Carl van Marcus - Naked and helpless

"God, you're tight, you gorgeous she-cat," Dawson gloated, "with the sweetest little cunt I ever fucked."

Jill turned her head away and emitted a deep moan of shame. "I hate you!" she blurted out. But her willfully gripping young cunt belied her words and clasped the invader tighter, as if to encourage the weapon embedded deep within it to violate her further.

Dawson grunt-chuckled again. "You may hate me, but you love my cock, honey. You love to fuck, don't you? Now ain't you sorry you waited all this time? You didn't know what you were missin'!"

He drew back, pulling his cock almost all the way out, then he slammed home again, creating a loud wet sluicing noise as he plunged back into her vaginal depths. "Put your hands on my butt and pull me into you," he said, grinding his pelvis into hers. Jill complied, and he gloated silently again, feeling that he had one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen completely at his mercy – even if it was because of the aphrodisiac! But hell, he rationalized, if I'd had more time, I coulda gotten her anyway!

She was hating him with her mind and fucking back at him with her body as if he were the greatest stud in the world; as if his cock were the most desirable cock in the world to have stuffed up between her legs. How he'd give anything just to keep this doll all for himself. He could set her up in a swanky pad in Beverly Hills, give her all the charge accounts she wanted and have her there to come over and fuck anytime he wanted – which would be all the time he could get!

"You like that, honey, you like ole Uncle Jack's big cock in your tight little pussy?" he asked quaveringly, his voice mirroring his intense excitement.

Her eyes were glazed with drug stupor, but there was contempt in them, too. "What do you think, mister? It's your ballgame. Go on, fuck away, Dixieland!" She spitefully pulled his broad face to hers and kissed him passionately on the mouth, her tongue burrowing inside to deliberately excite him all the more. She wrapped her arms languorously around his neck and ground her naked tits seductively up into his hairy chest. He was treating her like a whore… well, she could out-whore the bastard!

She gave every effort to fucking then, moving in smooth and provocative synchronization to his every thrust, forcing him into longer, smoother strokes. She was calling the shots now, making him march to her drum, using her internal vaginal muscles to suck at his cock in an effort to draw the semen out of the blood-engorged instrument. She gyrated beneath the panting printer, and he, catching her rhythm, began to move as she manipulated him. His balls slapped wetly against her undercarriage, and she reared back and banged into them as hard as she could, mustering all her strength for the counterassault. She would take every inch he could give her, and milk his balls dry with her tightly clenching pussy. She knew he fully intended to empty his balls into her, to fill her with his steaming cum, shooting millions of spermatozoa into her defiled cunt. And she was ready for it! She was about to cum again herself, and she would make this bastard give his load to her!

By tacit agreement, they both increased the tempo. Dawson was puffing like a steam engine – The Little Engine That Could, she suddenly thought, and she gave out a momentary giggle as she remembered the children's story of the locomotive trying to make it uphill. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, it puffed as it climbed higher and higher, higher and higher, until…

"Aaarrgggh… I'm cumming! Ooooohhhooo!" Dawson moaned as he stiffened and shot his load of steaming white cum into her milking pussy. Jill felt the first gush of the seminal torrent that was about to fill her, and she worked her pussy muscles even harder to draw the sticky jism out of his balls. It was so exciting, so thrilling, so absolutely wicked that she couldn't control her own sexual energies any more. The tide of ecstasy rose again in her loins and spread through her belly and up into her chest and head and down into her thighs and legs to her toes. She was cumming again! God, it was wonderful, beautiful, fantastic. And she needed it so much!

"Oooohhhh… yeeeeeesssss!" she hissed sibilantly as she spasmed again and again against the burly seducer. Their bodies were slippery with perspiration and the strong unmistakable scent of copulation hung heavily in the air like tobacco smoke in a closed room. Jill felt she could go on and on. She had found a reserve of strength she didn't know she had and despite her second thrilling orgasm, she felt she needed and wanted more!

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, bringing both Jill and the printer out of their dazed sexual euphoria. They both started as if shot, and Dawson swore under breath.

"Jack? Jack, open the door," came the resonant, authoritative voice.

"Ernesto!" Jill cried out.

"Just a minute," Dawson called out gruffly. He was panting and weak, and he reluctantly got off of the post-virginal artist, drawing his sticky cock out of her tortured, sex-hungry cunt. The young girl wriggled out from under him and rolled off the bed, grabbed her dress and panty hose from the floor and made a dash for the bathroom. She locked the door behind her and turned on the water. It was then that she noticed Dawson's clothes on the floor. She had an impetuous and very devilish thought. Tossing the clothing into the bathtub, she turned the faucets on full blast and pulled up the shower knob. Moments later, there was a knock on the bathroom door.

"Jill, are you all right?" Garcia wanted to know. "Please come out, Jill, I want to apologize for this unspeakable incident."

"No, I won't come out, Ernesto. I can't. It's a horrible nightmare. That brute, that… animal! He raped me!"

"Please Jill, please get dressed and come out – or let me come in. I deeply regret the unfortunate incident – it is beyond contempt. But it is already fait d'accompli, so to speak; it is past. And we must continue in the present, as intelligent adults. Please open the door, Jill."

Jill was dressed, now, and though she felt an acute sense of mortification, there was something so commanding, so reassuring in Ernesto's voice, that she felt obliged to comply with his request. How could she ever face him, though?

The shower was still going when she turned the lock and opened the door a crack. She did not show her face. Gently, cautiously, the refined Colombian pushed the door open and stepped inside. He closed it again behind him.

Jill leaned against the lavatory, her head hung in shame. Garcia looked toward the shower after seeing the crestfallen girl, noting the soaked garments of her seducer. He had to suppress a laugh. So, the girl has some spunk! She is a she-cat after all. And Jack says she is the best fuck he has ever had… Caramba!

He went to her and tenderly placed his arms around her shoulders. His embrace was paternal. Jill began to cry. She was so bewildered, so embarrassed, and yet, so turned on!

"My dear Jill," Ernesto began in his most consoling voice, "I had no idea you would be subjected to advances from my associate. It was beastly of the man, taking advantage of an innocent young woman like yourself. Most probably, he had far too much to drink, and seeing you in a vulnerable condition, his beastlier nature overcame him. You are so sweet, so beautiful, so desirable, it is difficult for a man to contain his baser nature…"

"Oh, Ernesto, it was so terrible. He forced me, he hurt me. I was afraid he would really kill me or something," she said, sobbing into his chest. He stroked her hair as though she were a little girl with a skinned knee.

"Of course, darling, of course. I can only imagine your ordeal," he sighed heavily. "And I blame myself…"

Jill looked up suddenly and blinked at him. "You? Oh no, Ernesto, it wasn't your fault!" she insisted.