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Help Meat (A Dystopian Tale Part 2) Help Meat (A Dystopian Tale Part 2) · Fetish · Author's Note: I strongly suggest you read part 1 first so this makes more sense! I am splashing over the rocks, my hands outstretched as I try to catch a fish. I have been on my own for two weeks, hiding during the day under clumps of ferns or blackberry bushes. My mother would not recognize me now with my tangled filthy hair and clothing torn to ribbons. I hiss as the river’s grainy water stings the cuts on my arms. With a lunge, I catch the fish, crouching to devour it as it squirms in my hands. Men’s voices rise behind me as heavy boots crash through the brush. I drop my fish and dash for the forest, zigzagging through the trees. The dog is howling as it catches my scent. Sprinting for a tree with low enough boughs, I grab for a branch, dragging myself up as my legs kick the air. Sudden teeth sink into my ankle. I scream as the dog yanks at me, its weight dragging me down. I land on my chest, air exploding from my lungs. Hands grab at me as the yipping dog is kicked back. A knife is sawing at the remains of my shirt, ripping the fabric from my body. My bra is cut and flung to one side. The hands flip me onto my back and again the knife flashes. My jeans are pulled off, and then my panties. Naked now, I lay sobbing on the ground. My ankle is bleeding. There is a sharp stab of pain when I try to move my foot. The man above me accepts a cloth from a larger man, pours water onto the fabric, and then bends to dab at my face. “What do you think, John?” the bald man in the shadows asks. “Do we sell her for meat?” Straddling me, the man tilts my head into the dappled sunlight. “Pretty,” he says at last. “I say we keep her. Bring me the tape, Brian.” I writhe as my wrists and ankles are bound with duct tape. The men find a branch and run it between my arms and legs, each of them holding one end as I swing back and forth between them. Dangling chest up, I see a glimpse of red between the thick ferns, the men reaching a clearing where their pickup is parked. My captors yank out the branch and toss me unceremoniously in the back. I am manacled by one ankle, secured by a chain to the scratched bed of the older Ford. Then I grunt with every jolt as the vehicle dodges the road’s many potholes. The men have the radio’s volume cranked, raucously singing a song I’ve never heard. I close my eyes, fighting for calm. I had watched from behind a rock as they had emerged unexpectantly from the trees to attack our camp. They had slitted my mother’s throat first thing, hanging her head down like a deer to open her up and gut her. My traumatized little sister had been taken away in the red truck by the sandy haired man—while the bald one remained behind to carefully skin and behead my mother. Then taking up his ax, he dismembered her casually as though he was chopping wood. By the time the smaller man returned alone in the truck, my mother’s torso was roasted crisp, suspended on a spit about a foot above a fire. The two men had seated themselves close to the dripping meat, carving with their knives the flesh from my mother’s limbs. I lingered nearby, hating to leave the last place I had seen my mother. The men had busied themselves the following day with wrapping up the meat. Then one of them spied my footprints on his way to the river. For two weeks they hunt me—two whole weeks that I managed to avoid capture. But then they bought a dog. The men stop the truck beside a ramshackle building. It is a hunter’s shack, yet these men are not poor, I realize, spying the fine-looking vehicles beside the cabin. Instead they are doing what was now a favorite past-time for men; scouring the forests in search of fleeing women and girls. I hold my breath as the men disappear through the doorway of the shack. If I fight them, I die, I think. The men pass the truck and stop beside what looks like a picnic table. I see them lay out a plastic sheet over the top, weighing it down with rocks on the ground around it. Gravel crunches as the shorter man approaches me. His taller companion is leaning an ax against the picnic table, along with a large tub and a bucket of what appears to be tools. A chill of dread touches my spine as the man named John frees me from the truck, then drags me down from its bed. Unsteadily I sway on my feet as John crouches, his knife sawing through the tape binding my ankles. John gestures me to raise my bound hands above my head. As I do so he pushes at my thighs, spreading my legs. Without a word, he wets a rag in a bucket of cold soapy water, and then goes to work. As I stand there shivering, he washes every crevice of my body, not once but twice, returning with a second bucket of fresh water after the first darkens to brown. “You are a help-meet,” he grates into my ear. He empties a third bucket over my head, and then soaps up my hair. “That means you were made to please men. Got it?” I nod, shivering. The sun is behind the trees now. Their hound dog’s icy nose snuffles at my anus. “Why did you run?” Brian asks as he joins his friend. He is a bear of a man with a bald head and laughing brown eyes, his hands and body built like a lumberjack’s. I look away and stare at my feet. “You killed my mother,” I whisper dryly. “I am a man so that is my right,” Brian says. “Your mother was too old to take to the butcher. But not so old to waste. She was actually tender for her age. Her breasts, too, were very nice—too lovely to resist. Care to see what I make with them?” I begin to shake my head, then catching his frown, I nod, fighting back tears. The man grins as he unhooks a little bag from his belt and shows it to me. It is a small leather pouch, round with a protrusion at one end. “They’re easy to make,” he says. “You cut around the base first, then slide your blade just under the skin and up, keeping the tip inside. Then you ease it all the way around at that angle, all the while pulling hard at the nipple. The skin slides off all in one piece. I flip it over my thumb to scrape away the blood vessels and stuff. And look, it has no seams!” He turns the bag over. “I sell these at the club.” John catches my chin and forces my eyes to his. “He could do that to you, you know. Your tits are certainly big enough. But it seems to me we could do more useful things with them; what do you think, Brian?” The bald man barely glances up. “I agree that she’d make a good dairy prospect. But she’s not old enough yet. Besides, you’d have to breed her first.” “Oh, such a chore!” John rolls his eyes. “No, I’m talking about keeping her for us. Wouldn’t it be nice to have milk on hand without going to town? Drawn straight from the tit is always best. Why not this one? With those glands of hers she’d be a natural. Here, let me check.” He feels between my legs, his calloused fingers inserting themselves. He takes a sniff, rubbing his fingertips together to check the texture. “Could be she’s ripe. We’ll fuck her hard for the next little while and see what comes of it. If we can get her pregnant, that’ll bring on her milk once the offspring is born.” “Whatever.” Brian rolls his eyes and snorts derisively, his attention on the picnic table nearby, and assembled tools. “You know this act of yours really gets old.” “It’s never an act. Every single time we go through this I tell you the same thing. Only with this girl . . . I mean look at her. She could produce enough milk to get us through the day. For our cereal. Or cheese if we want to make cheese. Butter, pudding . . . Don’t tell me this doesn’t appeal to you.” Brian stares at the sky. “Like we ever make cheese.” He pauses with a snort. “And what would we do with her later, hmm? You know, when it’s time to go home?” “We’d cross that bridge when we get to it.” John shrugs and kicks at the dirt. Shivering, I close my eyes. “Well girl, in case you’re wondering, my name is Brian,” the big man addresses me. “Brian Dunahee, and this little dreamer here is John Scott, my best friend. We are your masters now—got it? You do what we tell you, and maybe we’ll let you live through the night. If not, I’ll stretch you on that table and gut you, too. What are you called, girl?” “Amy.” Trembling, I nod stupidly as the two men half-carry me into the cabin. John takes a towel and dries me off. Then I’m stretched onto my stomach on the kitchen table, the men sliding me forward over the edge until my breasts hang down. Brian supports my shoulders as John crouches to measure each breast from stem to stern, then checks the circumference, with Brian scribbling his findings on a pad. I tense as something hard and cold slips between my legs and into my body—stopping with a jerk several times as it’s positioned within me. More numbers are recorded, Brian’s expression intense while John scoots a chair close to the table. Sitting beside my shoulder, the sandy haired man raises my nearest breast into the light. “Finely grained skin. Good heft, too. Heavy and dense, with a good plump nipple.” He kneads my breast hard, feeling the bumps and texture of the flesh. My captors carry me to the mattress and set me on my back. Spreading my legs, they raise them high over my head and secure them with ropes to hooks in the wall. They stare unhappily down at my raised pussy. “I’ll get on it,” Brian says, hurrying into the tiny bathroom to grab shaving supplies and a roll of paper towels. He kneels in front of my cunt, sawing the hairs short with his knife, then lathering me up to shave me smooth. He pauses briefly to consider his work, then, spreading my folds widely back with one hand, he dries them off carefully with a paper towel. John hands him strips of duct-tape to hold my pussy open. “There.” Brian stands at last, his fingers stroking my exposed girlhood. “It’s just so much easier this way. I don’t like it when your body hides your cunt from my sight. I hate all that loose skin.” Teary eyed and shaking, I toss my head, my face going hot as John shoulders Brian aside and kneels between my legs. The smaller man explores me closely, tracing the edges of my opening. He sinks a finger into me slowly, pressing upward against the roof of my cunt, then moistening my opened folds, moving languidly around the shape of my vagina. “If we keep this girl, Brian, we could do whatever we want. No brothers to interfere, or put it to a vote.” “I know.” Brian crouches beside the bed to grip and pull on my breasts. “It would be cool if we could, that’s for sure.” “Hey, you’re the one that started that club.” John catches my look. “We have a barn up on the hill,” he explains. “Started a gentleman’s group up there maybe a year before the laws were finalized.” “Nine months prior,” Brian manages. Grinning, he releases my nipple with a slurp. John shrugs. “Fine, nine months then. There are men like Brian here who just happen to love gore, who get off on destroying female bodies. Men like this serve a valuable purpose. They do the clean-up work that no one else wants to do. Eliminating the girls who refuse to fit in. You know, like runaways and such. Girls like you, for example. I bet if I asked you right now what is most important in life, you would not give me the right answer. You don’t even know what the right answer is.” “Damn these tits!” exclaims Brian. He presses into my breast, kneading hard. “How big do you think they are? Double D’s?” “At least. I told you they were nice for her age. She’d make a great milker.” John is prodding my exposed opening, poking in his fingers repeatedly to keep me wet around my pussy. “We have her bra; we can always check.” He inserts his fingers fully, stirring the moist flesh. “She’ll carry a lot of milk if we can get a kid out of her. Damn. That’s it.” He stands abruptly to unfasten his belt, his jeans dropping to the floor as he falls on me. I stiffen in shock, gasping in pain as his cock drives in. Screaming, I grasp for my bonds to free my tied ankles. Brian seizes my wrists and yanks them down. He leans heavily into the squirming tissue of my breasts, releasing his hold to press hard against me, his sausage fingers working my flesh like dough. John is thrusting vigorously now, his shaft inside me plunging deeper with every stroke. I shriek and claw at the mattress. Then abruptly John stiffens; grunting, he wilts above me, his upper body sagging as fluid spills from my cunt. Brian releases me and climbs to his feet. He shoves John off me, then jerks up my buttocks with his hands. Smiling, he nuzzles my opened entrance, his tongue sliding deep into my cunt, moving lazily in a circle. He takes his time eating me out, sucking on my clit and pulling with his teeth. His fingers sink in; he bends to thrust his tongue between them; like a bee pulling pollen from a flower, he licks greedily, his fingers drawing more of my juice to the surface. “Not all girls taste good, but my god! I can’t get enough of this one!” “Maybe it’s me you taste,” John says with a laugh. “You know I just fucked her, right?” “No, this is girl, one hundred percent pure.” Brian runs his finger up and down over my pussy, playfully stretching my tight opening. The men trade off, John mounting me a second time to lower himself into me, pushing in fully, then easing out. “This is choice meat,” Brian says as he prods my buttocks. “She’s what, about sixteen? She won’t be worth a damn if we don’t harvest her soon. Aged girl is hard to sell.” John is moaning, pumping slowly as he braces his arms, controlling his thrusts enough to watch his cock move in and out. Trembling under the abuse, a huge part of me outraged by this violation, I glare at the ceiling. John stiffens mid-thrust, howling as he drives in hard, the volcano of his shaft erupting and going soft, throbbing gently within me. “I’ll tell you what,” he manages at last. “We go through this every time, and every single time you get your way. I never get to win these little contests. You destroy the girl, butcher her for meat, and what do you end up with? You’re happy for a day or two, but then what? You’re always hungry for more. “This girl has the finest breasts I’ve seen, and that’s without the drug. I look at her and I see months or maybe even a year of always having cream for my coffee, or milk for my cereal. But it’s more than that. Did you see how deep she goes? Did you look at the numbers you scribbled down? We can learn from her body, don’t you see? Practice on her. You say you can’t fist, well I’m betting you’re wrong. With this girl, I could teach you.” “My hands are too big.” Brian growls. There is a pause as he stares between my legs. “Do you really think I could?” “If you follow my instructions.” John moves to the kitchen to wash his hands. “She’s got the depth. All we have to do is get some width out of her. We have all the time in the world, Bri—many weeks or months to stretch her out. She’s ours now. You can practice on her all you want.” Licking his lips, Brian crouches between my legs. His big hands press against my pelvis. He is tilting my hips toward the little lamp nearby, his fingers entering me tentatively, hooking at the sides and spreading my tissue. Grinning then he leans down, his mouth fixing itself around the rim of my vagina, his hungry tongue scooping inside me, drawing out my fluids. He sucks hard against my cunt, extending his tongue as far as it will go. I close my eyes, moaning despite myself at the sensations flooding through me. When I open them again, I see John standing behind him. “I take it you’re hungry?” John asks. Brian grunts in his throat and lifts his head, creamy tendrils of fluid running down his chin. He inserts his fingers to spread me again, delight broadening his face. “Look at that. She’s so wet!” Brian stirs my fluids with his fingers, the wet sounds filling the quiet room. Once more he dips down, his tongue swirling in circles as I raise up my hips. Smiling at John, he smacks his lips. “Fine.” Laughing, John returns to the kitchen. “Get familiar with her body. That’s the one thing we must do. In the meantime, I’m hungry. Want a sandwich?” Brian closes his eyes, his mouth open as his fingers dig into my cunt, the hands separating and turning. He hovers above my pelvis, stretching my opening wide at different angles. He pulls me toward him until my legs stretch taut against their fetters. Once more he buries his face, straining for reach with his tongue. “You know,” John calls to him. “When you fist, your hand gets to go a lot farther than your fingers. You can reach down past your wrist—maybe even deeper with this girl. If her juices are what you like, there’s no better way than a good fisting to coax them out.” “I’m too big to fist,” Brian repeats sadly. Nevertheless, he pulls over a chair and sits between my legs. I squirm, embarrassed and strangely aroused by the look on his face as he gapes me gently. “That’s it,” John urges. “Explore her out. Feel inside until you know the terrain. If you want to gape her, use the top wall of her cunt as leverage, then slide in deep with fingers from your other hand and pull down. It takes some muscle but it’s worth it. It’s the quickest way to work large objects in.” I try to relax as the big man makes the attempt, my body yearning for penetration as I stare at the wall. The fingers sink deep, the hand separating as Brian grunts with effort. “The top part’s hard,” he exclaims. “It doesn’t—” “That’s what I mean; you use it for leverage,” John says. “The bottom part should yield readily when you stretch it. Did you feel that?” Brian nods, scrutinizing my pussy around his hands. “Good, that’s what you want. When you insert your hand to fist, you always want to angle it down, utilize that yielding lower wall. Same thing if you’re trying to insert something big like a bottle.” John walks suddenly to the bed and sits down beside me. Flustered, I look away, staring at the wall. “Now you,” he begins, reaching to massage my loose breasts, “listen up. Enough with this hostility, please. In case you haven’t noticed, you can’t run down the streets screaming ‘rape’ anymore because nobody cares. The very concept of rape has ceased to exist. So what must you do to survive, I wonder? According to the bible, the most important thing in life for a girl is to please men. It’s in the book of Genesis, right at the very start. A girl is made to be a man’s help-meet. To be useful to men in every way she can.” I am gritting my teeth, my nostrils flaring. “You killed my mother.” “So we did; so what? Brian found it enjoyable. He found the butchering part enjoyable, the skinning part enjoyable, because that’s Brian’s thing. It’s not just pussy juice that turns him on. It’s internal stuff like blood and guts, and making his little purses. Your mother served her purpose well. Her meat fed me and Brian, plus five other men at a homeless shelter. What meaning have you found in your life, Amy? Here you have this opportunity tossed in your lap, and you stick your nose in the air. If you think you’re above us, think again. This is what I mean. Girls like you don’t belong. Girls like you end up . . .” “Very bloody,” Brian says darkly. “Which is a shame, because damn, you taste good.” I chew my lip, forcing myself to meet John’s glare. “Isn’t that something, though? I taste good. So don’t I have a purpose?” The two men stare at me. “Yes,” John says quickly. “Absolutely—of course you do. But how can you please Brian using this skill? That’s what girls need to ask themselves constantly; how do I take this situation and use it wisely.” I gaze into John’s blue eyes. “I’ll try; I promise. Please don’t kill me.” John thinks for a moment. “Ok, for now you’re on probation. Brian wants to fist you, and I want to see you do everything you can to help him. We’ll untie your legs so you can get your circulation back. But then I want to see an active involvement into making this work.” I cry out in pain as my legs are lowered, hastily massaging my thighs and ankles. John brings plates into the room and a pitcher of milk. I wipe my face and sit up, swinging my legs to the side of the bed as I reach to accept my plate. I avoid the jerky, remembering my mother. But the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are good, and the milk rich and frothy. “That’s not your mother,” Brian says suddenly around a mouthful. “Not sure why, but this batch of jerky came out lighter.” “More fat in the meat, perhaps?” suggested John. Brian shrugged. “Could be, though if I recall, she wasn’t fat.” “That’s girl milk,” John informs me as I wipe the foam from my lips. “You’re going to have to get used to these alternative foods. How long has it been since you’ve had milk?” I think for a moment. “I don’t remember. I never really drank cow’s milk. My mom was into the healthy stuff like Almond or Hemp milk.” I finish my meal and wait the men out. “So how can I help? I don’t know anything about fisting.” “You don’t fight him, that’s how,” John replies. “You relax and enjoy yourself, or act like you do. By tensing up you make the process so much harder. You are now at the age of usefulness for girls. Be useful! This is a new world now.” I stare at Brian’s big hands. “I’ve never had anything inside me before today,” I lie. “Now I have to fit that much in? It’s going to hurt.” “Virgin to fisting in one day,” Brian says around his food. “It is a bit of a leap, John.” The sandy haired man studies me briefly. “Ok, since you’re trying to be so good, I’ll start you out for him—get you ready for his hands. Sound fair?” “Can you explain something to me first?” I ask in a quavering voice. “Why did this happen? Why are women suddenly slaves now?” John chokes on his mouthful. “Not slaves. You were made from the rib of man, by men, for men to use, and to make men happy. Or at least the pretty girls were. Men are made by God and in his image. Girls were made by men. See the difference? Now, shall we get started?” I sigh, moving the pillow to a centralized location on the mattress. Then I sit at the foot of the bed, lying back shakily, my head resting on the pillow. “Smart thinking,” John remarks. He pulls a chair up close and seizes my ankles. With one pull he yanks me slightly off the bed, then places my left ankle on his shoulder. Behind me Brian catches up my right leg and bends it toward my chest. “Hold that for us,” will you” he asks, and I comply, wrapping my arms around my raised knee. “You see how she’s positioned, Brian? IF you want the lower wall of her pussy to stretch, you’ll need to get her ass off the bed first to give yourself the room. A pillow under her hips works too.” Leaning over, John massages the muscles of my groin and pelvic area. He kneads my hard thighs and presses out the stressful knots. Then bending forward, his hand parallel to the floor, he tilts his hand palm up and slides his fingers in. “Lie back,” he tells me. “And don’t think too much about what I’m doing. Brian, bring that flashlight and pull up a chair. You need to watch if you’re going to learn.” Closing my eyes, I grip my knee and breathe in through my nose, exhaling slowly through my mouth. I am exhilarated by this attention—the sight of the two men staring between my legs as they sit side by side. John’s tenor voice speaks softly to his friend, explaining as he works. “Down like this,” John is saying, “into the opening like you’re diving into a pool, and then slightly up . . .” A look of strain crosses his face. “There, see that? I had to lean into my wrist, didn’t I? Press downward, like this . . . see what I’m doing? Stretching that wall between her pussy and anus. Bear down and rotate in. Angle in, pressing against her here. Except I can’t go in yet because I’m only using fingers. But if I funnel my fingers like this—and tuck my thumb between them. Now see what we do.” I draw a deep breath at the sudden tightness, the fingers rotating, rocking side to side and stretching my taut tissue. Knuckles grind against my cunt. “Amy, you’re trying too hard,” John admonishes. “Relax if you can. Visualize yourself opening.” I nod quickly and turn my head, setting my gaze on a spot on the wall. The stain has a tree shape, reminding me of the branch with the one little bulb in the Charlie Brown Christmas special I used to watch. I close my eyes, my full belly making me sleepy. When have I last had a good night’s rest? I am . . . My eyes flare wide. The weight of the hand breaks through and into my body. My cunt is wide around John’s wrist, fluids dribbling down my skin as John glides straight to my core, then drags back in reverse. John pulls out all the way and I see his fingers dripping, the smaller man curling them to show his friend. “Watch again as I go in,” John says. “Down, twisting, lean to stretch, then angle. Right here. See that little give before I’m in? That’s the real bitch right there. Not the entrance to the pussy so much. It’s this second threshold here. Bypass this and you’ve mastered her body. But to get past you’ll want to utilize that lower wall. There’s a hollow just beneath with lots of room; see how much I can move my hand? That’s how you get around those tight muscles. Angle down, twist into the hollow, slide in. There! Level out and push! See how far I can go? She’s very deep. “Okay, once you’re in, draw immediately back, “John continues. “Not all the way—don’t come out of her. You want to stop beneath those muscles that just gave you so much trouble. Now you take your time and press them out; make them soft. Cock your arm and press with your knuckles. Just enough pressure and twisting to . . . There, did you see that! The muscles just relaxed. Now watch as I slide right in.” I lick my lips as the hand goes to town. John is fisting with vigor as he stands above me, his arm rotating as he reaches my cervix, then pulling out hard with a loud wet sound. “See how I angle my elbow as I work, changing speeds when those muscles start to tighten? Never hold in one place for too long. Keep moving. See, again toward the surface we find those very tight muscles. So we work them, pumping fast with lots of lube. Pressing those knots all soft again. There!” He sits back in his chair, cocking his arms behind his back to stretch himself. “This is how we can pump her all night. We feel what her muscles are doing and keep adjusting our tactics. See . . .?” Seating himself, he glides in effortlessly, rocking in his chair as he thrusts in and out. “Like putty in my hands.” I am trembling, groaning, my pelvis straining toward him as he exits, grunting as he thrusts. There is a pause in the motion. Then larger fingers are rotating in. My pussy stretches wider, more fingers delving into my vagina, stretching me back as the thumb joins the rest. “Good,” John says. “You got this. Now lean as I showed you.” I grunt involuntarily, my tissues straining. I try to relax, to find the tree shaped splotch on the wall beside me again. The big hand is yawning my pussy’s mouth, grinding hard into the tensing muscles. “Dive in quick before she tightens back up and you unravel all my work. Good! Level out. Now push!” “Oh!” The word passes my lips. I raise up my hips, my head flopped back against the pillow. The big hand forces me wide inside as it pushes in fully. Brian’s eyes are filled with wonder as he slowly draws out. “I’m doing it!” he cries. “Oh my God, that feels good.” “Yes, now keep going!” Facing me, John straddles my lower torso, his weight on his knees as he leans forward on the mattress. Pressing his weight into his hands he slowly and deeply massages my breasts. “You see?” he tells me as I writhe beneath him. “Being a girl has its perks.” I am moaning as the big hand pumps me, filling me up and pulling me back. Fluids pour down my thigh, soaking the fitted sheet beneath my pussy. Brian pauses and bends to gape me with his fingers, his soothing tongue cleansing me out, gliding from cunt to anus. Then he’s fisting me, his big hand changing angles as he works, the force of his entry raising my pelvis off the bed. I cry out as I struggle, as John, pressing my breasts together, sucks my nipples into his mouth. Bucking, I spurt from my cunt, my body quaking on the bed. Brian is wiping his face – licking his fingers. “Keep at it!” John orders him. “The longer we go, the better.” I scream fiercely and wild as the big hand stretches my pulsing flesh. Now Brian is pulling aside my opening on one side with his fingers, stretching me wide as his hand sinks deep. He stands and lifts me by one leg, forcing John to scramble from my body as I am hauled from my pillow. Vertically I hang with my right leg dangling, my upper body resting on the bed. Brian is grinning like a happy kid at Christmas, with John reaching in to gape me while Brian fists. I undulate madly as John sucks my clit, spraying both of the men again as my body falls limp. I am exhausted, fatigue dragging me down into a kind of fuzzy stupor. And still the two men work tirelessly on, the rhythm of the hands fisting endlessly. I wake in the night to a darkened room, with light between my legs and the hulking silhouette of Brian’s shoulders. My folds are loose, freed at last from the painful tape. Brian is exploring at his leisure, swabbing me with his tongue. I grunt as he slides his hand into my aching cunt, his large fist forming a hard knot inside my opening. Rapidly he pumps just inches from the surface, leaning hard left and then right as he softens me. He pulls out with a squelch and cool air rushes in, my slackened flesh opened, relaxed. With two hands he spreads my cunt deeply from inside, then leans in to lick me out. John is snoring from the bed beside me. I raise my hips, mashing my pussy against Brian’s face. He grabs my buttocks to support them, his head tilting back and forth to guide his tongue. At last he sets me down and wipes his face. I groan and wish for more, my fingers playing with my clit. “Tell me,” he says conversationally, flicking the flashlight on my face. “What made you decide to behave? Could you sense how we were planning to kill you? You are exactly the right age to butcher. I was going to carry your out to the picnic table after—to do to you what I did to your mother. We had the tools out there and everything. But then you had a change of heart. So what happened? We do this all the time. No other girl has done a one-eighty on us like this.” I stop playing with myself to look at him. “You won’t believe me if I tell the truth.” “Try me.” Brian is silent, the unwavering light on my face. I lick my lips. “I wasn’t exactly a virgin, you know. My mom took us away because . . . she was religious and I embarrassed her. I like being penetrated more than anything. My mom called me a nympho, but really what’s the harm if it’s what I love? This though—I wanted to hate you for killing my mother, but you made me feel so good! All I know is I want this day and night, for as long as you let me live. I don’t want you to ever stop.” Leaning between my legs, Brian squeezes my right breast gently. “John always says a girl’s body is meant for this. I guess he’s right.” I am nodding. My laugh sounds silly in my ears, almost childish. “Definitely!” “Well then, I shall indulge you.” Brian sits back in his chair, opening my folds with one big hand. He raises an oily-looking bottle, squirting lube directly in. Smiling, I lay back and raise my hips, feeling my muscles surrender as he eases in. The lube makes him slippery inside me, sliding like a fat eel in and out. He grips my thigh, the motion of his big hand effortless as he works. “If you do stay,” he pants, “There’ll be days when we bring home a girl to butcher. You’ll have to get used to that.” I groan between my teeth, my hips rising to meet his thrusts. “I’ll do anything to stay,” I tell him. “I’ll even make those little purses for you if you show me how. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do anyway? Help men?” Surprised, he jerks up his head. Then he grins. 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Keywords include: Nairobi raha, Mombasa raha, Nairobi hot, Nairobi sweet, xxx, tamu, exotic Kenya, nude porn girls. - westlands escorts & call girls Post by bill00000 Hookers in Glasgow Kentucky The Wife Chronicles The Wife Chronicles · Group Sex · Part 1 - Annihilating Her Dignity Dominant, attractive, white and sexist, Leroy - a 29-year-old - thought that the female species was inferior, but didn’t know anyone who agreed before copulating with the submissive, 28-y/o Sylvia during a Halloween orgy. Her large paps were firm as were her haunches; she had nice legs and reddish-blonde hair. Due to her wantoness, though, Leroy demanded that she marry him because he didn't believe in marital sanctity. One August, Thursday evening, however, he joined a ‘Net-group, ‘ThreeHolers.’ In its membership list, he found the white, 25-y/o Jude and white, 23-y/o Adrian’s shared profile expressing their 'disdain for women' and mentioning that they lived in his city. Leroy uploaded her nude picture to a message: - ‘Hello. I’m Leroy and this is my wife, Sylvia. She’s into rough and abusive, though non-violent sex, extremely foul language, degradation and public embarrassment. We’d like to meet you at The Silver Moon Tavern this Friday night.” Jude and Adrian answered: - ‘Hi, Leroy, we’re glad you contacted us and we’ll go to the bar at 10 o’clock.” Leroy replied, ‘Okay.’ At 9:45 on present occasion, he commanded Sylvia to wear high-heeled shoes and a short, low-cut dress. ‘Yes, sir.’ After that, Leroy drove to the bar. ‘Strut your stuff,' he said. ‘Yes, sir,’ - and she arched her back to proudly display her boobs while the couple walked into the tavern and slected a corner table. Jude and Adrian recognized her and Jude greeted her, ‘How are you, babe?’ ‘I’m not a babe,’ Sylvia protested. ‘What are you?’ Adrian inquired. ‘A slut, sir.’ ‘Really? Leroy doesn’t respect you, does he?’ Jude asked. ‘No, sir.’ ‘He shouldn’t,’ Adrian remarked as he sat down beside her. ‘Your husband hasn’t told you we're going to ruin you in a junkyard I manage, has he?’ Jude said. ‘That’s right, sir,’ Sylvia answered. Leroy then ordered coffee, which the bartender served as Adrian lifted Sylvia’s dress and peered at her bare crotch. ‘There aren’t any panties in sight,’ he announced. ‘She’s an immodest lady – oh, shit, the lady’s a tramp!’ Jude sneered. ‘Well, your name’s similar to the Biblical Judas and I hope you’ll betray her wifely honor,’ Leroy chuckled. ‘How about I destroy her reputation, IF she has one?’ Jude asked. ‘Annihilate my dignity, sir!’ Sylia moaned. ‘Trust me, I will!’ Jude snorted as Leroy paid for everyone’s drinks. Having done that, he, Adrian, Sylvia and Jude left the bar, followed by Leroy pushing her into his car’s rear seat. Adrian and Jude slid in on either side of her and Leroy had barely started driving when he said, ‘The only reason Sylvia exists is because she’s whore.’ 'She’s trash!’ Adrian jeered. ‘Are you worthless?’ Jude inquired. ‘Yes, I am, sir!’ she admitted. ‘Yeah, you are!’ Jude said as he spat in her pretty face. When Leroy arrived at the junkyard, Jude unlocked the gate and waved Leroy through it. ‘Show us your body,’ Leroy commanded, She did, while Adrian and Jude leered at her. ‘These jugs are enormous,’ Adrian said as he groped her tits. ‘They have aphrodisiacs in them,’ Jude responded. ‘Yeah, and her ovary glands produce them,’ Leroy said. By then, Sylvia was feeling thoroughly betrayed, though aroused. Falling to her knees, she asked, ‘May I suck your cocks, sirs?’ Jude lowered his jeans and drilled his 11-inched pecker into her mouth, then: - 'Polish my knob, slut!’ Sylvia did while Leroy and Adrian observed the scene. But it wasn’t long until Jude emptied his nuts into her throat and withdrew from it. Adrian stripped and launched his 9-inched pole into her vag. ‘Eeeeh!’ the tart screamed. ‘Shut up!’ Adrian yelled. ‘Yes, sir!’ Sylvia whimpered before an orgasm ignited her loins and Adrian spilled his seed into her snatch. He dismounted her and said, ‘Try embarrassing her, Leroy.’ ‘Okay,’ Leroy answered as he unzipped his trousers and guided his 11-inched penis into her ass. ‘You filthy shit-hole!’ he roared. ‘Even your clit’s filthy!’ Jude laughed. ‘Oh, god, yes, sir!’ Sylvia exclaimed. Soon, Leroy ejaculated into her bowels and discarded them. ‘Crawl over to that mattress,’ he ordered. ‘Yes, sir,’ - and Sylvia complied as the guys dowsed her in urine. However, she smelled so bad that Leroy deposited her in his car-trunk and transported her home, where she took a shower before the studs continued manhandling her. She loved it. ~*~ Part 2 - The King’s Chamber The Sunday afternoon a week following the night Leroy and Sylvia met Adrian and Jude, Leroy commanded her to dress in nothing except a bra, panties and high-heeled shoes, before the couple got in his car and went to The Scarlet Letter Club where adulterous wives were exposed to male scorn. They entered a dining area, with a brunette waitress approaching them. ‘Alcohol isn’t allowed, though I have tea and coffee. Which would you prefer?’ she said. ‘Coffee,’ Leroy answered. ‘Coffee for 2?’ she asked. ‘Please,’ Sylvia responded. The waitress left, returned several minutes later and set 2 cups on the table. Albert’s the club owner, and since you're new here, you’re his guests and I won’t charge you anything if you’ll drink these in The King’s Chamber. It’s down the hall,’ she said. ‘Thank him,’ Leroy replied as he and Sylvia carried their coffee into the room. But they didn’t notice a mid-2o’s white stud following them. ‘I’m Darrel,’ he introduced himself. ‘I’m Leroy and this is Sylvia.' ‘You’re a slut?’ Darrel asked her. ‘That’s all I am, sir,’ she answered. ‘Is it politically correct to say you’re a beautiful 'cunt'?’ Darrel sneered. ‘She’s a morally ugly hooker!’ Leroy said. ‘I admire your husband for marketing you,’ Darrel answered as Sylvia volunteered to disrobe. ‘Your tits are obscenely big,’ Darrel remarked. ‘She's in an obscene business,’ Leroy noted. ‘When did she begin turning tricks?’ Darrel inquired. ‘That’s how we celebrated our wedding 7 years ago,’ Leroy informed him. ‘Wow!’ Darrel exclaimed. ‘That’s astonishing, isn’t it?’ Leroy grinned. ‘Yeah,’ Darrel responded while undressing to expose his 9-inched penis. He then looked up at Albert, the white, 46-y/o ‘king.' ‘You have an audience,’ Darrel said as he bent Sylvia over a couch and penetrated her dung-chute. ‘Sodomize her!’ Leroy uged him. ‘Rip my ass apart!’ Sylvia whimpered, though it wasn’t long until she panted, ‘I’m cumming!’ ‘Quiet, whore!’ Darrel snarled as he plowed his jizz into her rectum. ‘You dirty, little hooker!’ Leroy next quoted a *movie line before he drove his cock into her anus. For 10 minutes, he hammered her, until he unloaded in her bowels. Nevertheless, she couldn’t believe him sliding her cup beneath her ass and ordering, ‘Fart into your coffee!’ ‘Yes, sir!’ - and she’d scarcely done so when Albert crossed the room and ejaculated into her beverage. He then took a $50-bill from his pocket, handed it to her and said, ‘I’m paying your $20 admission fee plus an extra 30. Hookers are always welcome at my establishment and I want to hire you to entertain a large party this Friday night.’ ‘She’ll do it,’ Leroy promised. ‘Good,’ Albert replied as he disappeared from the chamber. ‘Toast him, bitch,’ Leroy said. ‘Yes, sir,’ - and Sylvia swallowed her brew. The next Friday night, however, Leroy and Darrel attended the party, after which they congratulated her for earning $1, ooo, and... ‘... I’m an expensive escort,’ she giggled. *(The Gangbang Girl 29) ~*~ Part 3 - Fuck Me, Jesus! Previous installments haven't explained that Sylvia had rebelled against her religious upbringing, though blasphemy still incensed her. A week after she and Leroy went to The Scarlet Letter Club, he decided to exploit that during a Sunday morning church service. But a Friday or Saturday night rarely passed when a least one other man wasn't in bed with Sylvia and Leroy, including the white, 31-y/o Doyle. He relished Leroy's plan: At 10:45, Leroy had Sylvia wear a long dress and regular shoes, then drove to the church. Doyle was already sitting in the next-to-last pew; the couple sat down behind him. Two days earlier, Leroy had requested the pastor to deliver a sermon denouncing adultery. And, oh, did he ever! 'Unfaithful wives are sinners!' he thundered as Leroy removed a vibrator from his pocket. He activated the device, reached under her dress and buried it in her muff. 'What are you doing?' she whispered. 'Ask Jesus to fuck you,' Leroy quietly ordered. 'Fuck me, Jesus!' she softly obeyed. In a bit, Leroy thrust a cross in next to the vibrator. That amused Doyle; he flipped her the bird and left. When the pastor finished his sermon, Leroy and Svlvia departed, as well. 'Take the vibrator and cross out,' Leroy said. She did. Next, she and Leroy got in the husband's car and he drove to The City Adult Bookstore. They went into the video-arcade where Doyle was standing in the hall and sneered, 'God condemns paid slummers!' 'Yes, sir.' 'Mary Magdalene's Sylvia's inspiration,' Leroy said. 'Jesus married a hooker?' Doyle asked. 'Yeah, and the 12 disciples were her favorite johns,' Leroy answered. 'She defiled herself for money,' Doyle remarked. 'Sylvia does, too,' Leroy answered. 'She's filth incarnate!' Doyle said as Leroy opened the door to a private viewing room and led her into it while Doyle followed. 'We intend to punish you!' Leroy warned as he and Doyle unzipped their jeans. 'Worship my cock!' Leroy snarlled before she dropped her knees and gulped it into her mouth, followed by Doyle throwing his 10-inched rod into her vag. 'You're a pig. aren't you?' he said. 'Uh-hmmm!' Sylvia nodded. Nonetheless, that aroused her to a climax which Doyle and Leroy ignored until the latter suggested, 'Breed the dumb sow!' 'What?' Doyle inquired. 'Breed her!' 'Her womb had better be fertile!' Doyle responded as he drained his sperm into her snatch while Leroy's cock erupted in her mouth. After a brief pause, he said, 'It's time to complete her shame.' 'How?' Doyle asked. 'Like this,' Leroy replied, with him clutching Sylvia's tresses and towing her into the men's restroom. Four black customers then watched Leroy and Doyle pissing in the urinal and having her lick it clean. 'The 'ho must be the janitor,' one guy remarked. 'She's well-trained,' Doyle answered before he, Leroy and Sylvia left the store. That night, however, Doyle and Leroy commercialized the lowest slut in town. Jesus christ, man! ~*~ Part 4 - Disgusting Leroy was returning from work the following Friday night when he went to a gas station where he met Alvin, his white, divorced, equally-sexist and 35-y/o friend. ‘How are you and Sylvia?’ Alvin asked. ‘We’re fine,’ Leroy said. ‘I’m happy hear that. But you know Jude, don’t you?’ Alvin inquired. ‘Yeah, why?’ Leroy answered. ‘Yesterday, he showed me your wife’s nude picture with his phone while he was repairing my car,’ Alvin said. ‘I bet she incited your lust, didn’t she?’ Leroy remarked. ‘Really!’ Alvin said. ‘Let me finish buying gas and we’ll go to my place,’ Leroy responded. ‘Okay,’ Alvin replied. After Leroy had filled his tank, the men went to Leroy’s house. ‘You remember Alvin, don’t you?’ he asked. ‘Yes, sir,’ Sylvia responded. ‘He’s here since Jude once more betrayed your honor,’ Leroy said. ‘Just as much, you have no virtue!’ Alvin remarked. ‘Yeah. So, confess the awful sin you committed in church on Sunday!’ Leroy commanded. ‘I - I - asked Jesus to fuck me, sir.’ ‘I ought to violate you!’ Alvin snorted. However, he didn’t realize that he coincidentally was indulging Sylvia’s fantasy until Leroy told him, ‘You have her permission!’ ‘Good!’ Alvin said as he undressed to display his thick, 11-inched penis, then tore her clothes off, pushed her knee-ward in the living room and hurled his spear into her mouth. ‘Swallow my dick!’ he snarled. ‘Do it, you demon-possesses witch!’ Leroy ordered. ‘You don’t hate her, do you?’ Alvin laughed. ‘She's too disgusting to hate!’ Leroy sarcastically replied. ‘That’s what Jesus thinks!’ Alvin responded. Having said that, he withdrew from the Sylvia’s mouth and creamed her face. ‘You’re total mess!’ he snickered before Leroy stripped, crouched behind her and aimed his pecker into her guts. ‘Take my cock in your stinking sewer!’ he disparaged her to an orgasm. ‘First, she was ‘a demon-possessed witch’, then ‘disgusting’ and now she’s a ‘stinking sewer!’ Alvin chuckled. ‘Don’t forget she’s morally offensive!’ Leroy added while unloading in Sylvia’s ass. ‘Immoral wives are great, aren’t they?’ Alvin inquired. ‘Yeah, they are,’ Leroy answered, and 'thank you, sirs,’ Sylvia ended the night. However, Alvin moved to Spain and she never saw him again. Crap! Female only please Perth, WA (AU) · Men Seeking Women · Searching for a new female companion who deep down has a very dirty filthy dark side to them sexually, someone who wants to explore who is curious about new fetishes out there someone who actually knows they're a little slut and doesn't actually hate it. 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