Backseat Slút Part 2

A warm hand slid over her knee and Clara stiffened, her breath hitching.

“Relax,” the man whispered.

His fingers climbed higher stroking the thick curve of her thigh slow and deliberate. When he reached the hem of her dress, he pushed it up another inch exposing more of her soft skin. He didn’t stop until his knuckles brushed the edge of her panties.

“Fúck feel that?” the other said leaning close. His cologne filled her nose, his voice deep in her ear. “She’s shaking already. You nervous, slút?”

Clara swallowed, whispering, “N...No, Sir.”

A rough grip caught her chin forcing her face up. “Don’t fucking lie. You’re trembling like a scared little girl but I bet that pušsy of yours is leaking all over your pantíes.”

She gasped but before she could answer, the first man pressed his fingers right against the damp patch between her legs.

“Wet,” he said flatly rubbing in slow circles. The thin fabric clung to her slít showing every outline. “She’s dripping. Just sitting here, blindfolded and ready to be used. Look at the way it sticks to her fat cúnt.”

Clara’s cheeks burned. She tried to stay still her hands locked behind her back but the friction made her hips twitch.

“Open wider” the second man ordered.

Clara spread her knees, the dress ridng up until her thick thighs and pantíes were on full display. She could feel their eyes drinking her in her wide hips, her full títs pushed out by her posture the way her pušsy throbbed under their touch.

“Goddamn,” the first man growled. “Look at this body. Round thighs, wide hips, títs that could smother me… and this pússy? This is the kind of cúnt men want.”

The second man’s voice dropped, hungry. “Big slút títs just begging to be fucked. She’s got the body of a whore. Every inch of her is soft and ready.”

“Look at how her pušsy’s shining,” the first added, pushing the damp fabric aside to stroke her bare slít. The wet sound filled the car.

“Messy cúnt. Bet she creams all over cóck the second we put it in her.”

Clara moaned before she could stop herself.

A sharp slap landed on her thigh. “What did we say about noise?”

Clara panted “Sorry Sir.”

“Better be” he muttered shoving her pantes aside again to drag a finger through her fólds. “Fúck she’s soaking my hand. This hóle was made to be used.”

The second man slid his hand down the front of her dress grabbing a heavy bréast and squeezing hard. Her nípple was stiff, poking through the fabric and he pinched it until she squealed into the blindfold.

“Big fucking títs,” he groaned, rolling the nípple between his fingers. “Look at how they bounce when I squeeze them. These are cocksleeves slút. Your fat títs were made to wrap around dick.”

Clara’s thighs trembled. Her body betrayed her soaking the man’s fingers as he spread her open.

“Slút likes it rough,” the first man chuckled. “She’s gushing just from us talking filthy. Look at her clít twitching swollen, begging for cock.”

“Not a word unless we say so,” the other reminded her twisting her nípple again until her back arched. “You’re nothing but holes tonight. Tits, cunt, ass .. all of it belongs to us.”

Clara whimpered into the dark, her body straining against invisible restraints. “Yes, Sir.”

Both men laughed, the sound low and filthy.

“She’ll learn,” one said. “She’ll learn exactly how we want her.”

TO BE CONTINUED