Pleasing Joy
- 3 years ago
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Roughplayer100pc free porn video
It was the speed of the attack that did it. One minute I was walking the short distance from the main road to my house in the silent darkness, the next someone hurtled into me, knocking all the breath out of me and slamming me against the wall. I was stunned and disorientated. I was aware of dropping my bag of shopping and hearing the bottle of wine break on the floor; I was aware that already hands were gripping my shoulders and spinning me round. I was jerked roughly forward, my feet stumbling over the dropped shopping, and then bundled clumsily into the back of a car.
More hands gripped me and pulled me forward. The car door slammed behind me. Another door slam and then movement, the car setting off at a disturbingly normal pace: no chance of the police coming after us if we weren't speeding.
This felt thought-through. Clumsy but premeditated.
A hand gripped across my mouth and another pressed my face down into the dark of someone's lap. I was still trying to work out what was happening. I thought I heard someone laughing, the driver maybe.
In American cop shows a*****ed victims are often able to give good estimates of how long the trip took, what kind of speed the car felt like it was doing, if it was a winding country road or a straight fast motorway. In real life it's not like that. It's all darkness and chaos. Fear. Being jostled and flung about randomly by the car's movements. The only thing I could tell from the engine noise was that we were driving relatively normally: stopping at junctions, obeying traffic laws. I kept hearing the softly muted polite ping-ping-ping of the indicators being used.
And then we stopped and the engine switched off. Before that had quite registered I felt cold air rush in through the opening door and I was dragged backwards out of the back seat. I sagged to my knees, still winded from the blitz attack and totally disorientated. This time I definitely heard laughter.
"Over here - " a man said. They grabbed an arm each and started dragging me. My feet scrabbled hopelessly for purchase; my knees ploughed furrows through silt and fallen leaves.
"Where?" said the second guy.
"Just here - a wall, she said she wanted a wall...."
My mouth kept trying to ask a million questions: who, why, what, where, why? Why are you doing this? WHAT are you doing? Who are you? Perhaps mostly ludicrously of all, What do you want? I found I couldn't speak, I was too literally knocked off my feet. Part of me was still ambling down Rodgers Avenue with my bag of wine and chicken.
I was flung to my knees. It was totally dark but for the stars and a pallid unconcerned moon. Around me all I could see were the dark menacing shapes of trees. Things I took to be gravestones, old ones. And away to the left the solid black silhouette of a church.
"You know who I am yet?" one of them asked.
"Where am I?" I managed.
My hair was grasped and my head yanked back. The moonlight silvered a rim of a face. "Roughplayer100pc," he said.
My reeling mind snapped tight. The words were like a slap in the face. I did know him. From the hardcore porn site I'd idly been passing time on. His profile name - as he'd explained to me - meant he was a 'rough player' one hundred percent of the time. That had turned me on. We'd struck up a habit of messaging fantasies back and forth. He liked to give it rough, I'd told him that was how I'd liked it.
The wall.... I felt my spirit quail: yes, I'd told him how I wanted a wall, to be bent over a wall somewhere desolate and out in the middle of nowhere, and used no matter how much....
....no matter how much I pretended to beg them to stop.
And yes: I'd told him at the end of the fantasy that I woldn't mind him bringing a friend along.
I tried to protest but they were already starting. I was pushed over, pulled, thrown; my clothes were torn off from every direction until I was naked and shivering with cold and fear. The very act of being so unable to stop them was debilitating. I was dragged, lifted, d****d over a mossy stone wall like a sack of flour. One man in front of me pressed my head and shoulders down, holding me with fingers bruising my flesh. Behind me I felt a boot kick my ankles apart.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he asked. A ferocious palm slapped my arse. "This is what you asked for?"
I felt the first heat in my pussy and hated myself for it. "It was just talking..." I gasped, "a fantasy..."
CracK! My arse cheeks stung and I felt a shameful wetness building in my pussy along with a desperate urge to grind my groin against the broken-down wall I was folded over.
I felt a finger slide along my exposed slit.
"You're already wet, you cheap slut," he said. His hands gripped my hips and suddenly his mouth was on me, a stiff demanding tongue pressing into my pussy, turning me on more than I'd ever felt before. His fingers pried me open and he licked deeper. I felt my legs straining to part wider to accomodate him.
He moved away. "This is what you were asking for isn't it, bitch?" I heard him slowly unzip his jeans.
No - ! I thought. But my mouth gasped "Yes - please!" If he didn't fuck me soon I was just going to come anyway.
He pressed the hot tip of his cock against my open wet pussy. I yearned towards him. I realised I had no idea what he - or the guy holding my shoulders down - looked like, but it didn't matter, the sensation, the experience were all that mattered.
"Fuck her - " the second guy said hoarsely, "I wany my turn."
The cock moved, slowly and tantalisingly, until it was nudging blunt against my tight arse. I'd never done anal. I'd talked a lot about doing it and how much I got off on it, but there are things you talk about online that are pure wishful thinking and that you've never actually done. He started to press into me, excrutiatingly slowly. Partly because I was so tight, but also because he was playing with me. His cock inside my arse was suddenly the only thing I wanted in the whole world, and he could feel it. He abruptly plunged through the rigid ring of my sphincter and then pulled straight back out. I heard myself groan.
"You want me, bitch?"
I could hardly speak I was so out of breath. "Yes..." I felt his tongue probing my arse and whispered, "Please...."
He gave a grunt of sour laughter. He suddenly forced his cock all the way into my arse, tearing me open with an appaling mix of pain and immense pleasure. He started pumping. His hands fiercely slapped my arse cheeks while he pounded at me. I came almost straight away but he kept on going, grinding deep into me, pulling almost all the way out, hesitating, ramming deep inside again. I lost count of how many times I came.
After God knows how long he pulled out and pressed into my pussy and came inside me, hot and urgent. I was sweating and breathless. That had been so fucking good.
"Your turn, tiger," he said to his mate.
They swapped places. His mate hammered straight into my sore arse without a word.
By this time I no longer needed holding down.
More hands gripped me and pulled me forward. The car door slammed behind me. Another door slam and then movement, the car setting off at a disturbingly normal pace: no chance of the police coming after us if we weren't speeding.
This felt thought-through. Clumsy but premeditated.
A hand gripped across my mouth and another pressed my face down into the dark of someone's lap. I was still trying to work out what was happening. I thought I heard someone laughing, the driver maybe.
In American cop shows a*****ed victims are often able to give good estimates of how long the trip took, what kind of speed the car felt like it was doing, if it was a winding country road or a straight fast motorway. In real life it's not like that. It's all darkness and chaos. Fear. Being jostled and flung about randomly by the car's movements. The only thing I could tell from the engine noise was that we were driving relatively normally: stopping at junctions, obeying traffic laws. I kept hearing the softly muted polite ping-ping-ping of the indicators being used.
And then we stopped and the engine switched off. Before that had quite registered I felt cold air rush in through the opening door and I was dragged backwards out of the back seat. I sagged to my knees, still winded from the blitz attack and totally disorientated. This time I definitely heard laughter.
"Over here - " a man said. They grabbed an arm each and started dragging me. My feet scrabbled hopelessly for purchase; my knees ploughed furrows through silt and fallen leaves.
"Where?" said the second guy.
"Just here - a wall, she said she wanted a wall...."
My mouth kept trying to ask a million questions: who, why, what, where, why? Why are you doing this? WHAT are you doing? Who are you? Perhaps mostly ludicrously of all, What do you want? I found I couldn't speak, I was too literally knocked off my feet. Part of me was still ambling down Rodgers Avenue with my bag of wine and chicken.
I was flung to my knees. It was totally dark but for the stars and a pallid unconcerned moon. Around me all I could see were the dark menacing shapes of trees. Things I took to be gravestones, old ones. And away to the left the solid black silhouette of a church.
"You know who I am yet?" one of them asked.
"Where am I?" I managed.
My hair was grasped and my head yanked back. The moonlight silvered a rim of a face. "Roughplayer100pc," he said.
My reeling mind snapped tight. The words were like a slap in the face. I did know him. From the hardcore porn site I'd idly been passing time on. His profile name - as he'd explained to me - meant he was a 'rough player' one hundred percent of the time. That had turned me on. We'd struck up a habit of messaging fantasies back and forth. He liked to give it rough, I'd told him that was how I'd liked it.
The wall.... I felt my spirit quail: yes, I'd told him how I wanted a wall, to be bent over a wall somewhere desolate and out in the middle of nowhere, and used no matter how much....
....no matter how much I pretended to beg them to stop.
And yes: I'd told him at the end of the fantasy that I woldn't mind him bringing a friend along.
I tried to protest but they were already starting. I was pushed over, pulled, thrown; my clothes were torn off from every direction until I was naked and shivering with cold and fear. The very act of being so unable to stop them was debilitating. I was dragged, lifted, d****d over a mossy stone wall like a sack of flour. One man in front of me pressed my head and shoulders down, holding me with fingers bruising my flesh. Behind me I felt a boot kick my ankles apart.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he asked. A ferocious palm slapped my arse. "This is what you asked for?"
I felt the first heat in my pussy and hated myself for it. "It was just talking..." I gasped, "a fantasy..."
CracK! My arse cheeks stung and I felt a shameful wetness building in my pussy along with a desperate urge to grind my groin against the broken-down wall I was folded over.
I felt a finger slide along my exposed slit.
"You're already wet, you cheap slut," he said. His hands gripped my hips and suddenly his mouth was on me, a stiff demanding tongue pressing into my pussy, turning me on more than I'd ever felt before. His fingers pried me open and he licked deeper. I felt my legs straining to part wider to accomodate him.
He moved away. "This is what you were asking for isn't it, bitch?" I heard him slowly unzip his jeans.
No - ! I thought. But my mouth gasped "Yes - please!" If he didn't fuck me soon I was just going to come anyway.
He pressed the hot tip of his cock against my open wet pussy. I yearned towards him. I realised I had no idea what he - or the guy holding my shoulders down - looked like, but it didn't matter, the sensation, the experience were all that mattered.
"Fuck her - " the second guy said hoarsely, "I wany my turn."
The cock moved, slowly and tantalisingly, until it was nudging blunt against my tight arse. I'd never done anal. I'd talked a lot about doing it and how much I got off on it, but there are things you talk about online that are pure wishful thinking and that you've never actually done. He started to press into me, excrutiatingly slowly. Partly because I was so tight, but also because he was playing with me. His cock inside my arse was suddenly the only thing I wanted in the whole world, and he could feel it. He abruptly plunged through the rigid ring of my sphincter and then pulled straight back out. I heard myself groan.
"You want me, bitch?"
I could hardly speak I was so out of breath. "Yes..." I felt his tongue probing my arse and whispered, "Please...."
He gave a grunt of sour laughter. He suddenly forced his cock all the way into my arse, tearing me open with an appaling mix of pain and immense pleasure. He started pumping. His hands fiercely slapped my arse cheeks while he pounded at me. I came almost straight away but he kept on going, grinding deep into me, pulling almost all the way out, hesitating, ramming deep inside again. I lost count of how many times I came.
After God knows how long he pulled out and pressed into my pussy and came inside me, hot and urgent. I was sweating and breathless. That had been so fucking good.
"Your turn, tiger," he said to his mate.
They swapped places. His mate hammered straight into my sore arse without a word.
By this time I no longer needed holding down.
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