THE LIBRARY: Swimsuit Issue Part Six

Swimsuit6SWIMSUIT ISSUE Part Six
A “Lost” Tyler File Recently Recovered - CONTINUED FROM HERE

The old women started after them, but suddenly the senior whirled around, holding his cigarette stub defiantly out at them.

"No!" he shouted. "No! You do not enter!" He turned his head to sneer lustily at the extraordinary beauty he was now manhandling—clearly enjoying the fear and pain etched in her eyes. "Tonight this one is mine...." He snapped his head back at the old women. "...And mine alone!"

The woman stood as one: village rules dictating that they couldn't move. The senior looked at them smugly, then swung back his bedchamber curtains and pushed Tara inside.

The curtains were hardly closed behind them when he half pushed, half threw her to the coarse wooden floor. Tara screamed uselessly, trying to roll, crawl, or scramble away as he tore the burnoose over her head.

He didn't care what she did. Although she was taller, he knew he was much stronger, and certainly far more barbarous. He treated her like a reluctant sheep (in more ways than one), grabbing her hips, dragging her back, pushing her face to the floor, and immediately tearing off her already sliced bikini bottom as if it were paper.

Within milliseconds, he had her face-cheek and knees against the floor, her rump up, and his hard-on out. In the glow of two candles, he unceremoniously reached down, tore her bikini top off from both sides of her chest, grabbed her gloriously hanging breasts, and shoved his cock in her snatch from the back.

He went at it doggy style with all the fervor, strength, and intelligence of a mad pitbull: grunting, growling, and even howling softly.

Tara was in literal and figurative shock, her mind and body trying to contend with this vicious assault that made the previous one seem like a seduction. Her eyes snapped open and closed as he plunged into her vaginal muscles and yanked at her breasts as if they were huge grapefruit that were reluctant to come off the tree.

Yes, this one was different than the first. The elder had wanted a release and was joyful to despoil such a remarkable example of girlhood. This one was a egotist, who wanted to enjoy her debasement and his own prowess. So the ejaculation was not going to come soon. No, this one was the fuck of a thousand stabs.

Suddenly she felt him slobbering, nipping, licking, and sticking his tongue in her left ear (her right ear flat to the floor). Her eyes snapped open, and she stared at the wall in alarm. But then, amongst the mucous and hurt were words...English words.

"Good, unh?" he grunted, biting her earlobe. "You never made love to like this before, unh?"

Now that was an understatement...but he was expecting no answer. In fact, he loved that she was rendered incapable of answering. It castigated her even more.

"I see you before, enh? Maybe you don't think so, but I see you. You no look at me, but I see you, enh, your big boobs hanging out, strutting down the street with naked legs...oh I see you, yes...."

He probed her ear with his hot, rough, tongue, Tara whining in horror at the words.

"You think we stupid, huh? Just stand there and let you mock us with your flesh. But we are men, eh?"

To punctuate the statement, he slammed his cock home and squeezed her breasts as if trying to break them, making her squeal behind the cloth. Then he went back to simply fucking her as she shook, her cheek and knees scraping the floor.

"I am not stupid, girl. I know your language, you see? And it is I who am in you, yes? Who is the stupid one now, ....?" He said a word that meant "cunt" in his language. Then he repeated it over and over again as he thrust even faster inside her.

Tara blinked furiously, trying to deal with it all. Oh god, oh god, oh god, she thought. The magazine had been arrogantly stupid to plan this shoot, but she had been a naive fool to parade around that way, thinking that everyone would accept it in the manner the moronic Americans wished it to be accepted. And now the film crew was gone and only she was left...crouched on a cold stone floor, getting fucked up the rear.

"Ah," said the senior, his lips stroking her ear, "now you know, enh? Our women, they work hard...and make children...but no else. That is good, fine. We work hard too. No fun. That okay. But then you...you come and show us your sex. You say 'look at me! I show you my beautiful young body!'" He moved his head over to stare into her crying face. "But no touch, enh? None of us can have you, enh? How you think you make us feel? How you think we feel?!"

The realization hit her harder than anything else in her life. In politically correct America, they never used this phrase anymore...but this was not America: She had been asking for it.

And she was getting it. Tara started to cry in great, heaving, bitterly regretful sobs.

The senior suddenly reared up, hauling her tits toward either side of her torso. "This is how we feel!" he bellowed, slamming her cunt with his entire lower body as Tara wailed, her cheek scraping the floor.

Cheek...scraping...? The gag!

Tara's eyes snapped open as the man continued to bang her, realizing that she had been pressing her face harder and harder on the rough floor. So when he pushed at her, her face moved, but sometimes...only sometimes...the gagging cloth didn't!

She could get the damn thing off. And if she could scream, maybe there was someone in this god-forsaken village who would help her. It had to be, had to! Why else would they have gagged her so thoroughly otherwise?

She stopped thinking about her stupidity, forgot about her guilt, and concentrated on the horrid thing over her rich, full lips.

Tara's hands and lower arms twisted beneath the man's surging body. She rubbed her mouth and chin against the floor, as if trying to lick the stones. Again, and again, and again, pushing her head down harder all the more.

And suddenly, the very tops of her upper lip popped out from the clinging cloth. Then Tara had to gasp in wonder, her eyes bulging, as her vagina clamped down, her blood grew hot, and her clitoris started to jangle.

Oh no, she thought in agony. Not now!

But genetics and ancient lotions were not to be denied. Tara moaned in tormented ecstasy and stretched her upper body like a snake, all the tendons on her swan-like neck throbbing out as a fireball grew in intensity and size between her legs.

TO BE CONTINUED

 

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