Ron Taylor - Stepdaughter in bondage

Well, if it wasn't me, then who was it happening to, for God's sake? I mean, there I was, on my elbow and knees, any tits pressed onto the bed. I had one hand busy on my cunt and the burning pain of my first asshole fuck was slowly turning into something else altogether.

The van rocked as we made it there on the bunk, and the rain kept battering onto the top. I felt the swaying of the vehicle but hardly noticed the drumlike tattoo of raindrops hitting above us. My asshole kept getting greasier and greasier and it wasn't two minutes before lorry a cock moved in and out of me with no difficulty at all. So why was I still moaning and groaning, "Oh, no, stop, please, for Christ's sake stop, you're killing me, kiillllliiiinnnggg meeee!" Why? I didn't know. But his fingers were busy on my clit, and my fingers were screwing in and out of my cunt mouth, and somehow the idea that I was being led forcibly to this, that I was being raped and taken kinky advantage of was such a comforting thought.

There was a sudden, unexpected popping noise and it was like I had just taken a good shit after two or three days of stopped-up bowels. A lot of people find shit a disgusting subject, and I guess it is, in a way. But tell me – doesn't it feel great when you let go? Like a burden being lifted from your soul or something? Makes you want to sigh. It felt just like that when Jerry's dick whanged out of my rectum.

I sighed and I almost collapsed in a pile of relieved flesh. The sensation when his cock pulled out and my sphincter snapped back to its normal tightness was delightful and my head swam giddily.

Not for long. A split second later Jerry was pushing his cock at my snatch and I just had time to get my fingers out of the way before his rod slammed in to replace them. My eyes bugged out and there was a rasping tautness in my throat. I lifted my head and tried to crawl forward, but as always, my head bumped the wall of the van and I wound up thrusting my ass backward, pussy eating up that dick of his in greedy gulping swallows. The muscles in me were rippling and contacting by now. I'd started to come at almost the same instant his cock went into my pussy, and I didn't stop. How could I, with that thing of his reaming in and out of me, already lubed up in my asshole, getting ever greasier now tram the musky flowing secretions of my cunt. His rod was getting a bath, plain and simple, and my cunt was the tub.

He still humped over me from the rear, fucking a little more to the front now. His fingers were on my clit, and his other hand went up to grab my tits. He didn't seem to care which one he got hold of. He'd squeeze and pinch a while, then flip over to the other boot and give it the same treatment. And all the while, his prick kept banging into my box, thrusting hard, fucking with a passion, while I juiced and creamed around him and sobbed and throbbed my guts out.

It had happened almost the same way with Tony last night, and it was happening to me again now. How many more times? I wondered, sick with self-disgust but not so sick I couldn't keep balling away to meet the ramming of Jerry's tool. Last night I'd killed a man because of something exactly like this. Would I have to keep on responding this way, then killing the men who, made me respond so enthusiastically? I didn't know, and I was too busy coming to really think about it with the necessary concentration. It's hard to be philosophical while you're coming.

And speaking of hard – I had about six inches of hard in me. It felt like a good thirteen inches of hammering tool, and I swear I could pick out the presence of his cockhead at the mouth of my uterus. It felt like a frozen snake, poking, punching, trying to fuck its way into my guts, and I screamed every time he did it to me. Screamed and shivered and released another river of sweat from my pores, another river of cum from my pussywalls.

His fingers tightened on my left nipple and they were like steel needles pinching into my flesh. I screamed loud that time, and it was much, much more pain than pleasure. My orgasm was dying down and I didn't think it could last more than a few more heartbeats.

Jerry must have sensed that, because he plunged deep and started to unload. His snaky dick thrashed in me like a live, sparking wire, spraying cum into my belly, and his balls jiggled against my ass with the convulsions of letting loose their gallon of sperm. It ran out of me while he was still pouring the juice in, and my head was starting to return to normal again.

Jerry's cock went soft in my pussy and wiggled out. His hands relaxed on my body and I slumped onto the bed, cum oozing from my slit like blood from a slashed jugular. I reached under myself touched my ravished hole, felt the sticky man-juice leaking out. So much sperm he'd shot into me. How much of it had stuck? My tears had seemed dry and spent a little while ago, but they started flowing again, nearly as abundantly as the cum dribbling out of my cunt.

Jerry lay down beside me, and he whistled. "Hot damn," he said, his hand coming to rest on the small of my back. "That was okay. I see you like it rough. Fine with me. I can give it to you as rough as you can take it, Penny baby." He leaned closer, licked my ear, and whispered lewdly, "Maybe next time I'll piss in your mouth. Is that rough enough to get you off?"

I sat up, blazing. "Goddamn you," I said, "What do you think I am? You threw me onto this bed and you raped me, and all I wanted was a ride." I was breathing hard, and my head felt super cold, the way it had the time I sneaked one of Mom's menthol cigarettes.

Jerry stretched like a cat and offered me his hand. I slapped it away. He sat up, frowning.

"Look," he said, "I don't know what your particular trip is, bitch, but as long as you to in my van, you're…"

I wasn't listening. I leaned forward, and the first thing my eyes lit on was the jug of wine we'd been sipping from. I grabbed it in one quick fluid motion and drew it back over my shoulder, ready to smash it on his forehead. Nov matter if he did look a lot like Jesus Christ, I was going to smash him, the way I'd smashed Tony.

He obviously had a quicker wit than I did, because his fist locked around my wrist just as I was starting to swing. I moaned at the sharpness of his hold, the pain that shot through my hand, and the jug fell from my fingers. The floor wasn't soft enough to keep it from breaking, and a stain as red as blood spread across the carpeting. I looked down at it, sick, remembering, and then I looked at Jerry. His face was dead-white and he was very angry. He stood up, pulling me with him.

"Okay, bitch, I've had enough. You've paid for your transportation this far, and I don't think I want to sell you a ticket for the rest of the way."

He grabbed my shoes off the floor, thrust them into one of my hands, and he pulled me, kicking, fighting, moaning, across the floor of the van. My toes dragged through the spill of red wine. It was cool and wet and sticky.

Jerry opened the side loading door. It was raining very hard, and there was a huge puddle of muddy water beside the van. He let go of my hand and, while I was trying to rub away the hurt, he gave me a shove from behind. Half naked, my shirt pulled up to my tits, my pants hanging below my hips, I fell from the van, right into that puddle of water. I hit with a splash, too, a splash that managed to soak whatever of me hadn't gotten soaked on my initial landing.

I looked up, half blinded by the rain, holding my shoes in one hand. "Wait a minute."

The side door slammed shut. The van rocked and not two heartbeats later, I was sure, the engine roared into life. The van took off, spraying me with more mud as its tires dug into the solid ground underneath the rain-softened surface. I watched, not quite believing, as it sped back toward the highway, turned right, and vanished.