Her Torment: Taboo Erotica E-Book

Abe Layzer

• Herausgeber: Alethea Stampley
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Excerpt: 

It was too big! Impossibly big! Couldn't he see that! He was too big for her-he couldn't rape her-it wouldn't work-not without tearing her open, ripping her guts out. She saw herself lying, dying on the bed, the blood gushing from the raw wound his prick would make. Raped to death by a savage penis too big to look at without gagging, much less to take in her virgin cunt.
He had wet his fingers with saliva again and, holding her twitching, naked thighs open, rubbed them deep, painfully deep, into the slippery, squishy slit of her sex, readying her for the onslaught of his fierce, throbbing bludgeon.
"No, no, please, you can't, you mustn't, I'm not what you think!" She couldn't say it.
"Nooo? What is you?" he laughed deep in his chest, his eyes inflamed by the sight of her naked body spread-eagled before him, his black finger skewering into the tightness of her hair-lined pussy.
"Plllease!" she sobbed. "I'm a ... a, oh, pllease, I'm a virgin! I swear it, honest to God, I've never done it before! Please don't! You can't! I've never, oh, please, it's too big, I can't! I really can't, please, pllleeease, I'll do anything!"

Leseprobe

Her Torment

Abe Layzer

Copyright © 2017

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

She was glad she had cut her hair. She barely had the strength to towel her head, and had it still been long, she would have needed ten more of the rough little towels to get it dry. All that sweat and grime and sleep-she was free of it for a while. Her skin glowed and tingled.

She moved to one side of the cramped stall, out of the line of light shining through the door, certain that the old attendant would be trying to peep at her from his station on the other side. She had almost forfeited the opportunity to get clean when she had seen him, a bent-backed, shrivelled old man, leering at her after taking her dollar and giving her soap and a towel.

She wiggled into clean panties, standing on the wet towel, drawing the flimsy underwear up over the mound that bulged below her flat belly. She slipped into her last clean bra and noticed she had lost weight in spite of her inactivity these last several days. Her breasts had shrunk slightly, leaving the white cups of the brassiere a bit empty instead of causing them to swell outward as they usually did.

Fortunately she had a last clean blouse too, although it was wrinkled from being jammed into her bag. But she had to wear the same blue skirt, still smelling of sweat and travel and creased across her abdomen from long hours of sitting.

She combed her hair, still having to adjust to the fact that it no longer trailed down over her shoulders but ended, close-cropped, just over her ears and long graceful neck. She rolled up her dirty clothing, jammed it into her small suitcase and stepped into her worn flats. She left the steamy stall, rejecting the old man's knowing wink with a toss of her bobbed, black-haired head.

The clock above the schedule board showed less than half of the one-hour rest stop left. Craving fresh air and unwilling to join the line of travelers who were still waiting to be served in the cafeteria line, she bought a sandwich and orange drink from the row of tan machines. She had no illusions about the neighborhoods that bus stations were located in, but she couldn't stand the terminal smell and the familiar sight of drifting vagrants and muttering alcoholics and, always, the exhausted-looking black mothers with two or three children sleeping fitfully on their laps.