Molly and the Anvi

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Okay, so I been eyeing her at night, eyeing the gold light of her window streaming into darkness, and the shadows that crawl along the roofline. But she was the one that come on to me, all prettified in that brief tiny sundress displaying her milk cans chubby and puffy and hard, the yank of that tasty booty leaving a trail of snatch so thick, a dude gets lost in a fog, can't keep his mind where it belongs. She was the Satan clothed like a whore. She might of looked like the girl next door, but she weren't nothing but a whore. And last night, she stood spank in front of the window, elevating her slide over her head. Her fingers, those fine, delicate stems, unhooked her bra. The cords glided down slow, like a dream you been guzzling and just like that, you're falling down , you're sightless with how you can witness her in your head, her cunt, her warm pussy, nipples, silhouette of the moon. She plays with her nipples, her melons white, half-shadowed. Her figure writhes. That girl's fire in the mouth, a dual glug of milky lightening nailing like a fap hammer on the back of your skull. Temptation. You got to it, got to put it away somewhere's so it don't get you. See, I'm a God‹fearing man. So it had to be done. And like I said, she come on to me. She stood naked, pressing her milk cans and snatch right against that window, and I saw her like a steam, like a mist flowing out into the night. And her eyes fixed on mine, those dark Satan eyes. I got her in the van easy. Whore's are like that, thinking they got a dude all weak-kneed and crazy for what they got inbetween the legs, that sleek cavity, that mammary snatch that sucks a dude in and don't let go. She thought she was working me. I shivered cause I saw old dude Satan a-staring out at me from those eyes so youthfull and brown and chubby and wet. My mitt shook when I lit her cigarette. But she was cold, like a sheet of ice, frozen, cold- like a snake. "What's that for?" she asked, observing the wood palette, the rope, the plastic wrap. "Delivery," I said, slowing the van down. I was driving the back brim of the coal yards. Nobody around. She didn't blink. Not once. Reached over and undid me sans so much of a satisfy and thank you. She gripped my cock. Satan had a-hold of me, getting me rigid and thick and boinking up into my eyes. I shoved her down. I strapped her tight, her elbows near petting in back. She made a tiny chirpy sound or two, but I rammed her mouth. I facialed those eyes fast. Satan will catch you in a spell faster than you can blink. And I got to gripping her milk cans and delicate ass. She wiggled, squirmed. She was like peaches and plums, like you could sink in your teeth and splooge would run in rivulets down your chin. Her flesh was silk, like nothing I ever rubbed before, like something so superb you can't help but fill your hands, wring and squeeze, fondle. I jammed her into a ball and packaged her taut to the palette. I drove over to the garage. By that time she was making a horrible fuss. Mouth-watering tiny whore, I said, whispery and delicate while I pricked her puffies with the tip of my knife. Satan girl. Cunt. My knife was searching for the devil, drawn like a magnet to her dark, wet cunt, aroma of girl, smoky-sweet, salty, blunt. I got her on her soles and wired her, stretched over the anvil. When the devil's in a girl, you got to use off the hook tools, metal, wire, sizzling shavings from the grinder. You got to gauze her gullet and eyes, gauze her coochie shut. You get her dancing, punctured on the treat of a shove broom. She cried. Yes she did. Because I was doing my greatest to help that poor girl, using strap and metal to drive the Satan out. I lashed her with wire. I strike her melons red, her coochie rosy and striped, her chubby soft, booty marked with sizzling bright lines. I lashed her rigid enough to strike the Satan back. Tonight her window is dark. I see shadows crawl along the roofline. I think of her strapped and locked in a glass case in the lower room. That's where she belongs. I take another beat of milky lightening. It's a fire in my jaws and eyes. But she's a mist, a bleached fog that passes through my mind. Even now, I hear her cries. Allurement beats my temples like a gong, the bleary craving of my mind. And the empty sky, deep low bellow of the devil, rumbling night, dark blackened sky.