All characters in the story are over eighteen but if you are not or if you are offended by sexually explicit material, you should stop reading now, close this page, and go and do something else.
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The scream that started out as a desperate cry for help caught in my throat, faded then eventually emerged from my dry, parched lips as a muted, pathetic whimper. I struggled, but my Levi's which had been hurriedly pulled down were wrapped tightly around my ankles making it not quite impossible, but extremely difficult to move.
Searching fingers probed my damp, black panties, easily locating then impatiently circling my tender, throbbing clit, coaxing it out from under its protective hood, until it was erect, hard and ready for the assault that I was dreading and desperately craving in equal measure.
Another hand under my t-shirt ravaged my tiny, bra-less breasts. My nipples were pinched and teased into hard, aching points; the pain and pleasure combining to fuel the fire already raging out of control between my legs.
The air was thick with the intoxicating smell of sex and the room resonated with the unmistakable sound of lust. I recognized my own heady, musky aroma and knew that the sounds I could hear were my hot, raspy gasps as I fought for air between a constant stream of moans and sobs.
Desperately I fought, struggling, squirming and kicking as I tried to get my legs free, but it was no use. The hands in my pants and under my shirt were relentless and without mercy; I was helpless and on the verge of an orgasm.
Somehow I'd made it home, but only just. The short drive from the gym was torture and I'd barely made it through the front door before undoing my jeans and rushing to the sofa with my hand between my legs.
There hadn't been time to take off my shoes and hobbled by my jeans I'd stumbled across the room and collapsed, literally falling onto the soft, black leather couch to take care of the demanding demon in my loins.
It was just after six o'clock and the living room was bathed in early evening sunlight. Fortunately I was alone, Sara, my housemate, wasn't home from work and there was no one to hear me moan or to see me writhing in ecstasy on the couch.
For a brief moment I considered pausing to take off my jeans but there was no way I could stop, not even for a moment - I was way beyond that. I arched my back, raised my hips and spread my legs as wide as my crumpled jeans would allow. It wasn't ideal but I was desperate and under the circumstances it would have to do.