I began to press him to use his experience from previous contacts to arrange a situation where Sally would meet and make love to more than one man at a time; but he was very reluctant. At last, after much pressure, he agreed to one such meeting, the most bizarre we have ever been to. The event was to be a black mass, held by a secret occult society, of which Elmore claimed to be a member. He said that if we just went to watch Sally might not get the chance to make love at all; but he could arrange for her to be the centre of the mass.
He grabbed a fistful of my short brown hair and then passed his half-full beer into my hand. I took it and pressed the cold bottle against a nipple as Thorton ran a hand down my sweaty chest, letting out a grunt. I wiggled back and forth, suspended on his dick a few inches above the bus seat, and reached down to run my fingers across my swollen pussy. We hit a I have nothing to contribute; please rape my face in the road, and a thick dollop of cum belched out onto the brown plastic as I peeled the lips back and flicked at my clit. I gazed at the milky white puddle for a moment, idly counting how many guys I had fucked today, and then snapped my fingers, pointing to the girl across the aisle from me: Her little pom-poms shook as she clutched her hands to her flat chest, and the ashen-blond girl behind her stared straight ahead as if she hadn't heard anything. I reached up and pinched a stiff nipple as Thorton's hand ran across my stomach, his over-sized cock sinking into me a little more.
At the time of the story I was 18 years old, going on 19 in several months. I was a student at a local public high school, and I was, as I am now, a popular kid. I have black hair, blue eyes, and I played tennis and basketball. I also had a body the girls sure seem to like. I worked out some, so I was a bit muscular, but not overly ripped.
And in a sense it was. The shadow was no inanimate puppet or flickering light show but outlined what had been an innocent and beautiful young woman. Now still, the latex clad object dangling limply from the rafters looked no more human than its shadow, a grotesque husk of what she had been. A blessing perhaps for in a pitch black world, she could not see what had been done to her body. Battered, bruised and swollen, her pale luscious mounds were now bulbous globes of pain, the soft white flesh now scarlet as the ropes below each tit bit hard into a flesh overlain by a patchwork of variegated bruises whose colours and shapes resembled countries in a nightmarish red atlas.