Insex - Hitch Hiking (Jenny)
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Jenny, young, pretty, and bored with life out in the sticks, hitchhikes her way into trouble. She gets a rail from Joe, who convinces her to stop by his place. Maybe, he says, she’d be interested in his “hobby.” Jenny admits to being a nosey girl. Before the day is out, Jenny learns more than she ever wished to know about Joe’s hobby, a preoccupation with girls, pain, rope, and strangulation. She stands bare on a tabouret in the barn, bound, gagged, her eyes taped. A mighty rope noose pulls at her throat. She chokes. Ropes delve into her young, smooth skin, trussed at arms, waist, ankles, and toes. A crotchrope drowns itself into her cunt. All he wants from her is a kiss. That’s what he says. She refuses. He punches the tabouret out from under her, holding her, but letting the rope tighten on her neck. Jenny’s either too rough or not working on all burners. She won’t give in. Night comes. She shivers, exhausted. He returns. He slaps her and leaves, letting her stand and choke and think as the night passes. The next day, he’s trussed her in an uncomfortable posture inbetween beams... Her hair is bound above, lifting her head, bending her back. The flogging starts, working over her ass, breasts, and back. Slobber pours out her jaws as she bawls. But she’s defiant. She won’t give him a kiss. He increases the tension of the ropes, putting her in strappado. Then he trusses her seated upon a beam, her ankles trussed to thighs, soles flat together. The rope work is beautiful, her hooters bound, her neck wound with rope. She can’t move. A noose suspends within her glance as a reminder. He single-tails her hooters and nipples. Tears and spit run to her chin. Candle wax, hot, red, cascades onto her soles and breasts. Still no kiss. Perhaps he’s given up on a kiss. Perhaps now he simply thinks of her as his “hobby.” She is trussed spread out on an old iron wagon wheel. Her ankles are corded back to her ass, and her neck bound inbetween two spokes. Her chest is shove upward, catching the light that filters down from above. She’s gorgeous. How can he stop now? He canes her. Mr. Pogo penetrates first-ever one hole, then another as he flips her back and forth. More paraffin wax dribbled onto her hooters and pussy. Mr. Pogo in her labia and a candle in her mouth. He leaves her that way, splayed out, whimpering.
Jenny, young, pretty, and bored with life out in the sticks, hitchhikes her way into trouble. She gets a rail from Joe, who convinces her to stop by his place. Maybe, he says, she’d be interested in his “hobby.” Jenny admits to being a nosey girl. Before the day is out, Jenny learns more than she ever wished to know about Joe’s hobby, a preoccupation with girls, pain, rope, and strangulation. She stands bare on a tabouret in the barn, bound, gagged, her eyes taped. A mighty rope noose pulls at her throat. She chokes. Ropes delve into her young, smooth skin, trussed at arms, waist, ankles, and toes. A crotchrope drowns itself into her cunt. All he wants from her is a kiss. That’s what he says. She refuses. He punches the tabouret out from under her, holding her, but letting the rope tighten on her neck. Jenny’s either too rough or not working on all burners. She won’t give in. Night comes. She shivers, exhausted. He returns. He slaps her and leaves, letting her stand and choke and think as the night passes. The next day, he’s trussed her in an uncomfortable posture inbetween beams... Her hair is bound above, lifting her head, bending her back. The flogging starts, working over her ass, breasts, and back. Slobber pours out her jaws as she bawls. But she’s defiant. She won’t give him a kiss. He increases the tension of the ropes, putting her in strappado. Then he trusses her seated upon a beam, her ankles trussed to thighs, soles flat together. The rope work is beautiful, her hooters bound, her neck wound with rope. She can’t move. A noose suspends within her glance as a reminder. He single-tails her hooters and nipples. Tears and spit run to her chin. Candle wax, hot, red, cascades onto her soles and breasts. Still no kiss. Perhaps he’s given up on a kiss. Perhaps now he simply thinks of her as his “hobby.” She is trussed spread out on an old iron wagon wheel. Her ankles are corded back to her ass, and her neck bound inbetween two spokes. Her chest is shove upward, catching the light that filters down from above. She’s gorgeous. How can he stop now? He canes her. Mr. Pogo penetrates first-ever one hole, then another as he flips her back and forth. More paraffin wax dribbled onto her hooters and pussy. Mr. Pogo in her labia and a candle in her mouth. He leaves her that way, splayed out, whimpering.
Added: 2014-02-11 • Views: 148 • Duration: 44:05
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