The keeper - illustrated bondage story, part 60

Free bondage photos blog 7 December 2020

He slapped one big hand against her face and dove down with the other to position his cock.

“Hey, Tyrone,” came a voice. “What is it?”

“Shut up, Willie,” he hissed, taking just a second to look behind him. “It’s a white girl.’

“What?!” Willie’s face appeared against the night sky, over Tyrone’s shoulder.

“It’s a white girl,” Tyrone grunted again, holding her face down as she stared up at the Willie, her blue eyes huge between the gripping fngers. “She all tied and shut up.”

“Sheeeee-it,” Willie whispered as Barb jerked beneath Tyrone as if she was being electrocuted every few seconds. “Look at her, boy. She fne.”

“Real blond,” Tyrone said in a hush, looking down as he tore at her panties. “When we get another fuck like this?”

The girl started to writhe, trying to kick and scream. “Sheee-it,” Willie repeated. “Her mouth stuffed but good. Look at how red she her cheeks all puffed out. She chewin’ on sumting all right.”

“Shut up, Willie, man.” Tyrone let go of her head, needing both hands to tear open her panties. Barbara reared up, begging the two not to do this.

“Listen to that mush mouth huh?” Willie breathed, then grabbed her left tit. “Propa!”

“Get her down!” Tyrone hissed, tearing at the strap around her ankles. “Anybody else see her want her.”

“Yeah, you got it bro.” Willie pushed his own hand against the girl’s face, forcing her head down to the seat. And then Tyrone was on her again, body between her legs, his hands on her hips, his face over hers. “Must be snatched or sumting,” he muttered.

“But you dumped, huh? No one sup-possed to fnd you, huh? Not til it too late. So why not take a taste?”

Her feet kicked but all they hit was the rear seat back and the back of the front seat. They may have been ripped, but there was enough padding left to silence her feeble limbs. “Okay, baby,” Tyrone breathed and then he thrust.

Barbara thought she would be cut in two, like a split log. His erection had to be a foot long, a quarter as wide, and hard as a spike. The big black cock slammed in quarter of the way, then half, then three-quarters, then, much to her total horror, it surged all the way in.

Her vaginal canal took him. Not only took him, but gripped him, pouring out juices to protect itself. The medicated paste...the fucking gruel the old woman had force fed her...!

Barb writhed on the torn seat, screaming in agony for all she was worth.

“Now her mouth not da only ting good ‘n’ stuffed,” Tyrone breathed. Willie snorted with mirth and held up his hand for a high fve. Tyrone gave it to him, then returned his attention to the curvy blonde under him.

He began to thrust. From the outside, it just looked like an abandoned car with a black man’s sneakers sticking out one open door. Inside Barbara’s head was back, her eyes bulging as if she was being strangled, her body jerking up and down on the seat, tormented grunts coming out of her runny nose and bulging, sealed mouth with each lurch. Her breasts jiggled in rhythm and her feet hit the seats like out of control kites.

“Oh man, she good,” Tyrone cooed, arching up off her. “She so good...!”

Willie could no longer contain himself. “All right, cunt,” he said, scrambling over the seat as he clicked open a knife. “You blow me, okay? You make a sound and I cut you, right?” Then her head was between his thighs and he was tearing at the mesh over her mouth.

All she saw was their heads and the rusted roof of the car. The sensation below her waist overwhelmed whatever pain was at her cheeks.

“What the fuck is this stuff?” Willie muttered.

“It tearing off?” Tyrone grunted, still thrusting like an athlete.

“It coming off,” Willie said with certainty, scratching.

He fnally got an edge and it did come off, as if exposure to the night air negated its grip. It peeled off her fesh like plastic wrap.

In spite of the attack, her head turned to the left and the tongue gag emerged like a rubber-coated liquid leech.

“Fuck!” Willie said, then started unzipping his pants.

“No,” Barbara gasped, looking pleadingly up at him.

“Yes,” Willie said, jamming the knife against her tender throat.

“Please,” she started to sob.

“Thank you,” he said, yanking back her head and jamming his cock into her mouth.

Within seconds she was flled up top and down below. Tyrone’s thrusting forced Willie’s log down her throat. Willie grabbed one tit, Tyrone the other, and the knife gleamed at the alabaster curve of her neck. Hands still tied behind her, she lay in an abandoned car getting fucked by the biggest cocks she had ever felt in her life—the remnants of a schoolgirl uniform and pubescent underwear laying around her sleek, shapely form in shreds.

Across the street an old woman glanced outside from her room. All she saw was the same empty lot with the same old burnt-out wreck of a car lying amid the broken bottles, bricks, and garbage. Was one of the doors open before? Was it moving? She shrugged. Who cared....

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