She was a twenty-five year old gold digger, married to a fat cat 72 year old son-of-a-bitch who showered her with monetary enticements. Although she hated with a passion whoever the fuck invented Viagra, the old fart’s sexual demands were really not that pressing. The main thing for him was to have an eye candy trophy wife on his arm when attending important public functions, and in terms of eye candy, this 5’-9” blonde was Lady Godiva chocolate.
Whenever the old codger did pop one of those magic little blue pills, his dick would harden, for sure, but he often barely had the energy to mount her, and if he did, his wheezing, asthmatic humping of her usually never lasted more than a minute before he emptied into her whatever contents he had in that seventy-two year old sac. Many times, the old geezer was more than content if his hottie young wife just did a blow job on him. In these instances, she was lucky if he fell asleep before ejaculating, and even if there were times when she caught an eyeful of his cum, or even if some of it got in her mouth, it disgusted her, but hey, it was all a small price to pay for the many fabulous perks she enjoyed, not to mention the fact that she would probably be taken out of his will if she refused to entertain him in this fashion. She figured she had a maximum of 15-16 years before he fucking kicked the bucket, less than that if she were lucky. Of course there would be his children from his first wife to contend with at the reading of the will, but she was confident of prevailing. In the meantime, her own sexual desires could be sated whenever she wished by any young stud she could invariably attract by literally just snapping her fingers.
One of the many perks she enjoyed was a bright yellow Porsche convertible. That was what she was driving one day, late morning, wearing a matching yellow tank top that showed a daring amount of cleavage, her long blonde hair blowing in the breeze, when a certain young man saw her and something inside him snapped. He knew immediately that he wanted her, that he would have her, and the possible consequences (thirty years in prison) of making it happen could be damned. The sight of her in her $90,000 sports car shattered his self-control, his caution. The fact that his girlfriend had recently dumped him may have fed his give-a-damn state of mind.
The young woman was a famous figure in this town of 100,000 inhabitants. The young man knew what every gossiping busybody in town had to say about her and her despicable gold digging. Driving his white service van, he pulled into traffic several cars behind the young woman’s Porsche and followed her. She led him to the outskirts of town, her stalker always maintaining two or three cars between them. At last her yellow Porsche convertible pulled into the long driveway of a mansion situated on a ten acre estate. The excited young man observed from the roadway as she drove down the forty meter drive, at the end of which an automatic garage door opened and swallowed the Porsche before closing.
The young man knew that the time had arrived. He had seen before the garage door closed that there were no other cars present. She must be alone. Or were there servants? He would find out.
Speeding off, the young man drove the fifteen minutes to his apartment, donned a service man’s uniform, selected an old gas company ID from a job he was fired from ten months previously, gathered a few other essentials that he figured he would need, and hopped back in his van for the return trip to the mansion where a hot, young blonde in a tight fitting yellow tank top awaited him. Hopefully, she was all by herself.
After pulling up before the mansion’s front doors fifteen minutes later, the conflicted young man had to ring the bell three times before the young woman whom he had previously followed peered out a window beside the door and asked him what he wanted. He was gratified to see that she was still wearing the tight, yellow tank top with the bold cleavage showing more than a hint of the upper part of what were obviously a lovely pair of boobs. He had reports of gas line leakage in the vicinity, he told her, and needed to check the gas line that came into her kitchen. No dummy, the young blonde asked through the window for identification. The man was more than glad to step to the window and flash his old gas company ID.
In the worst mistake of her life, the young blonde went to the front door and opened it. The man did not take more than three steps inside the door before landing a solid blow to the young woman’s belly, an impact that doubled her up and dropped her to her knees. Pressing her face down to the floor, the man had no difficulty in pulling the young blonde’s arms behind her back while her energies were consumed in gasping for the air that had been so suddenly knocked from her lungs. With duct tape pulled from his pocket, the man quickly taped the young woman’s wrists together behind her back. He stood and looked down upon her as she writhed on the floor at his feet. Besides the tight yellow tank top, the only other thing she was wearing was an equally tight pair of white short shorts that covered nothing below her crotch. She was barefoot. Her long, beautiful, bare legs scissored back and forth as she continued to struggle for needed air.
The unscrupulous young man now scanned the inside of the mansion from his location by the front door. He saw no sign of any other being. Listening intently, he heard no other sounds inside the mansion other than the gasping moans emanating from the young woman lying at his feet. With duct tapes he bound her ankles, completely immobilizing her, and then went on a thorough search of the mansion to satisfy himself that he was, indeed, all alone with his beautiful, young prey.
From a doorway leading back to the front entrance, he paused to take in the sight of the young woman lying bound on her side by the front door in tank top and short shorts. It appeared that she had fully regained air because he noticed now how her chest heaved against the tight fitting tank top with the heavy breathing of someone very much afraid. He walked over to where she lay and looked down upon her. Her fear-struck eyes met his. Words spilled from her mouth. Words such as who are you, what are you doing, let me go, get out of here, etc. The wicked young man merely smiled down at her. He then knelt and undid the tape that had secured her wrists and ankles. He wanted her free, able to fight back if she had it in her. He wanted to play cat and mouse. It would be much more of an enticing turn on for him if the mouse would fight back. He was taking his chances that she was not proficient in martial arts.
The young woman rolled onto her back once freed from her bounds, and slowly crab walked backwards, away from him, not taking her eyes from him as she did so. The fear in her beautiful, blue eyes sent a blood rush to the young man’s penis. He hadn’t fucked a woman in three weeks and was extremely horny.
Once she was what she felt a safe distance from him, she slowly, carefully rose to her feet. Standing, she assumed a crouching position, like an athlete ready to move quickly in any direction. Words such as get out of here again came from her throat, but in a hoarse, fear choked manner. As the man now moved toward her, the young woman glanced furtively around her, searching desperately for a path of escape. When he had closed to within just a few feet, the young woman broke for a doorway that led to the kitchen. She was quick but not quick enough for the stranger who grabbed her by her long, blonde hair and pulled her backward, making her fall back to the floor where she landed on her ass. Shrill screams of protest now filled the spacious mansion and rattled off collector items of artwork and statuary.
The bad man circled her, smiling. The young woman quickly hopped to her feet, again searching for somewhere to escape, but her attacker was now backing her against a wall, and there was no path around him. Crying, she attempted to strike him in the face, but he blocked her arm and instead it was he who landed a blow, hitting her on her cheek with a force that snapped her head sideways. She cried out in pain, and when her head spun back to face him again, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and hatred, he saw a small trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth.
Like a caged animal, the young woman again attempted to strike at her attacker. This time, her assailant let her weak swing hit him on his neck, and he pretended that the blow staggered him. The young woman took advantage of her attacker appearing to be momentarily off balance to rush him and land another blow that could have been deflected had the recipient wanted. But she did not know this, and the immoral young man saw what he wanted—a flicker of hope dance across the expression on the beautiful face of his prey. The young woman actually thought for an instant that she had a fighting chance! The sadistic irony of the situation sent blood gushing to the man’s hard-on like nothing else could. It was invigorating. Intoxicating.
The woman thought it was her chance and tried to dart past her assailant and perhaps gain safety by getting out the front door of the mansion. But to her startled surprise, the man deftly stuck out his foot tripping her, sending her sprawling once again to the floor. On her way down this time her head grazed the edge of a pedestal that held a huge flower arrangement. A $1,000 vase toppled from the pedestal and crashed to the floor, smashing into a dozen shards and sending potting soil and flowers out over the polished tiles beside the young woman who lay stunned, her limbs stirring slowly in every direction. The bad man grabbed her by the hair and pulled the stunned woman to her feet. Words from his mouth were to the effect of fight me, bitch, come on, show me some resistance, you rich fucking slut.
Instead of fighting further, however, the young woman could barely stand and, dissolving into uncontrollable sobs, virtually collapsed into her attacker’s arms. At 5’-9” she was only a few inches shorter than he, and her head struck his chin as she fell against him. She would have fallen back to the floor had he not held her up. Blood now came tricking from above her temple where it had hit the pedestal, as well as from the corner of her mouth as result of his vicious slap. The blood mixed with tears and mascara and made her look like a disheveled, sad circus clown.
The bad man decided that the cat and mouse game was over. His penis was bulging within his pants. He was ready for Act II. Dragging the woman by her hair, he led her stumbling through the mansion, crashing against walls and cabinetry in search of a door that would lead to the garage. There was a certain yellow Porsche convertible he wanted to find.
It took him awhile to find the correct door, with the young woman tripping behind his every step, her head bowed as he led her painfully by the hair. Once in the garage, he flicked on the light, and there was the gleaming, $90,000 sports car sitting alone in the three car garage. He admired the vehicle for a long moment, then dragged the car’s owner over to it and threw her onto the hood. The young woman’s long, lean body slid off the car and she landed with a thump on her ass on the garage floor beside the front wheel. The evil young man stood over her, reached down and began fumbling with the button to her short shorts. The woman seemed to return to full consciousness and began to scream. Her shrieks filled the uncluttered garage, the sounds eerily reverberating off the walls and overhead rafters as if it were in an echo chamber. Her attacker seemed of a mind to let her scream all she wanted. No one down by the road forty meters from the mansion was likely to hear her. She fought him with her arms as he tried to remove her shorts. This annoyed him to the point where, cursing, he forced her over onto her stomach on the cool concrete floor and once again secured her wrists behind her back with duct tape, paying no attention to her panicked screams.
Rolling the young woman over onto her back, the man was now unencumbered in opening the fly of her micro-shorts and sliding them off the curves of her hips and tugging them down her kicking, struggling legs. With her arms pinned beneath her on the garage floor, the man made quick work of the young woman’s panties, as well. Once off of her body, the panties went into his pocket as souvenirs.
The young woman was now clad in only the yellow tank top which came down no further than to her navel. The color of the top perfectly matched that of the sports car she lay beside. Her heavy, excited breathing as she lay on the garage floor sent her picture-perfect pair of firm breasts, encased in what was obviously a very expensive push-up bra, heaving against the tight fitting top.
She was then gruffly pulled from the floor by the armpits, her arms still taped behind her back, and unceremoniously dumped over the driver’s side door into the car’s interior, banging her head on something yet again. The evil man had instructions for her. She was to place her back against the dashboard of the car and plant her feet on either side of the console and fuck herself with the car’s stick shift.
The young woman, naked from the navel down and knowing she was in for a world of trouble, cussed at the man in a hissing voice, calling him names that would made a sailor blush. When the man, who was a patient person, saw that the young woman was refusing his instructions, he calmly repeated them. After all, how many women would begin to fuck themselves on an automobile’s stick shift after being told only once? His patience ended, however, when she screamed back at him to go fuck his own self. Annoyed, he slapped her across the face with a viscous backhand so hard that she fell across the seats, too dazed to cry. Her face grimaced and her mouth formed a wide open O, but it took thirty seconds before any sob became audible. After a moment, the man said something about how terrible it would be to disfigure such outstanding eye candy. He then grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and lifted her himself into a position where, facing backwards in the car, her long, bare legs straddled the console. All she had to do was lower her body and the Porsche’s stick shift would impale her exposed womanhood.
She was again instructed to fuck herself with help from her $90,000 sports car. By this point too much afraid of her attacker to resist him further, the young woman, her arms secured by tape behind her back, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders, dutifully began lowering herself until she felt the smooth leather knob press again her femininity. His words about disfigurement had struck a chord. She knew she was in a helpless situation. She knew she had to start doing what she was told if she were to come out of this situation intact. So now, trembling, she was feeling the shift knob against her private parts. Immediately she stopped, the realization hitting her that the size of the knob, a full two and a half inches in diameter, was much too big for her pussy to take. Her attacker sensed her tentativeness. His hands went to her neck. With the strength of his fingers around her throat, he made her understand that he would strangle her unless she took the stick shift, knob an all, into her vagina, and did it fast.
Crying, with tears streaming down her cheeks, the young woman tried to comply with her attacker’s wishes and again lowered herself against the stiff protrusion that stuck upward against her between her spread thighs. After several efforts, however, she could not make the knob enter between the fold of a pussy that was tight with fear and humiliation. She paused in an effort to rest, and the man let her pause, but soon he tightened his grip on her neck again and she understood this to be a signal that it was time for her to try again. She wanted to tell him that she needed lubrication, but gasps and cries were the only audible sounds that she was capable of making. Taking a deep breath and grimacing, the young woman pressed her body downward yet again. Her pussy one more time resisted the two and a half inch knob, but, feeling the man’s grip around her neck, an additional effort, this one more forceful, made it happen. She felt the leather knob slid entirely into the first few inched of her reluctant female opening. Her eyes widened in surprise and she gasped at the sensation of the penetration. Her assailant, his face inches before hers, knew what had happened and almost ejaculated by the look in his victim’s eyes. He took his hands from her neck to her shoulders and pushed her body downward firmly, impaling the leather knob a full four inches deeper into her cunt. Four inches was all, because the gear shift stick was no longer than that.
The depraved stranger now placed his hands inside the young woman’s armpits and began lifting her and pressing her down, lifting her and pressing her down, moving her body up and down on the Porsche’s stick shift, effectively fucking her with it. The young woman’s groans were audible as the sensation of being raped in this manner engulfed her. She felt the violation in every nerve tip of her body. After a while of this, the man moved his hands to the woman’s buttocks. Now he would push up on her from the bottom, and then leave her there, and if her ass did not slid back down into his hands, he would reach for her hips and pull her back down. Each cyclical movement sent the gear shift in and out of her cunt. Visions of the beautiful young blonde driving her rich husband’s car around town now danced in the man’s head as he observed from close range how she was being sexually molested by that very car.
The man now repositioned himself, standing on the convertible car’s seats with his hardened cock now in the young woman’s face. Her new instructions were to suck the cock, and if so much as the beginning of a bite were felt, she was assured that she would no longer be such an attractive piece of eye candy. Her eyes, swollen from crying, stared at him for a long while until her mouth finally opened in compliance to receive his manhood. She was frightened of the consequences if she did not obey him. She was also told to keep moving up and down on the stick shift while taking his penis into the depths of her mouth. While being raped in two of her body’s orifices simultaneously, the young woman heard a slew of epitaphs spill from her assailant’s mouth. Her sugar daddy had bought this car for her, hadn’t he? She had to fuck her sugar daddy for toys like this, didn’t she? She was a fucking slut whore of a gold digger, wasn’t she? Too afraid to quite doing as she was told, the young woman ignored these words and she moved up and down on the stick shift and felt the penis fucking her mouth.
His cum came quickly. The first blast shot down her throat. He pulled his dick out of her mouth in time for the second squirt to hit her squarely in the face, making her wince. He shouted in victory as he felt the ripples of his ejaculation, then fell backwards and sat on the trunk of the convertible sports car, spent. The young woman’s body sagged where he left her, her chin falling to her chest. Her rapist’s cum dripped from her chin and fell between the cleavage of her tank top. The Porsche’s stick shift remained planted within her as her body slumped backwards against the car’s dashboard.
The garage was silent was a long while.
Eventually, the bad man was the first to stir. He reached for the young woman and pulled her up, dislodging the stick shift, with its round, two and a half inch diameter knob, from her vagina. He lifted her out of the car and threw her over his shoulder, her arms still bound behind her back. She weighed 125 pounds, but he carried her 5’-9” body as easily as if she were a young child. Her stomach was bent over his shoulder and her head dangled behind him as he carried her into the house and to the staircase leading to the upstairs bedrooms. Naked save for the tight fitting yellow tank top, renewed fear and humiliation surged through her as she realized that her rapist was not finished with her. Each step that she was now carried up the carpeted staircase drove this point home to her. With her arms still bound behind her back, the only thing she could do was kick her bare legs in feeble protest and mutter a few worthless words such as let me go, please don’t do this, I won’t tell anybody if you just leave now. She felt great humiliation at having been the mouse in a cat-and-mouse game. He had made her try to fight him! A man so strong that he was now carrying her effortlessly up a flight of stairs, as if she weighed nothing! She never had a chance! Now, as they ascended the stairs to her bedroom, even if her arms had not been bound behind her back, she felt completely and utterly helpless. This was a leopard of the jungle dragging her, his prey, up a tree where he would devour her at his leisure. Even if somehow her husband were to come home unexpectedly, she knew he could not save her. This man would beat the crap out of her septuagenarian spouse and probably make him watch what she was certain this home invader was going to do to her.
Once gaining the second floor, the man carried the half-naked young woman to the master bedroom and dumped her unceremoniously on the king sized bed that had not been made in the morning—she was a lazy house keeper and had to go somewhere that morning in her yellow Porsche and hadn’t had the time for making the bed. As she landed on her back on the disheveled sheet, her arms taped and pinned beneath her, she instinctively brought the leg closest to the man up and crossed it over her other leg, hiding any naked beaver shot from his view. She stared up at him, trembling with fear, as he stood by the bed watching her intently. He asked her if she would be a good girl if he freed her arms. She considered this. Her arms were aching beneath the weight of her body, and she would need her arms if she had any hope of saving herself from this man’s obvious intentions. She therefore nodded her head meekly. The man was not satisfied and demanded that she verbally agree to be a good girl, repeating those exact words. Good girl. She spoke the words. To be so submissive was humiliating for her, but her eyes widened when she spotted the size of the knife he used to cut the tape that bound her wrists, and she decided that she was smart in letting pride take a backseat to survival.
Once her arms were freed, the young woman rolled to her side and rubbed them, trying to restore circulation. She heard the evil man tell her to remove her tank top. No surprise here. And, since he still held the knife in his hand, its blade glittering, she decided it was best to obey him. The awareness washed over her once again that her situation was hopeless. This man was going to rape her and there was absolutely not a fucking thing she could do about it. He was too strong. She was too alone. What the hell, she thought bitterly. If I can spread my legs for my sugar daddy’s money, I can spread my legs to save me from further physical harm—or worse!
Coming to this conclusion actually comforted her. Everything was going to be all right, she told herself, as long as she did whatever this bad man wanted. She therefore wasted no further time in pulling the tight, yellow top over her head, as he had commanded.
Long, blonde hair was pulled through the garment as it came off over her head, with strands of the hair falling onto the front of her body, partially covering the pale yellow push-up bra that showcased her fine pair of firm, young breasts. The bad man noted that the color of the bra matched the pair of panties that now resided in his pants pocket that he had left somewhere on the garage floor beside the expensive sports car. He grabbed the top and pulled it quickly away from her, startling her, and flung it to the floor. That top, the one part of her clothing visible to those watching her driving her $90,000 sports car, would also become a souvenir for him. In fact, the man was planning on taking everything she had been wearing when he first spotted her speeding around town in sugar daddy’s car.
The young woman, now clad in only the push-up bra, watched from the bed as the man walked around the bedroom, seeming to admire the interior decoration. He seemed to appreciate the fact that everything was quite expensive. She watched as he rifled through drawers. Is he going to rob me, too? She glanced at the doorway to the bedroom, but knew she had no chance to make a break for it before he would catch her and then he would surely punish her. There was also the bedside phone, but there was no way she could dial 911 without calling his attention. Forget the phone. She had promised to be a good girl. If she carried out that promise, her hope was that the man would not harm her unduly after using her to sexually satisfy himself. That hope, together with the residual fear that still roiled inside her, fought for dominance in her psyche. The fear could not be completely suppressed The assorted slaps and bumps she had suffered since allowing the gas repair man into her house had made her head buzz too much to forget the fear.
There was a weird silence between the two naked people (save for the young woman’s bra) as she lay quietly on the bed and the man walked around the large master bedroom, practically ignoring her. She couldn’t help stealing a glance at his penis, which she saw was only half hard. She realized that what he was doing was probably buying time as he wandered the room, waiting until enough recovery time elapsed after his ejaculation in the garage before he was hard enough to do what he was going to do to her next. This made her think of the crickets she used to put inside her lizard’s cage when she was a little girl. The lizard never seemed to eat the crickets immediately, and she would stare in endless fascination at the doomed cricket as it huddled in a corner of the cage, waiting for the inevitable. Now she knew how those crickets must have felt. She reflexively pressed her thighs together tightly and shuddered.
After watching the home invader search her bedroom for a while longer, the young woman eventually rolled to her side and stared now at the curtained windows. She felt his dried cum on her face, and could still sense the taste of the cum she had swallowed. Her eyes were swollen from crying and from the several solid blows to the face administered by her attacker. It was through these swollen eyes that she saw that the afternoon sun shining brightly outside. She was a captive in her palatial mansion.
She knew the man was at last ready for her when she felt his weight crawling onto the bed behind her and then felt him undoing the clasp of her bra as she lay docilely on her side facing away from him. She did not resist as he rolled her onto her back. As she was turned, her lovely, firm breasts spilled from the loosened bra. Her assailant paused as he loomed over her, taking a moment to gaze down upon the now fully naked body of a woman considered by all who saw her on the arm of her husband at gala social event as the most glittering of eye candy.
The young woman could not help stealing another furtive glance at the bad man’s cock. The thought may have occurred to her that a carefully aimed kick could save her. But she was too afraid to try. If she failed to get away he would certainly punish her.
If her glance told her anything it was that her rapist’s penis was once again ready for her. That is why she did not anticipate his next move. Instead of mounting her, as she fully expected, he fell upon her breasts and began suckling them with ravishing abandon. His strong hands cupped her tits and squeezed them, changing their shape into stretched cones atop of which pinkish nipples stood at rigid attention. These his tongue and teeth now played with roughly, biting into them so that the woman gasped and cried in protest despite her promise to be a good girl.
The man spent long moments playing with the twin mounds that had been so tempting earlier beneath the tight fitting yellow tank top. They were tempting then. They were being savored now. The woman stared upward at the ceiling while her breasts remained the focal point of her rapist’s attack. She felt her nipples hardening under this onslaught, and then felt something in another part of her anatomy, a wetness between her legs, and suddenly realized, not without a pang of shame, that she would at least be lubricated in the right spot when the time came. It was shame, in fact, that prevented her from the troubling temptation of enveloping the man’s head in her arms at this moment as she would a lover. Instead, her arms remained at her side, her fists pounding the mattress in feeble protest.
Suddenly the young woman was aware that her attacker was giving her hickies on her breasts. She cried in objection, but to no avail. Whenever she was having a lover, this was one thing she would not allow him to do. Hickies were something that no adulteress wife could permit for fear of a jealous, cuckolded husband discovering her infidelity. But this was not a lover. This was a stranger having his way with her, and her verbal protests had no effect. She could tell that he was going around the nipples of each of her breasts, leaving what would surely be indelible red marks on her soft, pale skin. When he was finished with one of her tits he turned his attention to the other. He was mumbling something as he went about his work of wanting to leave his signature on her body.
At long last the bad man rose up and once again hovered over his prey. He noted with satisfaction the tracks of red marks that dotted her breasts, standing out in stark contrast to the pale skin inside her bikini tan marks. The sight of this gave his cock the final inspiration it needed. With no further ado he kicked the young woman’s thighs apart—she did not resist this—and mounted her, bringing his penis to the junction of her long, beautiful legs. She squirmed but offered no real resistance. What was the use of resisting? Let him have what he wants. He’s going to take it one way or another.
The sinful young man thrust his penis between the ceding labia of another man’s trophy wife. There he halted, pausing after penetrating her only a couple of inches. The young woman shut her eyes and gasped. His penis was large, but after experiencing the gear shift knob of her $90,000 sports car, it was actually quite easy to take. And yes, the secretions that had wetted her vagina while he sucked her tits helped her now to receive her rapist’s cock. Had he noticed this fact? Oddly, this was one of myriad, crazy thoughts that raced through her brain at this instant, and she blushed in humiliation at the possibility.
But then! If the thickness of his penis had not been a problem for her, she quickly discovered, when he shoved himself the rest of the way into her, that the length of the penis was a problem! His cock was definitely not the four inch long gear shift stick! Suddenly it seemed to her that something in her cunt was so far in that it promised to come out her mouth! She gulped at that thought.
With his cock planted firmly inside her, the young woman’s rapist raised her thighs, bending her at the waist so that her knees pressed against either side of her breasts and her calves extended straight up into the air, the backs of her ankles catching on his shoulders. In this manner, with each forward thrust that he made, the bad man’s shoulder’s rocked her entire body. The next thing she knew, he was fucking her so hard she thought she was going to die. The manner in which he had contorted her body meant that her vaginal canal was at an angle to receive the deepest penetration that was anatomically possible. With each of his rapid fire forward thrusts he banged against her cervix. She wanted to cry out for him to stop. To tell him he was too deep. That it hurt. But the only utterance that came from her throat was one long, guttural, non-ending moan that was more animalistic in sound than human.
She came before he did. Orgasm overwhelmed her. The devil inside had now gained full reign over her, and though she might deny it to herself later, she was definitely fucking him back! But there were no differences in the animal noises that she continued to make and the only way the man might have known she orgasmed was the way she scratched the shit out of his back with her nails. Her arms then fell lifeless to the bed beside her. The rest of her body continued to be rocked as her rapist kept on fucking her in unrelenting fashion, causing her feet to bob in the air above his shoulders with every deep thrust that he gave her. Soon she felt herself coming a second time. And then a third, though by now she no longer had the strength to rake his back with her nails. Finally, able to take no more, she became a rag doll beneath him while the man continued to ravish her. Her body had been bent at the waist so sharply and for so long that she thought she was going to be broken in two. He muttered continuously into her ear as he fucked her about how hot she had looked in the Porsche. She was told that not only was she eye candy but also fuck meat.
After what seemed an endless period of time, the young woman’s rapist suddenly withdrew from her and rose up. Her legs fell from his shoulders and flopped to the mattress on either side of his body as if she were dead. Her eyes flickered open. What she saw was a still huge penis. He was still massively hard. He hadn’t cum yet! It glistened with her vaginal secretions. The man turned her over onto her stomach. He shoved a thick pillow under her belly, an act that positioned her nice, young ass high in the air. This time he mounted her from the rear as if she were a canine bitch, his cock easily penetrating her gaping, wet cunt. The words fuck meat were again whispered hoarsely into her ears as her rapist continued to have his way with her, his belly slapping into her ass with each deep, inward thrust. The young woman buried her face in the mattress and cried hysterically as her rapist continued to fuck her.
At least the evil young man emptied the contents of his testicles deep into the interior of his victim’s womanhood. Before doing so, his hands pulled her face from the mattress and twisted her neck sideways so that he could see half of her face as he came. He encircled her throat with his hands as if to choke her. This caused her eyes, which had been closed during most of her rape, to shoot open. This was exactly what he wanted. He wanted to be looking into her eyes as his orgasm spilled into her.
Fifteen minutes after the gas repair man had collected all his items and took his leave from the mansion, the beautiful young gold digger trophy wife remained lying naked, bruised and spent on the king sized bed of her master bedroom. She stared at the ceiling and cried some. Her head ached and so did her breasts. Her vagina felt as if an entire army platoon had fucked her. (For sure, the amount of semen that she now felt trickling from her pussy and onto her marital bed felt like a platoon’s worth!) Eventually she rolled off the bed and staggered to the bathroom with her rapist’s cum running down her legs. She wanted desperately to shower and see if make-up would hide the results of her rape. She knew she would have to come up with some excuse for not taking her bra off in front of her husband for a couple of weeks. She would also have to explain the broken vase downstairs. Her fear was that her sugar daddy would not like what he might consider spoiled goods. She didn’t want her sugar daddy to know that some bad man had used and abused his eye candy. It might affect the instructions in the old mans will!