The girl kicked and writhed wildly -- terrible, stifled sounds emerging from the mouth wrapping -- as she unwillingly orgasmed, the witch still clutching at both her neck and clit.
For a moment they stood like that -- a statue to perversion in an abandoned, rotting, rest stop – until a sweat-dripping Gwen collapsed in her kidnappers’ arms. Then Al sharply lifted her over his head by her underarms and dumped her into the witch’s clutches. Both abductors’ eyes sparkled in reaction to her relatively light weight and small shape.
Dotty gathered Gwen in her arms as she sat neatly on the rest stop floor -- cuddling the bound, gagged, and blindfolded victim. She idly caressed their captive’s hair and right breast as she looked up to the deliveryman. “What gives?” the witch asked.
Al started pacing. “He says there’s nothing new.”
“You believe him?” his wicked partner replied, eyes filled with Gwen’s glorious legs emerging from the tight, shiny, rubbery black micromini hem (as her mind filled with the sensations of the girl’s silky hair and magnificent tit).
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Al muttered. “Maybe. He’d have to be a hell of an actor to deliver that routine with a straight face.”
“What did he say?” Dotty inquired, getting Al’s attention. He suddenly stopped, stepped toward them, and went down on his knees while grabbing his still erect cock.
The witch instantly felt the perverted vibrations, shifted the slack blonde onto her back, and scooped her breasts out from the latex covering as if revealing perfect jello molds. Gwen started to bleat and sit up, but with Swanson’s claws on her shoulders and Al’s right hand on her throat, she had no choice but to take it, especially once the deliveryman had all his weight sitting on her waist.
“He was telling me about the resources they had gathered and the places they looked,” Al said as he plopped his cock between Hennessy’s mounds.
Smooshing them together he started the rollicking tit fuck in earnest.
“And?” the witch pressed after a hissing, humming minute.
“And,” Al echoed, “get the bitch’s mouth ready, would you?”
The witch had a small pair of bandage scissors (blunt on one side to protect the patient’s skin) in her hand within seconds and was cutting down the black tape gag on the left side of the blonde’s mouth. “And?” she restressed.
“And the brunette bitch is still m.i.a.,” the deliveryman grunted as he slid his hardening log faster and faster in the lamenting blonde’s ample chest valley. He waved one hand at the girl’s face as the witch cut the gag on the right side of Gwen’s mouth – creating a tacky flap she began to pull slowly, stickily down.
Gripping the girl’s chin with one hand and sinking her fingers into the girl’s flaxen mane with the other, she pulled as if breaking a wishbone, as Al edged up, plunging his fetid dick deep into the blonde’s agonized, moaning mouth.
TO BE CONTINUED