Ron Taylor - Handcuffed housewife

"You're getting wet," he said with smug superiority written onto every syllable. Emily could say nothing at all.

His finger pushed inside her, less roughly than he'd finger-fucked her earlier. There was a provocative rhythm to the stroke as he went inside Emily. She moaned, but when she jerked in response, it was a rhythmic jerking. She remembered the session in the tub, her finger playing hotly inside her pussy.

Duke licked her clit again. The button was stiffer now than it had been, even more sensitive in its extension. His tongue slid around the base of the clit, and he pressed in against both sides. She protested, but she knew, as his tongue caressed her again, as his finger continued that subtly erotic corkscrewing into the ever-wetter depths of her pussy, that she did not want him to stop just yet.

He licked down the crack of her pussy, to her hole. His finger slid slickly out of her cunt, and his tongue moved in, with hardly a break in the rhythm of his penetration. Emily shivered. Her body felt alternately cold and hot.

"Nothing like the taste of a juicy wet pussy," Duke murmured, using his tongue on Emily's cunt.

He scooped the liquid out of her hole brought it up on his tongue to smear onto her wet clit and then he sucked it off her skin.

His mouth moved back and forth inexorably from her cunt hole to her clit, licking, sucking, kissing, tonguing her suddenly aroused flesh. As he rammed his tongue up her cunt, spreading his tight mouth with his almost brutal but irresistible fingers, Emily began to buck in her restraints, her body suddenly on fire.

"You motherfucker, what are you doing to me?" she moaned. "Oh, God, Duke, lick me again, just one more time, on the clit, please, lick my fucking clittt!"

She was totally open to him at that moment. He could have done anything. Her pussy ached with an emptiness that frightened Emily Rowan Palmer. Never in her life had she longed for the touch of anything on her cunt other than her own knowing, sexy fingers.

And now she would die if this man, this total stranger, this brutal kidnapper did not lick her pussy just once more. That was all it would take for her to explode in an orgasm.

She realized that she didn't even mind looking at his asshole. Her body was more excited sexually than it had ever been in her life.

Duke lifted his head from her pussy and he looked around. He winked at Emily.

"I done told you, honey, I ain't doing one fucking thing just because it makes you feel good. I'm getting my rocks off on your body. And now that I've ate my fill of your pink pussy, I've got a cock that wants to squirt out a big hot load of cum."

He rose, turning around, his lance-like club of a cock sticking up, big, thick, hard, its tip almost purple from the hot rush of blood.

He squatted on her chest again, and once more he placed his cock in the smooth valley between her tits. He squeezed her tits together, working them roughly, mashing them onto the stiffened bulk of his prick.

"Agghh!" Emily panted. He was so cruel, so rough. Her tits ached from his graceless manipulation.

He began to work his cock back and forth, wedged between her tits.

"No, please," she whined, watching the big red knob thrusting from between the tits, toward her face, plunging again and again as if it were a spear aiming to transfix her skull. He thumbed her nipples with an almost cruel intensity while he tit-fucked Emily. "Ohhhh! It hurts, pleeeeez!"

"Gonna come, Emily-bitch," he said, "gonna come real soon. Where should I shoot my load? On your tits? Mmmmmm, like to see those nice pink mounds dripping with my load, wouldn't you? Or maybe I'll squirt it all over your face. There's something soooo fuckin' sexy about the face of a gorgeous woman splattered with fresh steamy-hot jism. Lemme think, honey, 'cause it's almost time. I'm gonna be squirting in a minute or so, and mmmmmm, baby, I can tell it's gonna be a big hot gusher!"

"You bastard!" she whispered. "I hate you, I'll see you in the electric chair for what you're doing to me!"

"I almost made you come with my tongue," he taunted. "You were screaming for more. You'd have juiced me with your cream if I'd licked your clit two or three times more. You'd have squirted like a sliced lemon. They'd never fry me for making you cream, Emily. Oh, baby, I'm gonna do it, gonna shoot my cum!"

She had no doubt of it. His eyes were rolling, and he was pumping his cock swiftly through the mashed-together mounds of her tits.

Emily stared in horror and revulsion at the blunt snout of his cock, ramming between her tits, plunging toward her face. The head seemed to expand even as she watched it, and she knew instinctively that he was about to come. The rattle-like sounds that came from deep in his throat told her all the rest.

The first gush of his cum blasted from the tip of Duke's cock and hit her on the forehead, oozing down into her eye.

"Oh, Goddamn y…" she blurted, but she didn't get to finish.

"Yeah, Emily!" Duke laughed, and he thrust forward with his cock shoving it into her open mouth.

She squealed as his cum began to squirt into her mouth. She tried to spit the cock out, but he was shoving hard, and the cock-knob was somewhere deep in her mouth, almost pushed into her throat. The cum squirted across her fluttering tongue. He was overloaded with cum.

It seemed to shoot from him in an endless sticky river. Her mouth filled with the acrid tasting stuff, and his cock barreled into her so swiftly, so inexorably, that she could do nothing except swallow and try to keep one step ahead of him. If she hadn't swallowed, she'd have drowned in the flood of Duke's squirting jism.

He gripped his cock, jerking on the shaft, emptying himself into Emily.

"Drink every drop, bitch," he said. "I want you to know what a real man's cum tastes like!"

"I have to-to go to the bathroom," Emily whispered.

She lay on the bed, immobile in her bondage, terribly shaken by what had just happened to her. Her pussy still ached, her clit throbbed tumultuously at the memory of the feelings she had experienced while Duke sucked her cunt.

"You have to piss?" he asked. "Go ahead and piss."

"Here? My God!" The very thought horrified her. "In the bed? In front of – in front of you?"

"Piss, Emily," he told her. "Open up and let it flow."

He was puffing up his pants. Buckling the belt, he walked around to the foot of the bed and leaned on the lower brass rail. He touched one of Emily's uplifted feet, stroking her ankle and the silken scarf that tied her into place.

"I wanna see you piss," he said. "It excites me to watch a woman pissing. Go ahead and do it. While I watch."

Emily shook her head, lips set firm and tight. There were some things she would do because she had to, but there were some things she would not, could not, do, and this was one of them.

But the more she thought about it, and the more her mind recoiled at the obscenity of his suggestion, the more aware she became that her bladder was full and aching to be emptied. She struggled weakly in her bindings as if that might loosen the knots of the scarves, the steel of the handcuffs. Opening her eyes, she used them to make one last, silent plea to Duke that he spare her at least this particular shame.

He didn't answer, not with his mouth. He took hold of her toes, stroking them idly. His fingers worked into the spaces between her toes.

Emily moaned. She wiggled her toes, as if she really thought she could pull her foot back, out of his reach.

He moved his fingers onto her bare sole, using them to stroke a feathery light touch up and down. Emily moaned. She felt the moan turn into a high-pitched giggle. He kept on tickling, and she began to shake uncontrollably.

"No, please," she gasped, "don't…"