Molly - Molly and the Anvil

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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 lil' sundress showcasing her mounds obese and pointy and hard, the grimace of that saucy ass leaving a trail of Slit so thick, a man 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 woman next door, but she weren't nothing but a whore. And last night, she stood slap in front of the window, lifting her slip over her head. Her fingers, those fine, mild stems, unhooked her bra. The ropes slipped down slow, like a wish you been guzzling and just like that, you're falling down drunk, you're whiskey unsighted 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 mammories white, half-shadowed. Her body writhes. That girl's fire in the mouth, a dual glug of milky lightening banging like a jack strike 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 mounds and Slit right against that window, and I spotted her like a steam, like a mist flowing out into the night. And her eyes immovable on mine, those dark demon eyes. I got her in the camper easy. Whore's are like that, thinking they got a man all weak-kneed and insane for what they got inbetween the legs, that smooth cavity, that cream colored beaver that sucks a man in and don't let go. She thought she was working me. I shivered cause I spotted older man Satan a-staring out at me from those eyes so youthful and chocolate-colored and obese and wet. My palm 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 shaft palette, the rope, the plastic wrap. "Delivery," I said, slowing the camper 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 satisfy and thank you. She grasped my cock. Satan had a-hold of me, getting me stiff and big and humping up into my eyes. I pushed her down. I roped her tight, her elbows near fumbling in back. She made a lil' chirpy sound or two, but I wedged her mouth. I adorned those eyes fast. Satan will catch you in a spell quicker than you can blink. And I got to gripping her mounds and soft ass. She wiggled, squirmed. She was like peaches and plums, like you could submerge in your teeth and fluid would drip down your chin. Her flesh was silk, like nothing I ever fumbled before, like something so great you can't help but cram your hands, wring and squeeze, fondle. I inserted her into a ball and wrapped her cock-squeezing to the palette. I drove over to the garage. By that time she was making a gruesome fuss. Delicious lil' whore, I said, whispery and soft while I pricked her nips with the peak of my knife. demon girl. Cunt. My knife was searching for the devil, drawn like a magnet to her dark, raw cunt, scent 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 sensational tools, metal, wire, steaming shavings from the grinder. You got to gauze her hatch and eyes, gauze her slit 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 poor girl, using strap and metal to drive the demon out. I caned her with wire. I strike her mammories red, her slit pinkish and striped, her obese soft, ass marked with steaming bright lines. I caned her stiff enough to strike the demon back. Tonight her window is dark. I witness shadows crawl along the roofline. I devise her roped and locked in a glass case in the lower room. That's where she belongs. I take another strike of milky lightening. It's a fire in my throat and eyes. But she's a mist, a bleached fog that passes through my mind. Even now, I hear her cries. Seduction hammers my temples like a gong, the bleary craving of my mind. And the empty sky, deep low scream of the devil, rumbling night, dark blackened sky.