Heather Brown - Kidnapped housewife

However, despite the slickness of the penetration, my ass was still tight. That was all to the good, though, considering the painfully blissful friction generated by so much prick in so little space.

As Tiny fucked me in the ass, my orgasmic center gradually shifted from my cunt to my rectum. My anus was starting to flutter the same way my pussy did during orgasm.

In my colon, there was no shit to gurgle because I'd lost it all to Emma's enema. That meant there was nothing to obstruct the head of his prick as it noodled away in my intestinal depths. The various sphincters spasmed so that it seemed like he was fucking a second cunt I miraculously owned.

"Have you got it in all the way?" I gasped.

"Just another inch," he answered, and then immediately grunted it in. The last increment of his penetration caused a stab in my colon that almost brought forth the scream I'd earlier dared Tiny to try and fuck out of me.

However, I held on, grabbing his balls to divert my attention with the searing agony of a foot of cock up my ass. They were hot and churning, searing with the rush-order manufacture of a new batch of thick cum for my tight ass.

Finally accustomed to the completeness of his insertion, I began instinctively wiggling my butt in the classic fucking motion. When the movement brought me more ecstasy than pain, I went even further by pulling back my legs until they were hooked over Tiny's shoulders. I was as contorted as if I were lying bound and gagged in the shed, but now I was loving it.

I was coming even harder in the ass than I had in the cunt. And I still had another load of Tiny's scalding jizz to look forward to. That might be the eventuality that would finally make me scream.

"Come in me," I heard myself plead; my awareness splitting into two levels so that I was capable of monitoring my performance. "Come in my ass!"

His balls jumped from my hand in sudden constriction. At the same time his huge prick lurched the whole width and breadth of my shit-pit. Cum bolted up his tube.

"Yeeeeoooowwwww!" I gave in and screamed at last. There was no other physical alternative when I suddenly had the sensation of hot lead up my ass.

Orgasming in high-gear, I followed my senses on a roller coaster ride into infinity. Nothing had ever made me come like this.

"Oh, flood my ass," I babbled insanely. "Keep filling my ass with your cum!"

Incredibly, he had more bullets to shoot this time than he had during the shoot-out in my pussy. The flow of his jizz seemed endless. Old sperm would be pooping out of my ass for days.

"Quick," I seized upon a sudden inspiration, "pull out of my ass and finish coming in my mouth. I want to taste that cream before it's all gone."

With a loud, wet pop he was out of my butt, and running his huge, erupting cock up my body. Then it found my face and my lips were around it, mouth-fucking out the last globs of semen.

"Oh, suck my cock," Tiny moaned with glee. "Suck my fucking cock."

The sound of my slobbering smacking lips filled the kitchen as I rapidly ate his dong all the way down to the balls. All dozen inches of it. Its head was now leaking the last of its sperm directly into the pit of my stomach.

Kidnapped, naked and degraded – with one of my captors brutally force-feeding me a foot of cock – I'd never felt so alive. I was beginning to wonder if the life from which I'd been abducted back in the suburbs was worth missing. For the first time I pondered whether I had seduced Tiny to cause dissension in the ranks of the kidnappers, as I'd told myself till now, or just fucked him because I wanted a big prick inside me.

Unfortunately, I never got to make up my mind. An opening door and the scuffle of many footsteps completely changed my priorities. Even blindfolded I knew from my other senses that a small crowd had entered the room.

The rest of the gang – they had caught Tiny with his pants down – Emma's Law!

"Freeze!" a voice I hadn't heard before snapped like the jaws of a trap. Hearing it for the first time was a chilling experience.

I could feel Tiny's big head turn around between my upraised knees. Then I could feel his massive body shudder as he saw something that made him suck in his breath.

"Tiny," the intruder's striking voice pronounced the big man's name like the dashing keys of a typewriter, "you're through."

A quickly muffled hiss followed his words. Before it was over, Tiny screamed. Bits of liquid and hard matter sprayed my chest and face. There was a thunk in the wall only an inch or so from my face.

Then, in eerie silence, Tiny slid like a bag of sugar from the prop of my legs. His strength abruptly terminated, gravity was sucking his great weight toward the floor with a vengeance.

He was dead. Apparently shot in the head with a silencer-equipped gun. The peculiar debris splattering my face and chest must have been bone, brain and blood. The emerging bullet had just missed me, burying itself in the plaster next to my ear.

Sitting up on the table, I lowered my head between my spread thighs and violently puked. I hadn't realized playing for keeps was going to be like this.

At least I didn't have to go back into the shed. In getting Tiny executed, I'd become too much the center of attention for that kind of obscurity.

As somebody cleaned the vomit off me in the bathroom, I could hear the big man's body being dragged from the house. I hoped they would at least bury him.

By the time I was led out of the bathroom, the gang had moved its deliberations into the main room of the hideout. There, I was shoved to a couch, and stuck between two male members.

Tiny's chillingly-voiced assassin, whom I now realized was the gang-leader, Chinga, spoke angrily to the others. "This is the second of our people to have to be wasted in less than twenty-four hours," he brought his followers up to date on the box-score of slaughter. "Let's face it, we're losing our discipline. Since we heisted this chick, we've been suffering more losses because of ourselves than we've ever taken from the cops."

"What should we do with the bitch?" somebody asked. "After all that trouble with Parker, she's all we have to show. What about the ransom for her we talked about?"

"We might be able to get some ransom out of her old man," Chinga replied, accurately adding, "but it probably wouldn't be worth the trouble. Parker was supposed to be our meal ticket, and the last time anyone saw him, he was dead."

"Not so fast," came a breathless female voice from the closing front door. "I was just getting the groceries out of the van and found this paper somebody bought and then was too illiterate to read."

There was a quiet hush, wrinkled only by the rustle of the newspaper being passed across the room. "Here, Chinga," the last link in the chain said to the leader.

The pause was deadly. Then it was shattered by the Lord's name being taken in venomous vain.

"Chinga, what's the matter?" several of the gang anxiously inquired.

"Read it yourself," he spat. Then I could hear him stomp away, obviously in disgust.

There was an audible scuffle for the paper. A voice I recognized as Grady's was the first to read it aloud.

"D-d-detective Survives Shoot Out," he stammered the text of the headline in awe. "Christ, Jack, I thought you said the bastard wasn't a magician. Goddamn it, Parker's still alive! He wasn't even seriously wounded."

"Is he coming after us?" I recognized Jack's voice through the strain which bent it.

"It says here he'll be laid up a few days, but he's already running the investigation from his hospital bed."

"Who does he blame?" somebody wanted to know from the rear of the room.

"Organized crime," Grady replied. "Parker says the mob is trying to take over the city."