Molly and the Anvil - Insex

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Okay, so I been watching her at night, watching 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 lil sundress demonstrating her tits round and perky and hard, the convulse of that yummy culo leaving a trail of Gash so thick, a fellow gets lost in a fog, can't keep his mind where it belongs. She was the demon clothed like a whore. She might of looked like the damsel next door, but she weren't nothing but a whore. And last night, she stood smack in front of the window, hoisting her slide over her head. Her fingers, those fine, delicate stems, unhooked her bra. The straps slid down slow, like a wish 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 steamy pussy, nipples, silhouette of the moon. She plays with her nipples, her jugs white, half-shadowed. Her bod writhes. That girl's fire in the mouth, a dual glug of milky lightening tearing up like a wank strike 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 tits and Gash right against that window, and I saw her like a steam, like a mist flowing out into the night. And her eyes stationary on mine, those dark demon eyes. I got her in the car easy. Whore's are like that, thinking they got a fellow all weak-kneed and kinky for what they got inbetween the legs, that slick cavity, that creamy labia that sucks a fellow in and don't let go. She thought she was working me. I shivered cause I saw elder fellow Demon a-staring out at me from those eyes so youthful and dark-skinned and round 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 car down. I was driving the back brim of the coal yards. Nobody around. She didn't blink. Not once. Reached over and unbuttoned me sans so much of a sate and thank you. She gripped my cock. Demon had a-hold of me, getting me stiff and gigantic and drilling up into my eyes. I shoved her down. I tied her tight, her elbows near touching in back. She made a lil chirpy sound or two, but I rammed her mouth. I frosted those eyes fast. Demon will catch you in a spell faster than you can blink. And I got to taking hold of her tits and gentle ass. She wiggled, squirmed. She was like peaches and plums, like you could bury in your teeth and fluid would run in rivulets down your chin. Her flesh was silk, like nothing I ever fondled before, like something so excellent you can't help but fill your hands, squash and squeeze, fondle. I wedged 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 gruesome fuss. Succulent lil whore, I said, whispery and gentle while I pricked her nips 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, aroma 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 sensational tools, metal, wire, torrid shavings from the grinder. You got to tape her hatch and eyes, tape her snatch shut. You get her dancing, punctured on the treat of a shovel broom. She cried. Yes she did. Because I was doing my best to help that scanty girl, using cable and metal to drive the demon out. I cropped her with wire. I strike her jugs red, her snatch pinkish and striped, her round soft, culo marked with torrid bright lines. I cropped her stiff enough to strike the demon back. Tonight her window is dark. I witness shadows crawl along the roofline. I think of 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 gullet and eyes. But she's a mist, a bleached fog that passes thru my mind. Even now, I hear her cries. Temptation bashes my temples like a gong, the bleary craving of my mind. And the empty sky, deep low groan of the devil, rumbling night, dark blackened sky.