vertigis
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Jan 4, 2014
Tamara’s jaw clenched shut tightly, teeth grinding together as the man called her a good girl in his gentle coaxing voice. His hands kept busy, pushing, pulling, applying firm pressure to her back until he’d positioned her nubile young body just how he wanted it. Through it all she didn’t glance back, not even once, but simply stared forward at the grimy wall with its streaks of dirt as the tears streamed down her soft brown cheeks. Soon he was pawing at her dangling breasts, squeezing the soft tender flesh between his fingers while the warm hard outline of his cock sawed between the cheeks of her ass through his well worn jeans.
With the weight of his body pressed down against the small of her back, she felt something moist on her shoulder and realized he was kissing her with his mouth open now, wet and eager, tongue running along the hard line of her clavicle and up her long neck. It made her cringe, face contorting in an expression of intense fear and raw disgust. Part of her wished he would just do the thing, just get it over with, while another dreaded the moment when he finally forced himself into her dry pussy and began to rape her in earnest. Tamara kept praying that something would happen before then, that someone would come and call the pair off, but the longer the minutes dragged on, the more hopeless she became. This was going to happen, all of it, every bit, and then afterwards…
“I want…I want to…to feel you,” she whispered, the image of Tommy’s friend with his flashing knife again popping into her head. This man might be the only thing keeping her alive right now. She had to do what he wanted, had to keep him happy with her. “I want…you…you to fuck my pussy. I…love the…the feel of your hands on my…my tits. It…it makes me so…so hot…” There was nothing remotely convincing about her stammered words of course, and her voice cracked audibly as she heard the metallic slither of his zipper descending. A moment later she felt the thick tip of his cock pressing hotly against her mound, rubbing over her soft pink folds. His shirt followed and he leaned in even closer, the hard surface of his chest molding itself to the form of her gently arched back. “Y…yeah…yes, please…I want…I want you…in me…” her words punctuated with little sobs as she was made to beg for the very thing she wanted least. For him to fuck her.
****
The bathrooms were at last in sight and Melanie’s pace picked up as they grew nearer. If not for the distraction of the phone, she might have looked around, might have noticed the men lurking behind the corner of a nearby vender kiosk. She was too busy arguing with Renee though as they debated over what to do next. Her friend kept insisting that she was overacting, that all three girls would show up soon, that they probably went to check out the old haunted house or lover’s tunnel on the other side of the park like sensible people instead of standing by the entrance gawking at each other in the fading sunlight.
Instead of chasing after her baby sister as if the girl wasn’t old enough to take care of herself now.
“Christy! I’m serious, I’m not kidding, if you can answer me you better, or I’m going to kick your ass! If you think this is funny, it’s not! Christy! Please, where are you? CHR-”
Mel heard the crunch of gravel just in time to spin on her heels and spot the men rapidly closing in. There were two of them and they were less than twenty feet away, hunched down in a predatory crouch. The phone slipped from her fingers as she leapt backwards in surprise and it clattered on the pavement. Startled blue eyes shot from one to the other, noting the mohawk, and the dirty tatty clothes, as if she needed any other warning sign besides their body language and the fact they’d been creeping up on her this way.
“Who…? Stay back,” she said, continuing to inch backwards until her ankle struck something sharp and unyielding, causing her to stumble. It was the edge of a cement divider used to demark a row of decorative flower boxes, now full of dead weeds, spider webs, and old cigarette butts. It also effectively boxed in her as they fanned out, and her hands folded into small fists. These men weren’t as immediately intimidating as Brody but there were two of them and Mel wasn’t athletic like her sister or Tamara. She’d done some high school cheerleading and practiced yoga, sort of, when she had the time, but that was all. There wasn’t much chance of her outfighting them. Maybe if she could run…
“Mel? Mel! What’s going on? Hey…c’mon, not funny. Are you okay? Mel?!”
****
As the beast above her groaned out his pleasure, Christy continued to roll his sweaty ball sack in her mouth, rubbing her tongue over the unpleasant surface of his skin and coarse stringy hairs. When his rough hand pressed down on her head, petting her hair, she hunched up her shoulders a little further, fearing and hating his touch equally. That didn’t keep her from doing what she was told though. If anything the fear and lingering pain made her act with unthinking urgency. When he told her to jerk him off, her shaky right hand immediately reached up to wrap around his thick base as she began to pump the smooth shaft in her warm little palm.
They both heard the voice calling her name at the same time and she froze in mid-action. For a moment Christy couldn’t think and then her brain finally recognized that it had belonged to her sister Mel. She’d obviously come looking for her when she’d failed to come back. She was about to spit him out and yell back when Brody’s low whisper rumbled from his chest like a bear’s angry growl, threatening to break her neck and rape Melanie next if she stopped. Staring up at him, almost believing what he said in her fear of him, Christy seemed uncertain what to do, when suddenly her sister’s voice cut off sharply in the midst of calling her name. They both listened then and, as the silence grew longer, fresh tears began to spill from the corners of her fearful brown eyes.
“Mlll…Mlll…” Christy whimpered, repeating her sister’s name, although with Brody’s balls still stuffing her mouth the words themselves were hard to make out. Knowing something must have happened and finding herself helpless to do anything about it, she began to cry even more desperately, great racking sobs making her chest heave beneath her sporty summer top. As Brody glared down, her hand slowly resumed its stroking motion while she wept for her sister, for her friends, for herself. “Mlll…”
With the weight of his body pressed down against the small of her back, she felt something moist on her shoulder and realized he was kissing her with his mouth open now, wet and eager, tongue running along the hard line of her clavicle and up her long neck. It made her cringe, face contorting in an expression of intense fear and raw disgust. Part of her wished he would just do the thing, just get it over with, while another dreaded the moment when he finally forced himself into her dry pussy and began to rape her in earnest. Tamara kept praying that something would happen before then, that someone would come and call the pair off, but the longer the minutes dragged on, the more hopeless she became. This was going to happen, all of it, every bit, and then afterwards…
“I want…I want to…to feel you,” she whispered, the image of Tommy’s friend with his flashing knife again popping into her head. This man might be the only thing keeping her alive right now. She had to do what he wanted, had to keep him happy with her. “I want…you…you to fuck my pussy. I…love the…the feel of your hands on my…my tits. It…it makes me so…so hot…” There was nothing remotely convincing about her stammered words of course, and her voice cracked audibly as she heard the metallic slither of his zipper descending. A moment later she felt the thick tip of his cock pressing hotly against her mound, rubbing over her soft pink folds. His shirt followed and he leaned in even closer, the hard surface of his chest molding itself to the form of her gently arched back. “Y…yeah…yes, please…I want…I want you…in me…” her words punctuated with little sobs as she was made to beg for the very thing she wanted least. For him to fuck her.
****
The bathrooms were at last in sight and Melanie’s pace picked up as they grew nearer. If not for the distraction of the phone, she might have looked around, might have noticed the men lurking behind the corner of a nearby vender kiosk. She was too busy arguing with Renee though as they debated over what to do next. Her friend kept insisting that she was overacting, that all three girls would show up soon, that they probably went to check out the old haunted house or lover’s tunnel on the other side of the park like sensible people instead of standing by the entrance gawking at each other in the fading sunlight.
Instead of chasing after her baby sister as if the girl wasn’t old enough to take care of herself now.
“Christy! I’m serious, I’m not kidding, if you can answer me you better, or I’m going to kick your ass! If you think this is funny, it’s not! Christy! Please, where are you? CHR-”
Mel heard the crunch of gravel just in time to spin on her heels and spot the men rapidly closing in. There were two of them and they were less than twenty feet away, hunched down in a predatory crouch. The phone slipped from her fingers as she leapt backwards in surprise and it clattered on the pavement. Startled blue eyes shot from one to the other, noting the mohawk, and the dirty tatty clothes, as if she needed any other warning sign besides their body language and the fact they’d been creeping up on her this way.
“Who…? Stay back,” she said, continuing to inch backwards until her ankle struck something sharp and unyielding, causing her to stumble. It was the edge of a cement divider used to demark a row of decorative flower boxes, now full of dead weeds, spider webs, and old cigarette butts. It also effectively boxed in her as they fanned out, and her hands folded into small fists. These men weren’t as immediately intimidating as Brody but there were two of them and Mel wasn’t athletic like her sister or Tamara. She’d done some high school cheerleading and practiced yoga, sort of, when she had the time, but that was all. There wasn’t much chance of her outfighting them. Maybe if she could run…
“Mel? Mel! What’s going on? Hey…c’mon, not funny. Are you okay? Mel?!”
****
As the beast above her groaned out his pleasure, Christy continued to roll his sweaty ball sack in her mouth, rubbing her tongue over the unpleasant surface of his skin and coarse stringy hairs. When his rough hand pressed down on her head, petting her hair, she hunched up her shoulders a little further, fearing and hating his touch equally. That didn’t keep her from doing what she was told though. If anything the fear and lingering pain made her act with unthinking urgency. When he told her to jerk him off, her shaky right hand immediately reached up to wrap around his thick base as she began to pump the smooth shaft in her warm little palm.
They both heard the voice calling her name at the same time and she froze in mid-action. For a moment Christy couldn’t think and then her brain finally recognized that it had belonged to her sister Mel. She’d obviously come looking for her when she’d failed to come back. She was about to spit him out and yell back when Brody’s low whisper rumbled from his chest like a bear’s angry growl, threatening to break her neck and rape Melanie next if she stopped. Staring up at him, almost believing what he said in her fear of him, Christy seemed uncertain what to do, when suddenly her sister’s voice cut off sharply in the midst of calling her name. They both listened then and, as the silence grew longer, fresh tears began to spill from the corners of her fearful brown eyes.
“Mlll…Mlll…” Christy whimpered, repeating her sister’s name, although with Brody’s balls still stuffing her mouth the words themselves were hard to make out. Knowing something must have happened and finding herself helpless to do anything about it, she began to cry even more desperately, great racking sobs making her chest heave beneath her sporty summer top. As Brody glared down, her hand slowly resumed its stroking motion while she wept for her sister, for her friends, for herself. “Mlll…”