hands it to me. Opening it, I find a large serving of wild rice, broccoli and buttered pinto beans. I stare at the yellow grease congealing beneath the veggies, visualizing the girls hanging from slings in the dairy.
“Thank you,” I say, and accept the wooden spoon he hands over.
“Besides,” Trent continues to Pete. “We were all going to die from overpopulation. This way only half of us live beyond twenty-two. And the other half . . .” He pats my arm. “We have all the food we need for a very long time. You know they had us eating cockroaches before the pandemic. Alternative foods—it’s not like it’s a new concept.”
The rice and beans are good, despite the fact they are now at room temperature. I clean out the box, and even eat the biscuit Peter hands to me. I hesitate at the milk carton and straw Pete passes to me next, eyeing the image of a cow on the front. It is whole milk, and I know very well that it does not come from cows.
“Go on,” laughs Pete. “You’ve had it before. What’s the difference?”
I take a sip and savor the sweetness on my tongue and the rich creamy texture.
“This is actually better for us by far,” Trent is saying. “Cow’s milk was meant for baby cows, not humans. This is one hundred percent for us!”
Drinking deeply, I empty the carton as both boys watch.
“Like it?” Trent inquires.
“Um, yes, actually.” I am staring at the carton. Ingredients: Pasteurized Girl Milk. Girl, I think to myself. Because none of us get to be women anymore.
***
I follow Pete to my barn just as the lights are about to go off. “Get in bed,” the head girl commands with a glower at Pete.
Pete turns me where I stand. “Keep both dildos in,” he says in a firm voice. “The one in the back comes out only if you have to go, understand? You have a very big day tomorrow. Get some rest.”
I squirm uncomfortably and nod. Climbing into my bunk I finally find a comfortable position on my left side. The lights go out, leaving me sore and alone in the darkness. The dildo in my vagina is twice as large as the first, and it almost feels like the two chunks of latex are touching each other. With the one in my rectum, I feel constantly like I have to go. It is only when my stomach cramps that I run to the toilet.
“Where were you at dinner?” Helen’s voice floats up from below as I return to my bunk.
“Getting stuffed,” I snap, and screw my eyes shut.
***
When morning comes I find I can’t eat, and must choke my oatmeal down under the head girl’s stern eyes. The milk for our oatmeal is from hemp hearts, I realize, recognizing its frothy texture and nutty taste. I leave for the gym after breakfast, but find Pete stepping in my path cutting me off.
“No, he says sternly. “Today is about making you ready for those men from the plant tonight. And I am betting there will be more than just the two. Come on.”
I trot naked at his heels, bypassing the tank and the gym and going at once into the grooming barn. He gestures me to the table and onto my stomach. I comply, and tense as he removes both my dildos. “Very good,” he says approvingly. “We’re not going to fist right now, because I know you’re very sore. But a few things.”
He inserts a large needleless syringe into my vagina and I feel a coolness flooding my body. “This will help you feel better,” he tells me. “It will keep you numb for the next fifteen hours. Trust me, you will not be hurting tonight.”
I heave a sigh of relief as he repeats the process with my anus, inserting the fluid deep into my rectum. I am smiling as I lay there, oblivious to the stretches Pete is putting me through. He starts with several bottles, each progressively larger than the first, though for the life of me I can’t exactly say which orifice each bottle is for.
We work for about an hour, with me lying still and Pete standing beside me, both of us waiting for my body to adjust.
“You’ll do just fine tonight,” he tells me. “These men just want something different, that’s all. They get tired of only seeing the dark side of our new society. They want to enjoy some of the benefits. I can understand that.”
“Somebody has to do what they do,” I hear myself mutter.
He looks at me sharply. “That’s exactly right, Dani. These men do the dirty work to keep the rest of us from going extinct, including you girls. Men cannot survive without these resources you provide us. It’s a hard fact, and one we must live with.”
“Do you think . . .” I hesitate. “Your God is punishing you for letting women be equals?”
Pete taps his fingers on my head. “Could be,” he muses. “I never thought of that, but maybe so. If we had used you from the start the way God intended . . .” his voice trailed off. “Could be . . .”
He moves in behind me and slides out the bottles. I am shaky as I stand, my entire pelvis numbed from my belly button down.
“Ready for a swim?” he asks, eyeing me.
“I think so,” I tell him. I am eager to get to the tank—to swim off my anxiety and fear. The expressions on the faces of those men last night—like they were inspecting raw meat.
***
My stomach gurgles loudly in the grooming room as we wait. I sit on the table, my legs swinging back and forth over the side. The table with the light has been brought from the clubhouse, complete with its “hi-lo” stirrups and bright adjustable lamp. Trent stands to the side with his arms crossed. Pete has asked him to assist, and the larger boy agreed.
“You’re still a bit numbed now, but you’ll be hurting tomorrow,” Pete tells me quietly. “Please go along, and trust me. These are dangerous men. If they want to kill you for their pleasure, they can. They can even ask me to do it, and I’d have no choice. You are nothing but meat to them. That’s what they see all day long—that’s how they have to be to survive their jobs. If they see you as human . . .” He fidgets uncomfortably, running his hand through his hair. “Just know . . . whatever I do tonight—I’m trying to save your life."
“And act like you enjoy it!” Trent put in.
“But I do,” I say, gazing dazedly at his face.
The men from the plant are arriving in their cars. I can’t see them because the parking lot is to the back of the building. But I can hear the gravel crunch under the wheels, and then the hurried footsteps. Three men enter and jerk to a stop, surprised to find us waiting. The man I know as Jake motions his friends to gather the chairs stacked high in a dusty corner, placing them in a semicircle behind the table’s bright light.
“Are any more coming?” Pete asks. His hands are folded across his chest. Stupidly, I nod, the double dose of pills in my system are kicking in.
Jake smirks as he cracks a beer. “Two more. Larry, the fellow you met last night, is one.”
As the tall man speaks, the new arrivals appear in the doorway. Both are wearing work clothes from the plant, their white bloodstained shirts untucked. I am staring at the floor as the men join their friends.
Trent catches my shoulders. He pulls me back, settling my head on a pillow. Pete raises my thighs, lifting my buttocks off the table as Trent stuffs pillows beneath my hips. My feet are placed in the stirrups and tied, then with mechanical clicks my legs are spread wide, a clamp on each side immobilizing my knees. A rubber device the length and width of a ruler is placed vertically between my labia folds. Pete bends it to the shape of my pelvis, and then turns a knob at its base. The device separates down the middle, and as the two halves widen, the folds of my girlhood are stretched apart and flattened, held in place against my body and out of the way.
I close my eyes as the mouth of my cunt is revealed for all to see. Though I am still
partially numb from my navel down, still I can feel the anticipating pulse of my tissue under the light. The men lean forward, and one of them points. “My God, she’s wet!”
Pete smiles and steps in close. “Dani’s always ready,” he says. “Easy to open and obedient.” He tosses a pillow on the floor and kneels down. Sliding in a few fingers, he stirs my juices slowly as wet sounds fill my ears. He widens his circles, his fingers gliding over the spade shaped contours of my vagina to coat my girlhood, drawing the moisture down to my anus and back up. “Best lube on the planet,” he tells his observers. Slowly then, he inserts his whole hand, twisting slightly as he pushes in.
“Would you look at that,” a man exclaims. “No resistance whatsoever!”
“I told you she’s easy.” Pete smiles, fisting gently in and out, his action steady and smooth. He adjusts the light so the men can see, fisting casually, languidly, his free hand catching my fluid welling to the surface and spreading it around his wrist. The wet kissing sounds of my tissue yielding to his strokes is pleasant and relaxing to hear. I turn my head, smiling as he works. I feel disembodied, as if I’m levitating from the table as I stare blankly up. Pete pauses to lube both his hands, and I draw a deep breath, exhaling as I feel him twisting two-handed into my exposed and vulnerable cunt.
He slides in with a firm push, the mouth of my pussy hugging his wrists. His body rocks forward and back slowly as he pumps me deep. I moan as I feel his hands separating within me. In this position he draws his hands up, pressing my pussy apart as he halfway exits, then holding his hands static, pushes back in. He turns his hands, his knuckles rubbing my cervix as once more he unlocks his fingers and pulls. “Do you see what I’m doing?” Pete asks his rapt audience. “By loosening up my hands or even pushing in opposite directions, I can expand her as I work.”
I take deep breaths as Pete sinks widely back down. With every stroke he separates more, pushing hard against my interior. His hands break the surface and holds me stretched, his half-immersed fingers rotating slowly. “And now I can do this,” he says.”
Embracing his fist with his other hand, he plunges in hard and snaps out. I am grunting along with his strokes, my thighs trembling above my immobilized knees. Pete is turning his hands as he thrusts, twisting more of my juices to the surface. I watch the clock, feeling dizzy as the pounding draws out, the sound of flesh slapping flesh as he connects and sinks down. Ten minutes, and then twenty, unendingly he thrusts. I feel cool air inside my cunt, my pussy staying open as he exits—too relaxed and stretched to spring back. The fisting continues as the men look on, with some of them leaping forward—eager for a glimpse as Pete stops and gapes me, my vagina yawning for the men to see. He fists me again with even more vigor, the men gathering at his back.
“Won’t this destroy her?” one asks as Pete works.
Pete laughs. “Naw, girls are made for this. Why do you think she was wet before I started? She knew it was coming and her body was preparing itself. She hungers for this. It’s a well-known fact; the female body yearns to be opened wide. To be prepared for motherhood.”
The man looked down at Pete. “You sure know a lot of things.”
“He reads,” says Trent with a chuckle. “As in all the time! Mr. Bookworm here.”
“I also talk to my girl.” Pete nods at me. “Ask her yourself. Dani, do you enjoy being fisted?”
The men wheel toward me, the ones still seated tilting to see my face. I moan and lick my lips, trying to think beyond the pounding.
“She’s still too drugged,” Trent says. “I don’t think—”
Pete cuts him off. “Dani,” he repeats loudly over my grunts. “Do you want these hands inside you?”
I fight to focus on his face. “I . . . “
“Yes?” Pete urges.
“Yes!” I gasp. “Yes, I want . . . yes, please!”
“There you have it.” Pete parts his hands again as he works, the airy noises from my cunt filling the little room. Again he gapes me, holding me open for the men to see.
“Can you try fisting one handed while your friend does that?” The man who was Jake’s partner askes. “So we can see your hand inside?”
Pete brightens at this idea and nods to Trent. The larger boy reaches past Pete with both hands, his fingers gripping the bony top of my vagina for leverage while he stretches my lower wall down. Pete adds fingers to press back one side as his fist passes into my gaping cunt. Slowly he fists, his hand and wrist more visible now as it penetrates my body.
“Okay, now do behind,” Jake says, licking his lips. “I assume you prepared her for that ahead of time, too?”
“You men work hard; we wanted to give you a good show,” Trent replies. He is grinning as he hurries to flip me onto my side. My leg is lifted, held aloft by the rings above the bed. I am scooted down until the lower half of my buttocks extends over the table. My right foot drifts limply to the floor before Trent scoops it up, pushing my knee forward against my chest and securing it with straps to my body.
Trent smears lube on his arms while Pete adjusts the light. “Do you want me to start her for you?” he asks, and Trent shakes his head.
“No, I got this. It’s pretty easy once you get in.”
Pete moves up beside me, catching my closest breast and kneading it hard. I feel Trent probing my anus with his fingers, slipping in fingers one by one. Slowly the hand works itself in, the fingers clamped into a cone shape. I feel the soft give as Trent slides into my rectum all at once, the tissue yielding as he ventures inward. “Nice,” Pete croons gently. “You’re a very good girl, Dani. Open wider for him, will you?”
I sigh as the hand sinks into the deepest well at the core of my being. Trent leans his body forward, his knuckles rotating back and forth. Ever so slowly he withdraws his arm, then with a firm solid pressure, thrusts in to his elbow.
I lay very still. I had never experienced just the anal by itself. The strokes are long and easy within my half-numbed body, the hand rising shallow toward my anus, then plunging back deep. The gas escaping from around his wrist makes my face burn hot. “Remember what matters,” Pete whispers in my ear. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
He moves to crouch beside Trent. The larger boy is standing, using the weight of his body to pump in and out. Pete stirs the fluids of my cunt with his fingers, playing at the edges of my opening, using the lamp to explore it out. He expands it wide with two fingers from each hand, then inserts three as far as he can, reaching in and drawing out. He moistens the pink interior of my opened folds with my juices, then dives back in with four fingers now, turning them slowly within my opening. He stretches the lower wall of my pussy, then plunges deep with his free hand, fisting hard and fast alongside Trent. I am groaning now despite myself, the two hands filling my body. Then Pete clamps his free hand around his wrist, sliding in to my half-numbed cunt with just the slightest pause of resistance. The men are around us now, some taking pictures with their phones. The three hands plunge and retreat, dive in and pull out, my body rocking in time with the rhythm of their thrus
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Wicked
Wicked · Fetish · Part 1
The white, 19-y/o Georg and the also-white, 20-y/o Sebastian, were enrolled in summer classes at a university.
And the first Thursday evening in July, they were studying when Georg was surfing online and found a Net-group, “DisreputableTarts.”
He scrolled through its membership list until he accessed a naked woman’s picture showing her large, firm tits, trim legs and black hair.
He then read: - “Hello. I'm Carol, a 38-y/o widow living in River City. I hope to contact dominant men, being I’m submissive and desperately needing golden-showers, extreme humiliation and safe physical abuse. My hobby is corrupting adult boys, 18 to 21. Please reply to 'thesurpreme_slut@gmail.com'.”
‘Look, Sebastian,’ Georg said as he pointed toward his computer screen.
‘Wow, she’s a sexy, old broad, isn’t she?’ Sebastian remarked.
‘She has a vulgar appearance, though I’ll answer her anyway.’ Georg said as he typed: - “Carol. I’m Georg. My buddy, Sebastian, and I think you’re hot. He’s 20 and I’m 19. We live in River City, too. Can you meet us in Washington Park this Sunday morning at 2:3o?”
Carol immediately responded, 'I will, sir.'
That morning, the guys drove to the otherwise-deserted park and waited until she arrived in nothing except high-heeled shoes.
‘I’m indecent, aren’t I, sirs?’ she askd.
‘Yeah,’ Sebastian replied, as he clutched her tresses and steered her into the men’s restroom.
‘This is where you’ll desecrate the Sabbath,’ he informed her.
‘Yes, sir,’ Carol said.
‘Are you ready for my abuse?’ Georg inquired.
‘Yes, I am, sir,’ she’d scarcely answered before his palm exploded against her pretty face.
‘Aaah!’ she gasped.
‘The poor thing’s suffering!’ Georg jeered.
‘Good!’ Sebastian said, followed by him inserting his finger in the slit between her thighs.
‘This is a morally primitive cave,’ he noted.
‘What do you expect? She’s a Neanderthal!’ Georg chuckled before Sebastian removed his finger and wiped it across her lips.
‘You’re so, so sweet!’ he snickered.
‘Cunts are known as honey-traps,’ Georg interjected.
‘She has a potty-hole,’ Sebastian referred to her anus while undressing
‘Your cock’s beautiful, sir,’ she told him regarding his 11-inched pecker.
‘You’re in love with it, aren’t you?’ Sebastian asked.
‘Yes, sir,’ Carol admitted.
‘Prove it!’ he snarled as he bent her over and chiseled his prick into her vag.
‘Fuck me!’ she moaned.
‘You contemptible whore!’ Sebastian growled.
‘Demolish the bitch!’ Georg advised him.
‘Yeah!’ Sebastian answered.
‘Uuuh – uuuh – uuuh!’ Carol panted.
In a bit, Sebastian came in her snatch and withdrew from it while Georg stripped, brought her to her knees and guided his 9-inched cock into her throat.
‘Suck my dick, you dirty skank!’ he yelled, and Carol obeyed until she had an orgasm.
Georg next unloaded in her mouth.
‘Let's relieve our bladders,’ he grinned as the boys pissed in her gullet.
‘Thank you, sirs,’ Carol said.
‘We’re giving you a chance to corrupt us again in church next Sunday morning,’ Sebastian smiled.
‘When, sir?
‘Ten 0’clock,’ Sebastion said.
‘Thanks for mistreating me, sirs,’ she answered, then left.
But she didn’t realize that the church was temporarily closed, since its pastor had hired Sebastian and Georg to do some repairs.
Still aroused, she wore a skirt, blouse, fishnets and high heels to another meeting when Sebastion and Georg were dressed in priest robes.
‘You understand you’re “wicked”, don’t you?’ Sebastian inquired.
‘I do, sir,’ Carol said.
‘Were you faithful to your husband?’ Georg questioned her.
‘No, sir.’
‘You were and always will be an adulteress!’ Georg remarked as he led her up the aisle to the altar.
‘Pray!’ he ordered.
‘Yes, sir!’ Carol whispered as she sank to her knees.
Sebastian then hammered his cock into her guts.
‘I’m evil!’ she wept.
‘Yeah, and your sins are beyond forgiveness!’ Georg said before Sebastian unloaded in and discarded her bowels.
Never in her life, had she felt so degraded and multiple orgasms possessed her with demonic fury while Georg aimed his dick into her rectum.
'Split my ass wide open!' she exclaimed, with Georg indulging her until he spewed jizz into it.
By then, Sebastian was holding a communion goblet into which he and Georg jacked-off and urinated. Sebastian then poured the liquids into her mouth.
‘We hereby invoke the Devil’s name and curse you forever!’ he intoned, and...
‘... amen!’ Georg concluded the ‘service.’
However, she wanted him and Sebastian to 'marry' her and a week later, they had a pretend wedding, though the guys demanded that she continue engaging in ‘adultery.'
~*~
Part 2
After the 'nuptials', Carol astonished her ‘husbands’ by confessing to her fantasies involving bestiality.
‘You little pervert!’ Sebastian snorted.
‘That’s what you are, isn’t it?’ Georg inquired.
‘Yes, sir!’
'That's right,' Georg said.
Without forewarning her, though, Sebastian and Georg explained a certain plan to their friends, the white, 18-y/o Elroy and black, 21-y/o Jeremy.
‘Are you serious?’ Elroy asked them.
‘Yeah, we are,’ Georg answered.
‘Carol’s your wife?’ Jeremy said.
‘Unofficially,’ Sebastian responded.
‘The honeymoon’s this Saturday night and we’ve reserved a room at the River City Motor Inn. Come with us,’ Georg said.
Next, he and Sebastian went to a kennel to purchase an Australian Shepherd and named him Nimrod.
Having done that, they took him to Jeremy’s apartment and left him there until the honeymoon when Sebastian ordered, ‘Wear your red shoes representing adultery and the bridal gown we bought you.'
‘Yes, sir,’ the slag answered before Sebastian and Georg drove her to the motel where Elroy, Nimrod and Jeremy were waiting.
Sebastian unlocked the door and shoved her into the room while Georg, Nimrod, Elroy and Jeremy followed.
‘Let me introduce Nimrod, the mighty hunter,’ Georg said.
‘He’s going to shoot his arrow and not miss,’ Sebastian remarked.
‘You fucking hound!’ Elroy disparaged her.
‘Yes, I’m hound!’ Carol said as Jeremy shredded her gown, honked her boobs and said, ‘These milk-cans are enormous.’
‘Her infidelity’s monstrous!’ Georg sneered.
‘Yep. She wallows in her own filth,’ Sebastian said as he, Georg, Jeremy and Elroy undressed.
However, Jeremy’s 12-inched staff excited Carol. She fell to her knees and directed it into her mouth.
‘Suck my cock, you piece of shit!’ he growled.
Elroy then moved behind her and hurled his 10-inched spear into her vag.
‘Dummy!’ he yelled.
‘Your brains are in your dung-pussy!’ Sebastian remarked.
Hearing that inspired Georg. He went to the bathroom and returned with a toilet plunger.
‘This is her favorite dildo!’ he smiled not long before Elroy soiled her snatch and Jeremy her mouth, followed by Georg slashing the plunger handle into her entrails.
‘Yes, yes, assault me!’ she urged him.
‘I’m not a rapist!’ Georg answered,
‘Me, neither, though I’ve never seen a fouler woman,’ Jeremy said as Georg removed the handle.
‘Foul is as foul does!’ Sebastian snickered while jamming his cock into her ass.
He’d barely done that before Georg crammed 4 fingers down her throat.
‘Gag!’ he snarled.
‘Uh-hmmm!’ she nodded while he withdrew his fingers and thrust his penis into her oral gape.
In a few minutes, Sebastian jizz-defiled her guts and Georg her mouth.
Moaning, the vixen crawled under the canine’s belly and nursed his pizzle into a 7-inched boner. He then reared and penetrated her snatch.
Silently, the hunks watched until Jeremy shouted, ‘You’re disgusting!’
‘Yeah, an obscene abomination!’ Georg replied.
‘Yes, sir!’ she wailed as an orgasm flooded her loins.
Soon, Nimrod unloaded in her vag and dismounted her.
‘Okay, let's seal the unholy union,’ Georg said.
‘Union?’ Elroy asked.
‘Her latest husband's tied the knot with her,’ Georg replied.
‘We aren’t selfish, are we, Georg?’ Sebastian said.
‘No,’ Georg answered as he, Jeremy, Sebastian and Elroy pissed in her mouth.
‘Thank you, sirs,’ Carol said.
‘‘Don’t forget that your husbands will never love you,’ Georg remarked.
‘Yeah,’ Sebastian said.
‘You should perform stupid pet tricks!’ Jeremy scoffed.
‘You should turn tricks. How much are you worth?’ Elroy asked.
‘Nothing, sir.’
‘Your wife’s less-valuable than junk, Nimrod!’ Elroy chuckled.
‘This is weird, but I wish my mother was a dog-fucking whore,’ Jeremy said.
'Me, too,’ Elroy replied.
‘I’ll play your mother,’ Carol volunteered.
‘You little pervert!’ Sebastian repeated.
Once the men had driven her and Nimrod home, however, they banged her for another hour and she enjoyed it
~*~
Part 3
The next Friday, Sebastian and Georg went to the university cafeteria where their 21-y/o white friends, Troy and Jim, were eating lunch. Georg and Sebastian bought their food, carried their trays over to the other guys’ table and sat down.
‘Jim and I are having argument. Would the world be a better place if all girls were sluts?’ Troy asked.
‘I don’t mean to shock you, but can I tell you a something?’ Sebastian replied.
‘Sure,’ Jim said.
‘Georg and I are in an unsanctioned marriage Carol who's a slut.’
‘Really?’ Troy answered.
‘Yeah, and metaphorically, our dog, Nimrod, is her third husband,’ Georg remarked.
‘You’ll let Jim and me do her, won’t you?’ Troy said.
‘Of course. Strange as it might sound, her best quality is her not respecting herself,' Georg answered.
‘Yeah, and I have an idea. Our original meeting happened in Washington Park on a Sunday morning which we’ll do this Sunday at 2:30,’ Sebastian said, followed by him and Georg going to Carol’s house.
‘Do you want us to shame you?’ Georg asked her.
‘Yes, I do, sir.’
At 2:15 on the present occasion, however, Georg had her wear nothing except high-heeled shoes, again.
After that, he and Sebastian took her and Nimrod out to his car. Nimrod followed her into the back seat, with Georg and Sebastian getting in the front one. Georg then drove to the park, where seeing Troy and Jim awaiting her induced her to grovel toward them.
‘This is your wife?’ Troy inquired.
‘Yeah, Carol, and this is Nimrod,’ Georg said.
‘I guess you’re trained to satisfy 3 husbands,’ Jim noted.
‘Yes, sir.’
However, Jim and Troy were amazed by her large hooters.
‘Rocks fill those bags!’ Sebastian chortled.
‘Do you have rocks in your head?’ Troy sneered.
‘Yes, sir,’ Carol responded as Jim, Sebastian, Troy and Georg stripped.
‘Choke, you despicable whore!’ Jim snarled while thrusting his 11-inched penis into her mouth.
He’d scarcely done that when Troy knelt behind her and rammed his 9-inched tool into her anus.
‘You dirty bitch!’ he yelled.
Fifteen minutes later, Jim spooged her mouth and Troy her guts, though Sebastian masturbated into her hair.
Next, Georg drilled his pecker into her vag, massaged it until he came in it and withdrew from her.
The dog then stabbed his dick into her gooey snatch.
‘Fuck the 666 beast!’ Georg urged him.
‘Yes, yes, yes!’ she moaned through an orgasm.
‘Christ almighty, this is unbelievable!’ Troy exclaimed shortly before Nimrod inseminated her vulva and jerked his pizzle from it.
‘It’s your duty to commit adultery, isn’t it?’ Georg reminded her.
‘Yes, sir,’ Carol said.
After she. Nimrod, Georg and Sebastian went home, however, Georg filmed her and Nimrod rutting and uploaded the footage a site: The Cage.
How appropriate for a beast!
~*~
Part 4
Naturally, Carol's second park experience was debasing, considering that Troy and Jim had learned about her 3 'husbands' while Jim had called her 'a despicable whore.'
Since Sebastian and Georg relished opportunities to defame her, however, they requested the 33-y/o Javier to give her an embarrassing interview at The Voyeurs' Den which charged an admission fee.
That occurred the Friday night 2 weeks later when she was wearing high-heeled shoes and collar.
'Will you be well-mannered if I release you from your cage?' Georg asked her a rhetorical question.
'Yes, sir.'
'Are you sure?' he responded.
'Yes, I am, sir,' Carol said.
'You promise not to howl, don't you?' Sebastian replied.
'Yes, I do. Where are we going, sirs?' Carol asked.
'You're destined to notoriety,' Georg answered.
'Yeah,' Sebastian said as he, Carol, Nimrod and Georg went to his car and he drove to The Den.
'You're Carol, aren't you?' the Latino Javier inquired.
'Yes, I am, sir,' she answered as Javier ushered her, Georg, Nimrod and Sebastian into his studio having a mirror-window in it.
But she wasn't aware about 4 sensitive microphones in the ceiling and that an all-male audience could listen to every word.
'I'm Georg, this is Sebastian and Nimrod, the tramp's husbands,' the former said.
'Great meeting you,' Javier responded.
'Have a seat,' - and he gestured toward chairs before Sebastian, Georg and Carol sat down.
'Are you ready?' Javier said.
Yes, I am, sir.'
'First, I must say you're lovely fuck-hole,' Javier complimented her.
'Thank you, sir.'
'You're welcome. How did you get to be a slut?' Javier replied.
'I don't know, sir.'
'Would you agree you're an impure female?' Javier said.
'Yes, I would, sir,' Carol responded,
'Okay, Sebastian and Georg, why do let her screw around?' Javier asked.
'She's worthless for anything else!' Sebastian smirked.
'Besides, nature manufactured her to please cocks by the literal 100's,' Georg remarked.
'He's exaggerating, isn't he?' Javier inquired.
'No, sir,' Carol fibbed.
'Do you have sex every day?' Javier asked.
'More than once a day, sir.'
'Really?'
'Yes, sir,' Carol said.
'Do you husbands ever kiss your wife?' Javier asked.
'Never,' Sebastian responded.
'She's vile, isn't she?' Javier said.
'Arc you, Carol?' Georg asked.
'Yes, sir!'
'Puta!' Javier growled as he exposed his 8-inched prick and stuffed it into her mouth after she'd knelt while Nimrod gouged his dick into her vag.
Surprise then erupted among 30 white men who were stroking their pricks and observing the action, as they did unril Javier shot jizz into her throat and Nimrod squirt semen into her snatch.
Next, Sebastian and Georg stripped, with Georg invading her ass.
'Uugghh, uugghh, uugghh!' she grunted.
'You filthy animal!' he snarled.
'Tu casa de perro (“you doghouse”)!' Javier sneered before Carol surrendered to a orgasm and Georg sauced her bowels.
'You're still a pervert!' Sebastian remarked while sinking his penis into and unloading in the same orifice.
'I always will be, sir!'
'Si, si, puta!' Javier grinned as Carol, Nimrod, Georg and Sebastian left, though she'd always remember that she was a 'vile!'
~*~
Part 5
Twice a week, Carol went to a beauty parlor.
Throughout the next week while was she gone, Sebastian wore surgical gloves to collect Nimrod's sperm in jar which he stored in a bedroom refrigerator until a Saturday afternoon when she was drinking coffee in the kitchen.
As well, she was dressed in panties and a bra.
'Did you buy some new clothes?' he inquired.
'I prefer being half-naked, sir,' she replied.
'Your immodesty suits you,' he answered.
'So does your depravity,' Georg remarked.
'Yes, sir!'
'You belong in the gutter!' he said.
'You're rude!' Sebastian chuckled.
'Thanks,' Georg answered, then: - 'Caffeine's an aphrodisiac.'
'Yes, sir,' Carol said.
'Are you horny?' Sebastian inquired.
'Yes, sir,' she answered.
'Take your bra and panties off,' Georg instructed.
'Yes, sir,' - and she stood to obey before Sebastian disappeared into his bedroom to bring the jar and a douche-bulb to the kitchen.
'Nimrod's supplied a drug,' he said as he opened the receptacles and emptied the jar into the bulb.
He replaced its spout, thrust it into her ass and administered her an enema before he took her cup and held it under her.
'Defecate!' he snarled.
'Yes, sir!' Carol said as she complied.
Next, he slid the nozzle out and buried it in her throat.
'Taste your poop!' he commanded.
'Uh-hmmm!' she nodded.
Sebastian finally unplugged the spout and handed the beverage to her after she'd sat in her chair.
'Swill that, pig!' he laughed.
'Yes, sir!' Carol blushed.
'Our wife's a sow!' Georg remarked as Nimrod entered the kitchen, reared, aimed his dick into her snatch and triggered her orgasm to end the afternoon.
~*~
Part 6
Since Carol had received a large inheritance from her real husband, she didn't have a job until a company hired her to promote its business.
And during supper the next Thursday, she announced, 'I'll be working, sirs.'
'Doing what?' Sebastian said.
'Demonstrating sex-toys. A customer's scheduled an appointment for tomorrow evening at 5, sir.'
'Your employer provided your phone number?' Georg asked.
'Yes, sir.'
'Congratulations. I'm proud,' Sebastian responded.
'Thank you, sir,' Carol replied.
However, she didn't know it was the company's policy to send representatives to initial demonstrations, though she was wearing a short dress when she answered the door that evening.
'Hi, Carol. I'm Liam,' a white man startled her.
'H-e-l-l-o, s-s-sir.'
'Liam's an Irish name, isn't it?' Sebastian said.
'Yes, it is, and my ancestors kissed the Blarney Stone,' Liam replied before Georg whistled and Nimrod sauntered into the living room.
Georg lifted his tail, shoved her to her kness and growled, 'Kiss your husband's stones!'
'Yes, sir!' Carol murmured as she started dehumanizing herself.
'Did you say husband?' Liam asked.
'Yeah, I did,' Georg answered as Liam dropped his jeans to display his 9-inched pecker.
He began fondling it while Sebastian forced a vibrator and a dildo into her muff.
Nimrod then turned and emptied his balls into her mouth.
'You shameful hussy!' Liam snorted.
'You're a slattern, aren't you, Carol?' Sebastian inquired.
'Yes, sir!' she admitted while an orgasm surged through her loins.
'Nimrod should divorce you!' Georg replied as he and Sebastian directed sperm into her oral pit.
Nevertheless, Carol flinched when Liam shot jizz into her eyes.
'Weep, you poor, poor baby!' he taunted her.
After that, he drew his jeans up.
'I'm finished and ready to report to my supervisor,' he said.
'Is she allowed to sell these devices?' Sebastian asked.
'Yeah, at a 75% discount,' Liam responded.
'Thank you, sir,' Carol bid him farewell, then: - 'Please don't divorce me, Nimrod!'
But the dog's only answer was to bark!
~*~
Part 7
The following Saturday was the honeymoon's 3-month anniversary and Elroy's nineteenth birthday, with him, Sebastian, Nimrod and Georg celebrating both events at Carol's house.
'Time flies and I can't believe we've been hitched that long,' Georg said.
'Me, neither,' Sebastian replied, then: - 'You don't love your mother, do you, Elroy?'
'She's an obscene abomination,' Elroy quoted Georg.
'Yes, I am, sir,' responded Carol who was naked.
'You're glad Nimrod didn't divorce you, aren't you?' Georg asked.
'Yes, sir.'
'That's because he appreciates your promiscuity,' Georg said.
'Incest isn't any worse than bestiality, is it?' Sebastian inquired.
'No, sir.'
'You're an adulteress, aren't you, mom?' Elroy asked.
'Yes, sir.'
'That characterizes the sleaze-bag you are,' Georg answered as he, Sebastian and Elroy stripped.
She lay on the floor; Elroy thrust his dick into her mouth while Nimrod steered his into her pussy.
'He's going to breed you!' Sebastian warned her.
'Whelp Nimrod a litter!' Georg suggested.
'I wouldn't mind sharing your motherhood,' Elroy said.
'You're generous,' Sebastian remarked.
But Carol was taking pill.
Nevertheless, Elroy battered her throat until he came in it and Nimrod her muff.
They withdrew from her before Georg began destroying her snatch.
'Hurt me!' she begged him.
'You bet, I will!' he growled as he slimed her vag.
However, he'd scarcely done that when Elroy flipped her off and said, 'Bless you, mother-dearest!'
'We cursed her in church, huh, Georg?' Sebastian inquired
'Yeah, forever!' Georg replied.
'I'm damned to hell, sirs!' Carol sobbed while Sebastian ejaculated into her mouth.
'Swallow your disgrace!' he ordered.
'Yes, sir.'
'Happy birthday, Elroy. Would you marry me?' she asked.
'You're twisted! But, why not?' Elroy answered.
'Thank you, sir.'
She now had 4 'husbands,' though regretted that she couldn't 'whelp' Nimrod a 'litter.'
(to be continued)
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House Hunting
House Hunting · One on One · I arrive at the house she's "showing" me and she's already there, the front door stands invitingly ascew. I walk in without saying a word. I lock the door as I close it softly.
Following the scent of Rose water and desire, I find her in the kitchen, leaning back against the center islands top. Her hair up in a bun, astutely held in place by an ink pen. The lightness of her near see through summer dress hanging beautifully from the apex of her curves. The lack of visible bra strap sparks memory of her disliking panties too.
Before I can speak she smirks, pushes off the island, upright to stride in one seamless motion. The heals of her fashionably worn boots tapping out a cadence nearly as quick as my heart beat's pace. A pace that skipped a beat then doubled it's speed the moment I saw her face.
She brushed by me as if I was any of a hundred potential buyers. Immediately starting her shpeil, "The house was built in blah blah blah. It has yada yada bedrooms and blah bathrooms, the school district is..." who cares. "The neighbors are..." whatever.
I'm not listening as she strolls into the living room. Slightly distracted by the sound of her heels echoing through the empty room. She's describing the Craftsmanship and origins of the bold, room dominating, 10 ft tall rock and timber fireplace as I catch up and take her hand.
Pulling it back then up. With hand over her head I spin her 540°.
Using the first full spin to take her in. Stealing a moment to admire the bits of visible thighs briefly exposed as her dress's hem caught lift from a centrifically created updraft.
Using the final half turn to position her, face and front side to fossilized fireplace, back side and ass to beloved blast from the past.
Grasping her other hand, stacking them palm to back and interlacing her fingers, I place her soft manicured hands directly above her head as high as upstretched arms will reach.
I start to slide my fingertips first over wrist, past forearm over...
Her hands begin to lower.
With both my hands I grab hers stretching her arms skyward again, pressing my chest to shoulder blades, backed by an ample amount of body wieght. I lean lips towards lobes and calmly but with enough conviction in my tone to convey my seriousness, "Leave. Them. There." I say no more.
Again my hands begin to decend, callused palms inverted to feminine flesh, fingernails slowly sliding, starting at wrists, down forearms, over elbows, following tensed triceps downward, ever so softly grazing the tender back side of her underarms.
Turning hands over and opting to trace inside of dresses neckline around to her front. Confirming no bra. Nervous knuckles barely reaching cleavage when, with wandering finger tips gripping both sides of necklines deepest dip. Suddenly a swift, powerful, fist separating pull...
Loud and crisp is the echoing of bouncing buttons.
A sharp audible inhale follows, both sounds raucously ricochet around the naked room.
Unintentional auditory outburst instantly putting her shock on display.
Simultaneously exciting me in an old familiar way.
The reverb of that reactionary breathe detracting from the sound of flower printed fabric fracturing.
Exposing alabaster breast as tantalizing tear plunges towards waistline.
Retracting fisted fabric around ribs cage to spine and pressing bare chest heavily, harshly to cold multi textured stones.
A wince and flinch, reaction to pain felt from jagged edge nearly piercing breast's flesh near left nipple's crest. Soothing coolness felt from, smooth, glass like surface of rounded stone nestled beneath right breast. Just to name a few nipple hardening, sentually maddening sensations felt by her nearly sensory overloaded torso.
Though Mostly it's her titties that, with my left hand continuing to apply pressure, will continue to experience the full measure of the fireplaces titillating textures.
Leaning in, adding an almost unbearable amount of body weight to her beautifully bulbous backside. I whisper "Leave them there." Giving a little nudge to shoulder blades opposite boulder bound breasts, confirming breasts were to stay put.
Mouth so tight to ear, lower lip drug lobes edge while instructions were delivered.
Again, my hands decend slipping over hipbone front to back then delicately down outer thighs. Finger's tips collect behind each knee before climbing steadily up each legs back side, hooking dresses hem, lifting it past waist around hips to a tucked resting place between pelvis and fireplace rock.
Chalky white ass fully exposed I give into the urge, slapping first left cheek *Smack* then right *Smack* momentarily leaving me motionless, mesmerized by rippling rump's firm resistance to jiggling. Too toned in fact, *Smack* I giggled, I did. *Smack* such an uncontrolled response was that. I then grab tattered dress at the peak from which it hangs between necks base and shoulders edge, rough and carelessly tugging it past waist til just over hips the fractured floral fabric flounders to the floor.
I place hands on shoulder blades, thumbs tight to spine's sides. Smoothly, slowly my hands glide almost frictionless down back, cruise convex curves two thirds down ass.
Slipping thumbs in crack as if peeling an orange I seperate the two beautifully toned parabolus that together are her near perfect ass.
Slowly I start to squat then kneel there behind her, taking time to breath long deliberate breathes of warm lust down her slightly goosebumped spine. Dragging first my lower lip, then my up a short distance and just one time. Stopping at tail bone and ass cracks rendezvous point, I lead with wet tongue's tip follow that with puckered lips ending in a momentary french kiss
With puddled saliva mid tongue I again place tongue's tip this time on edge of starfish pressing tongue to flat. Pursed flesh is instantly saliva soaked. My tongue traces a few clockwise laps around the circumference of slightly clenched orifice before wetting tongue and starting at taint climbing crack providing pressure just short of penetration.
Reaching ass's pinnacle celebrated with a playful bite from each side of apple bottom's top before tongue dives again this time counter clockwise laps, faster, sloppier tongue occasionally plunging into starfish. Apparently taking things beyond the tossing of salad and now straight eating ass and doing so till plenty of time had passed.
Standing tall again i take hold of her hands and again lead her through a spin. Pirouette concluded with her headed through kitchen door me at her heals.
Carelessly I push her into newly updated kitchen's island. The momentum bending her slightly forward at the waist, without time to get straight I force face, chest and navel flush to island's top.
Standing back to unbuckle belt and again admiring that phat ass. I pull belt trough loops and quickly strike that ass.
She starts to pick up torso and turn, with just a bit of aggression in my tone quickly I bark, "Don't you fucking move!"
Now with accelerated pace I unbutton, unzip, drop trough, thrust dick between wet lips till a touch past balls deep. Start with drawn out slow pace, shifting to longer, well longer than most, strokes every inch pulled out and every inch thrust in with steadily quickening speed and equally increasing force. Till, after some time and a considerable amount of incomprehensible moans, ass cheek claps and a little bit of pleasure filled laugh from me.
I inquire through shortening breathes, "Baby will you come with me?" I pause and offer a sensual taunt, " Please, baby, please cum with me. That pussy's so good...I'm close, I really wish you would." Taking a few breathes but offering no respite steady pounding that red and rippling ass.
With the sharp swift *Slap* of leather belt connecting with ass I grip hip bones harsly and in a demanding and forceful voice I say, "God damn it, I said Cum. That means..." belt cracks other cheek, " you cum and you cum now!" I pull her head back twisting it hard in attempt at making eye contact. Again barking orders, "You Filthy little whore, fuck you then I'm about to come and I swear to christ you better not fucking cum." I pullout and with a couple swift strokes my load is lauched, residing across ass and lower back. *Smack**smack* Twice more I selfishly slap ass, each cheek recieving hands grace independently. Red handed silhouette staying in place.
Stepping back I squaltch my satisfied smirk and, " House is nice but, I don't want a fireplace." I said heading for the door buttoning my pants, belt around neck. "Let me know if you find another place to show me!" I yell stepping through the doorway, "No fireplace, K? Nice seeing you again." I said quickly as the door closed.
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