Chapter 3

As Mrs. Jenkins’ delicate fingers tightened on my wrist beneath her chin, I pushed her tighter to the tree. Still, no safe word escaped her shaking lips. There was no sound but the pounding of my heartbeat and her rapid breaths searing my face. Across the clearing, Coach remained silent behind the still camera. Under the shimmering stars, the darkened world did that stuttering thing.

When I pressed my widespread fingers into her ample chest, the strange gleam in her eyes only sharpened. With a groan, Mrs. Jenkins thrust herself into my palm. As she stared, she swayed into me, letting me pull and tug on her thick, hot stems or squeeze the soft, firm globes. Yet, each rough fondle only pulled faint whimpers from her shiny lips.

Again, she awaited my next move. Which role was I supposed to play?

When her hands dropped from my arm to skim along my flanks, I shot a quick glance at her husband. With his fist so tight, his little helmet was dark purple, Coach stood clear of the camera. As he leaned forward, huffing, his gaze was intent on us.

Okay. Despite the smoldering look in her eyes, I’d be her rapist.

“I’m gonna drive my long thick black cock so deep into your tight white ho pussy, you’re gonna feel it in your throat,” rumbled from me in the deepest voice I possessed.

With thumping root in hand, I shifted, lowering my pole until its pulsating knob parted the slick swollen petals beneath her shiny little fur patch. Instead of crying out—you know, like a rape victim would—Mrs. Jenkins remained silent. When I rocked forward, my bulbous tip pushed open her tight little hole. Goddamn, she was slippery. Sorry momma. While Mindy had grabbed me and aimed all by herself, this ... This was different.

When Mrs. Jenkins’ neck pressed into my hand, her fingers—the ones that should have been pushing me away—gripped my hips. For a brief second, her eyelashes fluttered, and I braced. But instead of a scream for her rapist to stop or a panicked cry towards the cameras, she only whimpered as I sank into her.

Well, no matter. I ignored the weird expression on her face. I’d play my role.

“That’s right. Take it all, whore!”

With a snarl, I rocked forward, shoving into Mrs. Jenkins’ tiny, constricted hole to spread her tight flesh. As her eyelids flew wide, at last her mouth emitted a scream. Except it was unlike anything I’d ever heard before or since. As that high-pitched, warbling voice filled the clearing, her head whipped back and forth along the rough bark.

Pinned between my bulk and the hard tree, Mrs. Jenkins huffed, desperate for air, clawing at my hips. Inside, unlike Mindy’s sloppy, bored-out cave, Mrs. Jenkins was tight, clenching, pulsating with life. And she was so slick I plunged into her with a single thrust. The lengthy, wet slurp echoed across the darkened clearing. Once the final thrust of my hips lifted her onto her toes, I investigated her red-cheeked face. For some reason, I still expected “purple” to hiss from her shaking lips. Instead, all she did was puff ever more rapid pulses of warm breath across my chest. White-rimmed and unblinking, her molten emerald pools blazed.

Me, the erstwhile rapist, should’ve spoken. Made another rumbling comment about taking her. And she should’ve screamed or cursed me out. Or struggled.

Instead, I only exhaled as her taut insides throbbed around my mast. For her part, all she did was moan when I withdrew from her with a liquid squelch that resounded across the clearing. When I straightened while thrusting back into her, two things happened that sent my pulse racing. First, her legs flew upwards along my thighs to clamp behind my spine. And second, as I drove her into the rough bark, her arms wrapped around my shoulders.

As she panted ever quicker, her mouth widened with every forceful stroke into her slick warmth. Although I set the rhythm, her clenching limbs kept her in place.

Uh, women don’t generally encourage their rapists. Like I said, her fantasy had become muddied somewhere along the way.

At several quiet grunts from Coach, I turned to him. With sweat gleaming on his forehead and white fluid bubbling from his fist, he huffed, swaying and wide-eyed, next to the camera. As our eyes met, I didn’t stop. Indeed, I stroked her faster.

Lit by soft bands of silver starlight, the clearing resounded with the ever more forceful scraping of his wife being driven up the trunk. With each powerful messy slurp of my shaft drilling her, ever louder moans tore free of her shaking lips. Mashed into me, her tits’ heated points gouged my shirt. Yeah, I was still in my shirt. With each powerful thrust, Mrs. Jenkins’ shaking arms and legs tightened.

After a glance at both cameras, I swallowed. This was supposed to be a fantasy. A film for her—their—pleasure. Somebody had to say something. After another gulp, I cleared my throat.

“Oh. That’s right. Mmm, hmm. Such a nice fuck, whore.” At least, I’d play my role. “So wet. Oh, do that again. Make your pussy tighter for me, my little white whore.”

Jesus Christ! Sorry momma. But when her insides clamped, I was forced to slow. As I gasped for air, the whole clearing blurred. Still, I shoved harder. With each lengthy stroke, my dragging ridges shoved her tightened pussy lips inwards before tugging them out.

After that, it wasn’t long before her entire body tensed. As great hitching gasps shot from her upturned mouth, her shaking legs scrabbled along my waist, struggling to stay in place. Lips parting and sharp nails clawing at my shoulders, she pressed her neck into my palm.

With my eyes locked on her white-rimmed, shimmering jade pools, I pushed as deep as I could, driving my tip into the top of her canal.

That was all it took.

As a primal growl tore from Mrs. Jenkins, she left the planet. Frozen open, her mouth trembled while all her muscles twitched.

Braced for a scream, I drove my free hand’s fingers between her lips. With a burbling moan, they sealed on my digits. Just as her cheeks sank inwards, her entire frame shook. At the loud, chaotic slapping of her body echoing in the darkness, you’d swear she was being electrocuted.

While my fingers muffled her screams, Mrs. Jenkin’s insides pulsated. Between wet sucks of air, her drool soon became dribbling wetness down my wrist. Ever more forceful, her clenching pussy tried to milk me. But I increased my pace. Under my jackhammering, the scraping of bark grew louder. With a cry, she squirmed in my grip. Wave after orgasmic wave bucked her body between me and the tree.

At last, her slurping cries died and her legs dangled along of my hips. As she hung, suspended by her weak, trembling arms and my still solid cock, her eyelashes fluttered closed. After pulling my hand from her mouth, a wet whimper escaped her lips. For only a moment, her shiny tongue surged after my glistening digits before her head dropped. Silvery trails of drool slid over her lower lip to spool onto her heaving chest.

Now, I wasn’t the sharpest kid, but that hadn’t seemed very “rape”-like. Mrs. Jenkins had participated just as much as me. At a shuffling in the leaves, I glanced at Coach, again hunched behind the camera. As it whirred, I gulped.

They’d wanted me to “rape” her.

So, I put my actor hat back on.

“Hey. Wakey, wakey, whore. I ain’t come yet.”

At my snarled words, Mrs. Jenkins’ eyes shot open. I must’ve been getting better at that tone. After I’d released her neck, she yelped before whimpering when I shoved my hands under her arms. Once I’d tugged her from the tree, I took a step back and turned. The camera, and Coach, had a clear view. With a leering smile—well, what I hoped was a leer—I bent backwards and lifted his wife.

Suspended atop me, all she could do was groan. At the widening of my grin, her eyes became white-rimmed saucers. Time flickered. One quick glance at Coach. My arms tensed. I rammed her downwards. The shrieking, warbling moan-like cry that erupted from her sent shivers along my spine.

Ever louder grunts came from me as over and over I flung her upward before piercing her. As I stroked my cock with her sweat-slick body, her arms flew free. Amidst her bouncing, battered blonde tresses, our eyes met. Understanding and pure desire glimmered in hers.

As a primal groan ripped from her, Mrs. Jenkins became nothing but a fleshy doll. With her boobs flapping, limbs flailing, and heaving ribs in my large black hands, she was my petite white blonde-haired toy.

And wow, did she ever scream.

But our eyes stayed locked.

Yeah, at last she was getting her “rape.”

At that thought, my entire body shuddered. All at once, every muscle tightened. While Mindy had taken a deep gulp of tequila right then, Mrs. Jenkins’ green eyes flared with ... Well, fantasy forgotten, not fear, that was certain. After a brief glance at her husband, she only stared into my eyes as I impaled her onto my root and smashed her chest into me.

Right as my muscles released, her expression changed once again. With her emerald pools molten, just as my first pulsating jet erupted, she lurched forward to smash her lips against mine. Though her blonde tresses blocked Coach’s face from view, I heard his gasp. As sloppy slurping moans escaped her rolling, mashing lips, her tongue plunged deep, seeking to play.

Rape? Still her fantasy?

With the initial wave of relief flooding from my expanding shaft, it was far too late to focus on anything. For both of us. As she groaned, her tongue found mine, poking, sliding along it, and pushing it around. With a growl, I shoved back, chasing hers and pinning it to her teeth. Brilliant jade, her eyes blazed. Tongue rape? With her limbs scrabbling along my bent back, all I could do was hold her tighter as each succeeding flex of my cock flung more of my seed deep into her.

Only after my shaft ceased its chaotic jerking did I pull away from her open mouth. With her cheeks bright red, she gasped for air. Shaky, her fingers swept sweaty blonde strands from her face. In the shadows, her expression was inscrutable as she looked towards her husband.

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