"Oh, Lee! How you do carry on! You know how much I care!"
"A lot you care, you big prick!"
I shouldn't have said that. He must have wound up over by the Missouri River, the way he whacked my ass! The slap sounded like dropping a pallet of lumber! And my legs flew out straight and my head jerked up and I let out a yell.
"I don't like a lot of yelling," he said. "Every time you let out a yell, I'm going to clout you one. Understand?" And he blasted me on the ass again.
I couldn't help it! Honest to Jesus, I couldn't! I knew I mustn't make a sound, but it came welling into my throat and burst between my clenched teeth anyhow! So he hit me again and I let out one more yell.
"Sonofabitch!" he said, as if he were talking to himself. "Doesn't learn very fast! Well, I'll put that off for a few minutes."
Instead of smacking me again, he got the pantyhose the rest of the way off. And for a minute, nothing happened.
"Shit!" He sounded disgusted. "Got you on there wrong."
He untied one of my hands and moved it over where the other one was, then tied it up again. And he untied the other and manhandled me around so I was lying across the table with my arms stretched just about straight out to either side. My head was hanging over the edge, unless I held it up. And while he was moving me, he got the blouse off my arms. That left me entirely naked. And the fronts of my thighs were still tight against an edge, only at the side instead of the end.
He tied my ankles, then. He stretched my legs apart until I thought he was going to split me right up the middle and tied them to the table legs. And then he came around in front of me and started taking off his clothes.
He was dark-skinned. I don't know if he was part Indian or part Mexican or what. But his skin was pretty dark and he always gave me the feeling he was some kind of foreigner. It wasn't just suntan. He wasn't white anyplace! He didn't have a whole lot of hair on his body, either. He had real thick, black hair on his head – all wavy and greasy. But not very much on his chest or belly. But it was like a forest at his crotch! God! Black and thick and curly and as stiff-looking as horse hair! And so much on his balls I could hardly see any skin at all! And a big, dark, gleaming cock-shaft. His cockhead – the foreskin, I mean – was even darker and twice as big around! And all blunt and ugly at the front.
It was wet and slimy – a great, big, ugly hard-on with slimy juice on the front. If I hadn't been so helpless I know I wouldn't have thought of it that way; I'd have been all shivery and excited and itching to get hold of it! But it was different, being in the position I was.
He came toward me real slow, hanging onto his dick with one hand and pointing it at me like a firehose. He waved it back and forth a little bit, real gently, like a snake weaving its head from side to side. And it sort of hypnotized me. I couldn't take my eyes off it. I held my head up with my neck aching from the strain and let my eyes move back and forth following the weaving of that blunt, hooded, wet, ugly cockhead. And he pushed it right in my face!
All I did was shut my eyes when he touched them with the tip. The foreskin opened like a round mouth, thick-rimmed and a little wrinkled and almost black – and glistening with its coating of wetness. And he poked it right at my eyes. I shut them while he rubbed it across them. The juice stayed. It coated my eyelashes and covered my lids like a thick, sticky snail track. And he kept rubbing it back and forth and around in little circles until he'd spread the gluey substance thick and even over my eyebrows and cheek bones and everything between them.
When he started stroking it down on the softer parts of my cheeks, I got up the nerve to open my eyes. They didn't open easily; it really was sticky! But they did come open. And I think he was watching them, because as soon as I was looking again, he started pulling his foreskin back. He didn't stop brushing me with that fat, hot bulb, but he did start stripping back the thick, heavy hood that had covered it.
Honest to God, that cockhead was as black as ebony! It was round and full and its surface was all kind of velvety with a real fine tracery of lines and had a thick layer of that thick goo on it. And he kept smearing the goo all over my face. He shoved the end of the head against one of my nostrils and kind of twisted it, as if he meant to fuck me right up my nose. And then he did the same thing to the other nostril. When he slid the slick bulb to one side and bored it against my cheek, the fumes in my nose swirled up into my head and hung there.
It was a strong, pungent, exciting odor. It halfway made me forget how scared I was of him. It made me tingle and sort of took my breath away. And I gasped for air.
The instant my mouth opened, he was stroking the velvety, slimy dome over my lips and coating the surfaces of my front teeth with the stuff. I finally came out of my trance. I jerked my head aside and gagged at the fierce flavor.
It didn't seem to bother him. He jabbed his cockhead right into my ear, really pushing it and twisting at the same time, and I felt the juice pushing inward and heard the roaring of his pulse as it beat in the monstrous, persistent cockhead. Naturally, I wrenched away from that, swinging my head the other way. And of course, he stuck his prick into my other ear!
Something about the sudden dulling of my hearing frightened me. I didn't want him poking his old cock in my mouth; that was too degrading when somebody forced a person. But that was all. I knew what a mouthful of cockhead felt like, and I enjoyed it when it was my own idea. Getting fucked in the ears was something else! I mean, what if he blew off and shot his cum in there? With all the pressure he could generate, he might burst an eardrum and squirt my brains full of it!
So I faced him and let him hold the warm, spongy mass right on my lips. And I even parted them a little bit so I could taste that powerful flavor again.
"Go ahead, baby!" His voice taunted me. "Go ahead! Get a good mouthful! Won't find one as good as this one every day!"
I sucked at the tip. I lipped it like I would an ice cream cone and even touched it with the tip of my tongue. It was good! And if I kept him thinking about how good it felt when I kissed it, maybe he wouldn't hurt me!
I worked my lips a little further onto it and caressed the rounded, blunt dome with my tongue.
"Nnnnnhh…! That's fine, sugar…! Just fine!"
If I could just keep him liking it! I slipped my tongue around onto the underside and jabbed it at his slit, the rolled, hard edges feeling like wet glass rods. A drop of warm, acrid-tasting fluid oozed onto my tongue and I drew it back and swallowed. My lips extended and I forced my jaws apart, inviting him to stick the whole bulging cockhead into my mouth.
He did. He pushed it forward past my teeth and onto the broad surface of my tongue until it blocked the arch at the front of my throat. I closed my lips around the neck of his cock-shaft. With a hard gulp, I began sucking. At first, there was a regular spout of man-juice into my throat. I swallowed and sucked, my tongue pushing at the underside of the thick, meaty knob. And his hips sort of jerked back and forth, bumping the end of his cockhead against the back of my mouth and stretching the opening to my throat.
For the moment I wasn't doing something I was being forced into. The back of my jaw buzzed and my mouth puckered and excitement made my tits hot against the table. I wanted that dick! I wanted its warmth and thickness and pressure in my mouth! I wanted it all the way down in my belly, right down my throat!
I sucked furiously, my lips tugging and my jaw propped open by its burden. Duane kept surging at me, the wonderful, smooth, wedging bulb of his cockhead advancing thousandths of an inch at a time along the tube of my throat. Getting it past the archway – getting the ridged shoulders of that enormous, choking bulb from the back of my mouth into the cavity of my throat – was the hardest part. But it sort of popped through between the violent swallowing I was doing. And then it was easy. I couldn't breathe very well; the air passage was too constricted for much air to pass at once, but I wasn't suffocating.