Hands.
Strong, wet and slippery hands.
Pulling, tugging, probing her places.
How many hands, 4?, no 6.
Oh god, 8 pair of hands, everywhere.
Pulling hair, around her throat, fingers in her mouth, and fingers in her g-string.
How did she get here how did she let this happen. Why did she let this happen?
Did she want it to stop!
Yes, no, NO!
The consequences of saying no.
Would the word be heard, would they listen.
Did she want them to hear?
Did she say it, yes, but it was whispered, it was in-audible, it was meant to be no. but it came out as Nnnnn...ohhhhhh, nnnnnnnn, ahhhhhh.
She dropped her clutch bag and her belongings spilled out onto the floor.
Two hands gripped firmly around her throat and a tongue, slender and moist forced between her gasping mouth.
No words could be spoken that would be understood, the strong, lashing tongue was sliding deeper, ever so deeper into her mouth, down her throat, will it end, its fantastically large.
Christ, how deep could it go into her cunt, it was big enough to fuck like a cock.
Hands and fingers from behind, forcing their way over her tits, between the chest of cock-tongue.
They tugged at the buttons to her low plunging blouse.
The buttons were not easy to un-do and the frantic hands mauled at her tits and furiously tore apart the blouse.
Her skin touched cock-tongue's chest, warm, sweaty – his tongue rolling around her mouth, flicking against the tip of her tongue like it was her red, swelled clit.
Fingers found her nipples.
Nipples like cherries, flushing pink and now red.
You could hang keys off her nipples.
Padded bras could still not hide these spectacular nipples, they were an embarrassment sometimes.
Nipples that men (and women) could bite with their back teeth.
Fingers tweaked, twisted and milked them.
Fingers were always surprised at their size and play-time lasted a lot longer because of this.
Hands moved from her tits and dragged the blouse from around her shoulders and down her arms, like a straight-jacket.
She was trapped between the two guys and now even more vulnerable because she was imprisoned, immobile.
Teeth bit into her shoulder, her neck, from behind, not painful the point between pain and ecstasy.
Shivers down her spine.
Hands back on her tits, gripped the front of her cups and pulled down.,
Her 36-C's jumped out, and was squashed against cock-tongues chest.
Fuck, her tits, no her nipples were rigid and were pressing against his hard chest and his nipples were hard.
Raging nipples kissing each other.
Cock-tongue let go of her throat, still fucking her mouth, and his hands slid down over bare tummy and around her back and down to her ass.
Hands between her and the vampire behind her.
Cock-tongue pulled her hard and close to him.
She could feel his hard man-tool prodding against her mound, even through her short cotton skirt.
It was broad, it was long.
It was jammed against her from her opening to her blue diamond pierced belly button and beyond.
She gulped, not gasped, as she realised this was large, it would stretch, it would push her cunt lips inside her when it was force into her neat tidy quim.
The thought shocked her to the realisation that to be fucked by this tool would be an attack on her senses, mentally and physically, but there were another 3 cocks to contend with also.
She did not have time to dwell on the coming events, as now hands gripped the inside of her thighs, two hands on each leg, pulled her legs apart.
She did not fall because she was sandwiched between cock-tongue and vampire.
Fingers found the zipper on the side of her mini-skirt and dragged it down, fast.
The skirt opened and was ripped off and slung against the far wall.
She was trapped.
Legs agape, tits out and squashed, arms imprisoned behind her back.
And now, shed felt another rigid cock, bulging against her ample bare ass.
Her ass was not fat, it was plump which rippled when she was being scuttled, it could be gripped and ridden like the finest mare.
Many times her men had fucked her ass cheeks without knowing they were not in her cunt and off-loaded all over her back and up the crack of her arse. She made the noises along with her men so as not to make them feel silly should they realise they'd had in fact just wanked and not fucked.
When they rolled over, exhausted, she'd had to finish herself off – "fucking stupid drunk wanker bastards" she'd panted to her self when she juddered and released her girl's juice.
Vampire gripped her wrists and guided her hands to his bulge.
He pushed her hands up and down, up and down, down underneath his crotch to where his balls hung.
He had jeans on; still she could feel the iron-hard balls, taught against his jeans.
He must be in pain, his balls must fucking ache as they were being crushed inside his jeans.
She gripped his balls, balls behind her, she had to release them.
Vampire knew he did not have to coax her any further.
Her fingers found his zipper and dragged it down.
Then up to the button, fumbling, pulling, it was difficult, but it gave.
Flesh on flesh.
Vampire did not have any underwear on.
A pleasant surprise.
Her hands slid into his jeans.
His rigid, iron hard cock was wet.
He was aroused, excited and his cock was dribbling his clear cock juice.
He bit harder into her shoulder and she could feel him shudder with delight, of expectation.
Down her hand slipped.
One hand rubbed up and down his shaft, the other found his balls and cupped them, no, she could only cup one, and they were enormous.
She quivered with passion.
He must hold gallons of bulls-milk.
Oh, god, oh Christ, she thought.
Oh god, don't make me drink it all, all that was stored in those huge, smooth balls.
Smooth?
She palmed them again.
No underwear and no hair.
He's got smooth, shaved balls, nice.
Very nice, she really liked to be tea-bagged.
