Molly and the Anvil

Download HD Video (1.2 GB)


Okay, so I been witnessing her at night, witnessing 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 showcasing her breasts round and puffy and hard, the convulse of that mouth-watering ass leaving a trail of vulva so thick, a fellow gets lost in a fog, can't keep his mind where it belongs. She was the demon dressed like a whore. She might of looked like the female next door, but she weren't nothing but a whore. And last night, she stood spank in front of the window, lifting her slip over her head. Her fingers, those fine, fragile stems, unhooked her bra. The cords slipped down slow, like a dream you been gulping and just like that, you're falling down drunk, you're whiskey sightless with how you can see her in your head, her cunt, her steamy pussy, nipples, silhouette of the moon. She plays with her nipples, her breasts white, half-shadowed. Her assets writhes. That girl's fire in the mouth, a dual glug of milky lightening plumbing like a jack hammer on the back of your skull. Temptation. You got to kill 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 breasts and vulva right against that window, and I witnessed her like a steam, like a mist flowing out into the night. And her eyes immobile on mine, those dark demon eyes. I got her in the camper easy. Whore's are like that, thinking they got a fellow all weak-kneed and nasty for what they got inbetween the legs, that smooth cavity, that cream-colored puss that inhales a fellow in and don't let go. She thought she was working me. I shivered cause I witnessed elder fellow Devil a-staring out at me from those eyes so youthful and brown and round and wet. My hand shook when I lit her cigarette. But she was cold, like a sheet of ice, frozen, cold-blooded like a snake. "What's that for?" she asked, eyeing the wood palette, the rope, the plastic wrap. "Delivery," I said, slowing the camper down. I was driving the back verge of the coal yards. Nobody around. She didn't blink. Not once. Reached over and unbuckled me sans so much of a please and thank you. She gripped my cock. Devil had a-hold of me, getting me rigid and thick and pounding up into my eyes. I shoved her down. I tied her tight, her elbows near fumbling in back. She made a tiny chirpy sound or two, but I jammed her mouth. I adorned those eyes fast. Devil will catch you in a spell swifter than you can blink. And I got to taking hold of her breasts and sensitized ass. She wiggled, squirmed. She was like peaches and plums, like you could bury in your teeth and mayo would run in rivulets down your chin. Her flesh was silk, like nothing I ever touched before, like something so superb you can't help but pack your hands, wring and squeeze, fondle. I rammed her into a ball and packaged her cock-squeezing to the palette. I drove over to the garage. By that time she was making a horrible fuss. Succulent tiny whore, I said, whispery and sensitized while I pricked her puffies with the apex of my knife. demon girl. Cunt. My knife was searching for the devil, drawn like a magnet to her dark, moist cunt, odor of girl, smoky-sweet, salty, blunt. I got her on her feet and wired her, opened up over the anvil. When the devil's in a girl, you got to use off the hook tools, metal, wire, super-steamy shavings from the grinder. You got to gauze her hatch and eyes, gauze her twat shut. You get her dancing, impaled on the treat of a push broom. She cried. Yes she did. Because I was doing my hottest to help that skimpy girl, using rope and metal to drive the demon out. I caned her with wire. I hammer her breasts red, her twat pinkish and striped, her round soft, ass marked with super-steamy bright lines. I caned her rigid enough to hammer the demon back. Tonight her window is dark. I see shadows crawl along the roofline. I devise her tied 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 hatch and eyes. But she's a mist, a bleached fog that passes through my mind. Even now, I hear her cries. Seduction strikes my temples like a gong, the bleary craving of my mind. And the empty sky, deep low wail of the devil, rumbling night, dark blackened sky.