The Honeymoon of Rick and Michelle

Rick and Michelle splashed happily in the surf on the small desert island. They were on the first full day of their honeymoon, and had eyes only for each other. They were oblivious to the handful of other people who were scattered up and down the seemingly endless beach, as well to the three men who carefully watched them from the protection of the thick grove of coconut trees that bordered the narrow beach.
Rick and Michelle had arrived late the night before after an exhausting trip that had been delayed due to snows in New York. “Remind me to never get married in the winter again,” Michelle had joked. The eighteen hour journey had come the day after an equally exhausting day that included hair stylists in the morning, the wedding in the afternoon, and a reception into the wee hours. Rick and Michelle both had relatives who liked their booze.
They had been too drunk after the reception to make love on their first night as husband and wife, and too dead tired upon finally reaching their resort hotel’s bungalow style room to do anything but crash on the second night. They had slept late this morning, and Rick awakened with a huge boner which he pressed against Michelle’s back as he rolled tightly against her. “Ummm, what is THAT, Mr. Adams?” she had said demurely, stirring slightly as she came out of a deep sleep.
“THAT, Mrs. Adams, is your first wifely duty as a married woman. It is your official responsibility to make that which is hard, soft again.”
Rick tried to roll Michelle onto her back—they had both slept naked with the air conditioner turned off and only a bright, white sheet covering them. Michelle laughed. “My wifely duty, huh?” She ripped the sheet off them and jumped to a kneeling position beside her husband, who laid back with a big smile on his face, and a huge, swollen cock sticking in the air, expecting to receive a blow job. It always amazed him, after having slept with Michelle for several months before the wedding, how quickly she could come out of a deep sleep and be ready for any sort of action.
Michelle did lean over and lift up her newly wed husband’s penis so that it stuck straight up in the air, and then kissed the tip of it, her long blonde hair cascading over his chest and thighs. But she gave it just a quick peck. In an instant she jumped from the bed and stood there, nude, smiling at her confused husband. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she said coyly. “You will get more wifely attention than you can handle, believe me. But come on! Let’s go check out the hotel and the beach first! I’m dying to eat something and see this place we heard so much about! And some SUN!”
“Come on sweetie, give me a quickie first, I’m so horny I’m going to explode!”
Michelle had already pulled a skimpy bikini from her suitcase and was stepping into the bottom part. It was a flesh colored affair—Michelle’s flesh color being somewhat tanner than the show white she would have been without those several sessions at the tanning salon in her snowbound northern hometown (which she knew were not good for her but she was more interested in looking tanned at her wedding than in worrying about the health effect of tanning salons)—and much skimpier than anything she would have dared wear at home. With the bottom part of the tiny bikini now wiggled into place, and with the top dangling seductively from her fingers, Michelle put her hands behind her head and gave a long, luxurious stretch. Her husband’s wild eyes devoured her 5’7” body. Her breasts were a healthy 36C, but hours of tennis and aerobics had sculpted the rest of her, including her long, shapely legs, into a sleek athletic specimen. “After the beach you can fuck this all day if you want.” This was said with a voice that left no doubt that her words were sincere.
They now frolicked in the sand, occasionally diving into the shallow, warm water that came in mild, gentle waves. This was after a light, continental breakfast and a leisurely stroll around the premises of the small but nicely appointed beach resort that her best friend had convinced her she MUST go to on her honeymoon. From her first impressions, at least, Michelle was tending to agree with her friend. The bungalow style rooms, which she found very romantic, were scattered sparsely, and very privately, around the hotel’s grounds. When Rick told her over breakfast that she would be able to scream during sex without the fear of anyone hearing her, she giggled and squeezed his hand hard.
Rick chased Michelle, whose long blonde hair was pinned up, into the waist high surf. “NO!” she shrieked as her husband caught her from behind, wrestled playfully with her, and then dunked her in the water. She came up laughing and, grasping her husband by the top of his shoulders, proceeded to dunk him, as well.
The three men hidden in the coconut grove were watching them quite carefully. One of them, a muscular blond who looked like the prototypical young, well tanned surfer dude, was studying the honeymooners with binoculars. “The bitch looks like Heidi Klum,” he said, squinting into the binoculars that followed the woman’s every movement on the beach and in the surf. “Only hotter.”
“Here, let me see,” said one of his friends, a black young man with a shaved head and arms the size of telephone poles and abs as solid as a brick wall. He took the glasses and adjusted them for his vision. “I dunno,” he said under his breath. “I’d say she’s more like Charlize Theron.” The binoculars followed Michelle closely as she cavorted on the beach with her husband. “My oh my,” he continued as he watched her intently. “How I would LOVE to have me some of that vanilla pussy!”
The third young man, of a more slender build than the other two, with short, dark hair and a fair complexion, said nothing and never asked for the binoculars. He was carefully watching the honeymooners, too, but he had already seen everything he had needed to see, up close, when the woman had walked past him and smiled on her way to breakfast with her husband an hour before. The penis inside his baggy shorts was stiff. He grazed it lightly with his hand as he watched the blonde on the beach. He loved the way she looked in the tiny, flesh colored bikini. He loved the way she moved. All he had to do was squint slightly, and it appeared as if she were naked.
The couple was laying side by side on their backs in the sand now, sunning themselves, holding hands, giggling, perhaps realizing for the first time that they were on their HONEYMOON! After a long while Michelle raised up and leaned over to kiss her husband. Their mouths remained locked for an extremely long time, blissfully ignorant of the fact that their heads were filling the view finder of a pair of binoculars fifty feet away.
Michelle, whose head was on top, at last pulled away. Stroking her husband’s scalp, and looking deep into his eyes, she said softly, in words that could almost not be heard against the backdrop of the surf, “Have you ever fucked a married woman, Rick?”
Rick looked up at her. She was smiling and her eyes were flashing. “My boss’s wife,” he said, matter-of-factly. Michelle looked at him with a shocked expression until he laughed out loud and said he was only kidding. Michelle punched him playfully, then, giggling like a school girl, jumped up and started running toward their secluded bungalow.
“Now’s your chance!” she shouted back to him over her shoulder as she ran in the sand. As quickly as he could, Rick was on his feet and running after her. “Damn!” he thought as he failed to gain on her. “She’s FAST!”
The three men watching them were spellbound by the woman’s athletic grace as she ran across the beach. Their necks turned slowly in following her. Their voices were silent. When the couple was out of sight, they turned and looked at each other.
“You in?” asked the surfer dude to the black guy.
“I’m in,” he replied.
They both then looked at the third young man. They did not voice a question to him, but he answered the question implied in their looks. “I’m in,” he said.
Once inside the bungalow, Michelle headed straight for the shower to wash the beach sand off her, while Rick locked the door with the old fashion key—none of those new fangled electronic cards for this place. It annoyed him that the chain lock was missing. He had noticed it when they arrived, and was going to mention it to Maintenance, but it had slipped his mind.
Rick then joined Michelle in the shower. She had stepped out of her bikini and was rinsing the sand from it. They then took turns soaping each other’s bodies. Michelle took special care of her husband’s cock, which swelled to full erection within her hands as she lathered it with plenty of sudsy soap.
After their shower, the nude couple spent little time toweling off before they literally flew onto the bed. Michelle could still feel the warmth of the sun on her skin. The shower had not cooled her off. She felt radiant, beautiful, and the way her husband looked at her, she knew she WAS beautiful.
They engaged in very little foreplay for, in truth, the entire time on the beach, and then the time spent in the shower, had been foreplay enough, and they were both now ready for each other. Michelle gave a playful yelp as her husband rolled her onto her back and spread her long, luscious legs wide apart. “Fuck your WIFE, Rick!” she panted as her husband mounted her. “You’ve never fucked your WIFE! Do something about that!”
Rick needed no encouragement, and no guiding help was required by either of their hands as his penis found the entrance to Michelle’s pussy all by itself. The head of his tool forced apart the lips of his newly wed’s womanhood and entered her to the hilt in one deft, inward thrust. “YES!” Michelle cried as she felt her husband’s penis slide into her. She wrapped her long, athletic legs around him, locking him to her, and again cried: “YES! Yes!!”
Rick suddenly thought he heard a noise and stopped fucking Michelle in mid-stroke. “What is it?” she asked, her voice that of an impatient, horny woman in heat.
“I thought I heard something.”
Michelle smiled up at her husband’s face that hovered above her. “You heard me going crazy!” she laughed, and with that began grinding her pelvis into his.
Rick shrugged off what he thought he head heard and resumed making love to his gorgeous wife who was squirming beneath him, as horny as a woman can possibly be.
Michelle tended to shut her eyes while making love, and this time was no exception. As her husband fucked her, she had her arms and legs wrapped around him with her mouth wide open with her eyes shut in total bliss. It was several long minutes, in fact, before her eyes happened to fluttered open, and when they did, what she saw—three strange men standing by the bed watching her—didn’t register for perhaps three or four seconds. It took her that long before she started screaming.
“What the fuck—” Rick gasped, but before he could say more, one of the men, a blond surfer type, stepped forward and pistol whipped him with the butt end of a Glock G31 pistol.
Rick groaned in pain and fell to his side, rolling off Michelle’s body, his penis withdrawing from her cunt as he did so. Michelle screamed again. Quickly, one of the other men, a black guy who was also holding a Glock G31, pointed the pistol at her and hissed: “One more scream, bitch, and your hubby’s getting’ the shit kicked out of him. Do you fuckin’ HEAR me!?”
Michelle grabbed the bed sheet and covered her nakedness. She pulled the hem of the sheet all the way to her mouth, and in fact stuffed some of it into her mouth as she cried desperately.
“What is this!?” Rick demanded. “Get the hell out of here…” Before he could say more, the surfer landed another solid blow to his head with the butt end of his pistol.
“Shut the fuck up, motherfucker!” he yelled in a deep, ominous voice. Rick rolled in pain on the bed beside his crying wife. He couldn’t voice another protest at this moment even had he wanted, as his head was spinning too much.
“Sorry, guys.” This was the surfer dude talking, still pointing a gun in the direction of the terrified couple on the bed. “Did we interrupt something? That’s so rude of us. We’re sorry.” Gesturing with the gun, he continued: “Go ahead with what you were doing. Go ahead. Don’t pay us any mind.”
Rick was becoming coherent again. He quickly attempted to assess the situation, but he couldn’t get past the two guns being held by two very well built men. It only made matters worse when he realized there was a THIRD man in the room!
“What do you want?” Rick’s voice shook with fear.
“You heard my friend here,” the black guy answered. “He told you to get back to fuckin’ your bitch! Now DO IT, motherfucker or I’ll knock the crap out of HER!”
Michelle yet out another scream at this, but with their bungalow being as secluded as it was, someone would have had to be very close to have had heard. Nevertheless, the intruders had had enough of her screaming. The surfer, with one hand holding his pistol, used his other hand to yank the bed sheet from off Michelle’s nude, trembling body. Her arms instinctively covered her breasts, and her knees pressed tightly together in a reflexive move to hide her private parts. The surfer reached out and grabbed her by the hair. She cried out in pain as the man yanked her head back by the hair, forcing her to look up at him.
“Don’t touch her!” Rick cried. The men ignored him.
“Sweetie,” the surfer said. “I have a knife in my pocket. If you scream one more time I’m going to cut your husband’s cock off and shove it up your mouth, do you understand me?”
Cowering, Michelle could only weep. “I said, do you fucking UNDERSTAND me!?”
Sobbing uncontrollably, Michelle could only nod, which she now did vigorously. The man was unsatisfied with this, and pulled her long blonde hair more forcefully. “Say it, bitch! Let me hear you SAY it!”
“I…I un…der…stand”. She was able to spit this out between violent sobs that wracked her beautiful, naked body. The surfer let go of her hair and Michelle wilted back onto the bed. She told herself that this was just a nightmare. She told herself to wake up! Unfortunately, however, she realized that she was already very much awake. This was real. It was happening. She curled into a fetal position. “Do something, Rick!” she cried. “Please, for the love of god, DO SOMETHING!”
“I…I can’t, baby.” Rick’s voice was anguished. Seeing his beautiful young bride naked before these obviously evil men, and being treated so roughly by them, was killing him, causing him much more pain than the two lumps on his head from the pistol butts. “There’s…there’s three of them, baby. And they have guns.”
“Glad you can count, asshole!” said the surfer.
The third man came over to the bed now. Being the only one of the three men whose both hands were free, he crawled onto the bed and used those hands to grab Michelle by both her ankles. Pulling her legs downward roughly, he brought her out of her fetal position. She resisted, but her strength was no match for his. Rolling her onto her back, he next forced Michele’s long, lovely legs wide apart. Again she resisted, but to no avail. Her instinct was to close her legs again as soon as the man released his grip, but then, jarringly, she found herself staring upward into the round, dark opening of the barrel of one of the Glock G31’s, and she froze instantly. She was suddenly too fear struck to even consider closing her legs, and left them wide open before the three strange men who stood marveling at her naked beauty.
“Will you look at this,” surfer boy said, his voice thick with lust as he stared down at the nude woman spread-eagled before them. “She’s a NATURAL blonde!” As he eyes roamed every inch of her body, he let out a whistle. “What a fucking BABE!”
All three men stood back now, leaving the naked couple, trembling in fear, alone on the bed, the woman on her back, legs still spread, her husband beside her, sitting up, a trickle of blood running down his forehead.
There was silence. Then, the surfer dude: “What are you waiting for, honeymoon boy? You two were going great guns. And look, your bitch’s waiting for you. She’s got her legs spread for you. Let’s see some action.”
Rick stuttered in nervous, incoherent protest.
“Fuck the bitch!” This was the black guy. He leveled his .357 caliber Glock directly at the husband.
It was now Rick’s turn to freeze. He had never had a gun pointed at him before. He had been mugged a couple of times in New York, but those assailants had never shown any weapons. “I…I can’t!” he stuttered. “I’m…” He couldn’t finish. He didn’t have to. His shy downward glance to his shriveled manhood was followed by the three other pair of male eyes in the room.
The three men laughed in unison. “What a small fuckin’ cock!” the black guy spat. “I’ll bet that shit ain’t even big when it’s HARD!”
It was the surfer dude’s turn. “Lay on top of her, sport. Who knows, contact might make it grow.”
Still, Rick hesitated. He shot a furtive look at Michelle. She had remained as she was positioned by the third guy, on her back, legs spread, sobbing softly, her nude body trembling and glistening with the sweat not only of a very warm room but of a very great fear.
“Move it!” the black guy hissed, taking a step toward Rick and brandishing the pistol. Rick no longer hesitated. He crawled on top of his naked wife as ordered. What other choice did he have? The fear in her eyes as he now hovered over her, and the shaking of her entire body as he lowered himself onto her, filled him with great remorse. Hope against hope, he began to pray that perhaps if he did as they ordered—had intercourse with his wife—these evil men would have their perverted wishes satisfied and would leave them be and not touch his beautiful, beloved young bride.
However, despair poured over him as he realized that his penis, due to the circumstances, was, in fact, the size of a worm, and there would be no way he could get it hard enough to do what he had to do.
“Go ahead!” he heard one of the men yell, he didn’t know which one, it didn’t matter. Gamely Rick began dry humping Michelle’s nude stomach as she cried beneath him. The men laughed.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Rick whispered into her ear, but it seemed that Michelle was just staring unseeingly at the ceiling as she wept.
After several minutes of dry humping in this manner—Michelle was lifeless beneath her husband—the third guy got on his knees and peered between the couple’s bodies. He saw a still wormlike penis crushed between them. “This ain’t working,” he reported.
The surfer stepped forward and placed the business end of his pistol against Rick’s temple. “Can you think of any remedies, sweetheart?” he asked of Michelle. Her gaze left the ceiling and met the surfer’s eyes head on. The man actually flinched, even though he was the one holding the gun. He had seen hatred in victims’ eyes before, but there was something particularly chilling about this one.
Michelle hesitated only a second before she pushed Rick up and off her. “Roll over, baby.” Her voice was flat and matter-of-fact. She had apparently run out of tears.
With Rick now on his back, Michelle scooted downward and took her husband’s shriveled phallus between her fingers. “Come on, baby,” she said so softly that the three strangers could not hear her. “The sooner we get this over with the better, baby.”
She squeezed the base of the tiny dick with the fingers of one hand as she took what little rest of it was visible into her mouth. Her long blonde hair, still wet from the shower, fell over her face and was covering her spectators’ view, so the third guy stepped forward and tied her mane into a pony tail that kept it from distracting.
The two men with the guns had pulled chairs up close to the foot of the bed and began watching the scene before them intently. The third man leaned again the wall beside the bed. The lump in his throat was almost as big as the lump in his shorts.
On the bed, Michelle was working intently on her husband’s cock, pressing it between her closed lips and pulling gently on it, like a robin pulling a worm from the ground. One hand remained at the base of the cock as her other began to gently massage his balls. “Come on, baby,” she urged gently. “Work with me. Concentrate on this, not them.”
Gradually her efforts appeared to be having an effect. The three assailants, absorbed by the action on the bed, watched as Rick’s penis grew substantially as Michelle licked it, sucked on it and massaged it.
“This bitch gives great head!” the surfer remarked aloud. The black guy said nothing, but by the way in which he watched the blonde in action, he totally agreed.
In a few more minutes Rick’s penis was a flagpole in his wife’s hands, shinning with her saliva. “That’s my guy,” she whispered to him. “Think of ME. Nothing else!”
Not letting loose of the penis, Michelle climbed on top of Rick and gently guided his staff into her womanhood. Her spectators watched in awe. This show was far beyond their wildest expectations. The third guy wished he’s brought his camera. All three of them had tremendous hard-ons.
Michelle lowered herself onto the penis. The ponytail that the third guy had done for her came loose, and her wet, golden mane poured over her shoulders. Moving her body up and down, Michelle quickly began fucking her husband as the three strangers watched with open mouths. She was in a hurry. She wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible, also hoping against hope that, with this, these sick, perverted men would be satisfied and would leave them alone.
From their positions in chairs at the foot of the bed, the two men sitting there had excellent, uninterrupted views as the woman’s body, facing away from them, went up and down, swallowing the penis on downward strokes, revealing its glistening hardness on the upstrokes.
The pace of the woman’s strokes increased. Her hands were on her husband’s shoulders, her head directly over his, her golden hair spilling over him. “Come on, baby, cum. Cum, damn it! Cum!”
As the men watched in fascination, Rick gave a series of little groans as his wife fucked him vigorously. Rick’s back arched off the mattress as his load flowed from his balls, up through his penis and into Michelle’s cunt. The first blast entered her, but he jerked in such a way that his penis became disengaged from her cunt and a good portion of his ejaculate squirted onto her ass.
The spectators, their cocks hard and their lust unlimited, had seen enough. As the black guy kept his pistol trained on the couple, surfer and the third guy shoved Michelle off her husband and dragged Rick off the bed. Michelle landed face down on the mattress and rolled onto her back as her husband was dragged to a chair. He struggled desperately but was no match for the two of them.
As the two men held Rick in the chair, the black guy put his pistol down—the woman on the bed wasn’t going anywhere—and began duct taping Rick’s ankles to the chair. Next were his wrists to the chair’s arms. Michelle watched in horror from the bed as the man used a prodigious amount of tape to totally immobilize her husband. “NO!” she cried. “Leave us ALONE! We DID what you wanted!”
But her cries went ignored and soon, when the intruders were finished tying her husband to the chair and were satisfied with their handiwork, Michelle’s degree of horror quadrupled. The three men turned in unison—toward her!
She felt more than just physically naked at that moment as she experienced the sensation of three pairs of predator male eyes boring into her—it was as if her very soul were exposed to these rough looking men. Sitting up on the bed with her nude legs stretched before her, Michelle looked beseechingly from one man to another, but the looks she saw in their eyes told her she was doomed. She swallowed hard. Keeping her forearms tightly pressed to her body, covering her bare breasts, she now brought her hands to her mouth, where her fingers felt her trembling lips. She held her shaking knees tightly together, and slightly raised from the bed. As the men stood there salivating, Michelle felt her bladder quake. Had she not peed just before jumping into bed with her husband she would have certainly done so now.
“OK, who’s first?” Michelle heard one of the men ask.
“Let’s flip,” another answered.
Gasping in horror, Michelle was convinced this was hell. Only moments before she had been in heaven, in the arms of her loving new husband, ready to make love to him all afternoon. And now here she was—who knew how long this ordeal had already lasted—laying naked on a bed, having three strange and evil men flipping coins to see who would rape her first!
“Ricky, I’m scared,” she whimpered. Her husband, his eyes wide in terror, struggled against his bindings, rocking the chair, but there was nothing else he could do.
The surfer apparently won the toss, for Michelle now saw him pulling his t-shirt over his head and then reach for and loosen his belt buckle. She was aware that the black man had picked up his pistol and moved to sit in one of the chairs at the side of the bed, and that the third guy came to the other side of the bed and stood, but it was the surfer, disrobing at the foot of the bed, who commanded her attention. She stared at him like a deer in headlights as his pants fell to the floor and the front of his boxers extended as if held out by a tent pole which, essentially, they were. Michelle shuddered visibly. Tears began streaming down the cheeks of a face that for many years had caused many men that passed her on the street to run into lamp posts.
When the surfer pushed his boxers to the floor, his manhood waved before Michelle in all its glory. A cry of “no” escaped her quivering lips and passed by the fingertips that covered them. Frantically she looked around her. There were men on all three sides of the bed. She would never make it to the door in time. They would catch her before she made it half way.
The surfer climbed onto the bed and began to crawl toward her. Michelle instinctively scooted away from him, backwards toward the wall at the head of the bed. “No!” she cried. “Please!”
The surfer’s mouth curved in a wicked smile. “Time to see what a real dick feels like, sweetie.”
As he crawled nearer to her, Michelle inched backwards, in an attempt to escape him, took several tiny, crab-walk steps backwards, toward the head of the bed. To do this she had to put her hands on the bed, which required her to remove her forearms from the front of her body, exposing her breasts to the men.
The surfer watched her in amusement. “Come on, baby,” he said. “Give it up.”
Michelle took a few more crab-like scoots backward until she hit the headboard and could go no further. The surfer reached for her. Quickly and violently, Michelle uncoiled a leg and kicked at the man, striking him solidly in the jaw. The surfer cursed and backed away a foot or two. “Bitch! Help me out, here, guys,” he cried.
“How do you want her, dude?” the black guy asked as he sat his pistol on a table and he and the other man approached the bed.
“Get her on her back. I want to see her face while I fuck her!”
Michelle struggled valiantly as the two men fumbled with her, but she was easily overpowered and was quickly pinned to the mattress. A man was on each side of her, each pinning an arm of hers to the mattress. The surfer instructed the men to put their other arms under the woman’s knees and spread and lift them. In this position, the woman’s thighs were pulled past vertical, her knees were high and wide, her feet dangled in the air. Being held so tightly that she could barely move, Michelle’s womanhood was now on full display for her rapist’s viewing enjoyment. Her sex was fully at his disposition.
From his vantage point in the chair, Rick watched in dismay as his beautiful, young bride was being pinned naked to the bed by two attackers while a third one prepared to rape her. His head swam, and he kept shaking it in denial. In times such as these it is often curious what particular things penetrate one’s mind. Rick was acutely struck by the contrast of the blackness of one of the pairs of arms that secured his wife’s white thighs.
In continued horror, Michelle watched as the surfer positioned himself between her upraised and spread knees. His penis was swollen and rose above two very full looking testicles. Michelle, ever the fighter, desperately attempted to kick viciously at those testicles with her right foot, but her effort was restrained by the muscular black arm that was wrapped around her thigh. She tried kicking with her other foot, and while the guy holing her on that side didn’t seem nearly as strong as the black man, her foot made it only a few inches in the direction of her target
The surfer sneered at her. “Thanks for holding this wild mare, boys.” Then to Michelle he said: “Ready for the REAL cock, bitch?”
Knowing that she was defeated and that she was now going to be raped, Michelle cried: “Don’t watch this, Ricky! Please don’t watch this! Look away!”
Michelle closed her eyes tightly as her rapist mounted her and she felt the tip of his penis touch the lips of her womanhood. “Open you eyes, sweetie!” he commanded. “Hubby can close his eyes if he wants, but I want to see those big blues of yours while you’re getting it!” When she refused to obey him, he hauled off and slapped her hard on the face.
Michelle’s eyes shot open at this, but the man continued slapping her—again and again—until she sputtered: “OK, OK!”
“OK what?” the surfer spat, and slapped her again.
Her face stinging, her eyes now glaring in hatred at him, she stammered: “I…I’ll…I’ll keep my eyes…open!”
The surfer slapped her face hard one more time for good measure before using his hand to do something else: guide his cock into the woman’s vagina. Michelle cried and struggled as she felt this penetration, but the two men were holding her so tightly that she was completely immobilized except for her calves and feet, which kicked wildly but ineffectively in the air, and her head, which she tossed back and forth in denial as the surfer proceeded to rape her.
His penis found Michelle’s pussy to be a wet, warm, tight piece of paradise. It was tight because it was contracted in fear, yet it was at the same time moist and well lubricated from the foreplay and sex that she had recently had with her husband.
The man’s two accomplices pulled the woman’s thighs wider apart as the surfer began fucking her in earnest. Michelle cried in pain as she felt the abnormally wide angle to which her legs were being forced open. From his ringside seat, Rick did not WANT to witness this, as his wife had implored him not to do, but he could not help himself. He could not tear his eyes away from the sight of his beautiful young bride being held by two men and raped by a third. His cries of “no…no” came with difficulty from behind the tape that covered his mouth. He struggled futilely against his binds that held him to the chair. He saw where the men had placed their pistols on a bedside table so that they could violate his wife with all their hands free. If only he could escape from the chair and get to the guns! The men were paying no attention to him. All three were totally absorbed in the ravishing of her poor wife. But struggle as he might, he could not get free.
Rick’s eyes drifted from the pistols on the table top back to the scene on the bed. The surfer was fucking his wife vigorously now with deep in-and-out penetrations as his two friends continued to pin her arms and hold her knees wide apart in the air. He could see the poor girl staring defiantly up her attacker as he had ordered her to do. The look on her face seemed to say, “You’ve got my BODY, asshole, but you don’t have what is ME!”
Meanwhile, the surfer’s black friend was encouraging him on with lewd remarks about the bitch he was fucking. The third guy, the quieter one, said nothing, but never once took his eyes off the woman’s face. He seemed mesmerized by her beauty and by the dark anger that raged within her.
After long moments of this, surfer spoke to his friends, “Don’t need you guys anymore. The bitch is mine. I can handle her!”
Released from the men who had been holding her down, Michelle’s legs plopped to the bed in a position outside the legs of the rapist who continued drilling her. Her attacker now assumed the job himself of pinning her arms to the bed as he fucked her. He laid his entire weight atop her, crushing her into the mattress so hard that from his vantage point, Rick could hardly see his wife anymore.
Eventually the surfer raised his upper body, supporting himself by his arms. He ceased his piston-like thrusting and remained motionless, his cock planted deep inside Michelle as he stared down at her. “Fuck me back, bitch,” he hissed at her. “Play like you’re my girlfriend and FUCK ME BACK!”
“Fuck you!” she responded.
“Boys,” the surfer said, not taking his eyes off those of his victim. “Take the tape off hubby’s mouth and make HIM tell her to fuck me back.”
The black guy giggled. “Good idea, bro.”
Rick winced in pain as the tape was rudely torn away from his lips. “You heard him.” The black guy had bent over and spoke these words very close to Rick’s ear.
“No, I won’t,” Rick cried. The black guy struck him viciously.
“No!” This cry came from Michelle. “Don’t hurt him. I’ll do whatever you want!”
“That’s better,” surfer said. “Let me feel you, baby. Let me feel you fucking me. Like you MEAN it!”
“No, Michelle, don’t…” Another blow silenced Rick before he could say more. He could do nothing but watch in agony as his wife brought her long, lovely, athletic legs up and wrapped them around her rapist. A pain worse than that from his physical beatings coursed through him as he saw her hips, half buried in the mattress beneath the man who lay on top of her, begin to undulate.
The surfer remained with his torso raised, smiling down wickedly at the woman beneath him. “That’s a good girl,” he said softly as he felt her lithe body’s pseudo-reaction to him. After letting her do all the moving for awhile, he slowing resumed his own cadenced stroking, then, eventually, laid his torso back on top of her, crushing her breasts with his chest.
“Kiss me, sweetie,” he said. “And if you bite me, my buddies’ll kill hubby, got that?”
Michelle said nothing, but did not resist as her rapist’s mouth sought hers. His tongue licked her tightly closed lips. “Open your mouth, sweetie.” Reluctantly, Michelle complied, and her attacker’s tongue shot into her mouth as far as it could go.
Her body froze as her rapist’s cock ravished her cunt and his tongue her mouth. “Move, bitch”. He said this with his tongue mostly in her mouth. She remained frozen. “Move!”
Michelle heard a thump and knew that her husband had been hit again. In terror, her cunt and mouth continuing to be ravished, she resumed the grinding and bumping of her hips against her attacker. But her movements were desultory, and her attacker could feel that. “You can do better than this, bitch! Make me cum, damn it. Just like you made hubby cum. I want you to move like that!”
Michelle took the hint. She was a smart woman and knew that their only means of survival—hers and her husband’s—was to do exactly as these men said. Putting her mind on a shelf, she obeyed his command and began fucking him back with all the acting ability that she could muster. She became a wild dervish beneath him. She wiggled her wrists from his grasp and wrapped her now freed arms around him. This freed the surfer’s hands and allowed him to take handfuls of her breasts and squeeze them forcefully.
Rick, of course, saw all of this unfold before his blurry eyes. He saw how his wife’s attacker now brought his hands from her breasts, forced his arms downward beneath her knees and lifted her legs until her ankles became wrapped around his neck. The bed springs wailed in protest as the couple on the bed fucked each other with abandon. The surfer’s black friend, like a football coach prowling the sidelines, continued offering strong verbal support. The third guy, now wearing only boxer shorts and sitting on a chair beside the bed, was stroking his engorged penis and he avidly watched the action before him.
Before long, as their frenzy appeared to be at its highest mark, surfer grunted, “I’m coming, bitch! You’re takin’ my wad, sweetie!”
From his chair, Rick’s head swung back in forth in denial as a rapist’s semen was deposited into the deepest recesses of his newly wed’s vagina while her ankles were wrapped around his neck.
The black guy, still in coach mode, gave out a yell of approval and began applauding loudly, as if his star running back had just scored a touchdown.
The surfer climbed quickly off his vanquished prey. “I can’t stand to touch a bitch after I’ve fucked her,” he muttered. Left alone, Michelle curled again into a fetal position and began weeping softly. She wished desperately that she could simply disappear into thin air and escape this ordeal.
But there was no escape. There would not even be a hiatus before the next round, for immediately she felt the black guy’s big hands on her hips, as now it was his turn to pull her from a pre-natal position.
“No, please, I can’t…” she managed to cry, but assailant number two was not listening. With his massive arms he rolled the woman over onto her back as if she were a sack of potatoes, and sat on her neck. Then, he pressed his huge, black cock—a cock bigger than anything Michelle had ever imagined—across her face.
“Lick it, Blondie!”
Michelle grimaced and tossed her head from side to side in a hopeless attempt to avoid this attack.
“This one’s a little bigger than hubby’s, ain’t it, girl?” Watching this incredibly beautiful woman being raped by his friend had been a tremendous turn on for him and, indeed, had brought his throbbing penis to proportions that he himself could not remember having ever seen before. And now it was HIS turn with her!
Michelle felt her new attacker’s hands around her neck. He was choking her. “Lick my cock, you fucking slut!”
Her mouth was already wide open in struggling for the air that he was denying her, so from there to sticking her tongue out was a short hop. Once she did have her tongue out, her attacker began rubbing his cock against it, moving the ebony phallus up and down over its wet, pink surface. After long moments of this, the man noticed a small amount of pre-cum emanating from his dick, and rubbed this white, sticky fluid onto the woman’s pink tongue. He then readjusted his position and sent the tip of his cock into the woman’s open mouth. She had no choice but to receive it.
Rick watched, nearing hysteria as the black rapist began to fuck his bride’s face before his very eyes. Michelle was now choking on the thick male member that filled her mouth. She tried reaching for it to perhaps control it, but the man batted her hands away.
“Come on, sweetie, suck it like you did your husband’s.” This was said by the surfer who remained lying spent on the far side of the bed.
“She ain’t used to black dicks,” her attacker said. “Wasn’t raised on ‘em.”
Soon, the man lost patience with what was, in fact, a poor, uncooperative blow job. He pulled his dick out of her mouth and moved to sit on the foot of the bed, so close to where Rick sat tied to his chair that their knees almost touched. He then reached over with one hand and grasped Michelle by a knee and roughly pulled her to him. She shrieked, astounded by this man’s strength that he could manhandle her this way with just one hand despite her desperate struggle of resistance. The man pulled Michelle face down across his lap with her bare behind sticking up in the air. With the woman’s legs and arms thrashing helplessly in the air, he began spanking her as if she were a misbehaving child. Michelle yelped in pain as the blows with his open, calloused hand rained down upon her soft, sexy buttocks. His huge phallus pressed against her rib cage as he spanked her harder and harder. The loud slapping sounds of flesh meeting flesh resonated around the room. Rick, who was so close to the action that he could have reached out and touched the protagonists had his arms not been bound to his chair, stared in frozen fear as his poor wife received this terrible punishment before his very eyes, her feet kicking in the air, her arms flailing in agonized protest. Twenty, thirty times the man’s hard, open hand landed with extreme force upon Michelle’s delicate, round derriere until her yells became nothing but choked sobs.
Finally, when the black man stopped spanking the blonde woman, she remained lying face down across his lap, weeping softly but otherwise lifeless. The round, twin cheeks of her behind were already aglow in a bright, burning crimson color. The man then effortlessly spun her over onto her back, her arms flapping like those of a rag doll. With her still in his lap, but facing upwards, the man stood, lifting Michelle’s naked body with him in his arms with no apparent effort. He stood immediately in front of Rick, holding his wife’s limp body draped in his massive arms. Michelle was 5’7” and weighed 123 pounds, but she looked somehow delicately small now, her own arms, as well as her calves and long, blonde hair, now mostly dry, all dangling toward the floor as she lay limply in the black man’s arms.
“Can I fuck your bitch?” he asked. Rick, dazed, stared blindly ahead. His eyes were at the same level as the stone-like forearms that held his wife. As his head literally swam, his eyes dully recorded the fact that the black man’s biceps were nearly as big as his wife’s thighs.
“I think he’s saying ‘yes’”, the surfer laughed.
The black man didn’t wait for another answer. He spun around toward the bed with the woman in his arms. In doing so, Michelle’s feet slapped her husband in the face. He then tossed her unceremoniously onto the bed, where she went sprawling. The black man walked to the side of the bed. “Let’s get over here,” he said. “Don’t wanna block hubby’s view.”
Once again he grasped Michelle by the ankles and pulled her toward him. How many times had her body been pulled across this bed, as each time she squealed in fearful protest!
As the man remained standing by the side of the bed, he repositioned Michelle with her face down, her crotch at the bed’s edge, her legs dangling off the edge. In her fear and under the duress of such physical abuse, she had become putty in the black man’s hands for him to mold as he pleased. Being secured now by the man’s hands on her curvaceous hips, her now flaming red ass was pulled up into the air toward him, leaving her face pressed down upon the mattress and her knees planted on the edge of the bed.
Michelle seemed to have regained some of her senses. She shrieked in fright now, certain suddenly that the man’s intention was to assault her in the ass. “Noooooo!” she screamed. It was the first word she had managed to utter in minutes. “Noooooooo! Please for the love of god…” She already had a very good knowledge of the size of his cock and knew that there was no way she could take it in her ass! She began to panic.
Rick watched helplessly from his chair, his head shaking back and forth.
Was it relief, then, that Michelle felt when the man’s fingers entered her vagina and not her ass? The fingers roughly spread apart the lips of her womanhood, and then she felt it: the tip of one of the largest penises known to man—or woman—pressing against her.
“NO!” she cried. “I’m begging you, please, no—!”
Her verbal protest was cut short as she felt her rapist’s penis penetrate her. Contrary to her fear, though, her vagina actually ceded rather easily to this latest phallus despite its considerable thickness. There was enough of her saliva remaining on the man’s cock to make it reasonably well lubricated. Also, the sexual activity she had recently had with two other men, both of whom had oiled the walls of her cunt with their sperm, had conditioned her vagina to accept this oversized pole. Michelle should have been thankful for this, for otherwise she would have found the entry of this horse-sized dick to have been rather painful.
The black rapist shoved his lower abdomen forward and impaled Michelle with half the length of his nine inch weapon. The woman gasped at the feel of this penetration and pounded her fists on the mattress. It felt like she was being assaulted with the barrel end of a baseball bat! Her assailant hesitated a moment to savor the feel of this beautiful white woman now impaled doggie style on the end of his massive cock, her sexy, round ass glowing a bright red from her spanking as it stuck in the air just below his rippling six pack abs. Then, grasping his victim confidently by her wide hips to keep her firmly in place, the man shoved as much of the rest of his cock into her as was anatomically possible, which meant that there was still a good two inches of his dick visible when the head of the thing banged against the woman’s uterus. Michelle’s gasp this time was much louder and stung her husband’s ears like an electrical shock.
“Do her, bro!” the surfer called out.
The black man remained motionless, his cock buried to the hilt inside the white woman’s cunt. He seemed mesmerized as he watched the way the women’s moist, pink labia clung to the circumference of his thick manhood. Then, as he continued to secure the woman by her hips, he began fucking her with slow but powerful thrusts. With Michelle’s cheek flat on the mattress and her eyes tightly clinched, each inward jab caused sharp cries to emanate from a mouth that remained in a large, open o.
“Give it to her, my man!” cried the surfer, who had raised up on one elbow to get a better look at the proceedings.
“Look at your husband!” her rapist commanded. “Look at him while I fuck you!”
“No,” she protested weakly. “Don’t make me do that.” But the only response to her feeble plea was the feel of the man’s fearsome hands once again around her neck. He positioned her head slightly to the side so that Rick, sitting slumped on the chair to which he was bound, was now in her direct line of vision. She shuddered at the strength she felt in the man’s hands. She was certain he could snap her neck in a split second if he wished. She was relieved, at least, to see that her husband’s chin was resting on his chest, his eyes shut, and he was not seeing this. But then the third guy stood by Rick’s side and pulled his head upward. “You can’t miss this, man, you really can’t.”
Rick stared in uncomprehending horror at the scene before him. He remembered how lovely Michelle had looked only a couple days before as her father walked her down the aisle of the church, the most beautiful bride in the world. He remembered how lovely she was, beaming at him as he lifted the veil from her face at the altar. And now here she was, being raped doggie style by a ravenous black stud, her face contorted in fear and shame, tears streaming down her cheeks. Before Rick could look away, Michelle locked her eyes on his and mouthed to him the words “I love you.”
But as her rapist increased the pace and intensity with which he fucked her, Michelle’s cries intensified, her eyes again slammed shut, her jaw became slack and her mouth hung open like a gaping barn door. Rick looked away. He could not take any more of seeing his beautiful young bride being ravished in this fashion, on her knees, her ripe, round, spank-reddened ass held in the air by a dark, muscular hunk who was having his way with her. None of the other two men were paying him the least mind: their attention was fully upon the action taking place on the bed.
Michelle now clasped her hands over her ears and buried her face into the mattress, muffling her cries as she tried desperately to hide, or to transport her mind from this reality. This had been something she was unable to do while being raped by the surfer, as he had been so in-her-face. This was different. This situation allowed her—not to relax, certainly—but at least to try to will her mind to take flight, like an ostrich with her head in the sand—or, in this case, in the mattress—for ever how long this ordeal was going to last.
But something began to happen to Michelle. An unmistakable heat was being generated within her loins by the incessant and rhythmic penetrations into—and withdrawals from—her female organ by its demanding male counterpart. The position that she was in—her face on the bed and her ass high in the air—had apparently placed her G-spot in a direct line of fire. And fire it was. The stimulation to her genitals was intense and, even though it was being forced upon her, it slowly drew over her the type of soothing, euphoric cloud that she had been unsuccessfully attempting to call forth on her own volition as a means of coping with her situation.
A distinct physiological metamorphous was now germinating deep within her. The unrelenting churning of her vagina was causing it to produce secretions that Michelle had no control over. Currently preoccupied as she was with denial, this development did not immediately dawn on her, but when it did, she was aghast, not only by the fact that she was secreting fluids in the first place, but by the interpretation that this secretion was actually AIDING her rapist by bathing his penis with lubricant! This was not happening!
But it WAS! Just as it had happened four hundred generations ago to the vaginas of prehistoric women dragged to the lairs of Mesolithic cavemen so that the human race would endure and thousands of years later a woman named Michelle could experience the same sense of what it was to be a female possessed by a masterful stud!
Michelle now felt herself surrendering to this experience. What else could she do? It was as if her rapist’s incontestable penis, marauding at will inside her cunt, had unlocked some dormant genetic code passed down from those cave women that had been suppressed by thousands of years of polite civilization. Awakening within her was this innate element of animal evolution: that the female of the species may play coy and hard-to-get, but when falling into the talons of a talented male, she not only surrenders but RESPONDS! Gradually, as her rapist had his way with her, Michelle’s cries and whimpers underwent a subtle but distinct transition: from the moans and sobs of a woman being raped…to the moans and sobs of a woman being fucked!
Rick, for certain, noticed the change in the sounds that his wife was making. And soon it was more than just sounds. His eyes—eyes that could not be dragged from this horrible scene—widened in disbelief. Was he seeing things, or was his beautiful bride’s ass actually gyrating now so wildly against the black man who was fucking her so that it was all he could do to maintain his control of her with his hands on her curvaceous hips!?
The surfer noticed this, as well. “You’re gonna make her cum, bro!”
“I’m lovin’ vanilla!” he responded, his voice choked with lust. “Lovin’ it a LOT!” With that he increased his pace even more. Perspiration was dripping from his forehead and falling onto the woman’s sleek back. His face tightened in a grimace equal to that on the face of the fair skinned beauty who was moving madly on the end of his huge black cock.
In seconds, Michelle screamed loudly as waves of sexual climax rippled through her body. Seconds after that the swollen testicles of her black rapist began to spasm, and Michelle could feel what seemed like a quart of hot semen being pumped into her. Her eyes tightly shut, her mouth wide open, Michelle’s fingers clawed at the bed sheets like a cornered alley cat as she rode the wave of her orgasm while the man shouted obscenities and continued the powerful thrusting of his cock in and out of her now gaping cunt.
Michelle at this point was like a female alley cat in another intriguing way: semen from multiple males of her species now swam around her ovaries, looking to fertilize her. If she could be thankful for nothing else on this fearful day, she would at least be able to take comfort in the fact that she was on birth control pills! Neither she nor her husband had intended for her to get pregnant for at least the first two years of their marriage.
Only when the black man’s huge balls were totally emptied did he quit pumping Michelle’s body with his enormous dick and fall forward on top of her, flattening her face down into the mattress. Unlike the surfer, who had a thing about not wanting to touch a woman after fucking her, the black attacker now took this opportunity, as they both lay spent and breathing hard—he solidly on top of her back, their legs dangling off the side of the bed—to now fully explore Michelle’s body with his powerful hands. Michelle felt those hands as they burrowed between her and the mattress and grasped her flattened breasts. She also felt her back becoming drenched by the man’s sweat.
“Dude, that was awesome,” the surfer offered. “Fuckin’ awesome!”
Michelle’s attacker, in the afterglow of an extremely satisfying sexual conquest, enjoyed the way her body trembled beneath him as he fondled her. Her body shook in a combination of emotions: fear, anger and humiliation. A wave of guilt washed over her as she lay feeling the crushing weight of her rapist’s body—the weight bearing down on her sore, spanked buttocks was particularly painful. After the crescendo of her explosive orgasm waned, the very realization that she had been taken to orgasm by a rapist filled her with shame and disgust. She was now impervious to the man as he continued to fondle her naked body, being more concerned with an attempt at convince herself that she had not actually just CUM while being viciously raped!
“What’d you think of that, man?” the surfer asked of Rick, who sat with his chin on his chest, his eyes shut. He looked like he was asleep. “Your woman just came like a fucking machine gun, man!”
Not too much time passed before the black man slowly resumed humping his victim with what was left of the once fearsome hard-on that remained within her body. Though the penis was now but a shadow of its former self, Michelle could still feel its considerable volume filling her, fucking her. Several more minutes of this leisurely, post-climax coitus passed before the third guy finally spoke up: “Anytime, now dude. It’s my turn.” Michelle heard this and shuddered.
The black man groaned. He was nuzzling Michelle’s neck, not wanting this moment to pass. “Fuck off, dick head,” he muttered. He was holding out hope for a quick recovery time that would allow him to have a round two with this exquisite blonde, something that five years ago he could have easily done. “I’m fucking getting old,” he thought to himself wistfully.
The third guy looked plaintively to the surfer, who had already put his shirt back on and was now pulling on his pants.
“We’d better get goin’ bro. We gotta get to work. Give Billy boy here his shot at glory.”
For a further long moment the black man lay pressed against his blonde victim, trying to commit the feel and the smell of her to memory, but at last he pulled himself off her and crawled off the bed. His horse’s dick swung in the air as he stood. The ebony shaft, still semi-hard, fairly glistened with cunt juice, and a long string of cum hung from its opening. As he stood, the young woman he had just raped remained lifeless, face down on the mattress, in a pool of sweat—hers and her attacker’s.
The black man staggered away from the bed half dizzy. The surfer laughed. “You done fucked yourself silly, bro!” He then looked at Billy. “Your turn, sport”
Billy was stripped to his boxers, against which a noticeable hard-on pressed outward, but by his demeanor his confidence was seen to waver noticeably. “Look,” he said, “can you guys…leave us alone?”
“Scared of an audience?” the surfer laughed.
Billy forced a smile, but it was a nervous one. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“What about hubby here?” the surfer said, pointing to Rick who sat slumped in his chair, his chin on his chest.
“I…I’ll blind fold him.”
“Okay, sport. Sure. Knock yourself out.” Surfer picked up his Glock G31. “Want to keep this with you?”
Billy shot a glance at the bed. The nude woman, who was face down upon it, crosswise with her legs from the knees down dangling off the side, had not so much as moved a muscle since the black guy left her where she lay after finishing with her. “No, I think I’ll be okay with a just a little duct tape.”
“Yeah,” the surfer replied. His gaze followed that of the other man’s toward the woman on the bed. “Doesn’t look like there’s too much fight left in her,” he chuckled.
Indeed, while Michelle had fought as best she could against her first rapist—until being blackmailed by the threats of physical harm to her husband—she had been so totally overpowered by her second attacker that she now lay completely exhausted and defeated—physically and mentally—face down on the bed. Physically she was like a boxer who had been ko’ed to the canvass—complete with a slight trickle of blood oozing from the nose—and most definitely looked down for the count. Mentally, she was now overwhelmed by a self-loathing that was enveloping her and making her want to bury her head in the mattress in embarrassment, for she knew that—as unbelievable as it now seemed in the aftermath—she had, most assuredly, most undeniably, actually REPONDED to the sexual assault from her black rapist! It seemed…unimaginable now! How could she have done that? In front of her poor husband?! Had her husband heard the way she…the way she…had screamed?! Of course he did! He had been sitting less than ten feet away, and she had heard the surfer goading him about it.
She wanted to die.
“Look, you guys don’t have to wait around outside, either,” Billy said. “Go ahead and take off. I’ll finish up here.”
The other two men, both of whom had their clothes back on, looked at each other and nodded. The surfer walked over to Rick and lifted his chin. Rick looked up at him with unseeing eyes. “Listen, dude,” the surfer said. “You go to the authorities on this, you won’t leave this island alive, you got me?”
Rick nodded groggily.
“We’ve got friends on this island. You don’t wanna meet our friends. But if one word of this gets reported, they’ll meet you. Do you hear what I’m sayin’?”
Again Rick nodded, but the surfer shook his chin violently. “Answer me! Do you fuckin’ understand?”
“Yes,” Rick mumbled.
“That means you don’t take your bitch to a hospital, got that? They ask too many fuckin’ questions. They call police.” He squeezed Rick’s chin harder. “Understood?”
“Yes,” Rick again mumbled.
Satisfied, the surfer dropped the man’s chin and walked to the door. “She’s all yours, Billy boy,” he said over his shoulder as he and the black dude, both pocketing their pistols, walked out the broken door of the bungalow. “Enjoy!”
Billy quickly locked the door and barricaded it with a chair. He then turned and faced the room uncertainly. Rick was looking at him, and implored: “Let us go, man!”
Billy thought, but did not say aloud: “What, and not have a piece of your gorgeous wife’s ass!?” He examined the duct tape that secured the man to the chair and was satisfied that it was still in good shape. He picked up his shirt and draped it over Rick’s head. This caused Rick to raise such a ruckus that Billy pulled the shirt off, applied duct tape to his mouth, and recovered his head with the shirt.
Billy heard the bed springs. Turning, he saw Michelle stirring. He quickly went to her and pushed her face back down onto the mattress. She protested meekly as he grabbed her still limp wrists and duct taped them tightly together behind her back. He then crawled onto the bed and, grasping Michelle by her arm pits, dragged her body more onto the middle of the bed, still in a crosswise position, but her lower legs, which she kicked in defiance as she was pulled in this fashion, were no longer dangling off the edge.
“Leave me alone!” she cried weakly, trying to twist away from her third attacker. “If you have any human decency, please leave me alone.”
Billy stood from the bed and dropped his boxers, allowing a full blown hard-on to wave in the air. Michelle saw this out of the corner of her eye and shuddered before she buried her face yet again in the mattress, even though, compared to the black man’s, this penis was rather small. Still, would this ordeal not END?!
Billy now lay down beside Michelle, who had rolled to her side facing away from him. Lying on her side took pressure off her painful, spanked ass. Her upper leg lay in a slight v above the straighter lower leg. He felt her body tense up as he put an arm around her. He ran his fingers soothingly—what he hoped was soothingly—through her matted and disheveled blonde hair. “My beautiful Michelle,” he said. His voice was soft, almost soothing.
“He knows my name!” Michelle realized, something she found disturbing.
“Do you remember smiling at me this morning? On your way to breakfast?” He continued to run his fingers carefully through her hair. “Little did you know then that you’d be giving me a whole lot more than your smile today!”
Michelle shut her eyes and said nothing.
“Those guys were mean to you. I’m going to be nice to you.”
“Just leave me ALONE!” Her voice cracked in exasperated weariness. She didn’t seem to have the energy to speak loudly. In fact, she felt as if she had just been run over by a steam roller.
Ignoring her, Billy let his hands roam the woman’s nude body as she trembled. “Just relax,” he said. “I’ll be gentle with you.”
“What’s going on!?” Rick demanded from his chair, although his words did not come out all too intelligibly from behind the duct tape over his mouth and the shirt over his head.
“Its okay, baby,” Michelle cried. “This is a nice guy. He’s not going to hurt me. He’s going to let us go.”
Billy whispered in her ear: “It IS okay now. Don

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