Chapter 5
Baking, cooking like a steak on a grille, and thoughts of flame and pain filled Sharon's mind. She lay on her belly, her pale buttocks and un tanned back exposed, utterly naked to the midday sun. For hours, she thought, she had left the cup of water beside her head alone, but at last she'd taken a sip. Another sip, then another barely wet her throat. Now only the memory of the flat, stale-tasting fluid remained, the memory of scant relief and the constant presence of searing sun on her unprotected skin. Her brain seemed to be curling at the edges, shriveling like a piece of fatty meat in a dry skillet. The raging punishment of the sun had even started on her smooth, well-tanned legs. The long columns of her thighs hurt. Even her sweat gave no protection. The strengthening gusts of wind dried the thin film as soon as it oozed from her pores. Through her closed lids Sharon's eyes burned with the bright pain of sand-reflected sunlight.
She'd lived through hotter days, and sun as bright, but never naked, without shelter. Somewhere during the eternity of passive torture her nerves became jaded. There was only so much pain, heat and wretched misery her skin and mind could absorb without becoming numb. Even when the sun beat harder and the wind blew hotter, Sharon was aware only of gradual increments of discomfort. The total pain added up to far more than she could actually feel. It became a background against which other thoughts and sensations formed. Now and then, for instance, Sharon would open her puffy eyes to see if somehow more water had appeared in the shallow bowl. She would twist her head and curl her upper lip, bringing the stale, pissy musk of the Arab woman's cunt-juice to her nose, but even her self-disgust at so eagerly gobbling a woman's pussy was a momentary flicker against the constant heat of the sun on her shrinking, reddening skin.
Her weakening body confused her. Sharon heard the crunch of approaching footsteps, but she couldn't respond. Sharon's face was imprinted with the multiple pockmarks of the rough-edged sand when Ben's hand pulled her up by her hair. Her jaw dropped and her glazed eyes opened. She recognized nothing.
Moving swiftly, Ben cut the thongs binding her to the rough framework of sticks. He dragged her to the shade of an open-sided tent and poured water on her face and neck. Sharon gradually came alive again. The splash of tepid water on her skin made her groggily resentful. What right does he have to stop me? I was so comfortable, she thought. And that mice! Why in the world is he shouting? Where did all those people come from? Sharon pulled her arms and legs in, curling into a fetal ball. The fiery skin on her baked back stretched painfully. Sharon straightened her limbs again, rolling on the grimy rug. The shade was almost cold . . . her body temperature had soared into the range of high fever. She heard the protests of the other Arabs and Ben's enraged shouts. She tried to break in but her tongue was too thick to work properly.
"Don't you goat-fucking offspring of camels understand words? Should I bleat at you like the cow-faced women who run your tents?" Ben raged. "If you have the stupidity of blasphemous swine, the Jews can take your land and welcome! If this one is to die, it must be publicly, with the greatest pain, before her family. Now, tend you to her before I spread your entrails for the vultures!"
"But, effendi" one of the men began.
Ben struck him left handed across the face. The other Arabs stopped, frozen like a snapshot. The man's hand moved tentatively toward his knife, then stopped. "Lower than a dog? I do not see the reason the British even accepted our aid in the war! I heard how you whimpered in your kennel when the German hung your parents on meat hooks. 'No, not Abdel,'I said, but I see that you have not the intelligence to seek revenge!" Ben folded his arms across his chest and stared at the cluster of silent Arabs. "How many of you will die from your stupidity? The Jews are searching for this girl, and you do not bother to watch the approaches to the camp!"
"But Omar . . . Commander . . . you brought her in the night. We did not think-"
"And that is why your land is being stolen. Across two oceans men have met and decided that the Jews can have half of Palestine. We cringe here in the desert and do not THINK!" Ben turned away. "Leave me. Lower the sides of this tent. Post watchmen near enough to warn us of any passing near."
The water he gave her bloomed through Sharon's whole body in seconds. She felt like a brittle sponge filling up, becoming flexible, swelling in size and weight. She tried to sit on the rug, but every second made her bright-red buttocks hurt more. She came out of the numb fog. Her body temperature dropped quickly, though the water was nearly eighty degrees. Sweat had time to gather on her skin again, and the salty sting reminded Sharon of the scrapes and scratches that the two women had gouged through her sunburn. She knelt shyly, half-shielding her heavy, bright-pink breasts with her upper arms. Ben waited for her to slow her drinking, then took the water jug from her hand.
"Please, sir, can I get dressed?" she asked meekly.
"No." Ben rubbed his clean-shaven chin and walked back and forth. "You would not have lived much longer." He circled her, shaking his head at the deepening red of her fiery asscheeks and back.
She still felt woozy. Her brain couldn't match up with anything around her. The one thing that really meshed was her decision to lie to the Arabs. She would tell Ben whatever he asked, whether it were true or not. Sharon waited, her eyes downcast, for his questions. His voice finally came from behind her.
"Where are the guns?"
She felt like a ragdoll draining, all its stuffing flowing out through a tear. "In the tractor shed. There's a trapdoor."
A blow, heavy and hard, landed across her shoulders. The stick Ben struck with had enough force to knock her half off her heels.
The searing heat of raw sunburn covered the dull ache of a bruise on her back. Sharon felt the injured muscles of her back stiffening. Hundreds of tiny blood vessels oozed their ruptured fluid into the impact zone. He won't hit me any more...I'll talk, and they'll all leave me alone. "On the north side, where the harrow is kept.. . . " Sharon thought quickly, trying to remember a definite mark that would mislead them ". . . a big nail with a square head beside a crack in the cement. There's another crack about a meter away, but it's covered with dust." She tensed, waiting for another blow.
"How many guns? How much ammunition is hidden, and how much is outside?"
The tip of the stick tapped gently up and down on her sunburned ass-cheek. In a strange, almost nauseating way, it felt good, like the fascination a child feels in peeling the scab from a skinned knee. Sharon tugged her mind away from the sensation. Ten rifles outside . . . no, there are nine, without the one you took. Maybe twenty inside . . . pistols for twelve people. If there is a machine gun, it would be in the hole . . . I don't know about bullets. They only allow fifteen for night guards . . . less in the daytime."
The stick cracked loud across her buttocks. Sharon jerked forward. Her breasts bounced with the speed of her reflexive lurch, and the tight, dry skin on her belly and thighs stung. A blaze of fresh heat set her sunburned ass afire again. "Don't lie, Sharon. You were carrying fifteen rounds." Ben stayed behind her, his feet padding almost noiselessly back and forth on the rugs.
"We . . . we take target practice with the Enfields . . . they have more bullets." Sharon clenched her asscheeks painfully tight, expecting the stick to strike any second.
"Do you want to have every man in this camp take you and fuck you and leave you on the desert to die?" Ben breathed. He sounded as if he his lips nearly touched her ear. "If you speak of imaginary things, I will personally bind you to the belly of a goat and let him fuck you until your stomach splits like an overripe melon."
A lance of pain speared the top of her raw, sand-chafed ass cleft and ripped down the tight valley. The stick caught in the lower edge of her rectum and pulled the tight ring out of shape. Sharon felt the brutal tug clear into her guts. "Aummphh!" she grunted. "Please, it's the truth . . . leave me alone, Effendi Daoud!" Sharon twisted to look over her shoulder.
Ben was twitching the stick back and forth like the tail of a stalking leopard. "Why did you lie so long?" he hissed. He ripped the very tip of the stick back and forth across her asscheeks twice, a quick forehand-backhand slash.
Fresh fire blazed in Sharon's abused skin. She jumped away, stumbling. The girl fell on her face, her hands going back to cover the vulnerable globes of her bottom. The strokes had striped her ass with white, but the skin reddened again almost instantly. Two brighter lines crossed each buttock, and the strip down her ass cleft oozed tiny droplets of blood. Her eyes were wide. Sharon goggled from side to side, but the tent was closed off. Even if she ran to burst through the cloth, which way was the center of the camp? Where were the guards?
"I told you, I told you," she whimpered. Ben stepped closer. She rolled half onto her back. Her knees drew up protectively. Her closed thighs accented the vee'ing depth of her cuntal zone, and her lush pink titties wobbled. She panted in pain and fright.
Ben reached across her hip and brought the stick down smartly. A crack like a small-bore pistol rang in the tent. "The other weapons! Grenades, rockets, land mines! Your farm is an outpost...where are the mines laid?"
The look of inspired fanaticism on Ben's face scared her more than the long limber stick he brandished. Sharon tried to sink through the rug, through the sand, completely out of sight. Her whole body was the picture of cringing submission. She shook her head, her mouth open wide. The girl was terrified.
Ben stepped close and swung his foot into her belly. Sharon doubled up, coughing and grunting with pain. The kick felt like it shoved all her guts up into her lungs. She could hardly breathe. "Don't ullgghh! . . know!"
It was a holy war, and Sharon was the enemy. The Arab lashed out with the stick, flailing at her breasts, her thighs, the rich exposed swell of her sunburned buttocks. White stripes flashed, then brighter red replaced them. At the outside of her wide hips, where her teenage skin was tightest drops of blood sprang out. The taut, baked tissues couldn't stand up to the repeated violent strokes of the stick.
Sharon felt her skin actually peeling away in places. She groveled, begging Ben to stop, but the inspired light in his eyes only blazed brighter. His mouth curled in a lusty sneer, then his lips went slack. Foaming spittle blew from his loose lower lip, spraying across her fevered body. His arm rose and fell like a cruel machine, flogging, beating, cutting strips of skin from her hips. He seemed to swell to twice his size before he flung the stick to the side and ripped his pants down.
Sharon saw the dark columns of his muscular thighs above her. She hardly dared look at the pillar of prickmeat that jutted from his groin like a ram's horn. She tried to turn her head away. She struggled to close her eyes.
The heat of the beating had inflamed her ass, and the warmth spread to her pussy. Sharon couldn't tell whether it was relief from terror or just the cessation of pain. All she knew was that her pussy was wet and her ass was so hot it itched. She writhed on the rug, lying on her side. Her breast touched the coarse wool, and the fire in her skin made her nipple rise. She skidded back and forth on her unbeaten hip, and the sun burnt swell of her ass-cheek heated further.
Ben stood over her like an avenging god. Sharon stared up at his body. She tried to see his face, but her eyes went to that massive length of prick and rose no further. From her angle on the floor, it seemed to rise forever. The wide wings of the head flared out far enough to block half his torso. Even in the dim light of the tent, Sharon noticed the angry red color of the skin. The shaft itself was the same mud-brown as the rest of his body, but the glans of his penis was an inflammatory reddish purple. It looked as hot and thrillingly painful as her own blistered asscheeks.
"On your back," Ben snarled. He undid his shirt, staring at the bottom button.
Sharon rolled onto her back. The scratchy wool and the tracked-in sand made her itch and burn from her shoulders to her asscheeks. The feeling was like the strange, half-needful tingle that was starting in her pussy. She pressed her heels against the floor. Her asscheeks rose from the rug, but the itchy discomfort in her shoulders increased.
Ben shrugged out of his shirt. He stood above her like a colossus, his legs spread. The weighty mass of his scrotum was covered with enough black hair to stuff a mattress, and the curls rose from his lower belly to the base of his throat. His legs were covered with hairs that looked as coarse and scratchy as barbed wire. He snarled, "Stay there," and walked away from her.
Sharon froze like a bug in amber. She was afraid to move, though her pussy was making its heat and need known more with each second. Blood roared in her ears, the separate pulses merged together into one continuous sound.
The strained, cuntally-presented position made her breasts rise toward her face, and the tug of gravity stretched the sensitive underswell of each tit. The fire of stretched sunburn spread from her beaten buttocks to her straining thighs, then up her belly until Sharon felt as if she'd been skinned alive. She tried to relax without moving. Her cuntal sphincter opened and a bubble of air entered. A dribble of oily pussy lube trickled from her hole, then another. Before Ben had crossed the tent, enough pussyjuice flowed that the whole thatch of light-brown hairs at the base of her pussy was soaked. Even the still-throbbing ring of her rectum was slippery and wet with her cream.
Ben stopped at the far side of the tent. The thick wad of hair at the bottom of his asscrack looked gnarled and evil, like the charred bole of a lightning struck tree. There was a star-shaped white scar at the outer edge of one buttock, the reminder of a British officer's encouragement in a long-ago infantry charge. He picked up a ceramic jar and brought it back to Sharon. He knelt between her upraised knees and stared into the gaping slot of her pussy.
Sharon felt a deep shame wash over her. She waited for Ben to offer her water, but he merely filled his mouth and swished the fluid loudly around his teeth. She heard a loud gulp, and her ass sagged toward the rug.
With a vicious stab, his thumb poked into her pussy. Sharon arched involuntarily off the ground. She grunted, too stunned by the rapid, cunt-battering entry to scream. She let herself down slowly, bracing her hips up with her hands.
Ben took another mouthful of water and washed his teeth again. Sharon watched the naked Arab as he lowered his face toward her crotch. She remembered the incredible hot wetness of the Arab woman's cunt on her mouth. A tremor of lust started in her clit and shivered through the rest of her body.
Ben spurted a dribble of water across the vertical stripe of her cunt. Sharon squealed. The cool touch of the water and the instant chill as it evaporated made her clit erect to tingling stiffness in a single heartbeat. Sharon felt it mingle with the juice in her vagina. She shivered like a tree in a windstorm. Almost before she could react she felt the oversized projection of the Arab's nose press against her cunt-mouth and a gluey warmth attach itself to her asshole. A slippery, hot presence invaded her rectum, then a jet of water and saliva shot up her ass.
"Aww...ohhh," she moaned, the quantum jump of lewd heat in her loins made her skull feel ready to pop off. Sharon moved her hips from side to side. Her breasts rolled lustily on her chest. The heat of her sunburned skin increased in proportion to the cooling evaporation of the water on her cuntal crease. Sharon pushed against Ben's face.
The single second it took Ben to spit water up her ass had made her emotions shift from terror to pain-stimulated lust. The feeling imprinted on her cunt so strongly that Sharon didn't notice Ben's face leave her crotch until his nose pressed against her cunt-mouth again. She bore down, and the thick beak entered the ring of her sphincter simultaneously with his tongue shooting into the center of her asshole. Another, large jet of water flooded into her ass.
The sheer perverse pleasure of the feeling scared Sharon. She moved her hips away, then toward his face again. The jet of water kept going, then Ben's tongue left her ass. He pulled away for a moment. Sharon stared down at his lit-up eyes. Ben grinned carnivorously and set his mouth on the top of her muff.
The sudden sharp pain of teeth sinking into the tender flesh of her cuntlips made her lose control. Sharon felt the water jetting out of her ass. She felt shame and rage and excruciating pain. The sheer degradation of losing control of her asshole mode her want to die, but the agonizing fervor of the sensation at the top of her cunt made her want to grovel in the deepest pit of abused lust she could enter. Ben planned to oblige her.
He pulled back, letting her cuntlips escape slowly, tortuously, from his teeth. He kept his lips open, offering not one bit of wet, slick solace to the agonized tissues. When her labia were finally free of his teeth, he bit down and jerked away. Another batch of cunt-hairs ripped loose from her snatch.
Sharon sobbed. Her breath rattled in her throat. She tried over and over to beg for mercy, to remind Ben that she'd told him about the weapons, but the pain and the heat in her loins was too much. It overpowered her speech. Sharon could only gargle and groan with her cunty need and twisted pleasure in her own degradation.
Ben reached under her buttocks. His hands, strong and harshly calloused, dug into the firm muscles, The scraping ridges of his fingernails and the abrasive coarseness of his calluses inflamed her already tortured asscheeks like a welder's torch. The pain changed from sheets of blood-red on her nerves to pinpoints of blue-white agony, as sharp and hard and merciless as a diamond. Sharon shuddered. She tried to lift herself away from his clutching, moving, kneading hands, but she only succeeded in bringing her cunt-mound closer to his face.
Ben took the water jug in one hand again. He held her up like a gymnast caught in the middle of a handspring and rolled the hard stoneware across the gaping wound of her pussy.
Sharon screamed like a gut-shot rabbit. The gritty surface of the crude jug ground her clit down into the surrounding tissues. The lumps and bumps of sand in the baked clay flayed moist cells from the rim of her cunthole. The sloshing water from the brim washed sweat-salts into the raw follicles of her ripped labia, and with every increase in brutal pain, her cuntal hunger grew. It was a race of nerves . . . the pain could send her into shock profound enough to stop her heart, or the pleasure could send her into an orgasm intense enough to stop her mind. Her own fingernails dug into the flaming skin at the small of her back. Her hands turned to claws, inflicting more pain, and, in turn, more pleasure. Sharon arched until her thighs were nearly parallel with the floor. Her cunt, half-stripped of hair, was a red-centered mound of outstretched flesh, more crimson than even the beaten surfaces of her blazing ass. Her tits jiggled and bounced with the rasping sounds of her breath. Her face was twisted into a slack-lipped, heavy-eyed mask of absolute lust.
Ben swilled the last of the water from the jar and dropped it. He sprayed the last few sprinkles between his front teeth, dribbling just enough on her clit to sting the irritated nubbin into further chills. He gripped her asscheeks again and put her knees over his shoulders.
Sharon let herself flex down with relief. At last her hungry cunt would feel the heavy thickness of his meat. She would finally feel the long, rigid tube of Ben's cock assaulting her drenched cunt. She rolled her eyes down and stared at him, licking her lips in anticipation. Her pussy was already wound to the very edge of orgasm. All she needed was one or two firm strokes.
The sudden pressure of his cockhead against her asshole didn't surprise Sharon. She even let herself be folded backward until her thighs touched her breasts. The sunburned pain of her asscheeks protested, but if the hungry, gaping slot of her pussy would be filled . . .
Ben shoved, and half his cockhead slipped into the tight ring of her anus. Sharon screamed again, higher and louder. The invasion of this knob was ripping her in half. She tried frantically to pull away.
Ben let go of her left buttock and slapped her across the face. Sharon's head snapped to the side. "Quiet!" he roared, and shoved again.
The anal rape was tearing her rectum wider, wider, and Sharon could hardly see. the pain of the assault tore at her, hurting from the edges of her rectum to the center of her belly. She remembered the quivery delight of his tongue pressing through the tight muscle, and Sharon began to cry. There was no way that this horrible, awesomely painful invasion of her asshole could be anything but deadly.
Ben grunted. With a stab of pain like a blunt spike being mauled into her belly, Sharon felt his cockhead shift. Ben groaned with the sudden pain of his bent shaft. He gripped his cock by the middle and shoved forward again.
It was death, war, plagues and storms. Every prophetic cataclysm in the history of the world was working to split her asshole. The ache of the dull knob against her rectum was the worst pain she'd ever felt, but the ache alone wasn't all of it. The ring stretched dreadfully at the top and the bottom. Sharon could feel the skin splitting, tearing like a wet envelope in a careless hand. The heat of flowing blood at the base of her asscrack increased the bitter agony of the pressure.
But still Ben kept on. His prick worked around the a circling motion, corkscrewing, trying to find the precise angle that would let his knob puncture her asshole. Sharon felt the varying pressures threaten to rupture every part of her ass. the pain proceeded around the around, finding every painful nerve at the base of her ass cleft, seeking more leverage, more gruesome traction against her ass.
The Arab pushed until he skidded on the rug. His knees drove back, sliding out from under him. The shift made his cock shoot upward, tugging her asshole halfway into her cunt. Sharon wailed. At the obscene angle that his cock drove into her, both her cunt and her asshole ached. It felt like a boulder trying to shove all the way up into her cunt and her ass at the same time, or a sledgehammer bearing harder and harder against the floor of her pelvis.
Ben shifted his hand from her ass-cheek to her cunt. Sharon instinctively tried to push him away with her legs, but his weight bore down on her. Her thighs mashed her tits into two flat pads of heat. Her nipples struggled up at the tensed muscles of her legs. The added heat made her pussy gush a fresh spurt of juice.
And Ben's hand found her clit. He slipped one long finger halfway into her vagina and rolled her clit between his thumb and forefinger. Sharon moaned with the lusty increase in her cuntal heat. She jerked her hips unwillingly in a circle. The hot squeezes against her clit made her pussy clamp down on his probing finger, then loosen. With a shock, Sharon realized that her asshole was tied to the same nerves. More of his cockhead slipped in. His finger dove deeper into her cunt.
Sharon moaned. She stretched her arms out to her sides. Her hands up to her head. She pulled at her hair, rolling her head, swiveling her hips, drooling and working desperately to keep that thick bar of cockmeat out of her asshole.
But Ben technique was slowly conquering her shitter. Every circular motion of his prick wedged more of the knob into her chute. Every pinch of his fingers against her clit sent more juice gushing from her pussy, and the juices eased the entry. Sharon realized that her cunthole was betraying her, spasming open and helping her asshole to admit his prick, then tightening and increasing the pain of her splitting rectum.
Sharon gave up. Her arms waved uselessly. Her hands fluttered when Ben crushed her clit. Her toes curled and uncurled when Ben's prick found more room in her asshole. She could hardly believe that the incredible extension of her ass-ring hadn't already swallowed his prick, but the unmistakable shape of the top slope still pressed against the outside of the muscle.
Ben's motions slowed. He still circled, still braced his prick with one hand, but his rolling, sliding, juicy motions became almost voluptuous. The sensuous rhythm of his relaxing motions made it easier on Sharon's ass, and she reluctantly let herself respond.
Sharon rolled her upraised hips in counterpoint to the rotation of Ben's knob. She didn't know which angles would relieve the horrible pressure against her asshole, but she swiveled willingly, hoping. Over and over again the angle of the cockhead pressed the whole ring of her rectum in slow sequence. Over and over Ben kneaded her clitty, then the whole fat, squishy mound of her labia. Sharon felt herself relaxing, as much as anyone could relax while still hot for cock and half-guarding her asshole.
The ridge! Sharon felt the side of the head, the outstanding flare, press against the left side of her rectum, then the other section press against the right side. She bore down as if she were shitting. Sharon pushed her hips up. She rolled, presenting her cunt flesh to his fingers. Her back arched as if she were pulling down to offer her vagina to his prick, and the rim of the head slipped into her asshole.
The last tearing pain made her tighten, but too late. Sharon groaned with relief. The narrower neck of his cock was right at the entrance to her asshole now, and she sighed when her rectum collapsed partially around it. The pain faded, and Sharon felt a strange, lascivious fullness invade her nether passage.
It was like nothing she'd ever felt. It was somehow fuller, yet looser than the fit of a cock in her vagina. Sharon moved her hips experimentally. There was a strange, perverse pleasure to the feeling.
Ben rested after his knob had passed the stringent ring of her rectum. He lay on her thighs, pressing those long, lovely legs against the lush pillows of her tits. He let Sharon move under him. The cloying, dry walls of her asstube caressed the sides of his knob. He shifted slightly.
Sharon felt his hand leave her pussy. She didn't care. The stimulation of fingers on her clit and in her cunt was too distracting. She wanted to experience this novelty more fully. She moved down, trying to take more of his prick into her back chute, but the shoulders of his cock widened enough to remind her of the torn flesh at the top and bottom of her asshole. She moved the other way, and a lewd delight filled her.
It was almost unearthly. The wings of his cockhead were spread again, like the barb of a fishhook in her asshole. She felt the gentle tugging of Ben's glans against the inside of her sphincter, and it was like taking a long-delayed shit. The relief, the sheer sensuality of her asshole, impressed her. Sharon had never allowed herself to feel the lusty sensations around that forbidden part of her body, but now.. . .
Now, despite the lingering pain, it felt good. She hummed a little in her throat. Sharon moved down again, relieving the outward pressure on her rectum. She tried to take a little more of his prick into her ass.
Ben hummed in reply and moved forward. Sharon felt the broader portion of his prick start spreading her again. It hurt, but the fullness that rose up inside her ass made her want more, no matter how much pain it caused. She put her hands at the back of her knees and pulled her legs tighter against her chest. Sharon stared down at the center of the weird feeling.
She saw the bright-red stripe of her cuntal crease. The button of her clitty was standing erect, shrouded in the little hood of her inner labia. Beyond it, the curled-up girl could see the very edge of her vagina. She looked and watched as more of Ben's dark-brown meat disappeared from view.
There seemed to be much more going into her ass than disappearing from her vision. Sharon shook her head in disbelief. She felt a strange, complementary feeling rising in her pussy. She noticed how her cuntlips stretched down toward her asshole when Ben plunged deeper.
Still, she could see that only half his cock had gone into her. Sharon closed her eyes. She couldn't bear to think of how that eerie fullness would feel when his prick hit the end of her ass tube. Already it felt like the knob was halfway to her throat. She moved her hips in a circle, and the swiveling pressure of his knob searched out whole new areas of sensation.
Tension started coiling in her like a mainspring. Sharon moved up and down, adding a hot little vibration to the slow, easy strokes of Ben's cock. She jiggled back and forth, hot for more of the ass-reaming tool. The feeling of vulgar fullness in her belly increased. She stared up at the grinning Arab, her eyes as wide as saucers. Sharon reached down and grabbed her asscheeks with both hands.
"Oh, oh, oh! I can't stand it!" she babbled. Her voice was high and tight. "I couldn't have imagined!"
Ben grinned wider. He reached down to her rising columns of her thighs. He moved the long, supple-skinned limbs away from her tits and pinched at her nipples.
The heat built faster and faster in her body. Sharon felt his cock descending inch by inch into her asshole. Every cell in her body seemed to crush aside and welcome the descending piston of prick. Sharon shook her head in wonder. She dug her fingers into her asscheeks and spread herself further.
The Arab slipped more prick into her stretched asshole with every second. He reached bottom, and Sharon gasped. The stretching, tearing pain that ran the length of her ass tube was like knives, but they were knives of pleasure. His belly lowered to cover the Whole gaping stripe of her twat. Sharon moaned with ecstasy.
Sharon was beyond thought, beyond words, beyond everything but pure sensuality. She worked her ass up and down, swiveling suggestively. The marvelous fullness in her ass seemed to reach clear to her skull. The grinding of Ben's hairy belly against her clit sent streamers of sparks hurrying along her nerves. Sharon could even hear the copious gush of her cunt-juice as it bubbled from her vagina.
Sharon realized the connection wasn't just in the way the sphincters worked. She rolled her hips lasciviously, and the feeling in her ass added to the feeling in her cunt. She moved up and down, pressing her buttocks against his thighs. An incredible feeling of lust and perverse need surfaced in her. His cock's in my ass! I'm getting fucked half to death by a filthy, sweating ass fucker! she thought. Sharon let herself go.
Ben's strokes speeded up. Sharon was bobbing up and down like the frothing dasher in a washer machine. Her rapid flurries added to the strength and power of his cock strokes. Sharon felt his cock batter the kink at the top of her ass tube, but it didn't matter. If the insanely erotic feeling would continue, she would let Ben's prick split her ass in half.
Ben's balls swung loose. With every powerful stroke of his cock in her rectum, the sweaty masses slapped against her cheeks. The sting of his sweat and hairs and skin on her sunburn wound Sharon up. She felt herself spinning, ready to fly off into space like a crazy pinwheel. She rolled and arched, encouraging him. She matched the uphunching strokes of her ass to the pistoning thrusts of his plunging prick. With a groan, she felt the first wave of twisted orgasm start. It began at her asshole, spread to her clit, and her whole body exploded.
Sharon gyrated. She gasped. The slapping of his belly and the squirting of her cunt-juice filled her ears. Sharon let go of her ass and grabbed his hips. She pulled Ben down into the hot, friction-flamed circle of her asshole. She begged, babbling in English, in Hebrew, in Arabic. She wanted him to explode, to fill her guts with simmering jism, to rip her asshole out and push it clear to her throat. She begged for him to stop, to start, to finish, to begin. Every nerve in her body pulsed and fluctuated with the sheer power of her buggered orgasm.
Horrendous bucking, thrusting jolts of power jammed Ben's prick into her asshole. Her cuntlips mashed flat. The whole sopping zone of her crotch was filled with flames and spurts of fluid and the sheer fury of coming. Sharon kicked her legs up over her head. Her feet reached up and behind her. She dragged the ass fucking Arab deeper, deeper.
The friction at her asshole was too much to bear. Sharon's clitty felt like a glass button, and his pounding belly was sure to break it. Her cuntlips were pounded flat against the sinews of her thighs. Her whole belly plunged in and out with his prick. She screamed, "NO, NO, NO-OOO!"
Ben's thrusts slowed. The power of his cock slacked. His arms went limp, then his belly, and finally, his legs. Sharon's ass gradually slid toward the rug, still spasming around the mighty pole of prick that had driven her to frenzy. With the dizziness of the far side of orgasm, she wondered if Ben had come.