Hank Borden: Sex slave housewife

She hadn't walked far before she noticed an old farmhouse standing beside a barn on the other side of a large field. Hoping to find help there, she traversed the field and arrived at the farmhouse door, muddy and exhausted.

"Hello!" she called as she banged on the heavy wooden door. "Anybody home? Please! I need help!"

Erica could hear someone shuffling inside, and then she saw the doorknob turning. By now, the wind had picked up, and she was having difficulty keeping her body covered with the ripped dress. As the door slowly opened, she stood trembling, with her cunt and most of her asscheeks exposed.

"Please!" she said. "I've been robbed! May I use your phone to call the police?" She looked hopefully at the frail old man with the long beard and tattered clothes.

"Ain't got no phone," the old man replied. "You best try someplace else." Erica could see the rotten teeth in his mouth as he talked, and she could see his eyes staring at her cunt. Although she was exhausted, she thought maybe it would be better to try someplace else.

"Wait a minute, Pa," Erica heard someone say as she was turning to leave. "Just look at her, the poor thing. Let her come in and get cleaned up." An old woman had stepped into the doorway.

"Thank you, Ma'am," said Erica as she walked up the front steps and entered the house. "You're very kind."

Erica looked about nervously as the two old people examined her half-naked body, dripping with rain. The one-story building was nothing more than a shack. Its few pieces of furniture were badly in need of repair. The wooden floor was slightly warped in several places and worn through in other places. The bare walls looked as if they could use a good scrubbing as well as a new paint job.

Erica could see three other rooms besides the one she was now in, but from what she could tell of them, they were in the same condition. Two of them she guessed to be bedrooms, but the third was obviously the kitchen, for the sound and smell of frying bacon drifted from it. It was into this room that she was now being led.

"C'mon, dearie," said the old woman, holding Erica's arm. "I'll pour you a tub of water, and you can wash up."

"Thank you," said Erica, entering the kitchen. She noticed that the old man had stayed in the other room, and she was glad. She didn't want him around, staring at her cunt and tits while she was bathing.

The kitchen was small, with a wood stove, a long, heavy table, and a few cupboards. There was an old, wooden washtub standing in the corner, and Erica realized that this was what she was to bathe in.

"Go on, and get in, dearie," said the old woman. "I've got some water heating on the stove now. It'll be warm enough in a few minutes."

As Erica dropped her ripped dress to the floor, she could see the old woman checking the pot of water. Her eyes roamed over the woman's shabby, ankle-length dress, her worn boots, and the black scarf around her shoulders. Erica began to pity these people and the poverty in which they lived, but she was thankful to them for giving her shelter.

"Here we are," said the woman, carrying the pot of heated water over to the tub and pouring it in. "Nice and warm!"

Erica was surprised at the woman's strength. She knew the pot of water must have been heavy. "You should have let me help you with that," she said.

"Nonsense," the woman answered as she refilled the empty pot and placed it back on the stove. "You just get undressed, and get in that water 'fore it gets cold, you hear?"

Still sore and still full of cum from her brutal rape, Erica managed to pull off her stockings and garter belt and lower herself into the old-fashioned tub. The water temperature was perfect as her sore pussy and stiff, aching muscles found soothing relief.

The old woman handed Erica a bar of soap and an old rag, and she used this to wash away the man's jism as well as the mud and grass. When she had washed her aching body clean, the old woman poured another pot of heated water into the tub, thus bringing the water level up over Erica's tits. Erica, feeling the hot water caressing her big tits, lay her head back, spread her legs wide, and relaxed.

As Erica lay in the tub in a semi-conscious state, she tried to make sense of everything that had occurred. She still could not believe that she had been robbed and fucked. Of course, she had heard and read of things like this happening, but it was always someone else who was the victim. She never dreamed that she would fall prey and end up being raped and robbed of everything. I guess my number was just up, she thought.

Never-the-less, she wondered if it could have been prevented. Her husband had tried to warn her of the possible dangers confronting a woman travelling alone in strange country. Perhaps if she had just listened. She had wanted to get away for awhile to think and to try to sort out her life, and she thought her husband's warnings were just an attempt by him to keep her at home. Well, perhaps they were, she thought as she stared at the grease stained ceiling, but they had turned out to be valid.

The warm water was doing wonders for Erica's sore pussy. She closed her eyes and began to run her fingers over her tender cunt lips. She massaged the velvety folds of pussy flesh, pulling and stretching her soft cunt meat until she tingled all over. The soreness was rapidly vanishing, and a warm peace was spreading through her shapely body.

As she closed her eyes and gave herself up to her probing fingers, the curvy blonde fought hard to drive the memory of her rape out of her mind. But the ugly visions were not to be denied. She could still see the young stranger's hairy ass bouncing up and down between her wide-spread thighs, and she could even feel his thick cock slamming into her pussy over and over again. But what shamed her the most was the vision of herself being fucked out in the open beneath the trees for all the world to see.

Her thoughts were temporarily interrupted by the sound of the rain beating heavily on the roof. It reminded her of her childhood when she used to lie awake at night, listening to the rain and thunder. Curiously, it never frightened her, only fascinated her.

Again the woman returned to the kitchen, this time carrying something in her hands. "You can put these on when you finish your bath, dearie. I think they'll fit."

Erica watched the old woman depart, then she climbed out of the washtub and dried herself with the towel provided her. Once dry, she picked up the clothes the woman had just brought her. They were a size too small, but she struggled into them anyway. The cut-off jeans were old and faded, and they barely covered her big asscheeks. They also had a hole in them that exposed her ass crack. She was unable to fasten the top buttons of the blouse, her tits were just too big.

"Oh, well," she said with a sigh. "Beggars can't be choosers." She tugged at the thin fabric, trying to cover as much of her tits as possible, finally giving up in despair, her big, round tits straining at the opening.

"They belong to my granddaughter," said the old woman as she came back in the kitchen. "She don't mind none."

"They're just fine," said Erica, trying to be polite. "I want to thank you for your kindness… do you suppose I could get a ride to town? I have to get in touch with the police. My car and all my belongings were stolen."

"I reckon that ain't all that happened to you," said the old woman, looking Erica up and down.

"But that's your business. You ain't got to tell me about it. Anyway, my son got the truck. Him and Joe Bob and Marylou are out sell-er, ah-are out hunting. They'll be back any minute. Why don't you have a seat at the table? I'm just about to put supper on. You like beans and bacon, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," said Erica, not so much to be polite, but because she was very hungry. That tremendous fucking she had received had given her a huge appetite. She took a place at the table.