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In this new position, his cock hitsthatspot in me and my legs quiver and try to snap together. To my surprise, he doesn’t suppress the movement but instead allows it. He releases my legs and they end up on either side of his head. He leans forward, the back of my calves now scraping against the chest of his sweatshirt. A foreign noise is ripped from my throat and is absorbed by dirt walls. If I hadn’t made the noise, I would have been convinced an animal was nearby getting mauled. I guess that’s not too far from the truth.
He slams a hand in the mud by my head causing a spray of dirty water to splash against my cheek. His body snuffs out the sliver of moonlight when he leans over and wraps his long fingers around my throat again. However, this time is slightly different. I’m waiting for the pain of bruised skin being squeezed, but it never comes. I gulp down air, preparing to be starved of oxygen once more, but that doesn’t come either. His hand seems more of a claiming or warning, telling me I’m to do as I’m told because he owns me.
I wish he wasn’t wearing a mask. Not so I can give the police a good description for a sketch, but so I could read his expression. Maybe get a glimpse of what he’s thinking, or what’s going through his head.
My hands return to his wrist, and I hold on while he pounds into my pussy. He leans over me, folding my body in half, my breasts being squished by my thighs.
“Such a dirty little whore.” His deep, muffled grunts are hard to hear from behind the black and white mask. This time when I groan, it sounds exactly like what it is: a woman having the best sex of her life.
I swear the jackass laughs as he continues drilling into me. “You like getting fucked in the mud, don’t you?”
He isn't completely wrong. I don't particularly love the setting we’re in, but there is something primal about the way he's driving his cock into me while we’re covered in a mixture of mud and dried blood. This should make me sick, but it doesn’t.
My pussy clenches around him when he loudly demands, “Answer me!”
He doesn’t wait for my response this time. Instead, he pulls his length from me slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Fully removed from my body, he grabs my ankles with one hand, keeping my boney knees jabbed into my collarbone. With the other, he reaches to the side and grabs another bottle of water. My heart pounds against my thighs, unsure if he’s going to drown me with it or not. I’m desperately searching the black mesh of his mask, hoping I can find his intent when he lifts it over my sex, which is on full display in this position. If I could see his face, I know it would hold a mischievous smirk right now. Then he pours it over my sensitive flesh and slams his erection inside my awaiting cunt.
The extreme chill shocks my system and I scream, “Yes, Mask Daddy!” The water adds a new dimension to my pleasure. That’s what I’m blaming my outburst on. My cheeks heat in embarrassment.Daddy? Where did that come from? I’ve never called someone, daddy, before. Not even my own father, Why would I now?
“Fuuuuuck,” he growls from deep within his chest.
The endearment must’ve flipped on a beastly switch inside him, because he quickly tosses the bottle to the side and pulls himself from me once more. In a swift turn of events, he flips me over, pushing my face down in a puddle. I accidentally inhale on the way down, filling my nose and mouth with murky water. Coughing violently in panic, I try to lift myself with trembling arms.
Once again, I’m the punch line to his night. His sardonic laughter makes it to my ears as he wraps an arm under my stomach and positions me on all fours. I've barely caught my breath when Ghost Face thrusts inside me with such force my hands slide in the puddle. I'm in a literal face-down ass-up stance. His fingertips dig into my shoulders, giving him added leverage to pound into me harder. My body jerks with each sweet and tortuous thrust that his hold on me loosens. He takes advantage of the momentum and roughly claws down to my lower back, while he continues slamming into me.
“Ahhh, yes god,” I whimper.
Fully seated inside of me, he freezes. The sudden stillness of his movements lets me know I’ve fucked up. Why else would he stop thrusting? I want to turn around and see what he’s up to, but I’m way too scared of what I may discover. Then his hips move jerkily and nudge against my ass as Ghost Face fumbles with something from his duffle bag, I assume.
"I told you, Bambi, there is no God here.” He shifts his weight forward, forcing me deeper into the mud. “Now open your mouth," he commands, and I obey. I’ll do anything at this point just so he’ll start fucking me again.
A white piece of cloth is placed in front of me and lowered to my mouth. I open my mouth and he places it between my parted lips. I’m assaulted with the same campfire and aftershave essence. The scent is a reminder of my blindfold in the woods so it has to be a folded up shirt like before.
I don’t have much time to ponder the material before he barks out, “Bite down.”
As I latch my teeth into the fabric, Ghost Face jerks his hold on the makeshift reins, pulling my head back to look up at the black sky. That’s not enough rough treatment for him though. He yanks back even farther, forcing me at an awkward angle. Not seeming to notice or care about the position I’m in, he moves inside me again. With the impromptu reins, he pounds into me, pulling me back into him every time his hips thrust forward. His huge dick is causing my pussy to pulse around it. Every moan that leaves my lips comes out as discombobulated jibberish, but fuck does this man know what he’s doing.
“I bet you never thought you’d come in a grave dug for you, did you?”
He’s cocky with his words and uses a knee to shove my legs apart more, making my hips lower a few inches. The new inclination creates a new sense of bliss as he pounds deeper and harder into me. With every thrust, the tip of his dick rubs against my G-spot. No one has ever been able to reach this spot in me, except for me with my long vibrator. It’s so good my eyes roll to the back of my head, crossing to the point I’m convinced I’ll never see the same again. I’m taking everything he’s giving me and grounding my ass into him practically begging for more. It only takes a few pumps in this position before pleasure begins to warm me from my toes up.
He must sense that I’m on the verge of coming undone, because he quickens his thrusts, giving me exactly what I need. I can’t contain the breathy moans that are able to make their way past my gag when a tsunami of ecstasy rolls through my limbs. It’s so consuming that my body shakes uncontrollably, and I close my eyes savoring the moment before it’s gone.
He lets the fabric fall from my mouth and spit drips down my chin. Without missing a beat in his thrusts, he groans, "Your cunt is trying to milk my cock dry. Is that what you want me to do? Fill your needy pussy with my cum?”
Fuck yes, I do.I have to admit it even if it makes me fucked up for doing so. I don’t know about STDs, but at least I don’t have to worry about pregnancy. I've had an implant in my arm since Tillie was born, not that I really needed it. This crazy kidnapping has turned into the best sex of my life, and it can't end until his release is dripping from all three holes.
Just when I think he will drench the last of my holes, he pulls his cock out and sprays me with warm, sticky liquid. I can only assume it’s his release coating my backside. The substance leaves a cold trail as it drips down the crack of my ass and through my slit. Not giving a single fuck if he kills me in this grave after the fuck of my life, I roll over onto my back and lie in the mud. My entire body is buzzing from the orgasm. Although I’m spent and would love a warm bath, my crazy side really wants Ghost Face to ram my pussy again and fill the one place he hasn’t yet. It’s a missed opportunity, if you ask me.
It takes awhile for me to compose myself before I realize I don’t sense him around me. I don’t feel his body heat behind me nor do I hear anything.
Did he leave me?
Slightly turning my head from side to side, I don't spot him, so I prop myself up to a sitting position and scan the small space of the grave. At the far end with pants back in place, he has his back to me and is rummaging through his hiking pack.
I’m assuming going again is sadly out of the question.
When he straightens, it seems like the altitude has changed around us. The sudden shift in mood has me subconsciously sliding away on my butt. He turns toward me slowly as if sensing my predicament. The hollows of his masked eyes seem more haunting than before. His fists clench at his sides and I don’t need to see his face to know…
